roosters vs eels recap: in todd we trust

August 4th, 2010

Pic. Getty Images

We’re resurrecting an Errol tradition – the footy recap! So for any of you who actually have lives and missed the Roosters vs Eels game on Saturday night – aka the GAME OF THE ROUND, BITCHES – you can experience all the magic right here.

So the game’s over at Parra Stadium, which means two things.

1. The Eel mascot will make an appearance, which is one of our favourite things.  You know when he puts his tail between his legs, like a … ? Well, you know. He’s wildly inappropriate and totally not PG and this amuses us greatly.

2. The Eel’s mascot girlfriend will also make an appearance, which without fail makes me want to die. Seriously, a MASCOT has a better love life than me. Shit is dire.

As the Roosters run out I would like to remind you all that YES we do have the shortest shorts in the league and you all fucking love it. Brian Smith is rocking jeans and sneaks like ‘WHAT UP? I’M A COOL DAD’.

Fui Fui Moi Moi’s all corn-rowed and running out with the starting side which I think means the Eels mean business. He’s the human equivalent of a floor-length leather trenchcoat. He also has hamstring tape all up the back of his leg, and instead of the usual two-strap wishbone style it’s about eight pieces of tape. This is obviously because his legs are enormous.

The Chooks take the first set and within three minutes they’re within ten metres of the tryline. It only takes two more sets and M.Aubs runs for the line, hits a hole and busts through beautifully to ground the ball like a red-white-and-blue dynamo. MAAAUBS!

While Todd Carney’s lining up the conversion, Kiki rings me to dicuss how much on a scale of 1 to 10 we adore Maubs (it’s totally 10), and how much he’s realised his potential this season. She says his runs through the line and in open space remind her of Ben Creagh. I rant about how much I love his positioning in support when the halves have the ball and his pretty strawberry-blond hair and call him ‘the new Steve Menzies,’ which she’s maybe not quite convinced of.

Uncanny, no?

Todd ‘Hotpants’ Carney bends forward to take the kick and Kiki predicts the short-shorts are going to end in disaster. “I think it’s only a matter of time until we see a testicle.”

Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne, in his current incarnation as the Hayne-Plane, looks pissed.

[Note from Sassy’s stepdad: He’s a COM-PLAIN.]


Parra are having no luck, Feleti Mateo loses the ball, there’s some niggle afoot and the Roosters move into attack again. Hotpants Carney throws a magical cut-out pass to Sam Perrett who pops it back to Shaun Kenny-Dowall for a try. Or as we like to call him, PINK MAAAAN! So rosy! So fast!

And as far as we can tell, the Pink Man nickname is catching on. People all over the world, from all eras, at costume parties and even in cartoons are paying tribute to NRL’s Pink Man. He’s a cult hero!

The Roosters look so dangerous I may faint. I’m swooning all over the place at how well the forward pack are playing. Ryles! Myles! Kennedy! I’d marry you all right now!

They play through the middle and Mitchell Pearce throws an offload of beauty to Minichiello for a try. I am DYING. Jarryd-with-a-Y does not so much resemble a plane as something Medieval covered in spikes that they used to torture infidels. He looks even angrier than before.

At least I think he looks angry. On the next set Parra do some weird shit that makes me think they didn’t know it was the last tackle, so maybe all of them, including Jarryd-with-a-Y are just confused?

I would like to suggest that, to help with his confusion, Jarryd-with-a-Y might like to consult the safety card in his seat pocket. If he does, he will see that if he’s looking for a try, a line of red, white and blue players will show him how it’s done.

Welcome to Roosters Air! Where hotpants are just part of the uniform.

There’s some push’n’shove between Frank-Paul Nuuausala and Justin Poore. The Roosters give away about six straight penalties until Parra finally make it through for a Jarryd-with-a-Y try. UGH. STUPID PLANE ARMS. GOD. STAB STAB.

Wait, where was I?

