Friday 19 November 2010

While I was sleeping

Welcome to the Demonblog off-season, where posting is non-existent and unless you're following me on Twitter you'd be forgiven for thinking that I'd chucked it all in, finally lost the plot and had been sectioned under the Mental Health Act.

But really, it's the off-season so what is there to discuss that you're not going to read about in spades elsewhere? I'm presuming everybody is across some sort of forum - whether it be Big Footy, 'land or 'ology - to get their share of uneducated ramblings on the hot topics. A quick look through all three of the above options shows that either school holidays have been made 52 weeks a year or the Education Department hasn't worked out how to block forums because it seems like every second post is made by a 13-year-old who is an even worse speller than me or just doesn't bother writing when they can post a picture with an "amusing" caption instead.

Here's a list of what I missed;

* St Kilda stuff up another Grand Final
Hilarious! The fact that it was the second filthiest side in the comp (well, third if you count Carlton. Oh and fourth if you include Essendon) was a bit of a downer but who doesn't like seeing underlings kicked when they're down?

* Kyle Cheney to Hawthorn
No issue. Not a bad player and still, I think, the only man ever to get maximum votes on debut on Demonblog but didn't fit in our plans and might get a game next year. Only problem is the poor bastard now has to wear the second ugliest jersey in world sports and will probably become instantly depressed.

* Melbourne does bugger all else during trade week
I might be in the minority but I'd have taken Hale as long as we'd given up nothing higher than pick 30 for him. Still, no dramas about it not happening. With no decent KPF's or ruckmen on offer I'm satisfied at sitting the rest of the week out.

* Cameron Bruce walks out
Just when stats freaks (i.e me) were rising to applaud Cheney as potentially the first player to play for both clubs since David Flintoff in the late 80's - and the first direct swap since we sold Michael Byrne to the Hawks in 1982 and he kicked eight on debut - suddenly two come along at once. And unlike Cheney this one is an absolute cert to get a game and break the drought.

You can do your own JFK-esque conspiracy theories about the footballing grassy knoll and why he walked, but as far as I can see it was because we couldn't guarantee him that he'd be in our best 22 all next year and Hawthorn can. Good luck to them and good luck to him. He played a few good games this year but it's not like the Eagles losing Judas J**d, we'll go on without him.

Incidentally, if you want to be completely pedantic we did draft Haydon Kilmartin seven years before he played for Hawthorn in 1998. But then you'd be a sad anorak wearing freak like me and would start questioning your life so don't give it any thought.

* Miller to Richmond
Then [snicker] they said that he was [laughs] going to be an 'enforcer' [falls on the floor] in their forward line [expires from laughing too hard]. Somebody show his tribunal record to Damian Hardwick and explain that it's all about quantity, not quality.

* Delistings
Wished well in their future endeavours were Johnson, McNamara, Hughes, Healey and Meesen.

- Johnson was a surprise. Not because I wanted him to stay, in fact very much the opposite, but I thought he'd survive out of necessity. Instead The Spencil, who has shown very little so far, is promoted to the senior list and Newton - the most incredible survival story of the year not to take place inside a Chilean mine - survives with some vague suggestions that he might play in the ruck next year.

The problem is that now Jamar has gone from slop merchant to greatest human being ever born in the seventh and eighth years of his career we're suddenly expected to give everybody the benefit of the doubt. Spencer might come on and kill it, Newton may actually take a second overhead mark in his life but that's cold comfort if the Russian comes over a bit Aeroflot ten minutes into Round One next season.

We've got Gawn and Fitzpatrick in the chamber as well but who knows if they're going to be any good. Chances are there's only going to be one way to find out.

- I thought McNamara might have survived. Apparently he was still training with us when they went back after the season break but wasn't on the "Permission to Train" list that went around. It was either a mirage or we were involved in some sort of underhanded scam to have him there.

Either way with a ton of picks in the rookie draft I hope we give him another chance. He was the youngest player in his draft year and did show a little bit at the end of '09 when everyone else around him was trying desperately to throw matches. We got lucky with the defence not being hit with injuries this year, I'm not banking on it happening two years in a row. If he doesn't get rookied we've got Warnock and the Stefan Martin Experience (now appearing at the Dragonfly in Tullamarine alongside The New Seekers) who can slot in but I'd be more comfortable having one more guy there with a bit of experience in the system.

- Hughes showed a little bit in his two matches, but how long do you get to stay on a list without being able to lock down a senior spot? (do not answer this with references to Newton, because I agree with you).

Never showed any indication that he was going to break out and dominate so I'm comfortable with us letting him go (he's apparently training with Sandringham) and drafting a new set of forwards instead.

- Healey apparently showed a bit here and there in the VFL this year but was never near cracking it for a gig in the AFL. A rare rookie draft miss for us, but that's what rookies are there for.

- Meesen was always done for due to injury, and the news that he had to have surgery which was going to stop him from playing next year was the final nail in the coffin. Sadly the bulk quantity of Meesen Magic capes I ordered after his impressive start with us are now utterly meaningless and have been poured into a landfill in New Mexico alongside Atari 2600 ET cartridges.

Will be staying with us in a coaching role though, which is good for those of us you who have a slight man crush on him.

And now, the original purpose of this post before I hijacked it with waffle, the draft...

You may remember last year's Fox Sports coverage as an utter debacle where they finished the first round and then cut to some “let’s cross to Jason Dunstall talking to people you don't care about while picks are going on in the background".

Presumably as the result of a thousand phone calls and emails questioning whether or not they were complete morons a new option was introduced allowing us to press the red button and receive the actual coverage of the draft itself god forbid. Sadly to nobody's surprise they still managed to stuff it up royally.

Naturally I pressed the red button the moment I could, mainly to get away from Dwayne Russell, and when the sound finally kicked in two minutes - and several frantic button pushes later..

* The audio on all their player highlights packages sounded like it was being broadcast from the bottom of a tin mine. As it was Russell who was doing the voiceovers this was not an issue.

* It wasn't their fault that the AFL stuck with the ridiculous countdown top ten again, despite the fact that like last year one team having all the picks at the top of the draft actually decreases tension for the viewer rather than increasing it, but any danger somebody might have given Demetriou an autocue? The poor bastard was fumbling around like a newsreader in 1972 forced to read off pieces of paper.

* Once they finished the "drama and tension" of everybody in the world knowing who the top six picks were going to be we switched back to the normal draft, and it was time for their lone cameraman to be tortured in ways that even Uday Hussein would have been ashamed to put somebody through.

Remember the days of Channel Seven televising the draft in the late 90's? It was hardly a sophisticated era of television production but somehow they managed to have a camera ready to go on each of the tables, and when it came to their selection it cut to them and everybody was happy.

Not FoxSports. Instead of doing that, or having a high angle shot that one guy might be able to pull off on his own, they put the poor bastard in the middle of the tables like he was in the Roman Coliseum and had him darting around trying to desperately to find which of the 17 tables he was supposed to get to next.

Not only was the resultant spinny camera and random closeups of the wrong table vomit inducing but most of the time he couldn't even find the right people. Our first pick was done by a lone voice in the distance while viewers were treated to the sight of the Essendon table sitting around in Bunnings uniforms with what appeared to be a 13-year-old ginger child helping make the decisions.

* The microphones kept stopping working. Maybe not Fox's fault

* After the first round they came back from the break, which for those of us on the red button meant looking at the room with the audio of the ads playing in the background and open microphones on their panel. Sadly nobody said anything truly scandalous about Jack Darling and his sex romps, but Liam Pickering did clearly say the words “Geez it’s hard to be natural”.

They came back from the break, and onto the picks, only to accidentally feed the non-red button commentary to us instead so instead of hearing player names being called out we got Dunstall sizzling up an interview with Martin Leslie. Wonderful.

Luckily I’d forseen this debacle and had SEN running on my computer in another room. It took them a good ten or so picks to get the audio back on again.

* The player-by-player ticker at the bottom of the screen would occasionally stop for three or four picks at a time when the guy reading out the name of a player stumbled over a name or the microphone cut out. I had visions of some poor bloke in the Foxtel control room sitting there screaming “WHO WAS THAT? WHO DID THEY PICK?!?” because he couldn't hear the number.

The ticker then labelled every player without a picture a “utility” because they clearly had no idea who they were.

All in all an absolute debacle. Don’t know why I thought watching it on TV was a better idea than just listening on the radio in the first place, after all you're just listening for numbers anyway. There's was no point to actually seeing the names being read out other than to have a look at the two blokes reading the Collingwood picks out.

You've never seen two more apt stereotypes in your life. They might be the greatest recruiters ever but they appeared to be the sort of guys who would smash your teeth in at the Burvale on a Friday night immediately after the conclusion of Kevin Bloody Wilson's live show. Terrifying.

Next year I'm not even bothering unless somebody half competent like OneHD does it.

Oh, we apparently picked some players up too. Did you expect me to discuss them? I'm just sad that we've condemned four more players to a life without playing in a premiership. The selections were certainly unexpected and it looks like we've jumped a couple of guys up the order to fill out our lack of talls up forward but for now I'm going to have faith in the football department and the recruiters that they've got it right.

The guy from Tassie who we got with the second pick is the real story for mine. He's a little bit older and everybody rushed to call him the next Robbo because he has taken a few big hangers. All well and good, but let's not get sucked in too much by YouTube highlights because he wouldn't be the first person to cut a cavalcade of bloopers and fuck-ups out of his package before it got put online.

What I'm most concerned about is that if he's going to try and take Mark of the Year every fifteen seconds, what's going to happen when he runs into Jurrah and - god help us all - Newton trying to do the same thing? We're going to need air traffic controllers to make sure somebody doesn't get killed.

Not sure where any of them fit in immediately, but it's obviously a look to the future instead of trying to slot players in for Round 1 next year like we did when picking SCULLGOVE. Should Jurrah, Watts, Bate, Green, Petterd and Wonaeamirri all be available I expect they'll be the starting options up front pending any breakout pre-seasons. What it does do is put the heat on these guys to perform (Watts, I'm looking at you) because there's going to be plenty of other options in reserve. Then there's Jetta and Bennell to fit in as well. My money's on JB going back again, but Nifty Nev might slide right down the pecking order if he's not careful.

Finally aren't you pleased that Bailey is not doing Movember this year? He's never going to live down all those shots of him with SCULLGOVE while he's sporting a dirty porno mo. This year he looked fine and the cameraman couldn't even find him. You win some, you lose some.

Monday 27 September 2010

Draws, Ties, Replays and Six Degrees of MFC

It had to happen one day. After four corker Grand Finals out of six, interrupted only by Port delivering the shittest performance ever and Geelong kicking themselves out of it in '07, one of them had to land as a draw eventually.

