The Thriller in (conditions resembling) Manilla.

You didn't have to be a clinical sufferer of Melbourne Supporter Depression Syndrome to have your reservations about what was going to happen on Saturday night.

When you've spent five years being utter toilet going into a match as the favourite is tense enough, but what about when you're playing a side who just hours before have gone rock bottom last in the league? You don't need to be a Richmond fan stuck halfway under the 5.32 express to Upper Ferntree Gully to know what it's like having success torn from your hands and replaced with a steaming great turd - we've gone through it about five times already this year.

Still, this was Port. Remember them, they used to be good. Ironically just when they replaced their vile playing strip with something quite nice they went from being a side who played half decent football to one reeking of rancid garbage. A team so horrible to watch that they're alleged to have 36,000 members yet have to cover half the seats in the stadium with advertising tarps to make a buck. Their last home game got just under 17,000 people. We've all been there and it's not pretty. At least nobody has to listen to that Broadway song and dance theme song. The good news is that come Round 24 if you make the trip to the Adelaide Oval you'll get to listen to the Power Funk Squad, which sounds great if your idea of fun is watching 16-year-old girls prancing about (in which case you may be an AFL footballer or Gary Glitter).

Yes, this was Port. So what if we were tonked by the Dogs a fortnight ago just when we thought the corner had been turned, so what if we were coming off the bye - something which has mysteriously butchered half of the league this season. Everything else (where everything = Port being a shit team who should be relegated to the SANFL to play against themselves) pointed to a victory which would keep the feint heartbeat of our finals aspirations alive.

Unless of course it was being played at either Football Park or in abnormal conditions which would dramatically close the gap in quality between the two sides. For let there be no doubt with the exemption of Gold Coast who have an excuse, we're further in front of Port right now than we have been of any side since Essendon at the end of 2006. In '06, '07 and '10 we lost to the eventual wooden spooner (twice in the case of '06 for god's sake) and in the other two years we won it ourselves, so you can see just why a debacle wasn't completely off the agenda.

We didn't need to play inside a sauna to cock it up against Carlton x2, Richmond and West Coast so you'll forgive me for sweating up a bit myself at the prospect of playing a contender for the worst team in the competition in a city where the conditions are so oppressive that players are rotated off the ground and straight into the sort of room usually used to preserve meat.

Sitting in the loungeroom of our visiting Brisbane correspondant @amul82, I discovered what would become the number one prop of the evening a Nintendo Wii gun which, when it wasn't being jammed into toasters for photo opportunities, was waved around my head in angst or aimed at the screen whenever something went wrong.

During the last quarter I forgot I was even doing it such was the stroke-inducing angst that they were putting me through. When Stef Martin banged through the sealer I realised that I was sitting there like an idiot waving a plastic gun around like Tony Montana. It stopped me from throwing something across somebody else's loungeroom.

Thankfully despite all the ingredients for a shambles being on hand we managed to get it right in the end. We are not Richmond and generally save our humiliations for when we play good sides. Mind you for a match where we were never less than two goals in front at any time after the five minute mark of the first quarter it was all a bit too close for comfort.

From the first bounce it was obvious to everybody that we were the better side by a million miles. Or if you wish the distance between Darwin and Yuendumu, which you wouldn't know was almost the same distance as between Melbourne and Brisbane for the amount of effort the commentators spent trying to talk up how the Jurrahcane was playing "at home".

One thing you could say for Jurrah's "home ground advantage", other than the fact that he'd once kicked 7 in a local game there, was that at least you could be sure he'd be unconcerned by having his plum region sweat up like the insides of a greenhouse. Who knew about the rest of them though, and as we were reminded every 20 seconds Port had spent the last month running their players through intense sessions in Bikram Yoga style hot rooms to prepare them for the top end conditions. Must have been a big help for the other three games in the last month when they were playing in freezing winter conditions. Did that one come from Dean Laidley across Skype shortly before he did the (poolparty) logo and went off to do something more fulfilling than be involved with Port.

At least for all of Laidley's internet based assistant coaching methods he wasn't insane enough to try and take the senior coaching job. Poor Matthew Primus. He's sitting there in the coaches box, next to Matthew Bishop of all people, wondering if he's going to go down in history alongside Peter Rohde (coincidentally now working as the Football Operations Manager of... Port Adelaide) as the most unfortunate caretaker coach of the last 15 years, and not only does he look like he's about to jump out the window with depression but then he's got Tim Lane trying to convince us all that he's some sort of dangerous freak who's about to commit murder.

The evidence for this claim - pushed for the entire first half before they once showed Bailey, Scott West and else somebody who was obscured by a partition - was that he was shown once in the first quarter banging the phone off his hand with the barest of force. Given the position that he's found himself in, coaching a skint club with players like Mitch Banner (who?), Cameron O'Shea (WHO!?) and Ben Jacobs (surely they're taking the piss?) you'd forgive him if he stopped coaching and started kicking holes in the dinky little room that they had him in. But who'd notice if he stopped? And who'd pay the cost for repairs when Port go bust and offer their creditors five cents in the dollar. At least the stadium is sponsored by an insurance company.

Now, we all know Channel Ten are tanking even more furiously than the Melbourne Football Club circa 2009 but how many times did you think about furiously ramming your boot through the TV set? My highlight was Tim Lane, still smarting from Carlton's loss, suggesting Port were "morally in front" about 30 seconds before we kicked five in a row. Ridiculous statements about moral victories belong on rank amateur blogs like this, not by people who do this stuff for a living.

Almost as helpful was longtime Demonblog nemesis, and author of the worst article ever written, Luke Darcy declaring us all but home shortly before Port started storming home. I'd have thought that as a commentator you'd have reviewed what happened last year and would realise that Port put in a blistering comeback in identical conditions and were every possible chance of doing the same again. Apparently not. Would have thought that would actually have kept people watching instead of turning over to the golf. Apparently not.

I suppose it's rude to complain about the commentators when realistically we should have been watching Fox Sports and listening to Dwayno gurgling about firestarters, shortings and the breaking out of hundreds and thousands. In the North vs Bulldogs game on Sunday he prematurely screamed that a shot on goal late on game was "THE KILL SHOT!" before it missed, and instead of packing away his latest attempt at a shithouse cliche he awkwardly did it again when North really did deliver "THE KILL SHOT!1!!!!" a minute later. Next to him Darcy is practically Richie Benaud.

Sad for Channel 10 that they'll have to go back to showing repeats of The Spy Who Loved Me ad nauseum on Saturday nights next season and that they're going out being forced to show minority interest matches like this, but you can't say from their performance that they didn't deserve it. Surely even before the start of the season when West Coast were projected to be garbage again and everyone had come to terms with St Kilda being as boring as batshit they'd have thought that a game between Melbourne (8th best supported side in Victoria) vs Port Adelaide (stop! stop! stop! top! top! top! At least one of the two..) wouldn't draw much of a TV audience at 8.30 Saturday.

Either way I don't know what it rated but if it was less than a double episode of Cops they got what they deserved. At least unlike Port, Cops has a classic theme song.

You'd not expect much about the match itself on here would you? Google any of tedious, lacklustre or insignificant and you'll get a full replay of last night which you can go right ahead and ignore. Name A Game might sell a copy to Mitch Banner's mum or the Emo Maric Fan Club might buy a copy to watch on the steps of Flinders Street Station but realistically it was that awful combination of a rubbish team dragging a mid-range side down to their level with the added bonus of half the players dying in the arse from the weather halfway through.

I could tell it was going to be a good night for me at least when Petterd and Maric got the first two goals. With the exception of the Stefan Martin Experience, who I think everyone else is on board with now, and Green who is admittedly up and down like the proverbial I've not been as worried more about anything this year than my thinly disguised love for Ricky and the Emo ending with them both out of the side and going nowhere. It happened a few weeks ago and watching them both cut it up for Casey I almost had to join the Morton family anti-depressant discount theme to cope.

When Maric was named I expected him to be the sub but obviously they thought he might do self harm if forced to don the green vest again this year and he started. Thank god for that too because he was great. Both of them can crumb, both can push up into the midfield, both will probably put in a shocker next week, get dropped and walk out at the end of next year. Let's hope they give Maric a decent run this time, he was stiff to get dropped after the Carlton game considering in the three matches before he'd had 31 touches, three goals and two goals. He plays one ordinary game, Mick Malthouse calls him a cheat and suddenly we don't see him for two months. Rubbish. If you dropped every one of our players who put in a shocker you'd have to turn over half the side some weeks.

Meanwhile look what I found on Google images, proof that in 2008 he was absolutely thrilled with life. This is what our club will do to a young man, don't let Scully see it.


Howe was sub, and on that note I've been made aware of a new trend where gentleman who are batting massively above their average are being referred to as a "Jeremy". Not because our man couldn't walk into any garbage suburban nightclub and clean up with the birds, but because it's a corruption of "how(e) did he get her?" I'm getting behind it, especially because in the various times during the match when I lost interest in what was happening on-field we switched to picking out Jeremy's in the crowd instead. There were hundreds, which was impressive considering how few people were there.

Despite Jurrah getting overly excited at playing in front of his "home" audience (#statmybitchup distance fact - he was as far away from home as Seattle is from Los Angeles) and hitting the post trying to do a dinky rolling kick into an open goalsquare we were all over them. Four goals to nil, and with Port's delivery inside 50 absolutely putrid I was nearly reaching for the record books to find the last time we kept an opposition side scoreless in the first quarter (Round 10, 1994 apparently) when Gysberts turned it over going forward and Port got one on the rebound.

For all our domination early it was Comeback Week all around the league, and based on what happened in the final term last year the last thing we needed to do was run ourselves into the ground dominating them for 15 minutes without making it count. Thank god then for Port's rank goalkicking and their habit of missing sitters. At the other end Petterd was snapping them out of his arse, Jones was hitting set shots from 50 and Nicholson was booting them on the run from outside 50. Finally a game where things go our way, any danger this might happen against one of the eight Victorian teams we've never beaten in the Baileyball era.