Parra kick to the Chooks’ line and for some reason, instead of playing at it, every single man just stands around and discusses whether they prefer Johnathan Cainer or Mystic Medusa’s horoscopes while the ball bounces. Kane Linnett (hi Kane! We remember you fondly from the Jets!) is the first to put down his chai and grab the ball, then sprints downfield, offloading at the last second to Phil Graham for a try.

Kiki rings me and we both admit we actually had goosebumps on our forearms. If we weren’t ladies, we would probably also have actual footy-induced boners. Amazing! Hotpants gets his fourth conversion. Four for you Todd Carney! You go Todd Carney!

Finally the Eels do something. A Tim Tam Tahu break from Plane pass, a Hotpants Carney intercept, Sam Perrett loses the ball, I think I’m having a stroke, and Hindy runs 30 metres to score. Oh Hindy, we love you more than life. Do you know what you should do it you love Hindy too?


In the second half, I won’t lie, I lost my mind a bit. All my notes say is this:

is todd adjusting his crotch tape in the middle of the field?

shit kane might be injured.

how good does todd look now he’s given up booze? so lean! so youthful!

adamson is ranting about “the passing and the christmas” is he drunk?

fuck me carney incredible spiral pass dead of joy.

are the short shorts a tribute to ronnie palmer? miss u, love u ronnie.

joel reddy dives over can’t see what happens cause 3 chooks. ref says held up. joel reddy is BLOWING UP like woah.

whee it’s proof you only have to wait three weeks to get a lucky refereeing decision.

hayne is he trying to start a fight??? he’s a war plane! throws a massive tantrum about … I have no idea. but it’s lolz.

oh god ANOTHER penalty oh god oh god oh god. penalty count is 11-4 FUCK ME.

roosters finally back in attack, their defence has been awesome. tim mannah is cycling and it’s cute.

imagine how dangerous skd could be if his passes were more reliable??

The Hayne plane is having difficulties.

wow. wow. eels look like they want to die.

HAHA brian smith just gave thumbs up to the camera

he goes up to fui to say well played, naaaw.

oh shit I think d morts is crying. that’s sad.

I know, I know, I sound functionally illiterate. But if you read that really REALLY loudly, it’s just like watching a game with me. End result 48-12.

And now I’ll leave you with my boys being adorable winners in the locker room.



the sassy loves a bandwagon recap: roosters vs warriors

September 22nd, 2008

I know how you love Kiki’s health updates, so today you get one from me.  EXCITEMENT.  A mental health one at least.  In the lead up to this game I had a dull feeling of resignation that this was the last stop on the line for my chookies, and I was starting to freak out, because – since I have no mid-term memory cells left – I literally couldn’t remember what I filled my spare time with when it wasn’t football season.  Anyone?

I do love me some cricket, but more in a falling asleep on the couch in the afternoon in my swimmers with a beer way than a rabid fan way.  HOW WILL I FILL ALL MY TIME WHEN THE GAME IS OVER?  I was starting to even consider taking up a hobby, fo realz.  This was especially bad because I’m not even really sure what my hobby-choices are.  The only ones I know of are Mah Jong and bushwalking and cross-stitch.

Luckily, you can all stop worrying, babies.  As I lay on the beach on Saturday I looked up and remembered THIS IS WHAT I DO.  BEACH.  Sweet sweet beach.  Incidentally, Kiki and I also looked up a little bit later and saw Big Dell frolicking on the sand with his bbs wearing fluorescent boardshorts, but that’s a whole other post.

The moral of the story is that I don’t have to take up crochet (thank god, because it probably would have ended in a drunken needle injury) and we can get down to the recap.  Also, that I am sunburnt.

If you don’t want to read all the words that are on the way, just look at this picture instead:

pic: Getty Images

So the New Zealand Warriors run onto the field to some AC/DC Back in Black action.  Clearly I am not opposed to AC/DC, or to cock rock in general.  It makes my heart smile when the Roosters run on to Motley Crue.  But Warriors, darlings, I think you need an update.  The Storm run onto AC/DC.  And I can’t have the Warriors (who I kinda love now) running onto the same band as my footy nemeses The Storm.  My little pea-brain couldn’t handle it.