And now after the 146th tie in 13,762 VFL/AFL games we have to put up with every person who half watched the game while at a BBQ, pissed off their nut, eating Samboy chips giving us their opinion on what should have happened. Pretending to be an intellectual I was watching ABC News Breakfast this morning and old mate who is usually the sports reporter but was guest hosting because somebody presumably threw a sickie sat there and with all seriousness suggested there should have been a penalty-shootout style "kick off" because "often the penalty shootout is the most exciting part of the match" in soccer. The filth and the fury directed at my television after hearing that turned the air blue. Nobody should be able to conjure up so many four letter words at that time of the morning.

Notwithstanding the fact that the penalty shootout is a flawed, but arguably necessary, mechanism to settle games in tournaments organised down to the minute or seasons with multiple competitions being played at the same time how can anybody who claims to be a sports reporter have no respect for the effect that such a stupid concept would have on players? Roberto Baggio probably got a horses head stuffed through his front door after he missed that penalty in the '94 World Cup final but at least he had an enormous pay packet and more endorsement contracts than you can shake a stick at to comfort him at night, not to mention a club career with its own unique set of rewards and distractions to help him forget that he was closer to hitting Townsville than the back of the net that day. Imagine instead Travis Cloke, actually no that's far too easy, imagine Nick Dal Santo lined up from 30m out directly in front needing to kick the goal to keep his side in it. One flag in 110 years and he totally shanks it. The Pies go wild, St Kilda fans everywhere throw themselves under trains and he's destined to have the piss mercilessly ripped out of him every fifteen minutes for the rest of his life. If a soccer player fluffs a penalty in a crucial match like this guy they can ask for a transfer to a different city or country on a fat pay packet. He tried a cheeky chip, fucked it up, got a song written about him and went on loan back to France. Where does Nick Dal go? You'd probably stay at the club and try to make amends but until there's a cup in hand there'd be a fair faction of grandslam arseholes amongst your own fans who'd never let you live it down.

Ridiculous suggestion all round. I can understand the call for extra time even if I don't agree with it. Maybe it's something to do with losing two Grand Finals by a combined total of 170 odd points in my lifetime or far more likely the fact that we weren't involved at all and I wasn't moved to a coronary. Some lady sitting next to somebody I know at the game went the big vom due to the tension. I know how she feels because that nearly happens to me during Round 2 games, there's no telling what would happen to my central nervous system and/or bodily functions if we were a point down with three minutes left and the ball bounced in front of goal, looked like it was going to go through and then took a big fat right break past a waiting forward (sucked in Milne, justice at last) and through for a point. Fair chance at that point that my eyes would have rolled back in my head and I've have tipped sideways onto the person next to me stone dead. But as an independant (and please, can we shut the everloving fuck up with the analogies drawing a line between the game and the election? Stab the next person who guffaws as they say it's lucky Rob Oakeshott isn't deciding the winner, then stab them again for me. Seven times) I'm loving the idea of coming back next week, even if the Pies stuffing it up cost me making money on the last day in September for the fifth year in a row.

How about the interviews after the game? Longtime readers of this page will know that I'm a confirmed St Kilda hater to such an intense degree that I was even collaborating with the hated filth Collingwood on Saturday, but the gulf in class between Nick Maxwell and Brendon Goddard was so immense that I'm willing to sit back and let whatever happens happen next week. Nothing will ever make me cheer for them (it all dates back to the 1998 finals..) but hearing Goddard's measured, reasonable interview immediately after Maxwell came on and whinged like a 15-year-old girl denied My Chemical Romance tickets (insert your own Maric reference). I can't guarantee that I wouldn't crack the shits and sound off like a bit of a wanker five seconds after a Grand Final with Richo holding a microphone in my face - after all what is this blog if it's not me sounding off like a wanker? - but is there anybody out there who believes that his side wasn't going to get spanked in ten minutes of extra time? If anybody should be cracking the shits it's Goddard, having helped drag his side back into the game and falling just short. Having seen Travis Cloke somehow conspire not to kick the ball straight into the post at the other end like a goose I'd have some sympathy for Saints players coming out and having a bit of a cry. To his credit Malthouse, who I have a grudging admiration for, was gracious about it. No bloody wonder considering it's his third final draw, and finally one not involving the Eagles. Either way you only support the Pies once in a lifetime and they've had mine. Here's to everybody doing their knee in the replay and who gives a rats who wins.

Enjoy it, because it's probably the last time it'll happen. Somehow Heath Shaw having to delay his holiday to Bali and whinging talkback callers will win out over $10m paydays for the league and they'll bring extra time soon enough. Maybe not next year, that would be too obvious, but soon. I just wonder how many of the half-hearted fans and corporates that were at the first game sat there at the final siren thinking "that was fun, when extra time starts I might put my book down and watch".

Oh, but before I go on was I the only one who spat in disgust when the AFL came out trying to play the good guy in having a "people's Grand Final" where club members still only get 40% of the seats? Spoken and authorised by somebody who refuses to be a member of the AFL (would rather join One Nation frankly) and has various philosophical objections to the MCC which should disqualify me from being a Melbourne fan in the first place and conveniently ignores all that key evidence about how the club, and probably the sport, wouldn't even exist without them.

So, how does all that fit into my favourite sport, connecting anything in the world to the Melbourne Football Club in one step? Well forget Darren Jolly's failed (for now) tilt at joining Martin Pike as the only man to leave us empty handed and win flags at two other clubs, and forget Simon Buckley sitting in the stands with his fingers tightly crossed hoping that 15 players blew their knees out during the warmup so that he'd get a game. And you can forget the 1948 Grand Final too, because even if we should still be laughing at poor Bill Brittinham kicking 2.11 for the Bombers in the first match it's too easy to pick a game that we were involved in.

The third drawn Grand Final has everything to do with us though. Forget Tom Hafey and Ron Barassi being this week's Barry Breen, dragged out to comment on the topic de jour by every single media outlet who can't be bothered to come up with a decent angle on the game and instead take a look at the ridiculous amount of past and future Demon players who lined up in the game. Don't worry Barass, you still get a run. And all but one of them played for us after this match. Not that we were throwing good money after bad to try and drag ourselves out of a 15-year-slopfest or anything.

Wayne Gordon (1979-1981)
Peter Moore (1983-1987)

North Melbourne
Ron Barassi (coach 1981-1985)
Stan Alves (1965-1976, the only guy smart enough to do a runner away from us and towards a flag)
Brent Crosswell (1980-1982)
Stephen Icke (1982-1987)
Peter Keenan (1981-1982 in his second stint)
Bill Nettlefold (1980-1982 and a stint playing the dad in Family Ties)
Xavier Tanner (1984-1985)

Beat that for a non-MFC Grand Final with more connections. Not only that, and the fact that there was a draw, but North also had a bloke wearing #60. Number 60 in a Grand Final? Utter genius for mine. Back to our involvement, because other than obscure numerology that's all I'm interesting in, it's tempting enough to blame Barassi for trying to recapture past glories by shelling out for half his old side but he wasn't responsible for Gordon, Crosswell (not surprising given that he'd already coached him twice and they probably hated each other) and the Steven Keaton lookalike. Either way not one single person involved in the '77 game, or replay, ever managed to play a final for us. Stephen Icke went closest, playing his last game in Round 17 of 1987.

The moral of this story is... buggered if I know actually.

Monday 13 September 2010

Demonblog's End of Year Spectacular and State of the Union address

Everyday Is Like Sunday @ asks you to please stand for the national anthem

And now, ladies and gentlemen welcome to the most prestigious night in Australian sports. Running just a couple of weeks late (but two weeks earlier than last year) it's the Demonblog End of Year Spectacular, and here's your host...

"And how appropriate that I should host the review of a season where everyone went off prematurely about the Dees being a force for the future. Before we go any further let's go back over to Mercado for a look at what we went through this season."

Season in review

Thanks Turps, it's great to have you here. Well, it was the (relatively speaking) best of times and the (still too often for my liking) worst of times but somehow we made it through without joining the exclusive spoon three-peat club. Here's how I saw it, often through clenched teeth and with my hands held over my eyes so tightly that marks were left.

Pre-Season Preview
Demonblog's State of the Union" - where I picked us to finish last, but in a rare piece of cooperation from the club itself also said I couldn't see us finishing anywhere above 12th. So it was nice of them to stuff up the last three weeks of the year to make sure that at least one prediction came true.

Intra-Club game
"Intra-Clubbed To Death" - where Jake Spencer's two first quarter goals proved beyond doubt that intra-club games are the biggest fraud in sports.

NAB Cup Round 1
"Go West, we are putrid there - where Freo beating us turned out to be not as bad a sign as you'd have thought and when I was distracted by pinball machines.

Pre-Season game vs Essendon
"It could be worse.." - where we wasted opportunities galore and the Stefan Martin Experience missed a goal so easy that he should get down on his knees and pray that the only TV camera there was a shaky handycam at the other end of the ground.

Round 1 vs Hawthorn
"No Mas, No Mas" - where it started to look a lot like 2008/09 all over again

Round 2 vs Collingwood
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu" - where we nearly pulled off the upset of the two week old decade and I disgraced myself in a chair punching frenzy which caused the death of a pair of sunglasses and a hard to explain wound on my right hand.

Round 3 vs Adelaide
"The Impossible Dream" - when we went back to playing like dogs for the first half but fell over the line due to the Crows having a black death style injury plague.

Round 4 vs Richmond
"Direct from hell" - where our early season revival kicked up a gear as early malaise was replaced with free scoring sexy football on the way to bitch slapping a club in crisis.

Brisbane preview

"The bigger the headache, the bigger the pill"

Round 5 vs Brisbane
"Tear the roof off the sucker" - where the unbeaten Lions came to the MCG and were destroyed in a fashion that made certain people firm up a bit and start hooking into fat porky food in celebration. It wouldn't get much better for the Lions from there.

Round 6 vs North Melbourne
"Riding high in April, shot down in May" - where we went in thinking that we were the next big thing and were comprehensively outsmarted by a team full of players that even Brad Scott has never heard of.

Round 7 vs Footscray
"Not a dry seat in the house" - where goal umpiring fiascos and bizarre coloured uniforms conspired to stop us from pulling off another epic upset in pissing rain.

Round 8 vs West Coast
"Footy gets plums" - where we thought "how easy will this be?" against a side who have an even worse travelling record than us and somehow still managed to lose, causing many - myself included - to indulge in the time honoured sport of hanging shit on Bailey.

Round 9 vs Port Adelaide
"Seconds from Disaster" - where we went to Darwin, of all places, and fell over the line despite a withering last quarter burst from Port. Mark Jamar involved in his first "interview of the year" candidate as he sits on the ground to talk to Leigh Colbert.