When Jurrah got the first of the second quarter it probably looked to the casual observer that it was as good as over. We knew better. He could have had another one 30 seconds later and even though he missed we were running all over them. The way we were running out the backline unchallenged, often accompanied by Chip Frawley storming through a nest of Port forwards, swatting them out of the way with minimum effort, and going through the midfield with no teal clad future SANFL superstars within the same area code we'd have won by 150 if Lance Franklin had been down there. If Jack Riewoldt was sitting in Cairns Airport watching it on TV he'd have screamed obscenities at his teammates and ask why they couldn't give him that sort of service against the league's easybeats.

We didn't have the tools to really smash them up front, but they didn't have much quality anywhere. If Jurrah had nearly ended it, Green might have made it even uglier and given us a buffer that would have guarded against the inevitable humidity induced fadeout. Then came the runner debacle. Was that the first time you've ever seen us give away a runner free? I'm sure we've never had an interchange infringement, and I can't remember us ever having a runner stuff up before either. We've certainly never had one where the runner was lagged out by the captain. Poor Brad, he just saw somebody in fluro sprint past him and automatically assumed it couldn't possibly be one of ours. Surely the umpire would have noticed anyway, but Brad's captain's accusation didn't help his cause.

They could have made us pay from there if they were any good. Reminded me of so many times over the last few years, especially in the dark times, where we were in the same situation - hanging on and looking half decent but not good enough to make it count. Not like they weren't getting it forward either but more rubbish kicking for goal cost them. They finally got it right and put together two in a row and we might have been in even more trouble if Jurrah hadn't used his local knowledge (London to Budapest, Johannesburg to Lusaka, you get the idea) to take a huge grab just before half time. He provided further insulation against a fiasco by casually steering it through in traditional Jurrahcane fashion.

The backline was holding up well enough but apart from Frawley and Rivers it was more luck than skill based on the rubbish their opposition were serving up. Garland had an ordinary night, Strauss was good in 'defensive' situations but still scares the shit out of me when he's disposing of it and Morton.. well he was Mortonish.

I'll admit when he flew through for the holding ball in the middle of the ground early in the game I thought that the corner might have been turned, but just like the Carlton game his piece of quality pressure at the start of the game was followed with 3.5 quarters where he looked lost and confused. I feel sorry for the guy but surely the time has come where it's clear that he's not about to burst back onto the scene with vengeance. Who knows if he's going to be there next year, and I hope with a full preseason and a truckload of Prozac and KFC Dinner Box meals stuffed down his gullet he will be, but he's offering next to nothing at the moment and as there's clearly no interest in trying him in a different role then there's really no point playing him.

I'll tell you this, if he's in the team in Geelong and ends up going forward and kicking goals at Kardinia Park again then the next week he's a a flank fluffing handballs I'll go around to the coaches box and brick it. Having the second worst win/loss record of any player in the comp can't be easy (and if you need proof ask the only person in front of him, M. Warnock of Cranbourne) but surely it's time to turn the corner with everybody else. If you see him in the streets give him a big hug for me.

Given the conditions the third quarter was probably about as good as we were ever going to get. While Channel 10 continued to try and convince us that Primus was going straight out of the ground and into the outback to abduct backpackers the Emo got the first to generally wild celebrations (don't be stupid, the celebrations were all mine) then Port kicked themselves out of it for a second time. They did get two in a row to keep it within reason, but when Emo Fever reached its crescendo with his third goal the floodgates were open and we were out to 45 points (nearly #chrissullivanline territory) before they got the last one of the quarter.

Still, 39 points. At the MCG you'd probably allow yourself to get excited over that sort of lead, but in Darwin? Bugger that. Last year it was 32 points and that ended with Colin Sylvia taking centre bounces and an exhausted Jamar conversing with Leigh Colbert in seated position after the final siren. Don't forget, as we were reminded every five seconds whenever they weren't linking Primus to September 11, Port had spent the last month in a hot room. Rumor has it Port are already onto their third final notice for the electricity bill so that won't help.

The prospect of a soul/property/plastic gun destroying comeback wouldn't have been an issue if Petterd had kicked the first, but he'd been so good elsewhere I was willing to forgive. How much did you love the blind turn picking the ball up on half-back flank in the 2nd quarter? He's never going to win Brownlows but he's the kind of guy who will be an absolute star in a good side. Now to produce the good side for him to star in.

Then as predicted Port made it interesting, very interesting and then far too interesting for my liking when Cassisi kicked their third in a row despite me shamefully, and pointlessly, yelling "CHEWY ON YOUR UNBORN CHILD" at the TV screen during his run-in. Two more and it was officially more interesting than a chicken dinner with Stephen Hawking.

Still, even though there was more than enough time for them to run over the top of us with ease the only time I was properly concerned was when they cut to the coaches box for the 50th time and Bailey was sitting there doing disco finger motions at Scott West. I don't know if he was describing a piece of tactical genius or bragging about cleaning up at the Chevron but whatever it was worked because just seconds later we were down the other end with the Experience running into an open goal to seal it. And what a path it took to get there, poor old Hamish Hartlett managing to kick out on the full with the ball only travelling about 3 metres off his boot.

Stef was mighty in the last quarter. Even as one of three people in the world with his number on their jumper I didn't think he was capable of some of the shit he's pulled off this year. In all senses of the word he's a guru and long may he reign. I'm not legally allowed to suggest that when your Census form arrives on August 9 that you should write your religion as THE STEFAN MARTIN EXPERIENCE but it would be appropriate. We have come a long, long way from last year's corresponding fixture where The Spencil was a late withdrawal and Jamar was run into the ground with only failed cameos from the triple towers of Dunn/Sylvia/Miller to give him any help.

That was pretty much it for Port. They didn't fire another shot after the SME ripped their hearts out. Primus didn't knife anybody in the spine with an icepick, Bailey and West never decided which nightclub in Darwin they were going out to after and the Channel 10 commentary team showed such distain for having to be in Darwin that they were nearly cheering for the lights to go out again.

All's well that ends well, we got the four points and instead of jamming a fork into the toaster I did the sensible thing and made toast instead. We still had bits of rock solid, charred bread left over to hurl at the TV when Andy Maher and Matthew Lloyd came on for the 5th Quarter.

2011 Allen Jakovich Medal votes
5 - Ricky Petterd
4 - Colin Sylvia
3 - Stefan Martin
2 - James Frawley
1 - Addam Maric

Apologies to Trengove, Green, Moloney, Jones, McKenzie and Jurrah.

Leaderboard
Sylvia retakes the lead and opens up a handy gap, but all the action is in the land of the giants where in the biggest upset since Richmond's last shock loss to an expansion team the 30-1 pre-season shot Stefan Martin Experience has nudged in front of Jamar in the Stynes Medal count. Rumour has it the same guy who dropped a mil on Geelong is down another mil if the Russian doesn't get up.

27 - Colin Sylvia
23 - Brent Moloney
19 - Jack Watts
17 - Stefan Martin (OMFG LEADER: Jim Stynes Medal for Ruckman of the Year)
16 - Mark Jamar, Jordie McKenzie
13 - James Frawley (LEADER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year)
11 - Ricky Petterd
10 - Jordan Gysberts, Jared Rivers
9 - Jack Trengove, Joel Macdonald
7 - Colin Garland
6 - Luke Tapscott (LEADER: Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year)
5 - Rohan Bail
4 - Michael Evans, Brad Green, Tom Scully
3 - Jack Grimes, Liam Jurrah, Nathan Jones
2 - Clint Bartram, Neville Jetta
1 - Jeremy Howe, Addam Maric

Scull and Crossbones
Tagged to buggery again, subbed at 3/4 time with a back injury (insert quotation marks if you're doing conspiracy theories) and then apparently unseen when the song was being sung. I missed the last one because ceremonial toast was being prepared but we'll put the tinfoil hat theories to one side (for once) and just assume that his injury meant that forming a circle and belting out a tune wasn't an option. Never a dull moment when this kid is involved.

For those of you who joined in the Tom's Treasure Chest frenzy during the week and held out hope that Velocity Sports passing the link onto him meant that he'd come out, grab the TIO Stadium house mic and announce that he was so moved at the offer of a karate kid style headband found in a charity bin in the Solomon Islands that he'd agreed to stay on a five year contract I am sad to report that we haven't yet heard back from him or his management.

Perhaps the most moving aspect of the entire campaign was this specially written love song which is destined to storm the Aria Top 40 at any minute.


Anyway, despite the best efforts of the MFC internet community we're no closer to knowing if he's off to pocket a fortune or staying to pocket a slightly smaller fortune. What we know now is that deserved or not we get a pair of first round picks if he goes. Given how we'll get bugger all out of the draft next year, presumably won't be finishing in the lower rungs of the ladder afterwards and have stuffed up enough late first round picks to fill Manuka Oval you'd rather keep Tom for his third year with a full pre-season under his belt, but if he's that keen on going north and beating Richmond then life will go on. Maybe the prospect of playing for a side that sells its home games to Canberra and not a Swedish sauna will appeal? In all fairness I'd probably be bitter if I stayed for $300k less a year and then got told I had to go and spend half my night running around in 70% humidity and the other half gingerly riding an exercise bike in a hastily assembled cool room.

Tom, if you're reading just scroll back up and have a look at the Allen Jakovich Medal leaderboard. If you personally accept the Treasure Chest you'll get a free 20 votes which will put you within striking distance of the most prestigious prize in football. Have you noticed how all the MFC awards are named after great ex-players? Trophies named after legends of the game in West Sydney include... err... anybody... May as well call it the Andrew Demetriou Medal, nobody will ever do as much for them as he has.

Crowd Watch
Very ordinary turnout, but what do you expect from the provinces when you keep sending unpopular teams there? If you really want to pack the joint out send Collingwood there. Of course that's never going to happen.

Corporate Corner
The selling of games is a necessary evil but is there any chance we might start flogging them somewhere with a climate that doesn't resemble Bangkok? All the good spots in Australia are taken, but could we make a buck out of New Zealand? What could lift their shattered national spirits more than a visit from the Experience?

Surely you'd get more than the 7500 that showed up Saturday night if you could find a ground to play on without making it some sort of farce with 40m lines and fences directly on top of the boundary line. We are 1-0 in Wellington....