And how has no one suggested Patti Smith ‘I am the Warrior‘?  Not just because it’s a fuck-off great song, but because Patti Smith is a fierce bitch.  Do you know who else is a fierce bitch?  Wiki.  IT ALL FITS.  Listen to these lyrics and tell me it’s not perfect.

Who’s the hunter … who’s the game?

I feel the beat … call your name

I hold you close … in victory

I don’t wanna tame your animal style …

You won’t be caged … in the call of the wild

Clearly I am just going to play this in my own home before the Warriors play next week and start calling Ruben Wiki ‘jungle child’.

pic: Kenny Rodger

The Kiwis haven’t skimped on the dramz tonight.  The Warriors are in their all blacks and the Roosters have turned up in their pretty all-white uniforms to a stadium of screaming black-clad Kiwi fans.  It’s all very dramatical and allegorical and other words ending in ‘-ical’.

It’s like Daniel in the lion’s den.  Except that maybe in the bible they didn’t have fireworks or Maori drummers or traditional dancers in coconut bras.  Whatever.  I like to think they did.  You just know Mary Magdalene was a bandit for a coconut bra and grass skirt.

It is approximately one second before the Warriors send in Lance Hohaia for a try and Michael Witt’s ginger mo steps up to the tee and converts.  6-0.  Oh, Roosters.

About two seconds later the referee needs a new whistle.  I shit you not.

The Roosters make a beautiful break until Amos Roberts loses the ball and has his head broken.  Tragedy!  I love Amos!  Although I was really disappointed when I found out he calls his newborn baby son ‘Mossy’ as in ‘Amos’ not as in ‘Named after Ian ‘Mossy’ Moss of Cold Chisel’.

Mitchell Pearce magics a 40-20 kick and takes a pass from Braith Anasta to dive into goal.  TRY!  GO BABIES GO!   Except … why is nobody hugging Mitchell Pearce?  David Shillington is hugging Mitchell Aubusson.  Everyone else is hugging each other.  Mitchell Pearce just wanders around a bit until finally Lunchlady Doris – I mean a Roosters trainer – brings him a Powerade and claps him on the back.

He is seriously a man-island.  And not the good party-island kind.  Is he in the bad books for stealing someone’s lucky socks?  Did he dob on the guys for something?  Fart in the plane on the way down?  Does he play Nickelback in the team bus?

Poor Mitchell Man-Island Pearce.

Frill-neck Fitzgibbon converts.

pic: Getty Images

I accidentally mush my nail polish all over my hand when Minichiello explodes from nowhere to come face to face with a Soliola kick, kicks again, chases and dives into goal neck-and-neck with Hohaia for a SO-CLOSE-BUT-SO-FAR-NO-TRY.  Yes, I do paint my nails while I watch the footy.  I like to multitask.

Except apparently the Universe enjoys toying with my emotions. Because, inexplicably, Tony Archer sends it to the video referee and a penalty try is awarded.  Penalty try?  First penalty try of the year?

Are you kidding me faceless video ref?

Let me explain.  I am incredibly biased towards my team.  Everything they do is fine by me. Teams that beat them do not deserve to live.  Brad ‘Freddy’ Fittler’s chuckle is music to my ears.

But this is completely ridiculous.  I do not approve of the penalty try rule.

Benefit of the doubt makes sense to me – where something is so very very close and video footage is inconclusive we’ll give the attacking team a little leeway. It makes the fans happy, it makes the game exciting.

But penalty try is a contradiction in terms.  It says if there is no try, because of a penalty – then instead of giving you a penalty we will give you a penalty try. BUT THERE WAS NO TRY. If there was no try, there is no way that anyone can say whether there would have been, but for the penalty.

Sure you can say there would probably have been a try, but how likely does it have to be?  More than 50%? More than 75%? Highly probable? Slightly probable?  Can you tell yet that I studied law?

Would you be happy to see your team lose a grand final with a penalty try?