Round 10 vs Geelong
"Wasted weekends" - where I managed to stay for the whole four quarters surrounded by bumpkins and managed to avoid getting a fine despite being horrifically illegally parked all afternoon.

Round 11 vs Carlton
"Hurricane Shithouse" - where we did Milan Fukal in the first quarter before storming back into the match. Childhood Melbourne fan and latterday turncoat J**d then proceeded to stooge us in the last quarter.

Round 12 vs Collingwood
"The writers of Demonblog humbly apologise to Mark Jamar for every single post written pre-2008. We now recognise that he is the greatest human alive" - where we took half revenge for Round 2 and Jamar topped his Darwin efforts by walking off on that goose Andy Maher in the middle of his post match interview.

Mid-season State of the Union

Round 13 vs Adelaide
"Touch it you rubbish" - where the club spent the whole week talking up how we were ready to smash our South Australia hoodoo, only to see the team come out and put in a limp performance while nearly made me leap out the window.

Round 14 vs St Kilda
"Welcome to the Leisuredome" - where we put in a creditable performance against a far superior team. Not that I'd know because I couldn't see anything.

Round 15 vs Essendon
"The Great Shark Hunt" - where we basically got Matthew Knights sacked and I got to hear Bailey use foul and obscene language in front of kids in the dressing room beforehand.

Round 16 vs Fremantle
"Cruntry and Western" - where normal service was resumed after I missed the first quarter due to sitting in traffic outside a North Melbourne game. How does a North game create any sort of traffic let alone a jam?

Round 17 vs Sydney
"One for the true believers" - where I still have absolutely no idea what happened.

Round 18 vs Brisbane
"The night the couch nearly went off the balcony" - where we slapped the slops and plunged the Lions even further into crisis whilst simultaneously prying open the finals window just a little bit.

Round 19 vs Richmond
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions" - where September started to loom a little bit larger despite a frankly ordinary performance against a shit side.

Round 20 vs Hawthorn
"RT: @deanbailey Footy is Shit" - where the window was well and truly slammed shut and I shamed myself with another wild outburst.

Round 21 vs Port Adelaide
"Ding dong the witch is.. alive and kicking" - where it was all over anyway so the players just didn't bother - except for when The Jurrahcane took mark of the year.

Round 22 vs North Melbourne
"Here endeth the sizzle" - where even the fans didn't care.

Now, let's pause for a moment to remember some of the people we've lost this year.


*not quite as much applause, somebody yells out "BRING BACK WOEWODIN"*

*rapturous applause and a five minute standing ovation*


"Well, I haven't had this much fun since I hosted Supermarket Sweep". Let's get onto this year's award winners and a look at the past champions of each category. Don't forget this section of tonight's ceremony is sponsored by a shaky, blurry photo of Stephen Tingay, a Febey and David Neitz pretending to hook into some rancid Pizza Hut"

Allen Jakovich Medal for Player of the Year - Brad Green
Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year - James Frawley
Strawbs O'Dwyer Medal for Ruckman of the Year - Mark Jamar
Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year - Tom Scully

Unfortunately none of the winners could be bothered to show up here tonight to collect their awards, so instead here's a picture of Adrian Battiston tackling Chuck Norris.

2010 Final tally
43 - Brad Green
37 - James Frawley
30 - James McDonald
28 - Mark Jamar
27 - Colin Sylvia
17 - Tom Scully
15 - Aaron Davey
14 - Matthew Bate
12 - Jack Grimes, Cameron Bruce
11 - Jack Trengove, Jordie McKenzie
10 - Brent Moloney, Lynden Dunn
8 - Liam Jurrah, Jordan Gysberts
7 - Joel Macdonald
5 - Ricky Petterd, Jamie Bennell
3 - Matthew Warnock, Brad Miller, Colin Garland
2 - Neville Jetta, Clint Bartram, Jack Watts
1 - Jared Rivers, Nathan Jones, Austin Wonaeamirri, Rohan Bail

Allen Jakovich Medal for Player of the Year (brackets = pre-season price)
2005 - Travis Johnstone
2006 - Brock McLean
2007 - Nathan Jones
2008 - Cameron Bruce
2009 - Aaron Davey ($8)
2010 - Brad Green ($4)

Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year
2005 - Nathan Carroll and Ryan Ferguson (shared)
2006 - Jared Rivers
2007 - Paul Wheatley
2008 - Matthew Whelan
2009 - James Frawley ($22)
2010 - James Frawley [2] ($3.50)

Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year
2005 - No players eligible.
2006 - Matthew Bate
2007 - Ricky Petterd and Michael Newton (shared)
2008 - Cale Morton
2009 - Jack Grimes ($4 fav)
2010 - Tom Scully ($5)

Strawbs O'Dwyer Medal for Ruckman of the Year
2005 - Jeff White
2006 - Jeff White [2]
2007 - Jeff White [3]
2008 - Paul Johnson
2009 - Mark Jamar ($3)
2010 - Mark Jamar [2] ($1.50 fav)

Paul Prymke Plate for Pre-Season Performance
2008 - Aaron Davey
2009 - Cameron Bruce
2010 - Brad Green

All-Time Leaderboard
59 players have received votes since Round 1 2005. On his performance this year Green has replaced Bruce as the all time #1 player.

164 - Brad Green
139 - James McDonald
137 - Cameron Bruce
104 - Brock McLean
95 - Aaron Davey
86 - Colin Sylvia
82 - Nathan Jones, Matthew Bate
76 - Brent Moloney
72 - Travis Johnstone
64 - Russell Robertson
50 - Jared Rivers
49 - Mark Jamar
49 - James Frawley
46 - Brad Miller
43 - David Neitz
35 - Jeff White
34 - Cale Morton, Adem Yze
31 - Nathan Carroll, Matthew Whelan
27 - Lynden Dunn
24 - Nathan Brown, Jack Grimes
23 - Paul Wheatley
21 - Ricky Petterd
18 - Shane Valenti, Liam Jurrah
17 - Byron Pickett, Tom Scully
16 - Chris Johnson
15 - Ben Holland, Stefan Martin, Daniel Ward, Paul Johnson, Colin Garland
14 - Matthew Warnock
12 - Clint Bizzell
11 - Simon Buckley, Ryan Ferguson, Austin Wonaeamirri, Jack Trengove, Jordie McKenzie
10 - Daniel Bell, Clint Bartram
9 - Jamie Bennell
8 - Simon Godfrey, Jordan Gysberts
7 - Joel Macdonald
6 - Shannon Motlop
5 - Michael Newton, Kyle Cheney, Neville Jetta
4 - Alistair Nicholson, Phil Read
2 - Addam Maric, Guy Rigoni, Jack Watts
1 - Rohan Bail

And now, back to Turps.

"Well, that's it for this year's ceremony. Before we go here's our special guest Kenny Rogers showing his support for Matthew Warnock.

We leave you with this modern and contemporary production number. See you next season sports fans. Don't forget to buy the book if Mercado ever gets off his arse and puts it together".

Sunday 29 August 2010

Here Endeth The Sizzle

(This is the result of a rushed write-up on Sunday night and some fearsome alt-tab style writing at my desk during work on Monday morning. Feel free to check back on Monday night or Tuesday morning because there's every possible chance that I'll have to go back and do a rewrite and/or finish a paragraph that I left hanging halfway)

If I were more of an unscrupulous character I'd probably delve back into the post from after the Richmond game and do a subtle edit of any mention of how we could still sneak into the eight if we were lucky. Amazing to think that we almost knocked off the Hawks to keep The Impossible Dream™ alive, because even if you give me Bartram kicking that goal on the run, somebody actually manning up on Burgoyne to stop him from kicking a simple goal and Watts managing to kick the goal from the square and not contrive to hit the post there is no doubt that we were a million miles from being legitimate finals contenders this season. Sure we MIGHT have fallen in like Essendon last year, and don't get me wrong I'd have loved it (not to mention how we'd have done a far better job than they did) but look deep down and ask yourself if we didn't end up exactly where you thought we would. Don't forget that before the Bombers game we were 14th and only being kept out of another wooden spoon race by the putrid Tigers and even more putrid Eagles, who managed to beat us at the MCG.

So despite that "not as good in retrospect" win against Essendon and a slashing, almost unreal decapitation of Sydney that made everyone sit up and take notice we found ourselves out of the race again for the fourth straight year and the AFL ended up being right for once in putting us in the 4.40pm Sunday "also ran" game alongside a North side who had exceeded all expectations but necked themselves by getting continually massacred by good sides, leaving them needing to beat us by about 450 points to sneak in. What had suddenly come from nowhere to be a potential Elimination Final because a Round 22, dead-rubber slopfest.

There should be something calming about being involved in a Round 22 dead-rubber slopfest, but I certainly wasn't feeling it. We've seen too many losses in the last four years for me to sit back, put the feet up and not care about the result now. Besides, it would be nice to have some sort of success - no matter how minor - to think about over the next few months rather than thoughts of three straight losses, the second one in incredibly limp fashion.

At least this year we were legitimate about the match. All week there was a manic "We must win this for Junior" thread throughout every conversation about the game online or, god forbid, in real life. It was the complete reverse of last year's (let's be honest) shameful "heads will roll if we win" 'tribute' to Robbo, Wheatley and Wheels. Sure, all came good in the end - the Jurrahcane gave us highlights, the cue went in the rack so that we got beaten handily but not thrashed and even I had to admit about halfway through the third quarter that we'd done the right thing in throwing a month of football to rig the draft in our favour.

Today though we were supposed to win. I'm not entirely sure why considering North were higher on the ladder, but for some reason they started $2 outsiders which would seem like me to be an invitation to mortgage your house and put the proceeds on for a big collect. When Terry Wallace tipped us from the SEN commentary box I knew we were really stuffed and considered putting my own house on the Kangas. Let's not forget that they'd already beaten us comfortably once this year when we'd been expected to beat them (after the "also not as good in retrospect" Brisbane rampage) and that the last time we actually beat them they were still called The Kangaroos and Neita kicked eight. Add to that our pissweak performance against Port last round and remind me again why the bookies and failed coaches were so enthusiastic about our chances.