Next Week
OUT: Morton, Strauss (omit), Scully (inj?)
IN: God knows. Would have thought Blease was a natural but was apparently very ordinary during the Fev show at Casey. Bartram and Dunn must be pressing, though I'm not sure what Dunn can do with Petterd and Maric in front of him. Davey and Macdonald would have to be a chance if fit. Either way there's nothing surer than if Morton plays he's either delivered a "play me or I leave" ultimatums or has incriminating photos of somebody.

I reckon there's some danger of Bate for Howe as well. Not exactly thrilled by the prospect but I won't start a picket line outside the MCG if it happens, Bater deserves another chance before the end of the year and better he gets it next week than at Geelong when all 22 are going to look like spew.

Psychic Psentral
I've been on the Bailey Ladders Ladder Predictor and the bad news is that if everything goes as expected it's the Bailey Ladder that predicts Bailey might be in trouble.

I've got us losing the next four, winning the last three and finishing 11th, a game out of 8th. Switching the result of the West Coast game gets us in as long as we have decent sized victories over both Gold Coast and Port. Pointless exercise really, because how often do all the results go as expected? What it tells me is that if we've got any interest in playing finals we're either going to have to crack the everyone but Richmond/Essendon hoodoo or the Etihad Stadium hoodoo.

Still, I stand by my prediction that whether you, me or the rest of the internet nutbags and the media like it or not Stynes won't sack Bailey if it's a lineball decision. If we miss by half a game, percentage or similar they're going to err on the side of caution instead of pressing reset and hoping that [insert name here] is going to come in and have instant success.

Ask me again when we get exposed multiple times in the next four weeks and/or lose to Port in R24 but I'm not entirely concerned if he goes on again next year. Issue is do you sign somebody for two years knowing that it'll get ugly if we don't make the 8 next year or do you sign him for one year and send the message that we don't really have any confidence but we couldn't get anybody else.

The North game will come back to haunt us. Injury crisis or not we had the boot on their throat in that game and didn't put them away. I can brainwash myself into believing that we ran into St Kilda and Footscray just as they were coming back into form, but there were no such excuses against North. Losing Bail and Garland didn't help, but we played a shite last three quarters when we should have already had the game won. It's not like we were even close to winning any of the other games that we've lost this year (notwithstanding Jurrah's junk time rampage against St Kilda) and if anything should have lost to Sydney so the North game could very well be the difference in the final equation.

I'm expending a lot of psychic energy working out ways to sneak into the eight where we will presumably get belted in the first round (possibly in Perth) but as long as we don't get thrashed next week I'll keep dreaming until at least the Richmond game. If Hawthorn murder us next week and we lose any important players to injury in being thrashed by Geelong and Carlton how can we possibly hope to win three of the last four to even be half a chance? Just close your eyes and pretend there's a way.

Roll on 2012 when we can afford to get really snippy/start microwaving memberships if things go wrong.

Was it worth it?
In that I didn't have to run around for two hours in 70% humidity and got to eat celebratory toast at the final siren, yes.

Final thoughts
The next month concerns me.

An open letter to Tom Scully

Dear Tom, I speak on behalf of 37,000 Melbourne members and thousands of people who don't want to see you ruin your life, no matter what the money on offer is, by moving to Sydney and playing for a team in a jumper even a 1980s  V/Line employee wouldn't be seen dead in.

As you are no doubt awarem the Greater Western Sydney Giants, a team whose contribution to the sport of Australian Rules Football currently stands at exactly nothing, have made a bid for your services which amounts to approximately one million (presumably Australian, check the contract just in case) dollars per year. 

We believe that although our beloved Melbourne Football Club has made a substantial counter offer you still stand to score an extra $2 mil over five years by joining the Giants. Notwithstanding the fact that they have a rubbish American influenced nickname and will almost certainly have the worst theme song in the competition, it has become apparent that shady J**d style deals will be needed to make up the difference between the two offers. 

I took the liberty of asking a number of MFC fans and concerned citizens who already hate GWS before they've even played a real game what they would contribute to an under the table package, to keep you at the Dees. Adrian Anderson and Andrew Demetriou have said no third party deals will be allowed, but we believe that even they won't be able to deny you when you get a look at the swag on offer below. 

On acceptance of this deal and the signing of a new contract with our football club the individuals and businesses named below will contribute the following items to a treasure chest that you may collect at your discretion: 

Demonblog - 20 free votes over five years in the Allen Jakovich Medal to be cashed in at your discretion, a Beware Rhino t-shirt (size tbc), one weekend for two in the historic Northern Victorian town of Omeo, my signed and framed Phil Read trading card (sorry, the glass is busted) and a 1998 MFC jumper with half a number one on the back. 

@thefarceblog - A shiny new $2 coin + a 1994 team poster mounted on a board and signed after the team's visit to Hanging Rock Winery + a 2002 Footy Record signed by Luke Molan.

@givemethecure - A discount on buying his car + 10% AT LEAST off at his dad's sports shop + Tom's pick of used novels from his personal collection. 

@Jizzlobberz - A 1987 Semi Final Football Record - Melbourne vs Sydney /w Sean Wight on the cover + an ultra rare Melbourne 2000 Premiers cap which survived being destroyed at half time. 

@Portsidenews - One free Intralot ticket at Portside News on Bay Street, Port Melbourne (note - this could actually make up the full difference between the two offers) 

@amul82 - Free fish and chips at the Plenty General Store, 119 Yan Yean Road, Plenty. 

@maesy5 - A "10th coffee free" loyalty card with two coffees already ticked off. 

@benno_76 - A VHS copy of the C'mon Demons music video featuring Ricky Jackson climbing out of a locker. 

@thomasmperry - A karate kid style early 90's bandana found in a charity donation bin in the Solomon Islands. [We would also like to ask you to wear this during a game a'la MFC greats Ditterich/Viney/Schwarz]. 

@emdowell - A plastic encased playing card of David Schwarz.

@hibbyhibbert - A vintage Coca-Cola yo-yo. 

 

@deesie22 - Landscaping of your yard courtesy of the boys at JScapes (offer only valid if the address is in Melbourne) + a signed, framed poster of Brock McLean. 

@philmcgil - $50 straight out + further garden landscaping and labour work. 

@jamethmurphy - A photo of the 1999 team signed by Peter "Whopper" Walsh. 

@bmcgeorge - A signed copy of Garry Lyon's "Demon Within" + an unopened copy of "Hotter Than Hell 1998" featuring Todd Viney's live updates from inside his kitchen + a set of original WEG Premiership posters (because never forget, we've won premierships) 

@melbournefooty - For comparative purposes, a copy of Melbourne FC Since 1858 - An Illustrated History and a blank page to represent the history of GWS. 

Demonwiki - $50, one edition of the Football Record from 1956 and a round of golf with Darren Kowal. 

@gnaight - The chance to personally fire the MFC trumpet player. 

@bentyers - A 2005 membership scarf and a cap signed by Andy Lovell. 

@pickle2401 - A bumbag with the slogan "Demons, that's my team!" signed by Rod Grinter. 

@doddas - An expensive quantity of felafel and bananas 

@roydevers - A sherrin football signed by Rod Grinter and Allen Jakovich + a cap signed by Shaun Smith. 

@harcourt666 - A copy of Dan Harrington's "Harrington on Hold 'Em" poker book (Volume 1: Strategic Play) 

@dalev34 - A 1994 playing jumper with a badly stitched on #5 signed by David Schwarz. 

@mikesarg - An unopened bottle of Shane Woewodin 2000 Brownlow Medal Commemorative Port. 

@cjpelican - A collection of $1 and $2 notes. 

@frakturedbliss - 1 x 1984 Melbourne Little League Premiership Medallion. 

@deeeShow - 1 x "Ron Barassi teaches you Australian Rules" book and a badge featuring Nigel Kol.

@hardtack52 - 1 x vintage LP copy of "Footy Favourites", featuring Robbie Flower singing Macho Man. 

@jake_hatt - 1 x 2005 edition of Sydway featuring the streets of Western Sydney ablaze + a set of unused flashing demon horns signed by runner up in the 2004 B&F - Nathan Brown 

@jesse_hogan - 1 x slightly tattered poster of Brent Grgic from The Demon magazine 

@alexcmssargeant - 6 x signed MFC jumpers - 2 x Stef Martin and 1 x Brad Green, Jeff White, Adem Yze and Luke Tapscott. 

@darren_spence - A counter meal at the Burvale with Rod Grinter and Wayne "Moose" Henwood  

@biggestred47 - This personalised MFC tackle bag (his name is Jack)  

@weeping_wall - A Cam Bruce playing card and a badge to commemorate Jim Stynes' 244th consecutive game. 

@mattjfitzgerald - 1 x signed Meeniyan-Dumbalk United '1972 Finalist' football. Even better, they're called the Demons. 

@JRRivett - A delicious recipe for panfried Brussels sprouts in butter. 

 @richhuges - An incredible love song  

Also offered from non-Twitter users: 

A football signed by 1975 West Perth premiership player Laurie Heal - son of the 1941 MFC premiership superstar + a pair of lucky jocks + a star to be bought and named after you. 

So there you have it Tom. Lloyds of London conservatively estimate the above cash and prizes to be worth at least $1.25m so the gap really isn't that much when you think about it. I expect you won't be that keen on the fried food and the booze but that's ok, because it means you'll never have to buy anybody a christmas present ever again. 

We're also waiting on SEN to respond to our call for donations of Premium Watershed Wines, a free win on the Run Home name game, one of Andy Maher's Daryl Somers-esque jumpers and a chicken dinner with the Gladiators of Sport. Please consider all of these when you're weighing up the above offer. 

Remember when everyone talked up the special nature of the number 31 jumper handed to you by the great Ron Barassi at the end of 2009 (please ignore the fact that it was also worn by Donald Cockatoo-Collins and Peter Garratt)? There's more than a hint of irony in the fact that Barass went on to leave us for fame and fortune elsewhere, but that's ok because he also played in six flags. Sure there might have been a few jumper burnings and posters torn from walls at the time, but everyone has forgiven him based on what he gave us before he left for greener pastures. 

