The Spew Round 23 - Medieval Eagles and Reservoir Cats
In Perth a lack of Seedsman foreshadowed a lack of Crows, while in Geelong, the Cats dispatched their inner Demons giving Roos a giant turd on his record where the sign-off should be.
On Friday night West Coast travel to Adelaide to take on the Crows, run by my favourite coach, Don Pyke. I love how he gets all pensive and takes time out during a game to write his memoirs and haiku poems to keep things in perspective. But when I hear there's no Seedsman a dark pall hangs over this game as everyone knows 'no Seedsman, no Crows.'Priddis receives a 2mm pass from Gaff directly to his chops and within 5 minutes Lycett is limping around the ground like Talleyrand. Suddenly it looks like even without Seedsman it could be the night of the Crow. However, Jetta picks up where he left off last week, delivering a couple of golden eggs inside 50.
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Little Cheney takes a few nice intercepts but Barrass is getting enough leather to open a modest S&M dungeon. Giles has replaced Naitinui and I think the 3rd ruck position is a degraded one, poorly remunerated. Like Walker of Brisbane—the last bald man in the AFL—Giles has a monkish marking, a tell-tale sign in AFL circles that you've got no dough. I also develop a theory that David King is still playing footy—Shannon Hurn is surely King sans the fat suit.At the start of quarter 2, Jetta and Hill put West Coast two goals clear. There's a McGovern v McGovern biblical duel and Schofield is looking like a bedraggled 1970s Grateful Dead devotee. Kennedy's second kick at goal is one of the most beautiful things in flight since Wonder Woman flew her invisible plane. Darling is the bizarro foil to Kennedy, blowing every shot on goal. But the Eagles are like hungry goblins and have set up a cordon sanitaire around their forward 50 that Adelaide can't penetrate. When they eventually do and we enter Adelaide's forward 50 we see Schofield has undergone another transformation, this time into a 1930s railway hobo.Darling's first half horror continues and he's in line for the Norman Gunston Motor Function Award. Fortunately Barrass continues on his leather fest and is getting medieval now, like Marcellus Wallace.
The Crows need some Texual healing as West Coast continue to score but when the moment arrives he shoots his bolt in the wrong direction. A couple of Crows climb a crystal staircase deep in the forward 50 to mark the ball but it turns out to be a metaphor steeped in illusion, a Crystal Ship that is drifting unmoored to nowhere land.
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The Eagles enter the final term 6 goals up but Pyke remains the ultimate stoic, making bookish entries like some modern day Marcus Aurelius. Cameron, Walker, McGovern and Jacobs form what looks like a trapezoid of horror but it ends miraculously in an Adelaide goal. Barrass continues his assault and the Crows pile on some junk goals which makes the scoreboard read more respectably than it ought. When Barrass is interviewed post-match he uses the Jack Donaghy technique.
Geelong vs Melbourne, Simonds Stadium
We think we're in for a rugged contest when the Dees visit Geelong at Kardinia Park on Saturday afternoon. But suddenly, bing-bang, Dangerchaun with his leprechaun shoes has set-up two inside 50 shots on goal. It looks ominous, when Vandenberg goals but delivers one of the most morose looking celebrations of all time, perhaps this is a familial trait, like the maudlin Tenenbaums.
Hawkins kicks a second goal but again Melbourne responds through Weideman who stabs a goal through at the Jeffrey Smart end.The ball is soon back in the Cats forward 50 and Daniel Menswear converts. Cowan, looking very much like a Clint Eastwood antagonist is buzzing around with intent and soon Hawkins is able to bag his 3rd goal. He immediately makes his way to the bench, hopefully to change into some opaque shorts so we don't have to see his panty line anymore. Bugg looks like some F Scott Fitzgerald character with his sweeping bouffant and mo, a hopeless cad who can't get his hands on the prize. Every Cat is in on the act this quarter and Hawkins bags a 4th, he's started out like a pyromaniac and the quarter ends with the Cats leading 50:12.
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Brayshaw scores the first goal of the second term with a toe poke, Selwood goes to the bench with a neck complaint and Menegola is caught for holding the ball—and argues with the umpire like it was the Dreyfus Affair—and you wonder if it's possible for Melbourne to come back. Bzzzt, no. That's not to say there aren't excitements, like when McDonald puts a clawhand on Hawkins face or Tyson stub kicks the ball, or when Melbourne all of a sudden go all boneless and floppy after a spurt of Cats goals. The half ends 72:20.When play resumes Dangerchaun is on fire, registering a record inside 50 all while keeping his fantabulous hair under control. Bartel brings up his 200th goal as though he'd just stepped out of a Tom Roberts painting.