Not suggesting we weren't every possible chance, but $1.85 favourites just seemed a bit over the top. Maybe it had something to do with North giving a charity last game to Corey Jones who has spent the whole season training part-time, playing for North Ballarat and working as a carpenter (or something). We tried the same with Miller but he told us to stick it which was nice. Not only because it meant he wanted to go for a premiership with Casey, but also because it meant we didn't have to watch him play again. Everybody wins. Fellow casualty Daniel Bell was, on the other hand, offered nothing the poor bastard. He might have done absolutely bugger all since Ben Johnson knocked the football out of him in Neita's 300th, but if we're going to do the R22 slopfest let's do it right. If Newton can keep getting games then how about setting up a deckchair in the goalsquare and letting Meese have one last game? He could have sat there sipping Pina Coladas, sticking his arms out in the hope that a ball might land on him perfectly and he could jump up to dribble it through with his non fracture-prone foot. Either way all three of them were at Port Melbourne, two on the field and Meese as ruck coach par excellence, helping Casey get thrashed by North Ballarat and Juice was, somehow, playing senior football in the middle of the MCG so work that out. No wonder Bradforth told them to cram it with walnuts if that's who he's behind in the pecking order.

For some reason North fans seem to flock to the Ponsford Stand and take over the place, which is a bloody nightmare for Ponsford loyalists such as myself. At least when our club gives the place away to interstate sides and bars you from sitting in there you can get away with them, I somehow managed to end up in a section absolutely jam packed with 99% North fans like every other game we've played there since the day Carey kicked eight and they got seven behinds in a row to come from a goal down and win by a point. Unfortunately the 1% of MFC support happened to be some goose who, clearly rejected by his own, decided to try and engage us in conversation on everything. "Did you know Matthew Knights got sacked?" he asked, hours after the rest of the world knew. "How about the Tigers comeback?" just as Port shot out to a match winning lead. "It feels like being at the soccer eh?" when the flare went off. Unfortunately for him he gave me the last one directly after the people I was with who had been tolerating him had gone to the bar and got completely ignored. There's nothing I want to do less at a game than hear what some guy I've never met in my life before thinks about how our zone looks. It's bad enough having to be surrounded by people without them trying to engage you like a long lost mate. Suffice to say numbers were not exchanged and we shifted to get away from him at half-time. I blamed the others for indulging it, but it turns out that means I'm a sociopath.

Tragically Swallow kicking the first goal led to reminiscing about the last time I sat with the same people in the MCG and saw him boot one to the Ponsford Stand end, which caused us to go 0-9 and caused me to have a nervous breakdown of epic proportions. I certainly wasn't reminiscing, in fact I'd rather everybody I know in real life completely forgets it ever happened. You can know all about my shameful behaviour because the chances are we'll never meet, but I'd not have to hear the words "Hey, do you remember the time you..." ever again. Then, before I'd even managed to turn the conversation away from my embarrasing over the top reactions to football matches, we were three goals down and North were going inside 50 with ease. So far, so like every other game when we make a big focus of winning for some reason. At least last year when we went out with two totally unfit players they at least gave us a first quarter of entertainment before the tank stormed onto the field and started doing laps.

Cue the arrival of The Jurrahcane, a man who has only injury stand between him and absolute supernova star status next season. Much like the tankfest last year he was the undoubted highlight of the first term, booting two goals and generally strutting around like the football genius that he is. Today helped him shoot right to the top of the "get your number on my jumper" sweepstakes. The #28 Philthy Phil Primus/finals era number has been retired for the 4th and last time today, and the less said about destroying the Stefan Martin Experience's career by getting his number on a Kaspersky/Hankook jumper last year the better, so somebody has got to step up next season. Brad Green is an undoubted legend but he's more a ladies man, and Frawley was in the mix at one point but I'd prefer two numbers so LJ is right in the frame. In reality Jamar should be a contender but it'd be far too hypocritical after my attitude from 2003 to 2008, and I'd love to get a good old fashioned 46 or 50 but what's the point when players get excited by this obsession with low numbers and change after a couple of seasons? If we get some kid in the rookie draft and his first act is to say that he wants a number in the 50's and will wear it for the rest of the career then he shall be anointed the new chosen one.

Speaking of Ladies Man and potential All-Australian Green he was the only other forward fit and firing for us early on. Not only that but the next thing he'd be wandering around the back pocket picking up marks. After Moloney had another balls game today the decision is now completely clear for me, there's no need for joint captaincy shenanigans or any of this surely drug induced talk about shoehorning Grimes into the gig after 26 games. The future is Green. He completely stuffed up his first kick at goal and missed the lot, presumably leading to commentators everywhere falling off their seat after waffling on about his startling accuracy during his run-in, but got the second one right and just looked like he was going to have a big one.

Somehow we managed to get back in the game after being completely outplayed for the first ten minutes. When the stats came up and we'd only had two less inside 50's and had actually won the clearances it was nearly me falling off my seat. No need to mention that most of the inside 50's were hit and hope kicks that went nowhere, and that most of the clearances were the same, we'd once again - see the Hawthorn game - weathered opposition dominance and come out within striking distance. For the fourth week in a row it was most certainly NOT the performance of a finals aspirant but we'd done enough to remain a chance of taking the four points. Didn't hurt that Rivers and Garland were either marking or spoiling everything that came near them. Shame Riv's disposal was so shit or he'd have been right up there in the votes today. Garland, though, bounced back from a terrible couple of weeks to play a bloody good game - the sort that should ensure he starts next year in front of Warnock and McNamara (spot on the list TBC, but every possible chance of a Newton/Meesen style downgrade to the rookie list if he's not keep in the seniors) in the tall defender stakes.

Apart from Harvey burning off Jones, a man about 25 years his junior, and nearly kicking what the North muppet behind us assured himself "would have been goal of the year", another centre clearance fuckup and Rivers' botched kick in the backline the start of the second quarter was all Green in a way that would have made Senator Bob Brown moderately firm up. He missed the first one just to be dramatic then got two on either side of Bate's sole contribution to the match, the second coming from a bullet Jurrah pass which proved that the great man can do more than take hangers or kick both arsey goals and set shots. The 'cane then won a free and booted one towards porno mo Dunn who, making amends for doing absolutely nothing in the first quarter, booted one out of mid-air from 40m out for the highlight reel goal. Now, had I been the crunt behind me I'd probably have stood up and told everyone how it was the goal of the year/century/millenium/history of human existence when in reality it's a contender for the weekly prize but was, in fact, the biggest triumph of luck over skill since Isaac Weetra playing two games in a row. What Captain Bollocks behind me did get to do was go off his nut when Firrito smacked Dunn in the head, threw him on the ground and copped a free kick before the ball went back into the centre. Probably the most obvious free in the history of the game, even if LD did almost certainly suggest that he'd just starred in "Stewardesses In Heat 43" with Michael's mum, but apparently it was "soft" and had something to do with McLaren despite the fact that he was nowhere near the play. Luckily for old mate's blood pressure Dunn missed.

As for Scott McLaren what are you all going to do now that he's retired? Hopefully learn the name of a few more umpires so that you can join the 15 (or 16 if you will) other sets of fans who are convinced that there's a massive conspiracy against their club from him personally because he's the only umpire you know the name of. I'd love to pretend that our fans don't involve themselves in it, but sadly the facts are there. Nothing as classy as the "You will not be missed McLaren" banner in the North cheersquad though. Sheeplike behaviour from the masses. First it was Darren Goldspink, then McLaren. Who next? Can't we just stick to abusing umpires as a group and not start identifying them individually? Especially when the main charge against these guys is that they "think they're bigger stars than the players". Well what the fark do you expect when they've got 30,000 people referring to them by name?

Despite Dunn missing the second shot at goal we were suddenly a far different team from the one that had served up a bucket of raw offal in the first quarter. The man Ron Jeremy described as looking "too much of a porn star" had another chance a few minutes later from the exact same spot and got it right this time. We were in front somehow, but of course it didn't last long. North got the last three and we were back to pretty much exactly where we'd started before the start of the term. A particular highlight was Matt Campbell taking a mark despite Bartram trying to lock him in a paralysing armbar submission only for about three people behind me to yell "GARLLLLLLLETTTTTTTTT" who was nowhere near the bloody thing at the time. It was also at this time that I only realised Newton was actually playing when he started doing stretches. Get a touch first. Did he even do any ruckwork in the first half? What purpose does he serve? Please tell me that we're not going to put PJ up against the wall for the Ceaucescu-esque end of year machine gunning only to keep Juice instead. Let's not quibble over this, in a completely metaphorical football only way, both of them deserve to be put before a show trial and shot. Sadly the lack of credible alternatives means one might keep their job in 2011 and I fear that it's not going to be the guy who was running around at Port Melbourne today. I wonder what Nick Smith is doing?

Thanks to the lady at half time who decided to stop and give her opinion, completely uninvited, that Choco Williams has already been sounded out to take over as Essendon coach next year. When I suggested that Matthew Knights must be the happiest person on earth to have been paid out two years and never have to put up with Essendon fans ever again she just looked blankly at me. Obviously Round 22 is "Awkward Conversations With Strangers" round. I'll cop that if next year Rounds 1 through 21 are called "Shut the fuck up unless you know me personally Round". Unless you read this and want to heckle from distance, then go right ahead - distance being the important word in that.

New seats for the second half and instead of pig ignorant North peasants and overly friendly randoms we got the ultimate alternative - old people who are so out of touch with modern football that they hate everything and think switching the play is a bigger crime than bombing Pearl Harbour. Two full quarters later I still couldn't work out who they were supporting, but one thing I could tell is that they absolutely loathed Jack Watts with an intense passion. No doubt that he had a shit game, has had a very ordinary month where he's certainly not in the team on form, and has barely answered any questions in two years of senior football but really is pure white-hot hatred really necessary? The old tart directly behind me was even chiding people for kicking it within 30 metres of him by the end. Obviously there's no such thing as "wait a while" when you're every possible chance of dropping off before next pre-season. How about a bit of constructive criticism (for what it's worth when you're delivering it 100m from the player and they can't hear it) such as "try looking like you're interested son" and "any danger of defensive pressure before the end of the year?" Club definitely did the right thing in having him play out the year but he hardly repayed the faith - still, next year is where it counts not during the Slops Challenge Cup. Call me if we're getting the same in Round 22 next year and I might join your "Watts is the new Kosi" Facebook group, but until then I'm staying out of the rush to tee off on him like it's the first hole of the US Masters.

For the first time we looked quite good in the third quarter and even managed to sneak in front at three-quarter time. The Jurrahcane had five, and could have had six if they'd bothered to pay advantage after THE CELEBRATOR (sans celebrations today sadly) got the free. Witness also Newton botching a shot on goal that would have had us further in front. Was it just me or was there a sort of murmur everytime he touched the ball that seemed to indicate half the crowd were abusing him under their breath? Not without some justification may I add.

You could tell what was going to happen when we dominated the first five minutes of the last quarter but couldn't put them away. Suddenly Corey Jones decided to go out on a high and started to cut us to shreds at the other end, and all of a sudden we were three goals down and finished. At least Thank God For Brad Green got the last goal of the season, via the shambles when Trengove spoiled him and he sat on the ground looking baffled with his hands held up as if to say "how much more can I do for this club"? I suggest building a statue of him somewhere. And that was it. Another day, another loss, another season over without any reason to cancel your September holidays.