Instead, let's look instead at the esteem that one Robert Flower is held in by Melbourne fans. Many times throughout his career he could have walked out on the then penniless, broken down club to make massive money elsewhere but he stayed and is rightly considered to be one of - if not the - most respected and beloved figure ever to pull on a red and blue jumper despite not playing a final until his 270th game. Tom, you will play many finals before your 270th game wherever you go, but only one set of fans will properly appreciate it. 

I know this isn't the 1980s and there's a lot more money in football than ever before, but consider just what $3m means. It's entirely possible that even if you take the 'low' offer that Melbourne are putting up you'll still get paid more in the space of a few weeks than Robbie did in his entire 272 game career, and you won't find him lamenting that he didn't take huge money from Doctor Geoffrey Edlsten. Surely $3m has got to be good enough for anybody, so sign on the dotted line, pocket the prize pack above AND a contract offer that still means you'll earn more than more of the people who are listed will (unfortunately) in their entire lives. 

Become an instant legend of this 150+ year old club instead of a big fish in a disinterested pond where nobody gives a toss. The papers will be waiting here whenever you're ready...

Dog Day Aftermath

Last week I was accused, not without some justification, that an unnerving air of positivity had crept in to this page. How, an unnamed punter asked, can you possibly start acting like you're enjoying football when you're writing for a blog named after a song by the world renowned miserablist Morrissey?

Good point, there was a worrying tone of joy seeping through. I was sucked in like a moron again based on nothing more than pounding the Freo thirds and some crackpot slop merchants who haven't gone near being good since I was born. Who didn't see tonight's fiasco coming? Other than me. I have a feeling that tipping us to win by 62 points may come back to haunt me in the event of an end of year tiebreaker being required in our office competition...

Funny how in the space of two and a half hours you can suffer such a wild mood swing. Not about anything important mind you but that's the lot of the sports fan. This week, against nearly 30 years of hard evidence that proves I'm no good at it I decided to try positivity. Not just after a game, not just while thumping fat fingers across a keyboard in my sordid grief hole at 3am but for the entire week.

"Are you going to win?" asked the office tipsters who know nothing but seem to win every year. Any other week I'd say either "No, we are garbage" or at least talk it down to the point where there were a million excuses why we'd get done by Gold Coast. They were assured that yes, this time we were a certainty and I harboured no (outward) doubts. It felt good too. Fast forward to 4pm yesterday, sitting there at my desk making a mockery of the concept of 'casual Friday' by wearing a footy jumper when a senior, very senior manager wandered past and started mocking me about the presumed massive defeat we were going to suffer. "Cementhead is back in the midfield!" he said in a statement that you'll never hear anybody make about Patrick Dangerfield. "Come and see me on Monday and I'll tell you all the reasons why you were wrong" I gamely ventured, starting to worry for the first time whether I'd set myself up for utter Maric style depression by being sucked in even after claiming that I never would again after the Collingwood shambles.

During my brief sunshine + rainbows phase which lasted from last Saturday night until about 7.42pm Friday I chose to ignore all the signs that we were likely to lose. It was a crucial game, at Docklands, against a Victorian side who were not Richmond or Essendon, we had just come off a good win in front of a big crowd and we were wearing that horrible white away strip which is only marginally better than our long binned silver monstrosity.

To somebody thinking rationally, or at least like a depression syndrome affected Melbourne fan, they were all fairly good signs that we were going to turn in a performance of rare garbage. But no, instead I chose to channel the spirit of one of history's greatest motivators to convince myself that all of these factors weren't necessarily a bad thing, they were a good thing. Despite the results and the fact that we stunk the joint up for long periods against North and St Kilda, considering the players on offer we were a million miles in front of that last night, and surely it was time to step up at least and beat one of the other seven Victorian teams who we haven't toppled since Carlton put in less effort than you'd have otherwise expected (otherwise known as [CENSORED BY LEGAL DEPARTMENT] in the last round of 2007. I've moved four house times since then, can you see why this is so hard for me to get my head around?

So yes, I expect that at 9am Monday morning I'll have somebody who I can't tell to piss off and throw a stapler at without being unemployed by the end of the day wandering past my desk for an in-depth discussion of "Cementhead" and friends cornholing us. Maybe he'll even tell me who Cementhead is before I walk off in a huff and kick the photocopier.

Shoulders must have slumped collectively in the Channel 7 box about fifteen seconds after the first bounce when it became apparent to everybody that the match was going to be anything but a Friday night classic and would probably end up with everybody turning over to episodes of Air Crash Investigation by the end of the first quarter. When they put together the fixture at the start of the year they must have had high hopes for this as a battle between Prelim Final specialists and rising stars. They got their wish but I don't think they expected it to be Prelim Final specialists coming off a horrible start to the year against a side that go from rising stars one week to a VFA Division 2 side the next.

Unfortunately for ponytailed executives everywhere they got us on an off week, and win or lose the quality of the game based on the first quarter alone probably stuffed our chances of getting more than one token Friday game next season. They have paid a billion dollars for the rights to show it after all, they're not going to take a risk on potential sliders vs bipolar freaks in front of 12,500 people because everyone else (and I'm looking at our fans here) refuses to go to Etihad and will sit at home watching the live telecast instead.

The excitement of draw might have scored us another game next season but with our record in Friday night games ending with one stirring victory over a pox side who had the bottom falling out already and two thrashings where we were outplayed handily should see us permanently marooned in the North/Port 4.40pm Sunday shift next year - and don't you just love ending your weekend on that sort of a performance? At least if we cock it up on Friday you've got some chance of rescuing it before having to front up again on Monday.

What became blindingly obvious right from the start was that the Dogs had sat down and looked at everything which we did predictably and decide to force us to try something else. That's when I really start to get nervous, when we're expected to reach for page two of the playbook, it never ends well. Mainly because usually they get to the book, open it up and find out that all the other pages have been torn up.

They weren't going to be fooled by us starting Jamar forward and the Experience in the middle. They knew exactly who we were going to tap it to each and every time, so on the rare occasions that one of them did beat Hudson or Liam Jones (supplementary question - who is Liam Jones?) to the tap and it went anywhere near Moloney he had three people leap on top of him and any danger of a quick centre break was lost. Trengove and McKenzie were good but they couldn't get anything happening at the centre bounces while Scully was being tagged to buggery and handling it about as well as you'd expect a 20-year-old kid to. Don't forget that it was the Bulldogs who he got 39 touches, a Rising Star nomination and 3 Brownlow Votes against last year - they weren't going to fall for that again.

To be entirely fair the Dogs outplayed us in nearly every category, though the stats would lie and show it as being more even that it actually was, but they were hardly playing the sort of game that would get them anywhere against a decent side. In the first few minutes as they missed targets and generally slopped it up coming out of their backline I thought "surely we can't lose to this lot?" After all they'd only beaten Adelaide and Gold Coast, and even we'd flogged them during randomly occurring weeks of glory. Apparently we can - and how. They've got a decent run in so good luck to them if they build on last night and make the finals, they're the Victorian side with a tragic history of failure that you can afford to get behind because they're not St Kilda. Otherwise come September I'll be the biggest Eagles/Swans/Dockers fan alive.

Worst thing was that even though we weren't winning it out of the centre with any ease, or at all most of the time, we legitimately outplayed them for the first few minutes. The Jurrahcane and Jamar both missed goals they would have kicked with their eyes closed last year, but despite Barry Hall running around making Frawley look stupid despite being 30 years his senior when Watts booted that snap I started to think that everything was going to be alright.

When you follow Melbourne there is rarely, if ever, a time in the first quarter when you should start to think that everything is going to be alright. Make sure your children understand this so they can grow up good red and blue citizens, vigilant for impending disaster at all times. From the moment Jack made us all swoon with his booming goal we walked straight into a trap and played on their terms. Hall missed after a rubbish free then two minutes later after we'd been unable to move it across halfway he got another chance when he made Frawley and Strauss look stupid by marking right in the middle of them. Chip killed him after quarter time but the damage was well and truly done by then, despite the bright (or at least brightish, considering we were getting humped in the centre) start we went into quarter time two goals behind.

At least one of them was pure quality/sheer arse highlight reel stuff so I won't lie and say I didn't enjoy Cooney's wild swipe of the boot that sent the ball flying through from 30m out. He should have had it on the lead anyway after one our traditional turnover/leave everyone inside 50 ten metres on their own set-plays but the kick towards him was rubbish and boom in it went. For once it would probably have been better if he had marked it.

What I enjoyed far less was Ed Barlow having a shot to put them put them even further in front right at the end of the quarter. Notwithstanding the fact that Barlow has somehow managed to become a starting player in my rapidly failing Supercoach team, if we're going to start copping goals from him you'd might as well shut up shop. Luckily he reverted to type after taking the piss out of the Suns last week and botched it but the signs were already there that we weren't going to get anywhere near the same Melbourne who had been so good after the seven minute mark against the Tigers. This week it was our turn to put the feet up from that point and make a couple of token comeback attempts throughout the afternoon.

Wasn't entirely sure how we managed to end the first quarter two goals down, but at least it was only two goals. Anybody can kick two goals in a minute, and that's precisely what the Dogs did to really make it interesting. First was Garland giving away the 50 which you can probably argue was there but the second was pure filth. Everyone knows that the league hates Jack Trengove because he's the top draft pick who signed on and didn't flirt with taking millions to prop up a shit team in West Sydney that nobody cares about. He's already copped three weeks and two fines this year but the shepherd free against him when Higgins just ran straight into him as he was under the ball was a new low in their vendetta against him (though there might be another phase to come in that feud, more on that later).

It was a vile decision but I'm not going to come on here and bleed too much about it because it was in the same class as Watts doing exactly the same thing at the end of the first quarter last week. Richmond fans would have been sitting on their milk crates, screaming at their black and white televisions about justice being served. Only difference was that Watts strode manfully towards the ball and took it in his stride when he ran straight into his opponent and won the free, whereas Higgins threw his arms up like a hysterical 15-year-old at a Justin Bieber concert and got the free for acting like a little girl. You win some, you lose some. We lost more than a handful tonight but that doesn't excuse the garbage that was served up around the ground.