'Hold still for Jimmy, Roosy, and this will all be over soon'. Image via Wikimedia Commons
Bugg makes a cameo after presumably taking an energising break at The Hamptons. There is so little effort across the board that when a Melbourne player runs into a teammate at a contest it's like a high school reunion: 'gee how long has it been?'In the final quarter a Bartel tap on has more IQ than the whole Melbourne collective today and when Hawkins scores Geelong are 76 points in the lead. And it's not over yet. Hawkins juggles the ball again like a jester before putting through his 6th goal but it's no laughing matter if you're Paul Roos who now has a giant turd on his record where the sign-off should be.It's brutal and achieves a 9 on the Tarantino scale of brutal acts. The Cats are very happy with their work but they might do well to heed the wise words of Mr Wolf as the finals loom.
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Little Cheney takes a few nice intercepts but Barrass is getting enough leather to open a modest S&M dungeon. Giles has replaced Naitinui and I think the 3rd ruck position is a degraded one, poorly remunerated. Like Walker of Brisbane—the last bald man in the AFL—Giles has a monkish marking, a tell-tale sign in AFL circles that you've got no dough. I also develop a theory that David King is still playing footy—Shannon Hurn is surely King sans the fat suit.At the start of quarter 2, Jetta and Hill put West Coast two goals clear. There's a McGovern v McGovern biblical duel and Schofield is looking like a bedraggled 1970s Grateful Dead devotee. Kennedy's second kick at goal is one of the most beautiful things in flight since Wonder Woman flew her invisible plane. Darling is the bizarro foil to Kennedy, blowing every shot on goal. But the Eagles are like hungry goblins and have set up a cordon sanitaire around their forward 50 that Adelaide can't penetrate. When they eventually do and we enter Adelaide's forward 50 we see Schofield has undergone another transformation, this time into a 1930s railway hobo.Darling's first half horror continues and he's in line for the Norman Gunston Motor Function Award. Fortunately Barrass continues on his leather fest and is getting medieval now, like Marcellus Wallace.The Crows need some Texual healing as West Coast continue to score but when the moment arrives he shoots his bolt in the wrong direction. A couple of Crows climb a crystal staircase deep in the forward 50 to mark the ball but it turns out to be a metaphor steeped in illusion, a Crystal Ship that is drifting unmoored to nowhere land.The Eagles enter the final term 6 goals up but Pyke remains the ultimate stoic, making bookish entries like some modern day Marcus Aurelius. Cameron, Walker, McGovern and Jacobs form what looks like a trapezoid of horror but it ends miraculously in an Adelaide goal. Barrass continues his assault and the Crows pile on some junk goals which makes the scoreboard read more respectably than it ought. When Barrass is interviewed post-match he uses the Jack Donaghy technique.We think we're in for a rugged contest when the Dees visit Geelong at Kardinia Park on Saturday afternoon. But suddenly, bing-bang, Dangerchaun with his leprechaun shoes has set-up two inside 50 shots on goal. It looks ominous, when Vandenberg goals but delivers one of the most morose looking celebrations of all time, perhaps this is a familial trait, like the maudlin Tenenbaums.Hawkins kicks a second goal but again Melbourne responds through Weideman who stabs a goal through at the Jeffrey Smart end.The ball is soon back in the Cats forward 50 and Daniel Menswear converts. Cowan, looking very much like a Clint Eastwood antagonist is buzzing around with intent and soon Hawkins is able to bag his 3rd goal. He immediately makes his way to the bench, hopefully to change into some opaque shorts so we don't have to see his panty line anymore. Bugg looks like some F Scott Fitzgerald character with his sweeping bouffant and mo, a hopeless cad who can't get his hands on the prize. Every Cat is in on the act this quarter and Hawkins bags a 4th, he's started out like a pyromaniac and the quarter ends with the Cats leading 50:12.Brayshaw scores the first goal of the second term with a toe poke, Selwood goes to the bench with a neck complaint and Menegola is caught for holding the ball—and argues with the umpire like it was the Dreyfus Affair—and you wonder if it's possible for Melbourne to come back. Bzzzt, no. That's not to say there aren't excitements, like when McDonald puts a clawhand on Hawkins face or Tyson stub kicks the ball, or when Melbourne all of a sudden go all boneless and floppy after a spurt of Cats goals. The half ends 72:20.When play resumes Dangerchaun is on fire, registering a record inside 50 all while keeping his fantabulous hair under control. Bartel brings up his 200th goal as though he'd just stepped out of a Tom Roberts painting.