What I should be most annoyed about is the lost chance to use a forced, awkward "9 1/2 Wins" headline (you know, like 9 1/2 Weeks?? Ahh fuck it, that was never going to get over) for the only time in history but who's got time to get upset at minor things like that when terrible things are happening all over the world we've just lost our seventh straight match to North. At least it wasn't by a point like it usually is.

Goodbye, Farewell and Amen
Classy end to Junior's career, trying to pull noted carpentry expert Corey Jones down the guard of honour line with him. Says everything about the guy that he didn't go around the boundary line for a tearful round of high fives (though it would have been justified), and that when it should have been his moment alone he tried to involve somebody from another side.

I'm not sure we did the right thing in giving him the white screen at Moonee Valley style 'retirement', but I'm willing to go along with them on it. Still, any danger that this new rule they're bringing in about being able to add a mature aged rookie to your list during pre-season might be used to give him another run in 2011? At least then you're only taking a spot off the rookie list, probably paying him rock bottom money (which is a bit rude I suppose) and if it doesn't work out he shakes hands with everyone and leaves with his head held high. Don't suppose it'll happen but I can always dream.

Jazz Odyssey
Speaking of dreams, I have a recurring one that we will never see the trumpet player and his velvet jacket ever again. It was barely acceptable, through gritted teeth, when he did the theme song at the start of games in his smoking jacket and cravat but the introduction of the "Velvet Sledgehammer plays hits from your favourite movies" segment at three-quarter time is enough to make me go the top deck of the Ponsford style big vom. Let's take our lead from Windy Hill, pay out his $1.1m contract and pretend it never happened. I might be the only fan who would like to steer our public image at least a few degrees away from being a bunch of stuck up, Range Rover driving twats but there's nothing he could do that would reinforce every stereotype about us more without waving two ski poles at the audience afterwards and yelling "come on number nine" into the microphone. I'm not suggesting he should be hung from a goalpost by the jacket/scarf combo and pelted with cans yet, but it's almost worth starting a ticket to run for the board just to get rid of him.

At least if we have to go through the John Williams songbook experience next year can he at least learn to play the Superman theme properly? This is the second time this year that 30,000 people have pissed themselves laughing when he's botched the exact same note.

Crowd Watch
Dear football fans of all persuasions,

Shouting BALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL when a player is tackled a millisecond after getting the ball and is tackled, or after they've handballed it or kicked it away is fast becoming old. Please cease and desist. File alongside "amusing" comments describing the umpire as "[whatever colour they're wearing] maggots".

5 - Brad Green
4 - James McDonald
3 - Liam Jurrah
2 - Tom Scully
1 - Mark Jamar

Apologies to Sylvia, Dunn, Frawley, Garland, Bruce, Macdonald and Rivers

2010 Allen Jakovich Medal final tally
43 - Brad Green (WINNER: Allen Jakovich Medal for Player of the Year)
37 - James Frawley (WINNER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year)
30 - James McDonald
28 - Mark Jamar (WINNER: Strawbs O'Dwyer Medal for Ruckman of the Year)
27 - Colin Sylvia
17 - Tom Scully (WINNER: Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year)
15 - Aaron Davey
14 - Matthew Bate
12 - Jack Grimes, Cameron Bruce
11 - Jack Trengove, Jordie McKenzie
10 - Brent Moloney, Lynden Dunn
8 - Liam Jurrah, Jordan Gysberts
7 - Joel Macdonald
5 - Ricky Petterd, Jamie Bennell
3 - Matthew Warnock, Brad Miller, Colin Garland
2 - Neville Jetta, Clint Bartram, Jack Watts
1 - Jared Rivers, Nathan Jones, Austin Wonaeamirri, Rohan Bail

Next Week
Apparently some sort of exhibition series starts on Friday night. Do we care? Not particuarly. As long as none of Collingwood, St Kilda or Carlton win it then let whatever needs to happen occur and roll on delistings/trade week/draft/pre-season/NAB Cup/getting tonked in Round One.

Next Year
Bails is probably taking a sideways glance at the Centrelink-bound Matthew Knights and thinking about what happens when expectations are raised prematurely. Personally I've seen very little this year which indicates that we're a walk-up start for the top eight next year as everyone else seems to think, but it looks like I'm the only one. Doesn't help that the media keeps fuelling it with talk of dynasties and 2013 premiership sides. I distinctly remember a Riewoldt/Ball etc.. powered St Kilda side being labelled the juggernaut of the future in the early 2000's and what have they done since other than stuff up a winnable Grand Final?

Either way it sets next year up to go one of two ways, either we improve further and make the eight/just miss out in more legitimate fashion than this year or we stuff it up and Bails is out the door halfway through the year as the internet melts down with people trying to get rid of him. What's the bet we get Gold Coast in the first round and Miller kicks seven?

Let's all get sentimental and shit
Thanks for another year sports fans. One of the reasons for continuing to do this, other than the stroke-resisting stress relief that it provides is all the feedback - good, bad and litigious that comes through every week. I'll be back with a better rundown of the awards and an end-of-season State of the Union address but after that Demonblog will switch to its default summer setting of one post every three months. Make sure to follow on Twitter @demonblog if you can't get enough of this garbage until next year.

Sunday 22 August 2010

Ding dong, the witch is... alive and kicking

I'm not going to waste your time and mental health by going into another lengthy dissection of the Football Park curse and why everything has been rooted since R2, 2001 but what I will say is that I'm calling upon Andrew Leoncelli to go to Adelaide, whip it out and take a slash in all four pockets of the ground. That's the only way we can lift the malaise that descends every time we enter South Australia. Chell, if you're reading we can pitch this to Fox Sports as a LeBron James style hour-long primetime special before next season - will rate its arse off.

As usual I got sucked right into the idea that we might finally win a game there. Ever since Mark Williams got the boot Port have been up down like a bride's nightie, and last week we were at least serviceable despite the fact that Hawthorn probably should have beaten us up in the same way that they slapped buggery out of the Freo B-team yesterday. Despite the fact that the Dockers doing the biggest tank since us circa 2009 firmly shut the door on any wafer thin hope we had of making a thoroughly undeserved appearance in September, you'd have thought that everyone would have been ready to do it for Junior McDonald on the week that he played his 250th and we knifed him in the back.

First have I ever told you how much I loathe Dwayne Russell? Are you aware how I'd nearly rather put the TV on mute and listen to Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music album at maximum volume on AM Radio played down a long distance phone line on a call made from the bottom of a Congolese copper mine? No commentator makes me want to gouge my eardrums out more. Managing to confuse Jack and Jackson Trengove five times in the first five minutes was one thing, until he gave up and started just calling them both Jack, but when he said we had chosen Jurrah over Cousins in the pre-season draft I nearly kicked the television in. In the spirit of the election it was a statement which may have been technically correct but was completely misleading. In what alternative universe was the prospect of us drafting Cousins ever raised anywhere other than an internet forum? And what about when the dickheads started whinging about why we didn't rush a ball through that eventually led to Port kicking a goal. Was nobody watching last week when Joel Mac got pinged for running one through? Why do you think they're slightly sheepish about openly rushing them now? No bastard knows what the umpires are going to call at any time, so when the commentators sit there going "well that wouldn't have been paid because XYZ" then what credibility do they have? Give Dwayne a whistle and a white/green uniform and let him give us the obvious decisions. Then throw a housebrick at him.

If you packed me into a time machine and ordered me to return to 1939 and kill Hitler I'd get to Germany, do a runner and take out somebody in Dwayne's family tree instead to stop him appearing forty years later. Going too far? Wouldn't have thought so. You'd thank me even if it did lead to a rip in the time space continuum which caused us to return to a world where Fitzroy are the reigning powerhouses of the league and Luke Williams is in the AFL Hall of Fame as a legend.

The shenanigans started well before the doors of the Fox Sports commentary box swung open and Captain Bollocks walked in. For some unknown bloody reason Rohan Bail was dropped after playing his best game ever for us, and Juice freaking Newton came back from the clouds to get a recall despite not having done much at VFL level. How would you feel to be Brad Miller? Two weeks ago you banged through ten goals, admittedly against a bunch of kids and rugby players, and now you're being overlooked for a man who even he himself must admit has had more than a fair run on the list and never delivered anything more important than a cracking mark in a near-empty Telstra Dome during 2007. At least Brad's got Pia to go home to, because he must be gone at the end of the year if he can't even sneak into a dead rubber match.

Johnson also got the arse after being ordinary but not terrible for the last couple of weeks. The accepted wisdom was that Juice can play a bit in the ruck, and was a fair swap for PJ. Like some sick science experiment it was almost worth a look at, and Juice did get a few hitouts but in the end it turned out to be the most ineffective change since IN: Gillard OUT: Rudd (omitted). Might be a solid VFL player, might end up kicking 300 goals for Sunbury but he's had his time at the top level - 24 games in six years on the list more than enough to know where a career is going. Sadly next month this one ends at Juice browsing

Wacky selections aside - with Bail coming back in for Sylvia, who was apparently sick, in a move that treated my dreams of a massive Supercoach prelim final upset with contempt - we looked bloody good for the first ten minutes. Trengove got a cheap free and an even cheaper 50 in the first minute but missed the kick, and after that it was five minutes of pure footballing avalanche. Watts slotted the first (gambling fans, this is the second time he has been first goalkicker in a game played in the Australian Central Standard Time Zone - put your house on it next time we're in Darwin, Adelaide or Coober Pedy) and we had Port under siege. In true Melbourne fashion we somehow managed to turn this into a deficit by quarter time. I'm entirely sure how. It was pretty much all downhill after Morton missed an absolute sitter which would have put us a couple of goals in front halfway through the term. Bennell had a shot after the siren to put us back in front but continuing his month long run of doing bugger all he missed it and somehow we'd conspired to dominate them for most of the term but still go in behind. That's Demontainment!

Nice thank you ad about Debt Demolition from Jim Stynes during the first break, but I'm starting to get a bit nervous with all this talk about how we're charging headlong towards the finals next season and the beginning of a new glory era which will see one flag for mum, one flag for dad and one flag for the country. It's bad enough when journos say it, but when we're talking it up in ads ourself it makes me cringe. You've got to be positive and all that shit but how about we win a game in Adelaide first before acting like we're the superstars-in-waiting of the competition? The higher we set the bar the uglier it's going to get if we don't live up to the hype. All I ask is that we 'enjoy' at least 90% less false dawns than Richmond have in the last 30 years. Something tells me Bailey would have been standing there doing the universal hand gesture for "CALM THE FUCK DOWN" while Stynes was doing his voiceover about how we're on the verge of glory.