Saddest storyline of the night was the absolute shocker that Dan Nicholson turned in. Instead of commentators trotting out hackneyed cliche about players joining an "elite club" by kicking a goal with their first kick in league football, how about they start a new list of players who fallen victim to the modern curse of being featured in the papers and then turning out trash? Even worse when it's a kid. It happened to Rivers on Queen's Birthday, though I'm still not blaming him for the 3rd, 4th and 5th Cloke goals, and last night after being profiled in The Age during the day Daniel played like Alistair and almost everything he did had a brown tinge to it.

He certainly wasn't alone, the only difference was that he'd been in the papers and Sylvia, Strauss, Jurrah, Garland, Morton and Bennell hadn't been. Out of that list Sylvia, Jurrah and Garland are easily best 22 and the last two are at least experienced even if they're in shithouse form. It wasn't all their fault though, they were just the ones who either weren't getting their hands on it or were stuffing it up, what about all the handballs in the backline? Absolutely suicidal.

Nearly everybody who went inside the defensive 50 was guilty of it at some point and the Dogs were loving it. It's not like we weren't eventually getting it out of the backline and forward either, but all of a sudden the gigantic hoof inside 50 became our only attacking option and even though it was clearly not working they just kept doing it again and again. Last week there was at least a few decent leads inside 50, today the only marks we took were either contested screamers or somebody being in the right place at the right time when a panicked hoof dropped into their arms. Might have been an opportunity to recognise that Morton has no confidence left in trying to stop goals and to throw him up the ground instead but that's never going to happen so I'd might as well stop calling for it.

For all the failed hoof we did give ourselves a chance at getting back into it with a couple of goals but that was about as good as it got. It Petterd had kicked his goal instead of delivering his second blooper shot on goal at Etihad this year (was it St Kilda or North where he missed the lot from 20m out?) we'd have been back within three goals with another two and a half quarters to sort ourselves out and at least make the Dogs nervous. We even managed to be on the receiving end of one of the great comedy capers moments in history when the spudlike creature Jarrad Grant managed to stuff up the easiest goal in the history of football. Should have taken advantage and dragged ourselves back into it but instead a minute later they came straight out of their backline, down the field in about three kicks and got the goal that the vaudeville shenanigans had denied them.

Then Morton horrifically botched a handball under the pump and it was goodbye to the comeback. Fair enough if he doesn't like being put under pressure but if that's the case AFL Footballer might not be his most suited career. Get a job working as a car park attendant if you're worried about having people put the heat on you. There's probably a thousand people around the country who would at least give you value for their spot on the list with effort alone even if they weren't as allegedly "naturally skilled" as Cale. If you were drafting a team from scratch today is there anybody who'd have him over Jordie McKenzie? I don't want to rush to judge anybody lest they suddenly do a Jamar/Sylvia and come good years later but right now I'd pass up the Sad Panda for any moderately skilled battler of the McKenzie mould.

Again despite the deficit at half time we weren't dead if we could turn it around, but did anybody have any faith that we would? When Gia got the first goal after taking the piss out of Garland, then Nicholson gave the media curse double thumbs up by handing them another to start the term it was all but over. Cue the Disaster Management Plan being swung into immediate action.

When things start to go wrong for us 21 highly paid professionals are suddenly mentally transported to the deck of an overloaded Phillipino ferry which has just hit rocks and started to take on water. Suddenly everybody's running around panicking, pointing randomly and making that they know what everybody else is supposed to be doing while simultaneously trying to throw everybody else out of the way to save themselves. Once the panic has set it then suddenly players start shitting themselves the moment they get the ball before handballing to the guy standing stationary a foot away. At the subsequent bounce everyone will stand around pointing for somebody else to fill a gap which nobody does and they kick a goal from it. Back to the centre and repeat.

Good to that in the middle of all the chaos Trengove followed through with his threat not to change his playing style by doing pretty much exactly the same tackle as he did against Adelaide. Only this time the umpire took a stand for all that is good and decent in the world by not only failing to condemn him for it but also paid a free for holding the ball. It helps that Higgins/Ward/Zeno Tzatzaris/whoever it was doesn't have a head made out of fine china like Dangerfield but if the umpires are going to reward him for it then how in the name of dutch buggery can they turn around and book him for it? Rivers did one too. Again, the recipient isn't going to wobble around like a clown then turn up and kick six next week so no damage done. Either way if they find some reasoning to continue the vendetta against JT then the umpire who paid the free should cop double the suspension for paying it.

Petterd took the near Mark of the Year, and thank god he finished it, but so what? I was there the day Juice took the MOTY against North and we got thrashed then too. Thumping it into the forward line on top of everybody's head had to work at least once. It was telling that it took an epic screamer for somebody to finally pull one in. Sylvia returned from the dead to take a contested mark and goal as well to get us two in a row and launch another half hearted comeback but it didn't last for long, a minute and a half later we gifted them another goal and went into the last nearly six goals down.

Incidentally doesn't it make you want to kick something into shards when a player gathers the ball 20m out and tries to roll it through along the turf despite there being five players in the way? Just once I'd like to see somebody try to just thump the thing over their head a'la Robbo in Perth ten years ago instead of trying to thread the eye of a needle, somehow managing to avoid an oval shaped ball hitting anybody on the way through. It's like sending a soldier onto a WW1 battlefield and having him fire his gun straight into the ground in the hope that it will skim along the mud and skip up to smash a German between the eyes.

If it had been us 33 points in front at the last change I'd have been citing the Chris Sullivan Line and the various times that we'd stuffed up a lead like that to either lose or let the opposition get closer than you're comfortable with. But there is no line with us. We've come back from five goals down at three quarter time to win three times since 1897 (1, 2 and 3) and there's no name you can give to an unexpected occurrence like that.

Watts did his bit for history by kicking the first goal and leaving the door at least slightly ajar but they went down the other end, Rivers gave away a 50 that took them to the line and we were finished. The unfortunate thing, and the killer that really made this difficult to swallow, was that from there they just wiped the floor with us.

Even Jarrad Grant, the dictionary definition of uncoordinated, started taking screamers in the middle of the massacre. It was no Petterd but it was impressive just because it ended in his arms and legs as far apart as they could possibly be without one flying off and landing in the stands. As if the game wasn't already long gone it sent another wave of red and blue clad fans towards the exits. I was particularly impressed by one gent who stopped at the bottom of the stairwell, turned out around to face the big screen and launched a last, desperate act of defiance by thrusting a middle finger towards the replay before walking out.

How about losing one with heads held high at some point (but not against Port)? The only team with a worse average losing margin than us is GC and they've got an excuse. That's what makes this painful. Like an even more extreme version of the Collingwood game you could cop losing but to roll over and get pounded like that is just rude.

There wasn't even a hint of Junktime Jurrah when it was all too late. He might still be our leading goalkicker but there's no way he's been playing anywhere near 100% for the last few weeks. Would have thought that if he wasn't right, which anybody could see, the week before the bye going into a game on (near enough to) home soil where he will want to do well would have been the right time to give him a rest. With respect to a much improved effort in the last fortnight he was hardly pivotal last week so we could have used a Dunn, Bate or Emo Maric as cannon fodder for a week while he healed up. Instead he hobbles off with confidence shot and would probably miss if we played next week.

The torture came to an end with Callan Ward taking the piss out of Scully, which was a bit rude considering that they'll be shacked up together in a harbourside mansion in six months time. I think as Ward sold the dummy and ran around him to kick the goal they might have winked at each other and done a secret gesture that only two kids prematurely made millionaires by greed can give. Surely one of them whispered the phrase last uttered at a St Kilda team bonding session, "next year it's you, me and a bunch of 17-year-olds". Fair to say whatever Ward put on top of his contract it's coming off Scully's after Tom being tagged to buggery tonight. Either way they're both going to walk into rooms for the rest of their lives with this playing but if Tom's going to chuck us to become a pin-up idol to the good, law abiding folk of Macquarie Fields then good luck with having a taste of that every week for the next three years with nowt but a bunch of starving orphans as back up. At least with us he can be guaranteed that once a month his teammates might stand up enough to let him get off the leash. Where does logic come into this though? Money talks...

Speaking of contracts, if you were in charge of putting together our list for next year would you pick up the phone today and call Cale Morton's manager, laugh heartily at him for putting contract talks off when he's playing like shite and make a final offer of one year on $20 an hour and a tray full of Quarter Pounders?

As a reward for staying until the end we not only got to see a classic MFC rollover death but we were also treated to a second round of their Freo-lite, track one of the HMAS Pinafore soundtrack, nautical theme song.

Welcome back misery and dark depression, everything feels more comfortable with you enveloping me. I'm going to spend the next two weeks listening to My Chemical Romance albums and having at myself with a ballpoint pen.

2011 Allen Jakovich Medal Votes
The top three are well deserved despite the disaster. Watts was good early and tried hard all night. Howe slides in just in front of Frawley based on Chip making Barry Hall look 15 years younger in the first quarter.

5 - Jordie McKenzie
4 - Jack Trengove
3 - Ricky Petterd
2 - Jack Watts
1 - Jeremy Howe

Apologies to Frawley and the rest can get stuffed.

Leaderboard
23 - Colin Sylvia, Brent Moloney
19 - Jack Watts
16 - Mark Jamar (LEADER: Jim Stynes Medal for Ruckman of the Year), Jordie McKenzie
14 - Stefan Martin
11 - James Frawley (LEADER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year)
10 - Jordan Gysberts, Jared Rivers
9 - Jack Trengove,Joel Macdonald
7 - Colin Garland
6 - Ricky Petterd, Luke Tapscott (LEADER: Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year)
5 - Rohan Bail
4 - Michael Evans, Brad Green, Tom Scully
3 - Jack Grimes, Liam Jurrah, Nathan Jones
2 - Clint Bartram, Neville Jetta
1 - Jeremy Howe

Crowd Watch
The regular 42 second minute's silence was generally well observed, but is there any danger we might add the lost 18 seconds one of these days? If you can get people through the half a minute without yelling somebody stupid and getting punched by the person sitting next to them then the next 30 seconds should be a doddle. Wouldn't want to take away from the time that they can spend trying to take our money through Betfair though would we?

