Lisa: “The Chinese use the same word for Crisis and Opportunity”
Homer: “You mean Crisotunity?”
I’m undecided about Sunday games. On one hand, you’ve got the anticipation over the whole weekend, the fantasy footy settings and tips long forgotten, plenty of time to build up to the event. On the other, the weekend goes sooooooo slooooow. Between March and September, no matter what the Saturday social event, there’s a little spot in the cranium permanently running over matchups, likely outcomes and the resulting position on the ladder. The Sunday morning, normally filled with work at the bookstore. The Swans fan there talking up his boys. I welcome it, as any proper footy talk here should be. This weekend is going particularly slow. Last weekend, round 3, was the offical AFL-sanctioned “Rivalry Round”. For mine, it was a week too early. Round Four is good vs. evil. The rebel alliance vs. the dark side. Ralph Macchio vs. that other kid. Collingwood vs. Carlton.
In contrast to the uncertainty of last week, I’ve never been in doubt as to where I stand with the Carlton football club. And it’s not often you have an opportunity to nail Carlton, in a semi-crisis, to their 15th straight loss (a record going back at least a century), redress the imbalance in the all-time win/loss ledger and most importantly, give Scott Burns a win in his 250th game for the Magpies.
As the Seven coverage starts and I’ve settled in to the prime spot in the lounge, Bruce tells me Sir Scott is a late scratching, out with a calf injury. Not a good omen. This better not develop into the James Clement calf injury from last year that grew into a cow.
Josh wins the toss and points to the fireplace despite it being warmish sunny day, both here and at the ‘g. “Soft”, I mutter. Pies start out with fire, and it looks promising. Nathan *J* Brown goals early, his first in AFL footy and I send an MSN to Bomber Rich who is also online up at Port Macquarie. It goes something like this.”Brooooooooooooooooooooowny!” although I’m not too sure on the number of o’s. A ticker scrolls across the bottom of the screen and I foolishly pay attention to it, thinking it’s some kind of global calamity or at least celebrity breeding news that these things are usually reserved for. It’s just a repeat of earlier news regarding the appointment of yet another useless ribbon cutter/figurehead (aka. Governor General), and I’ve wasted a good 10 seconds of footy viewing time. I try to change the telly from letterbox format so that this won’t happen again.
The Pies also get distracted by the words running underneath them, and O’hAilpin (not a typo) goals for Carlton. Then, biff. Or at least as close as you can get to it, these days. Nick Maxwell hits Murphy with a high elbow to the chin, which seems to set off a loaded spring in his legs as he comically performs a reverse bellyflop with arc. The two clubs converge, but no discernable punches thrown, unlike seasons before. Fevola goals against Harry and over the next ten minutes run the Pies ragged. They’re up 36-10. And ole’ dependable Paul Bower, who’s never been seen in the same room with Perry Farrell, gives away a 50 and goal to Didak, followed by NJB who puts it through goalpost height from 50. The snoozing time-on Pies from last week have possibly woken. 36-22 end of first term.
Second quarter starts with a sneaky Pendles goal from good forward pressure. This is better. It goes goal for goal, which I don’t mind, for most of the 2nd quarter until Nick Stevens, “He who wanted to be a Pie”, goals in, you guessed it, time on. 62-42 to “Cartel”
Halftime highlights include Melbourne’s Chris Connolly trying to look inconspicuous in the crowd by dressing like a English gentlemen taking his 1930’s Bentley out for a Sunday drive, but forgetting he’s not at a Dees game.
Carlton goal straight out of the blocks in the third and I’m officially nervous. And goal again. The two Cloke boys have a bit of a stoush and a laugh, and to a certain extent I wish Cam was still in the stripes, instead of Chris Bryan. By the end of the quarter, the Blues are out to a 27 point lead and not looking like tanking anytime soon.
The final quarter goes slower than the whole weekend leading up to the game. No Pies highlights except for the usual Dale Thomas screamer where he lands, in the poetic commentary of Tim Watson “like a snowflake on a hot bonnet”. And in a nice bit of network niggling, Seven holds a lingering closeup of a fuming President Eddie toward the end of the game. The crowd gets louder and a give a roar on the final siren that hasn’t been heard for well, at least 14 games. May it not be heard for another 14 or so more…
… at least giving them a chance to win 5 games and not tank for the priority picks.