In other news what's going on with Alipate Carlisle's name? Every time I watch a Port game, which is thankfully not often, it reminds me of two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun. I'm not expecting him to do a Liam Jurrah, owner of a frankly unpronounceable 'real' first name, and change it to something 'normal' and boringly Anglo but really, take a good hard look at yourself son you're a living Maccas ad.

From the second quarter on we were well behind the 8-ball. Again we could have nicked it but Port's [BUZZ WORD ALERT] "forward pressure" was killing us. We could barely get the thing outside of the defensive 50 and at the other end Port were taking marks straight in front and kicking ridiculous grubber goals with the greatest of ease. We got three of the last four to make it interesting, including another 55m cannon from Dunn - suddenly the Paul Wheatley of his generation - but the tide just seemed against us. It was all well and good when we were going forward but inside Port's 50 we were all at sea, and can somebody please sit down with Colin Garland and the entire backline and watch the video compilation package that proves the set play of hoofing the ball 60m to the boundary line has been rumbled by the entire competition? In the first half of the year Jamar would wander in from the side and take a massive grab to relieve the pressure, now the moment he aims in that direction 3/4 of the opposition run to the exact spot where the ball lands and either bring it to ground, mark it themselves or force it out of bounds. Next idea please.

Half-time and we were still a chance but we'd dropped off alarmingly since the first 15 minutes of the game. Port had successfully booby trapped the middle of the ground like a WW1 battlefield, we couldn't clear the ball out of our backline to save ourselves and they were killing us in clearances and uncontested possessions. For the second week in a row we hardly deserved to be a chance of winning but were. It's that sort of run of luck that teams can get behind like a Sherman Tank on a battlefield and ride deep into September - if they haven't already stuffed it up and been knocked out like us. Refusing to watching the 'analysis' of Liam Pickering and Danny "Brownless-lite" Frawley I started flicking and landed on Fox8 showing The Rock vs Brock Lesnar from Summerslam 2002 which was far more interesting and entertaining than anything coming from Football Park. Pity the match had to start again, I was having much more fun watching old wrestling than shit new football.

The vibe that we were about to be smashed seemed to be right on the pulse when they got the first two goals of the quarter, but once again we managed to keep within touch by getting the next two. Any chance we had of killing the curse once off and for all, before it becomes really distracting, was on life support but there was still a pulse. No need to pull the plug yet.

Arise young Jack Watts who had the honour of copping the flying teabag from The Jurrahcane as the Mark of the Year elect was hauled in above him. Not exactly Shaun Smith or Jeff Farmer (ROBBED) quality but it's hardly been a year for wild screamers. It might not even get the nod for the week based on Goddard's near identical grab last night, but everyone loves the 'cane so vote early, often and with far more enthusiasm than you did on Saturday when the nominations come out on the website later in the week. How much do you love that guy? As much as I love to see #24 pulling in screamers again like the good old days you can't tell me he wouldn't be the biggest hit since the Beatles if he was doing it in #48 - now THAT is a number I'd plaster on my jumper. One of these days, maybe when we're actually good, he's going to cut sick and kick ten and it will be a crowning moment in footballing history. As long as he can avoid blowing his shoulder out like an exploding truck tire on the freeway again. Was I the only one who cringed when he landed right on the shoulder and went off looking ginger after kicking the goal? Didn't hurt him in the end but it's a worry. His two half seasons so far have been epic so if he can play 20 next year there's every possible chance that it will be utterly immense.

I didn't mind Watts' game today, but he either has the worst luck with bouncing balls in the history of VFL/AFL competition (no sniggering please), or is simply shite at taking any ball that bounces up over his waist. Morton, on the other hand, has completely lost the plot in the last few weeks. Having stuffed up the absolute sitter in the first quarter he marked well within range but was clearly spooked by his earlier rubbish kick, tried to pass it off with an even worse kick and completely stuffed it up. It's no wonder when he's in and out of the side every five minutes, but after losing a points decision against Adam Goodes in the great Sydney massacre a few weeks ago he's been bollocks. Nearing the end of his third season he's got to get himself going for next year or risk being labelled a big fat draft bust. Putting on some weight and not looking like he's about to lift off in a strong wind would be a good start, getting in the middle and getting some real possessions would also be handy.

So after Jurrah won himself a car/TV/hamburger/full body massage/whatever you get for Mark of the Year these days we decided to put the cue in the rack and enjoy a lovely day out in the sunshine. Down the other end Port went to town, including the second goal for the day from a free kick after one of our defenders blatantly and openly infringed on an opposition player in a way that no player has ever actually gotten away with since Queens Birthday '07 when Ben Holland openly cheated for four quarters against Anthony Rocca and was not penalised once. First Warnock had given away a goal by slapping his opponent into an armbar submission as the ball came into the square, then Rivers practically locked a bearhug on and threw the Port idiot to the ground before arguing that he hadn't done anything. For his crimes Warnock eventually ended up in the forward line (!!!!) for the first time since the Jordan McMahon Richmond debacle. I thought the '09 model Tank was going to plow onto the field and start doing laps at any minute. All we needed was for another Lynden Dunn vs Todd Goldstein hilarious mismatch to really make it solid. Not surprisingly for somebody with one career goal Warnock provided absolutely nothing up front, but he wasn't alone. It took Jurrah to walk through the Port defence, who had by this time lost all interest in the match, to kick a goal that kept us under seven goals behind at the last change.

Final quarter was such epic junktime that it may as well have been sponsored by Visy and used as an excuse to put another $2m in Chris Judd's pocket. We outscored them due to a chronic lack of interest on their behalf, Green got his 50th goal for the season, The Jurrahcane tried to kick a goal over his head a'la Robbo at Subiaco and Scully topped off a BOG (for us) performance with a goal on the siren.

Just to make things even worse Russell the utter goose decided to bring up the time honoured "Brad Green tried out for Manchester United" line and Liam Pickering actually sold it like it was an interesting piece of analysis that he'd never heard before never mind that every lazy commentator has mentioned it whenever a ball had been kicked off the ground since Round 2, 2000.

Crowd Watch
I've filled enough columns with my distaste for the Port Adelaide football club before, so let's not go down that path again (putrid theme song, no fans, curtains covering large sections of the stadium, jumper upgraded from hideous to ordinary) but can somebody please do a survey to ascertain whether they have the pound-for-pound highest proportion of insane, knitwear sporting grannies following them? We're all aware that Adelaide is a different place, but every time they cut to the crowd some gummy old tart was doing her block.

At least unlike during the Adelaide game I didn't see some ad about Jesus flash up on the electronic scoreboard. Naturally nobody else could see it, making me wonder if I'd lost the plot and was about to end up perched in a belltower picking off innocent civilians with a sniper rifle.

Election Corner
Both the Green and Jamar for All-Australian campaigns have come to a grinding halt over the last fortnight. The Russian might sneak in as a second ruckman due to the lack of too many other contenders, but Green is sunk now. Never mind he'll have the captaincy to tide him over next season. I expect that at the very least Green, Jamar and Frawley will be on the shortlists for selection but unless one, or more, of them goes absolutely sick next week and puts themselves square in the selectors vision with a blockbusting performance I can't see any of them making it which will make it four straight seasons without anybody getting a guernsey - bold visions of the future there.

Like an idiot I just paid $20 for the novelty of going to All-Australian night. For that price it's fairly obvious that we'll be seated (!?) somewhere to the left of the toilet. Certainly won't be on the floor munching a chicken parma with the Russian that's for sure, but if he gets named in the side then I'm not ruling out leaping off the balcony a'la Otto Skorzeny at Gran Sasso to celebrate with the great man.

2010 Allen Jakovich Medal Votes
5 - Tom Scully
4 - Liam Jurrah
3 - James McDonald
2 - Cameron Bruce
1 - Jordie McKenzie

Apologies to Frawley, Moloney and Rivers

Chip probably unlucky not to sneak in to steal one vote and send the Jakovich into a last round 1 on 1 smackdown, but he'll go in next week against the hardly exciting North forward line one behind. Under s163 of the Allen Jakovich Medal Act there is no tiebreaker or countback in the event of a draw and both men shall be declared joint winners of the award.

In Hilton territory Scully's fiver today all but lands him the award despite Trengove leading most of the year and Gysberts mounting a two match upstart campaign in the middle of the season. Stand by for news on what the new name for the Rookie of the Year will be from 2011 onwards (when I come up with one..)

38 - Brad Green
37 - James Frawley (WINNER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year)
27 - Mark Jamar (WINNER: Strawbs O'Dwyer Medal for Ruckman of the Year), Colin Sylvia
26 - James McDonald
15 - Aaron Davey, Tom Scully (Leader: Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year)
14 - Matthew Bate
12 - Jack Grimes, Cameron Bruce
11 - Jack Trengove, Jordie McKenzie
10 - Brent Moloney, Lynden Dunn
8 - Jordan Gysberts
7 - Joel Macdonald
5 - Liam Jurrah, Ricky Petterd, Jamie Bennell
3 - Matthew Warnock, Brad Miller, Colin Garland
2 - Neville Jetta, Clint Bartram, Jack Watts
1 - Jared Rivers, Nathan Jones, Austin Wonaeamirri, Rohan Bail

Encyclopedia Titanica
Demon Wiki is up to 4781 pages. My mission was 5000 by the end of the season so that's a colossal failure, but hopefully in the next few weeks I'll be hitting the State Library to do some thorough research of old newspapers/documents to hopefully add a few more names to the list of old reserves and Under 19's players. If you've got any old Football Records will reserves/U19 teamsheets I would very much like to get my hands on them. Email me at if you can send me some scans or, alternatively, lend me them briefly so I can scan them in and/or copy them. As payment I'll organise a night out with this guy for you and 12 close friends.

In other news I'm now paying for hosting DW and it's not cheap, so I've axed all the Google ads and their $0.5 a century payoffs and am looking for a proper sponsor. Proposals on a postcard to the above address please. Could be worse, you could sponsor Demonblog and get called up as a co-defendant when Dwayne Russell sues me.

Next Week
What shaped up a couple of weeks ago as a shock last minutes of the season eliminator to decide who made the finals has instead become the ultimate dead rubber, interesting only for saying goodbye to Junior and speculating about who will be playing their last match for us. After it's September, so feel free to put your feet up and hurl foul abuse at your television screen all month. I might be the only one, and clearly I'll end up regretting saying this if it does happen, but as long as it's not St Kilda (*spit*) then I don't care if the Pies win the flag. Any danger Simon Buckley bursts into the Pies side on a wave of injuries and becomes the latest player to dick us and win a flag after we've given them the flick?