One quality Western Suburbs education required for the kid who was interviewed by that filthy fan for hire James Sherry. "How long have you been supporting the Dogs?" asked the ex-children's game show host. "10 years" replies the child who presumably has a god awful name like Jaiyden. "How old are you?" asks the filth and the kid replies "five". Aww, how cute, let's all have one etc.. FFFH then attempted the frankly ludicrous move of asking the crowd to sing Happy Birthday for the kid, but despite the woman in front of me taking a second away from eating a sandwich that smelt like a corpse pulled out of a river to briefly join in before she realised what she was doing the sound of silence echoed across the ground for a second time that night. In the end even the FFFH gave up and after a prolonged camera shot of Kyieran looking silently bamboozled they cut away to something even more family friendly, the live betting odds.

It doesn't promise to get much better for young Alyix. Next time ask him how many flags Footscray have won, that should be easy enough for kids of any age to get right. Teeing off on a five year old is a new low but that's the sort of rancid mood that this sporting abortion has put me in.

Now - Etihad Stadium, the Corporate Dome, hell on earth call it what you will but last night their food outlets managed to push my hatred of the joint to levels that I couldn't possibly achieve if we played in another 20 straight losses there. Not only were they selling a thinly veiled Dagwood Dog under the utterly ridiculous name of the "Pluto Pup", but when I foolishly decided to buy one of their rancid, floppy hot dogs in a bun that wasn't even intact all the way around they tried to make me pay $0.20 for a tiny sachet of chemical mustard probably manufactured in the former Yugoslavia.

Not content with making you pay $6 for something that costs them less than a dollar, is served by somebody on minimum wage and will repeat on you for days on end they want $0.20 for condiments? Get to shite. The only problem was that walking off in a huff at this randomly introduced policy which didn't exist any of the other four times I've been to that hole this season (including 2 x non MFC games. WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?) I forgot to take my drink with me and when they called me back collect it I had to do a five metre walk of shame back where I'd just had a tantrum. If I was them I'd just have stashed it under the counter and denied all.

Speaking of performances I sadly arrived too late to see the real life bulldog being paraded around the ground and the rumoured appearance of the Hyde St Primary School Band playing a brass heavy version of the theme from Rocky never materialised. When they started asking trivia questions where the options were Kelvin Templeton, Simon Beasley or Danny Del Re I didn't think it was that much of a stretch to just do the right thing and change their name back to Footscray.

Coaches Corner
Just when you thought the market was shut this performance has put my favourite coach back in the frame for a job in 2012.

If I see Bailey drag Morton aside, put his bald head against Cale's stick figure torso and say the words "Breathe... from your core" at some point before this year is out I'll campaign for both of them to be re-signed on the spot. Problem is for that to happen Morton has to be back in the side again. Brad Gotch could do it on Casey Fields with a hundred curious onlookers but it wouldn't have the same effect.

Also there's one guy in that ad who must surely only have gotten the call up because he looks like Simon Black.

Terror in the Top End (aka the week after next week)
Anyone want to confidently say there's no possible way we can lose to Port? Knowing this lot they'll probably show up and win by 150 and I'll get roped right back into like a total cockhead. Either way if he managed to take his head out of the oven long enough to see the way we played tonight Matthew Primus would think "bloody hell, we're a chance here".

They're such utter garbage that surely even we can't play them into form but the Northern Territory is like the twilight zone, anything could happen.

Pending any particularly storming games from nowhere at Casey the changes for mine are;

IN - Tapscott, Macdonald, Maric
OUT - Morton, Bennell (omit), Jurrah (half inj/half omit, the final victim of the curse of the Drake ad)

Apparently there's some injury concerns over the Experience, so if he's not right then Maximum comes straight back in. Almost time too for Bate to have one last crack at putting together a Brad Miller-esque end of season run which sees him given another chance against all odds. I don't think Dunn is necessarily finished yet but what's he going to add? At least if we're going to go with the idea of thumping it long to the square all the time then Maric will provide a hint o' crumb. If anybody else puts their hand up in the two's (and as I write this Casey are going tits up against Werribee) I could also go without Strauss.

The Future
What price one hard fought, fighting performance even in defeat against Hawthorn, Geelong or Carlton? We've been given the biggest fixturing free kick of the year by having the R24 game moved from Football Park to effectively neutral turf at the Adelaide Oval but I will be go off my nut if it turns out not to mean anything by the time we get there.

Final Thoughts
We deserve a government grant for continually playing shit teams back into form.

Let them burn and we shall all clap our hands

Match of the round status, a thumping last start victory and 60,000 people watching on in the only game in Victoria of a Saturday. What could possibly go wrong? Especially considering that even during our darkest days we've either beaten Richmond or had to cheat so openly and disgracefully that we still almost won despite playing Matthew Warnock at full-forward.

As I said in last week's post, which in review was clearly written with the sort of half-Ararat that only a 15 goal win can cause, something felt right about this match-up. It's no knock on Richmond as a team, who if they can avoid self imploding and throwing it away like so many others in the last 30 years should turn out to be quite good, and not just for one season this time. What last week showed us is that when the defensive matchups don't hang our players out to dry, and when we've got a decent forward structure which features both lead and crumb we're not a bad side. Not worldbeaters by any stretch, but at least good enough to put forth a decent campaign around the lower reaches of the eight.

What we have seen in the last few weeks is that our biggest problem was getting it inside 50. Essendon let us get away with it because they were inept until the second half to shake Freo off before poleaxing them. Even the Collingwood game would have been a lot less ugly if we hadn't been thrashed out of the centre. The return of Jamar and the reunion of the Psychic Friends Connection with Moloney couldn't hurt on that front, and with the option of rotating the Russian and the Experience in front of goal we looked even more dangerous down there.

Admittedly for us a "dangerous" forward line is hardly a free-flowing attacking masterclass, but you can't ask for everything at once. It certainly looks better now than any time since 2006 but to take advantage of it you've got to get it in there to start with - and with that you have the makings of the Collingwood debacle.

What we have got is a backline that unless everything goes wrong for them (e.g Collingwood) are absolutely dynamite. Rivers has recovered from his Queen's Birthday nightmare to start doing what he does best again, there's nothing more that needs to be said about how much Garland adds to this team and be completely honest about it how much do you love James Frawley?

The fact that we took Chip one pick before Jack Riewoldt in the '06 draft means that if he hadn't turned into the killer defender that he has we'd forever have been subject to "why didn't we" wailing and gnashing of teeth by fans and media, so thank christ that's been avoided. Think how much you wanted to go around to the office of the Herald Sun and kick some tables over when they printed that ludicrous article in their paper about how we should have picked Hurley in front of Watts. If we were still waiting for Frawley to deliver on his promise while Riewoldt was running around winning Coleman Medals you could multiply that by a million.

Right now it's a spectacular win/win for both sides. I'm sure nobody would be complaining if the tables were turned and we'd picked Jack instead but my god could the Tigers have done with Frawley down back today. Problem is that if they'd picked him he'd probably have spent the first five years of his career being gobbed at by freaks who still held a grudge about his uncle's coaching.

Either way both sides can be confident they made the right decisions considering that the next five players picked after Frawley and Riewoldt were James Sellar (21 games), Daniel O'Keefe (delisted at the end of '09), Mitch Brown (four games this year), Shaun Hampson (meh) and Leroy Jetta (double meh). Sometimes the system works, and sometimes your recruiting manager is Craig Cameron.

Ironically it seems that after all that they're set to play on each other in every match between the two sides until the end of time. Riewoldt won the first meeting last year and Frawley towelled him up in the second so the stage was set for what was probably the most crucial battle of the game. Even though he's leading the Coleman Jack hasn't been anything like as dangerous he was last year. But despite that, him being played further up the ground more often and the rumours that he was playing with an injury, the demolition job the Frawley did on him played as big a part as any in our win. The only downer is that his injury at the start of the year, and slow start on return, will probably cost him a back-to-back All Australian spot when he could very well deserve it. How about some of those storming runs he made coming out of defence today? Superstar.

Having said all that you'd never have known we were on the way to a relatively comfortable win seven minutes into the first quarter. Eventually after missing four gettable shots they settled for a ten point play when Dustin Martin, the man who tattoed his own surname across his neck just in case he forgot it, stuffed up my return to the welcoming bosom of the TAB and denied Jamar his god given chance to kick the first goal.

I should have walked away and called Gambler's Helpline when I saw that they were onto the prospect of Russian starting forward and only offered 13-1, but it had taken me long enough to get to the front of the queue that I went through with it and wasted good money that could have been spent fattening up Morton on the finest from The Kaiser's Sausage (who I am still waiting to come on and give me free kransky for endorsing every week).

When Newman added another before we'd even been inside 50 it began to look like another disastrous afternoon of following up a quality performance with some sloppy garbage. At one point the guy in front of me even got overexcited and yelled out "BETTER THAN SCULLY!" when Martin got a touch. Talk to me in October and I'll decide whether or not I agree with that, but acting like a teenage girl (or an epic perve) at a Miley Cyrus concert proved significantly premature by quarter time when we had somehow come back and kicked seven goals.

How much more like the first time we played them last year could you ask for? That day they got the first two goals, dominated us for the first seven minutes yet somehow managed to concede eight goals by quarter time. And what a feature lineup of players you'll never hear from again were on the scoreboard in that quarter Troy Taylor, David Astbury, Matty Bate. Remember the 8th goal when Petterd did the flying dive into the Punt Road end pocket to knock it back in for Bate in the square? Who would have thought it could possibly go wrong for Bater from there? Now he's all but forgotten and almost no chance of a recall unless Jeremy Howe gets hurt.

This year it was dual Green goals which got us back into it. That's two weeks in a row where he's been played in the right spot and has had decent supply, thus allowing him to play like it's 2010 again instead of floundering around the middle of the ground trying to cover gaps that he's not suited to in 2011.

By the end of the quarter, with the bleating about the umpiring already reaching fever pitch, we'd turned the match on it's head by shutting their midfield down and tightening up on their wonky defenders. Ricky Petterd was already well on the way to his record breaking game for tackles inside forward 50 when he set up Howe's goal. Add the Jurrah and Trengove goals and with seconds left we were somehow, mystifyingly almost three goals in front.