Changes? Alright, given the dead rubber status of the match here goes nothing. This is based on the Casey game where both Bate and Miller kicked five.

IN: Bate, Miller (goodbye, farewell and amen), Maric, McNamara, Johnson (one last chance to impress before obscurity beckons), Tapscott (novelty R22 debut a'la Grimes and Michael Clark)
OUT: Morton, Newton, Jones, Warnock, Bartram, Bennell

I don't for a second think that half of the above will take place - mainly because we haven't got the plums to do a six change bonanza - but for god's sake please give us some sort of interesting angles to this match. If Bate doesn't get a game after kicking five and being named best-on for Casey you can be sure that he's either going to the Gold Coast or has touched up a close relative of Bailey. Similar to Maric but substitute Gold Coast for Paramore and touched up to slashed with a razorblade.

Final Thoughts
One more win will do me nicely. Make sure you get there for a farewell to Junior - for god's sake the man started his career wearing #54, you might never see that happen again.

Sunday 15 August 2010

RT: @deanbailey footy is shit

(Keen observers may note I edited the title from what I originally posted on Twitter. There's no need for such filth, or a lawsuit from the AFL Umpires Association). 

Once again it's a good thing that I'm writing this four hours after the final siren (and in fact as it later turns out also the next day) because had I managed to dictate my thoughts immediately as I trudged through the pouring rain outside the ground, having stormed out after another shameful outburst, this whole enterprise would have been shut down by every internet filter on earth and landed me with an ASIO file. 

I was absolutely ropeable, having not had time to digest just how lucky we'd been to have even gotten that close given our performance and how two of the run of worst umpiring decisions ever (non-goal umpire category) didn't cost us at all because the Hawks stuffed up the frees. No time yet for it to sink in that we didn't deserve to be in finals calculations in the first place and were punching well above our weight by being included as anything more than a novelty option in September calculations. No, I was wandering the banks of the Yarra with a mix of rage and aimlessness that even Mark Latham would rise to applaud. 

Trudging home, soaked about two minutes after leaving the ground, I resolved to tip the first Hawthorn fan that passed and said something 'hilarious' into the drink. Never happened, mainly because I'd stormed out with two minutes on the clock but also because I was wearing the facial expression of a serial killer. At one point some guy asked "Did you win?" and I very politely scowled "no" and kept walking before he could ask anything more (do people not have internet enabled mobiles? It's not 1985 anymore you know). 

Rewind a couple of hours to when we were young, dumb and full of hope. Hawthorn started as favourites but no end of people were willing to put their hand up, or in their pocket, to back us to do the job. They'd been shit for a fortnight, and while we'd hardly set the world on fire in the same timeframe we'd at least managed to put two wins on the board. 

Also contrary to popular belief we hadn't been that bad against them during the Bailey era. Sure the Hawks treated us like a prostitute in Round 1, and the less said about the disastrous first game of DB's coaching career the better but the two matches in the middle were decent contests that we might have snatched with a bit more experience and poise. Either way, when you lose the first of four contests by 104 points it's a long way back to a respectable average losing margin. And who will ever forget The Stefan Martin Experience kicking his first career goal with a snap plucked straight from the far reaches of his arse in our match against them last year? Everyone except the two of us I'll bet. 

 The first thrust forward from the Hawks, saw the ball bounce over everybody and drop onto the post but after that the next five minutes belonged to us. Jurrah got the first goal and super-mo Dunn the second to make me at least start to perk up and wonder if we might not be on the way to the sort of runaway win that makes the entire football world sit up and think "bloody hell, what's going on here?" a'la the Sydney match. 

Then the ball went forward for the Hawks again and Franklin got one of his few legitimate scores of the day with the most unorthodox and shit but ultimately successful snaps of all time. Fair enough, no harm done - especially when Green marked and goalled at the other end, then Super Mo managed to cheat the umpire out of a free 50m directly in front before the next bounce. If he'd kicked that we could have been away but finally given a shot from directly in front he muffed it. 

Bizarrely our three goal kickers then proceeded to completely disappear from the match. Elsewhere it started pissing down and the umpires must have caught a glimpse of how badly they'd been taken for a ride by Dunn's dive because from then on we received pure shaft from them without even the courtesy of a reacharound. Either way, despite the Hawks dominating around the ground and going inside 50 with ease - compare and contrast to our play which often resembled World War I battlefield style inch-by-inch movement - we got four goals (so often a three-quarter time score) and went in equal. 

There was something drastically unbalanced about it, like a boxer hanging on the ropes and desperately counterpunching while his brains are being turned into a milkshake. Still, after the three years we've had I'm willing to accept any first quarter where we're still in the game and have kicked more than one goal as a victory no matter how many portents to evil there are floating around. For now the only black clouds over us were the ones causing it to piss down in epic fashion, at which point Hawthorn instantly looked better. We needed the sun to come out again, and in true Melbourne fashion it not only did but with such a vengeance that you almost needed sunnies. I tried to make another omen of our forward 50 being completely in the shadows and theirs being half-half between shadow and sun but was clearly reaching for some way to convince myself we could win. 

There was no point going into depth about the weather because it changed every five seconds anyway, and in between all this fluctuating weather and outright abuse of the Bureau of Meteorology Aaron Davey broke his leg. It was the first time a broken bone had effectively destroyed our season since Brock McLean necked himself in R1, 2007 - let's hope that Flash doesn't come back a shadow of himself and end up playing for Carlton like the other guy. Without Davey we just lacked polish, somebody who you know is going to hit the target 90% of the time. We hung with them in spite of ourselves but even as we were all but level at half-time it still felt like Hawthorn would turn it up a notch and run over the top of us. 

Other than the first few minutes I never felt we were in control enough to put together a match winning lead, despite Hawthorn doing everything they could to keep us in it. It was a shit quality game between two sides playing for the right to bomb out of September in depressing fashion, but there were still highlights. Long time readers will have noted with some excitement the return of Wonaeamirri's character THE CELEBRATOR when he kicked his goal and followed it up with some sort of wild running windmill punch a'la Mike Tyson's Punch Out on the Nintendo. At the other end of the ground Frawley was smashing Franklin like a guitar and ensuring that if he doesn't at least get mentioned in final considerations for the All-Australian side the selection panel will receive the same sort of reception reserved for serial killers and umpires. 

The cheap goals from frees started halfway through the quarter, and other than the Jurrahcane kicking what might very well be our goal of the year we were starting to get cut up around the ground and attempting to switch play needlessly and with no second option. Back to that goal, with apologies to Jamie Bennell who loses out due to the sort of goal he kicked against the Dogs being dime a dozen these days, the reason it was so good was the way Jurrah seemed to slow down and stop for a split second to size up just where he was going to place the thing. 

Most players would have just hacked it off the ground and it would have either slid left for a point or been intercepted by Gibson flying back on the line to defend it - but this time, making light of the fact that he'd busted his finger by not even bringing his hands into the calculation, LJ picked his spot and slotted it perfectly. Gibson (a man who, lest we forget, gets laid more per capita than any other player in the competition) gave a perfectly good despairing dive, but like a soccer football free kick smashed perfectly into the corner he had no chance to get to it. I'd like to watch that again in isolation without having to see most of the rest of the match. 

That goal and one from Bruce got us back in it, but it still felt wrong. Every time it rained they started slicing and dicing us and there was no guarantee that it was going to remain dry for the rest of the day considering how it had changed from sunny to pissing down about 32 times already. Note how many times their players held overhead marks in the conditions. They dropped their fair share of absolute sitters too (see also Trengove, Jack in the goalsquare in the first quarter - thank god it sat for him to kick the goal anyway) but at least they were holding onto it when it mattered and not fumbling it around. 

The only upside to the whole first half - other than the fact that we were still in the game despite being murdered in the clearances, contested possessions and inside 50's - was that I was sitting undercover and not having to run back and forth out of the rain like the people on the first row. Surely the first time you get rained on it's time to recognise that Melbourne's weather does not follow any particular logic and to move somewhere undercover? People did that, and then the moment the sun came out again they were off downstairs to get rained on for a second, third and fourth time. It's a footy game, not Man vs Wild - you do not have to sit in pouring rain wearing a garbage bag for protection. Nobody's going to think any less of you if you sit under a roof. 

After all some teams (*cough* St Kilda *cough*) have made a living out of never playing in the wet, then getting exposed when it rains during a game that really matters. I hope lessons are well and truly learnt from both this and the Bulldogs match on how to play wet weather footy because global warming might be on the way to fuck up the seasons and make it summer all year around but it won't be here to stuff up my dream of seeing a flag for at least a hundred years yet so there's plenty of time for playing games in the rain. 

It was amusing to hear the wild chorus of boos for Kennett when they showed him on the screen looking emo. Bit rich for our fans to be giving it to a President for abusing his coach and team for being shit when that's pretty much all we've done for the last two years. Much like when James Hird got fined for hanging shit on that umpire and was booed by opposition fans the next week it made no sense. Especially bizarre considering that it was probably our fans who kept him office through two elections while his treasurer was on our board. The MCC Members pavilion could rename itself the Karl Marx Pavilion and fly the hammer and sickle and you still wouldn't fool me that they're not going to line up en masse and vote for the Libs every time. I think it's more a case of recognising what a colossal, cracking meltdown he'd have suffered if they'd lost again and punting it home for comic value. If we'd won his secretary would probably have leapt from an upstairs window rather than have to type out his spray on Monday morning. 

Speaking of freaking out how about the Frawley deliberate? It's a good thing that Franklin felt guilty about it and decided to miss the lot because that was truly criminal. Compare and contrast to the first quarter when some brown and gold idiot slid along the ground and palmed the ball straight at the line on the members side wing. Didn't get paid, but soccer one out at the other end with some hulking great bloke two steps behind you and you get pinged. Just another goofy interpretation that didn't go our way - karmic payback at last for the 50m penalty fiesta we were on the receiving end of in the game against Essendon which started this improbable run towards the eight. Swings and roundabouts. 

After being beaten up in the centre during the second and still somehow managing to kick four goals we repeated the dose in the third, and yet somewhere still managed to be within touch at the last quarter. When we got two in a row through Watts (did nothing, would probably get dropped if he was anybody else. Will still be a gun, roll on 2011) and Jamar it seemed like we were back in with a sniff of a miracle. Shame Johnson got murdered in the centre because if we had a decent second ruckman The Russian would be a killer target in the forward line. 

For a guy who had racked up 0 kicks before his first shot at goal he's a bloody good set shot and a towering mark. Pity we can't afford to leave him down there too long lest we get ripped to shreds in the centre with Johnson/Spencer/[tall player with no ruck skills thrown in due to desperation] taking the bounces. Didn't really matter yesterday considering that even when he did get the taps we were getting belted out of there but in the interests of long term planning somebody had better fire up and give him a hand. 