But just when you thought it couldn't get any better Watts managed to rort a free out of the umpire by running straight into an opponent and claiming a shepherd before kicking our seventh goal despite the twat who operates the siren trying to stuff him up by blowing it twice during the run-up. Good, and indeed, grief. This was not expected, especially based on the slop served up in the first seven minutes but once we started to put pressure on them they - to quote that bloke out of Dad's Army - didn't like it up 'em and fell apart accordingly.

Pretty much everything from the ten minute mark onwards was an important psychological blow but it mattered not a dot if we didn't follow it up in the second quarter. One of the most frustrating things about us, now that we seem to be moving away from Bailey Quarters just when they were about to become a worldwide sensation (and I'm not declaring them completely eradicated a'la Smallpox just yet) is when we follow up one blistering, high scoring quarter with a shit one. Happened last week, happened in that Round 4 game last year when we followed up 8.1 with 0.6 in the second and more importantly happened in the North game which wound up with us losing comfortably.

After North I won't trust another first quarter lead for the rest of this year. You'd be foolish to trust any five goal first quarter lead these days, and even in the Freo match that was when the shock subsided and we briefly let them get back into it. So hands up who else thought "oh christ, here we go again?" when they dominated us in the opening minutes of the second and got the first two goals? It looked plenty like the first quarter, right down to us winding up out of nowhere and somehow outscoring them in the end.

It was only one goal more, including one to *swoon* the Experience, but it could have been even better. Both Jurrah and Jamar missed fairly gettable goals which would have blow the margin out, but with Hardwick content to waste Deledio on trying to quell Watts they were letting us pretty much do as we pleased. Vickery got a couple early and Riewoldt his only one for the day but we had goalkicking options out the wazoo and used them accordingly.

Incidentally speaking of Jamar his miss of the sitter, which was by my count his third from a similar spot this year, is a good opportunity to bring out my favourite #statmybitchup fact that until the start of this year he was the most accurate set shot of any player since 1987. Ridiculous. Mind you it's discredited slightly by the fact that his 3.4 this year has pushed him below massive names like Michael Murphy, Matthew Capuano and Barnaby French but still, it shows that he's a more reliable kick than he's letting on at the moment.

Still, even though it helps he's not there to kick goals. He's there to dominate the centre bounce, form a Psychic Connection with Moloney and be the target for kick-ins 99% of the time. The spectacular rise of the SME meant that Bailey could be comfortable leaving Stef in the starting bounce today and playing with Jamar forward, but when Richmond started getting on top he threw the Russian back into the middle and that old magic was recaptured. Apparently the PFC are still the #1 ruck/rove combination in the game despite Jamar having missed all those weeks. What does that say? Other than if you stop Moloney we're pretty much rooted.

Stef was good too, and let's be fair he's a much safer kick around the ground, but I can't help but swoon whenever I see a Jamar/Moloney tap cracker. If that was his first game after six weeks watch out in the next month as he gets fully back into it, and watch out for he and the Experience to do some damage on the scoreboard as well. There was even a moment where the SME monstered his opponent in front of goal and I almost passed out from excitement. He didn't mark it in the end, but even though I know he's a fierce competitor when the ball hits the deck I never thought I'd see him throw somebody out of the way with ease. Sure, Richmond's backline is the most intensely pox part of their team but still...

And how much better is Moloney when he's working in combination with Jamar? He's been just ok the last few weeks but it's no coincidence that today was his best game since they tore Adelaide to shreds together six weeks ago. Hard to split my love for our ruck division at the moment considering that Maximum proved such a cult figure during his brief cameo. I'd even give The Spencil a hug right now.

The only thing was concerning me at half time was the chances of us kicking another 12 goals, or near enough to, in the second half. If you took out the first seven minutes of the first two quarters we'd actually put together an entire first half of decent football and even in our best wins we barely managed to do that.

Five of the goals came directly from defensive howlers, and you can't rely on any team to hand you them on a platter for a full four quarters. Though it's not to say it was complete charity though, our forward pressure set a standard that's going to make us look pretty ordinary if they don't put the same kind of intensity into terrifying the very ordinary Footscray and Port over the next few weeks.

For all the tension, and Richmond's early domination, we had the first shot on goal from a crashing Watts pack mark - the sort which makes grown men weep with joy - and even though he missed the Experience got his second soon after and we were out to a 38 point lead. Unfortunately Jack then got sucked in to some handbags at 20 paces biffo in our backline and the umpire, clearly regretting the farce of a free he'd just paid to Stef that led to the goal, gave them the ball in the centre which they instantly converted.

From there we delivered one of the shitest attempts at putting a game away that you'll ever want to see. No doubt we were playing well around the ground but how many times could we have ended it before missed a hurried snap or a set shot? Thank god Tyrone Vickery declined an easy handball to Miller in the square and stuffed up his snap after thinking about it for 2 hours because if that had gone in we could have been in real trouble.

The momentum shift had started after the Watts free, so it was only appropriate that he made up for it by eventually getting our second for the quarter right on the siren. And what a goal too, anyone piece of Jack Magic to make you want to call the Herald Sun switchboard and yell "STICK THAT UP YOUR COLLECTIVE ARSES YOU PURVEYORS OF A RAG WHICH I WOULD NOT USE TO HOUSETRAIN A DOG" to the baffled and traumatised receptionist.

He couldn't have known there was about three seconds on the clock when he chased down Houli in front of goal after Newman had set him up with a rubbish handballs, but how about the hurried snap and evil look on his face when he slotted it just as the siren went? Everyone loves bagging private schoolkids (except Melbourne supporters because most of our fans were one at some point), and not without some justification, but the evil look tells me that he's not only becoming a top shelf forward but that he's also injected swagger into his game.

I once wanted to hire Wayne Carey as our coach (unaware that he was fighting imaginary bats at the time), that's how much I love swagger. Almost as much as I love crumb. So when Jack was doing his post match interview and mentioned that one of the three C's which the forward line are supposed to live by was CRUMB I almost jumped and down in celebration. He's right too, we've had plenty o'crumb the last few weeks (Collingwood debacle excluded) and that can't be a bad thing. It's just a shame that Demonblog's own Emo Maric isn't there to share in the spoils after his crumbtastic performance in junktime against North. Get well soon Emo.

Still, the margin might have been five goals and we might only have lost a couple of points off the lead after botching all those chances but it was by no means over. 17 points below the Chris Sullivan Line I realised that Sullivan had ended his career with Richmond. Omen nearly became reality when they got the first two of the quarter.

Down the other end Green had the chance for a steadier and put it out on the full and it was starting to look a lot like the Essendon game all over again. Luckily it turned out to have the same result. Sylvia's goal steadied the ship, and even though they got another one and could still have nicked it Trengove's third did them in and as the game limped to a conclusion we even got a piece of Jurrahcane piss taking magic when he sold the gigantic dummy around half of their backline and kicked his second.

One thing I learned today while watching Brad Miller going around was just how ludicrous it was when people threw hissy fits about us dumping him at the end of last year. Still, some were shattered when we traded Travis Johnstone and look how that turned out. No offence to Bradforth because he seems like a genuinely nice guy and I'm glad he's getting a game somewhere but his first half showed exactly why it was premature for anybody to lose sleep about us giving him the boot.

Ignoring his ruck cameos, where he was always going to get carved to shreds, he didn't do a great deal for the first three quarters other than setting up the Grigg goal which wouldn't have been a goal if our whole backline hadn't jumped from the same side of the square. Compare and contrast to having Jeremy Howe down there, Watts starting to run riot and the option to play either Jamar or the Experience out of the goalsquare and it tells me that right now Bradforth would be lining up alongside Bate, Dunn, Maric and Fev in a killer VFL forward line but that he'd be a mile off getting a game with us. Would be surprised if he was even at the Tigers next year, but we all know what he's got waiting for him at home so it's fair to say Bradforth is still the overall winner.

After being Milleresque all day I suddenly realised he was on the verge of playing the 30 minutes of his life in that last quarter and knobbing us. He set up two goals and even managed to break even with Jamar at centre bounces a couple of times. Thank god the rest of them couldn't go on with it because after losing to Bruce, McLean and Buckley this year the last thing we needed was for an ex-player to drag his side over the line in an inspirational cameo performance. Pencil in Cheney as BOG when we play Hawthorn again.

Meanwhile it's been great to see the hated (by me anyway) sub rule get a bit of a kicking over the last couple of days, even if much of it has been driven by the sooks from Windy Hill, but the bad news is that for the rest of this year at least we're going to have to deal with it. Given that can we agree that Morton just doesn't work in that role?

After a fortnight of decent, if unspectacular, performances he donned the traffic controller vest and proceeded to stink the joint up with two shockers from his first three kicks after replacing Macdonald. He recovered a bit as the game went on but if you're going to bring somebody into a close game they can't need time to get confidence. One of these days we're going to be involved in a real thriller and the Sad Panda is going to get crucified if he comes on and makes a costly cockup.

Not sure who else you'd have had as the sub from our team yesterday - I was more than happy with Bennell on field - but if you're not going to pick somebody who can make an impact coming off the bench then just don't pick them in the first place. It's a shit rule and the sooner we see the back of it (or at least extend it to 4+1 on the bench so it becomes the domain of fringe players as it deserves to be) the better.

For all our attempts to kick ourselves out of it and let them back in it was still a significant win. Richmond fans will tell you they were robbed by the umpires (and the guy who rang Triple M to say they would have won by 12 goals if it wasn't for the umps was a classic) but it wasn't the guys in green who caused Vickery to give Miller nothing. They were doing fine in rorting themselves out of the four points without having to worry about the umpires - who were pretty ordinary both ways - hurting them. Still, sook if it makes you feel better you won't get anything out of it other than a phone bill for thousands of dollars from calling every sports talkback program in the world to tell your story.

To be entirely honest I was bursting with pride inside, but had no desire to stand around and celebrate what should be the second step in a four match winning streak which sets us up for a legitimate crack at the finals. If we win next week I'll start celebrating. The downside of this lack of celebration was that I walked out of the ground, past the Kaiser's Sausage (P.S - I WILL MENTION YOU EVERY WEEK FOR ONE FREE CHEESE KRAINER AT EVERY MATCH) and onto the bridge towards Flinders Street to realise I was the only person in a sea of hundreds who wasn't a Richmond fan. If they'd decided to kill me right there nobody would have known. Thank god all the real top shelf freaks are locked in down the other end of the ground.

2011 Allen Jakovich Medal Votes
I've got a feeling, having seen a few sets of votes that are completely different, that opinions might vary on the top five and which order they go in. If you violently disagree please send death threats on a postcard to the usual address.

I feel a bit sad that I couldn't somehow push Petterd up the rankings just for the defensive game he turned in today. Forget the fact that he cracked the record for I50 tackles, but have you ever seen a bigger contrast between somebody's performance with the ball and without it? His possessions heinous (33% and that includes handballs) but he was ferocious when he didn't have it. Never did I think anybody who botched two thirds of their touches would ever not only win a vote but that I'd feel he deserved more but that's how good it was. Wouldn't expect to see Dunn win a recall anytime soon if Ricky's going to play like that.

Also can I freely admit that I've got a rude mancrush on Jordie McKenzie? He didn't totally destroy Cotchin today, but he did enough to make sure he wasn't a factor. I'm surprised at him only having five tackles because he always seemed to be there when somebody was tackled - probably because he's forever lurking, ready to leap on some poor bastard when they're vulnerable. Even looked comfortable kicking it today which is a huge step up from last week.

So after tossing up between the top two for about half an hour I eventually settled on the Million Dollar Manchild. Long may he reign.

5 - Jack Watts
4 - Brent Moloney
3 - Jordie McKenzie
2 - James Frawley
1 - Ricky Petterd

Gigantic apologies to Martin, Jones, Green, Trengove and Garland. Slightly less to Scully, Jurrah, Sylvia, Gysberts and Nicholson. Most others at least good.

Leaderboard
It's a tie at the top, but with Watts and the entire ruck division lurking closely behind. Elsewhere Frawley has finally put his nose in front in the Seecamp and you'd want to back him home from here.

23 - Colin Sylvia, Brent Moloney
17 - Jack Watts
16 - Mark Jamar (LEADER: Jim Stynes Medal for Ruckman of the Year)
14 - Stefan Martin
11 - Jordie McKenzie, James Frawley (LEADER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year)
10 - Jordan Gysberts, Jared Rivers
9 - Joel Macdonald
7 - Colin Garland
6 - Luke Tapscott (LEADER: Jeff Hilton Medal for Rookie of the Year)
5 - Jack Trengove, Rohan Bail
4 - Michael Evans, Brad Green, Tom Scully
3 - Ricky Petterd, Jack Grimes, Liam Jurrah, Nathan Jones
2 - Clint Bartram, Neville Jetta

Crowd Watch
Once again the Ponsford Stand, around me at least, remained the bastion of all that is good and right with the world and despite being almost entirely surrounded by Richmond fans there wasn't a single moment of tension. I think that for Tigers games they make anybody who turns up in a gypsy caravan sit in the Southern Stand so that's probably where all the best action was. They can have it, I'm too old to be involving myself in wild scenes.

The only time I felt that it was about to kick off was when Watts got the free for the shephard at the end of the first quarter and the guy across the aisle and one row back went off his nut. Out the corner of my eye I thought he was about to throw a can (!?) in my direction and flinched at it. No, I did not spend the game tripping on acid so god knows where that came from. Expect that it had something to do with being in shock from the last 15 minutes of the quarter.

Speaking of the first quarter, halfway through it I saw one of the most shameless breaches of footy etiquette of all time. Now, tell me if I'm living in Cloud Cuckoo Land but if you want to get to the middle of an aisle is it not accepted that you stop at the end, get the attention of the first person then wait for them and everyone else to stand up one by one as you walk in?

Not so this Richmond gent. Despite the fact that he was carrying a coffee in one hand and a tiny kiddy backpack over his other shoulder (which is always a stranger danger alert as far as I'm concerned) he bounded up the stairs to the row in front of me and plowed straight through them without warning and with the coffee precariously hanging over the row in front threatening to scorch them at any minute. He then pushed through the startled crowd, almost to the other side of the aisle without waiting for one person to move for him. Mannerless peasant. Needless to say he wasn't wearing red and/or blue.

Ridiculously the first Richmond fans to pull the pin and leave went halfway through the third quarter after Jurrah marked on the lead. Never mind that he hadn't converted the kick yet or that countless teams have lost games from five goals in front in the third quarter, the moment the ball hit his hands, they stood up, waved to their friends and were gone. Don't worry that he missed, they would have been halfway up platform 8 at Richmond Station by the time the Tiges made it interesting in the last term and in Pakenham by the final siren.

The real exodus began with Sylvia's goal, and gradually a world record number of women with bald spots and/or men wearing team merchandise clearly found at Savers drifted out. By the time Trengove goalled the numbers of our supporters to theirs in Q34 had almost evened up, and by the end there were about three empty rows around me. Something tells me that a large number of them came expecting a win and were moderately disappointed about it. Wah, and indeed wah. Though it's not like our lot aren't guilty of the same thing.

You know why I like Richmond? Because you can use all the jokes about their fans that you would for Collingwood if they weren't so good. I wonder what happened to the guy who sat there at this game singing the Tiges theme song with altered lyrics about putting Terry Wallace in the electric chair.

Koaching Korner
Without delving completely into #welovehird/#sackhird territory you'd have to think the market on Bailey staying or going has been thrown into disarray over the last fortnight. It could all still go tits up so don't buy stock in him yet but today was a big step forward. Which is terrible news for all of you who had a sneaky fiver on the bloke out of the Deep Heat ad taking over. All I can do to comfort you is reveal that in a desperate attempt to find a picture of the Team Deep Heat coach I went onto their website and discovered that their product promises you "special 3 way action". Which is probably the best offer you'll ever get out of this page.

Personal Computing Corner - presented by Kaspersky Lab and hotxxxplumpers.com
There's nothing more tragic, yet simultaneously hilarious, than supporters being rolled into posting impassioned defences of their club when somebody has a pot shot at it online.

Shamefully we've all been there, sometimes it might have even been justified, but if you didn't read this thread before the match then do yourself a favour and take it in now before somebody gets murdered and it's taken away as evidence.

There should be one thing written above all forums, and which users should be forced to print out and put above their computer before they're allowed to post, IT DOES NOT MAKE A SPOT OF DIFFERENCE IN REAL LIFE WHAT SOMEBODY WRITES ABOUT YOUR CLUB ON THE INTERNET. Popular legend has it that we're sexually aroused by snow and love nothing more than plowing down a mountain yelling PIP PIP old chap! This is unlikely to be true (though I've not been near snow since I spent a week hiding from it playing Galaga in a chalet during an 80's family holiday so what do I know?) but people are going to drag it out for the rest of time and that’s ok.

What do you do? You could smile knowingly, nod and admit that although it is a massive fiction that you'd rather be thought of as velvet jacket toting ski bunnies than heroin addicted armed robbers. Alternatively you could go out and try to round up some actual heroin addicted armed robbers to come along and cause a scene for the media, but what you should never, ever do – and take this from somebody who has been shamefully reading internet forums since the days when it took an hour just to see one boob come up on the net – is take it to heart and launch a furious, keyboard mashing defence of your club’s integrity/origin/supporter base. Because, and please look up above your monitor at the sign you have just printed out and stuck up, IT DOES NOT MAKE A SPOT OF DIFFERENCE IN REAL LIFE WHAT SOMEBODY WRITES ABOUT YOUR CLUB ON THE INTERNET.

Still, if you think it's going to get us somewhere by going into bat against 14-year-olds from Deer Park then go for your life.

Next Week
That was the hard one. The problem from here is not that we're playing Footscray (unconvincing, Ed Barlow starring) and Port (rancid song, hacks galore) but where the matches are being played.

Next Friday night against the Dogs we fully deserve to go in red hot favourites considering that they've served up two unconvincing wins against rubbish sides but I don't need to tell you how hideous we've been at Docklands during the Bailey era. The Dogs have gone from being shite to good and back again since we last won a game at that place. And what an afternoon it was too, with Ben Holland running riot and Jace Bode making his long awaited (!?) debut.

Since then we've lost a full ten in a row, but at least there were times during both our games there this year that we did look alright so against doctor's orders I'm getting sucked in and picking us. How long does it seem since that first Jamar-less quarter against North with Juice pretending he was John Coleman up front? More of that, less of the majority of the other 43 quarters (including pre-season matches) we've turned in there since 2008.

Then for pure financial reasons we play Port in Darwin where anything could happen.
Move it back to the MCG and we'd go in $1.10 favourites with a massacre on the cards, but put it in the humid conditions where they've already won this season and it's anything but a certainty.

At least we've got form there after last year's win. Who will ever forget Leigh Colbert conducting one of the finest post-match interviews of all time with an exhausted Jamar seated on the turf of TIO Stadium? More importantly who'll ever forget Miller kicking a career high five goals in his last great moment shortly before getting the arse.

Then it gets interesting. You can all but write off the game in Geelong (why am I going? Even worse, why am I considering catching a V-Line train there?) but if we can win against one of Carlton or Hawthorn then we're putting ourselves right in the mix. If we win both the lid will be torn off and hurled into the sky with such vigour that it will start orbiting the earth.

Of course we're operating in a different world to the likes of Carlton and Hawthorn. After what we've been through for the last few years just making the eight is treated like a major milestone. Small steps. Some subscribe to the theory that it's better to miss out than to just fall in, get thrashed and wind up with Matthew Knights being sacked acrimoniously. I spit on that theory and would dearly like to update this page at least once before the end of the year.

So, on Friday night can everyone just put their hatred of Etihad Stadium aside and show up? Apparently Joel Mac might miss, so pending any mystery injuries and with Casey having the bye this week I'll bring Tapscott in for him if fit. The shame for J.Mac is that after his best month of the season he might never get back in if Tappy plays like he did at the start of the year.

Was it worth it?
If you watched on TV you had to listen to Dwayne Russell. So it most certainly was.

Let's do it all again in Round 22.