Now, no matter what else you take out of the third quarter - and god knows I've got a lot to say about Garland and his shitful kicking out of defence - where did the Franklin free against Frawley rate in the most frustrating moments of your life? Might not have been the worst decision ever, nothing can beat that goal umpire farce in the Geelong/Pies match, but it would have to be up there in all-time MFC related officiating debacles. 

The rudest thing about it was that it was at such a crucial time of the game. If it had happened when we were 50 points down in the last quarter you'd have raised an eyebrow and asked what the hell was going on but it wouldn't have mattered. As it was we were still in the mix and Chip had beaten Franklin in one-on-one duels all day (he still got plenty of ball up the ground, but what are you going to do to stop that other than smash him in the face with a sledgehammer?) but that was a pure and simple dagger in the back from the idiot in the middle. He got a real one just after but the damage was done. 

We were still close enough to make it interesting but the tide was rapidly turning in their favour, and when it started pouring again you might as well have put your house on the Hawks at $1.20. Still, once again we managed to turn potential disaster into near glory. First Joel Mac got pinged for our second deliberately rushed behind of the season but luckily they once again felt guilty and completely missed it. It was an interesting call, like the one where Essendon got pinged earlier in the season I thought that to the letter of the law it was probably the right call - after all he did take a couple of steps back and wait for the opposition player to get right on top of him before he went back over the line but after the league came out and declared the first call wrong how can they possibly pay anything else similar? 

Jamar jumping up and pounding the ball through against St Kilda is one thing but this was a near carbon copy of the Essendon/Hawthorn (there's your common denominator) call and he got done for it. Rancid umpiring at a crucial time. They got the goal that fairly well sealed it before Thank God It's Brad Green turned up for the first time since the first quarter to kick one on the run to bring it back to under two goals. 

Bartram could have got it within a goal and made it properly interesting but running inside 50 he clearly wanted to dish it off but decided to take the shot himself and missed, not that I could see shit from where I was standing. The old bird in front of me who had turned around specifically to deliver her thesis on how much she hated him during the third quarter must have had an aneurysm at that point. Hardly the guy I'd want kicking for goal on the run if my life was on the line though, so I'm not going to slaughter him for it. Still, would have helped considering they went down the other end and got the sealer pretty much straight afterwards. 

All that stopped the Hawks from a mark in the square that would have killed the match was a desperate last minute spoil from Bail, but then from the throw-in absolutely nobody went near Burgoyne and he kicked the goal that finally and officially ended our season. But wait, there was more. My blood pressure had already been pushed up to dangerous levels when the Watts kick from the square at the other end that would have opened it up again with enough time for a miracle looked like it had gone through and I almost leapt on top of a stranger only to find out it hit the point. 

Shameful outburst alert, that's when I lost it. Kicked the fence, knocked a cleaning sign across the bottom deck of the Ponsford and stormed out. Just then the rain decided to return to Hurricane Bertha levels and drench me but I didn't care. When Hodge kicked the last goal I let out a primal scream which scared some kid walking next to me. 

In retrospect the whole thing feels stupid, we should never have been there and between the second half in Brisbane, the first against Richmond and most of today it should be blatantly obvious to all that we don't belong in the finals yet - but how often does the 8th placed team deserve to be there? But on a grander scale to that round 2 Collingwood debacle I'd had something improbable and beautiful dangled in front of me then snatched away in cruel fashion. I'm an only child, how the hell do you want me to cope with that? It's no wonder I didn't just throw myself to the floor and start crying. Never go to ground anywhere that football fans having been standing for two hours, nothing good can come of it. 

Thankfully the AFL in their infinite wisdom are set to increase the amount of sides in the finals so that we can have even more overmatched slop sides creep in and get smashed, so hopefully in a couple of years when we're playing some bizarre eight conference, 15 team finals series on the surface of Mars we might just sneak in. 

Conspiracy Corner 
We'll all have a red hot whinge about the umpires this week, and everyone will add their own comments about perceived payoffs, sexual favours or teabagging incidents but doesn't it strike you as concerning that some people legitimately believe that there are deliberate conspiracies against their team? Like the AFL and umpires, two of the most incompetent groups in the world today, could actually get it together to deliver a double-secret directive that, as some peanut near me started yelling, Melbourne shall be shafted in order to make way for the Hawks to play finals. 

Don't you think that if it was a case of rorting the game to get one side into the finals specifically then we'd be a much better story for them to rally behind? Side comes from nowhere with a sick president to pull off a D2: The Mighty Ducks style feelgood story as the young, exciting side crashes into September calculations. Choose either that or a side with a ranting psychopath of a President, 45k three game members and the ongoing worst premiership defence since us 1965 and beyond. In the interests of ratings and general buzz I know which one I'd rather watch as a neutral. Wouldn't surprise me if they somehow managed to stuff up their "get the Demons into the 8" conspiracy due to the complete ineptitude of all involved, up to and including our own side. 

Crowd Watch 
As viewers of Demonblog Twitter (now Justin Bieber free) would have seen, in graphic fashion, the residue of last week's big vom on the wall of Ponsford Stand Q33 was still there which is a fair testament to the care and dedication that the cleaning contractors take to looking after this iconic venue. Will probably still be there next season when I, like an idiot, choose to sit near it again. 

No kids going the big chunder this week, but one behind us nearly got put into a headlock. Not only did the little prick think that Carl Petersen was Cyril Rioli for the first half (because society has obviously progressed so far that kids still think all people from the same race look the same) but he spent the whole first quarter delivering piercing screams at the top of his voice whenever the Hawks got the ball and smashed me in the back of the head with a bloody flag. I'm a fairly tolerant person (!?) but at point when wooden stick met skull I had to turn around and ask him to take more care, only to receive death glares from his dad. How can you be so insular and stupid to not even notice when your children are annoying the shit out of everyone? (but more importantly me) 

These are the same sort of people who fawn over their ugly babies as being the most beautiful thing on earth and go on TV to tell the world that their son was "a nice boy who wouldn't hurt anyone" after he's run through Chadstone shopping centre with an AK-47. 

On the other end of the age spectrum were the two grannies in front of us, one of whom was the aforementioned president of the "Fuck off Clint Bartram" fan club. The other one was far more placid and barely said a word, possibly because she was scared shitless of her insane friend. Maybe it was the culture of fear that caused her friend to sit there terrified and silent, making the president of the FOCB club turn around and start discussing the game with me instead. I hate it when that happens. If I'd wanted to have random chats with post-middle age women there are (probably) internet sites which cater for that, don't think that because we're sitting in the same vicinity and wearing the same colours that we're going to be mates. 

 For the last quarter, abandoned by all and sundry who decided on an early afternoon, I went downstairs and made the horrific mistake of going into one of the standing areas at the back of the bottom deck of the Ponsford. Everybody knows that the sort of people who hang around in those areas are usually insane, socially retarded, on parole or worthy of being attached to a washing machine and thrown into Port Phillip Bay but it looked empty and the quarter was about to start so I went in there and stood up the back.

Not thirty seconds later seven or eight pure arseholes showed up en masse and stood right in front of, or to the very left of me. All Hawthorn, all clearly amused to have one of them in their midst. Cue barely concealed abuse which I could half hear due to having headphones in. Then for some reason the section of munters I was in started to get into a "chant off" with some MFC fans just to the left of us (where chant ='s shouting *team name* *CLAP* *CLAP* *CLAP* like an 8-year-old) and the guy next to me basically started yelling it in my face from the side trying to provoke some reaction. Wasn't going to get anything, but I knew that no matter what happened at the end it was going to be ugly. 

Either we were going to get done and I'd have to do a walk of shame through them, or we were going to get up and I'd get filled in for celebrating too boisterously. When Green kicked his goal I was out of there. Discretion is the better part of valour when you're prone to verbal gaffes and/or inappropriate outright abuse like I am. There are plenty things worth being punched in the head or having to leap over a fence for and footy is certainly not one of them. Maybe a Grand Final or a prelim? Went over to where the section of our fans from the chant-off were and the rest was history. 

Apologies to the guy who was standing behind me when I booted the fence and turned around to walk-off. That was a completely inadvertent shirtfront which I delivered on you, and had you not been the only person other than me in standing room who wasn't drinking beer like a total pisshead it might have been ugly for all concerned. 

(Update from the future - somehow I forgot to mention that the pre-match entertainment featured recovering drug addicts in a goalkicking competition. For added flavour the MC quizzed them about what they'd been hooked on before they took a non-opiate related shot)

2010 Allen Jakovich Medal Votes
5 - Cameron Bruce
4 - James Frawley
3 - Colin Sylvia
2 - Jordie McKenzie
1 - Rohan Bail Apologies to Scully, McDonald, Macdonald, Jamar and Rivers. 

38 - Brad Green
37 - James Frawley (WINNER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year)
27 - Mark Jamar (WINNER: Strawbs O'Dwyer Medal for Ruckman of the Year), Colin Sylvia
23 - James McDonald
15 - Aaron Davey
14 - Matthew Bate
12 - Jack Grimes
11 - Jack Trengove (Leader: Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year)
10 - Tom Scully, Cameron Bruce, Brent Moloney, Lynden Dunn, Jordie McKenzie
8 - Jordan Gysberts
7 - Joel Macdonald
5 - Ricky Petterd, Jamie Bennell
3 - Matthew Warnock, Brad Miller, Colin Garland
2 - Neville Jetta, Clint Bartram, Jack Watts
1 - Jared Rivers, Nathan Jones, Austin Wonaeamirri, Liam Jurrah, Rohan Bail 

Next Week
Another blockbusting Port crowd of 102 turn up watch us stuff it up in Adelaide for the ninth consecutive year. During the week the AFL trumpeted that their stupid rule innovations, put to an allegedly 'public' vote had achieved support from a 'quarter of respondents' or as the rest of us know it '3/4 of people hated it. 

If you want to adopt a similar head-in-sand look at Season 2010 there is still a possibility that we can make the 8. What's the point though? The season has been a success by anybody's measure, there's really no point pumping ridiculous scenarios into ladder predictors to try and force our way in (I just spent the last ten minutes doing just that though I must admit..) 

If something outrageous happens in the next two weeks - and just wait for Hawthorn to beat the Collingwood reserves in R22 when top spot is sewn up - then rip out the champers bottles and let's get trashed/line up for finals tickets but otherwise just ride out the next couple of weeks and hope we can at least put some platform down for next year by winning a bloody game at Football Park. Serves us (me?) right for getting my hopes up anyway. Let this be a lesson to you kids, never be positive about anything. 

Was it worth it?
Get to shite. Last few weeks were fun though. In a sick way doesn't it feel good that a loss really hurts again?