I think it says it all that it was a penalty try that gave the Storm their first premiership.  That Rule and That Club are united in propagating the forces of darkness.

It is a flimsy and ill-defined rule and I resent it’s usage.  I say send the offender off for ten or something and let the situation sort itself out.  And yes, it is possible I am just saying that because I like seeing people get sent off.  I like watching the little sooky cartoon bull huff across the screen.  WANNA MAKE SOMETHING OF IT?

Anyway, the Roosters are awarded a try and Komodo Fitzgibbon converts so feel free to ignore that whole series of ranty paragraphs.  HURRAH FOR PENALTY TRIES! I LOVE YOU PENNY!

Anasta field-goals and we all go for a half-time cup of tea and lie-down.

Shall we discuss facial hair again while the boys are napping?  I say yes. It’s not an Errol post without a mention of arses or beards.

My fiercest beard award tonight goes to Simon Mannering.  He actually won player of the year in the Warriors club this year, but I’m sure this award means so much more.  That is a cracker of a beard:


Sadly, both these responses are wrong. The right one is HEEE! Is there anything funnier than the Warriors wearing swimming goggles? I say no.

And just for the hell of it:

Steve Price, why you so tanned? I sense some solarium action, because god knows he can’t have been natural tanning in New Zealand.  That makes me love you a little bit Pricey.

The boys all run back out and the Roosters defence is a big ole pile of Marshmallow as Hohaia rolls in a try.  Mmmmmm … marshmallow.  Witty’s mo converts again.

In more plasma news, someone in the distance who may be Lopini Paea (I’m a little bit drunk so I can’t be sure) has a huge circle of blood on the bottom of his jersey and the front of his shorts.  He is sent off field to change his jersey, and – I assume – so that one of the Roosters trainers can sit him down in the locker room and give him the talk about What Happens When You Become a Woman.  If they’re really touchy-feely they might even give him a glass of red wine with his box of tampons.

The Warrior whose name I always forget who looks like a B-grade 90s movie actor* is held up in goal for no try. Let’s just call him Jeremy Sisto. Bad luck, Jezza.

Angryman Ian (not Brian) Henderson gets a Benny try. Oh, Roosters, I knew this would happen: 18-13. Another try to Manu Vatuvei’s gold teeth. I wanna feel sad but that bitch is just too fabulous. I want to see Manu and Dell have a weigh-in to determine biggest winger in league.

Knock on, double knock on, and a SECOND TRY FOR JEREMY SISTO. Way to excel in your day job, mister. The Roosters do dumb things and dig their own grave for 30-13. The crowd goes wild. Even I feel happy. IT’S JUST SO MAGICAL.

Lopini Paea is – seriously people, this is not me exaggerating – sitting on the sidelines with two tampons in his nostrils. Have you been watching She’s the Man? THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU DO WITH THEM LOPINI.

Perhaps most incredibly of all, Ivan Cleary smiles.

pic: Kenny Rodger

I comfort myself that at least this will feed the Roosters underdog complex for 2009. Next year, my darlings, next year.

Meanwhile I have saved this for last because this shit deserves to be the finale.  In the second half of the game, and in what must be the greatest hit I have seen this year, Ruben Wiki takes the ball, bares his teeth, ROARS and charges head on at the man-mountain that is Sia Soliola.

Kiki and I scream and wave our legs like we are riding imaginary bicycles because we are losers.  Then we mime punches for no apparent reason.  We discuss what is the furthest possible Disneyland from Auckland and decide on Paris.

Soliola reaches Euro-Disney before he even hits the ground, and like the complete and utter gentleman he is, Ruben comes back to help him up and check that he can still focus his eyes.  Goddamnit Ruben.  Could you be any more amazing?  No, no you couldn’t.  Especially not since that fierce bitch also turned to the camera and screamed WOOOOO when his side locked up the game.  I want to hug him like woah.

pic: Getty Images

So it’s safe to say I’ve buried all my hopes for 08 and jumped straight on the bearded Warriors bandwagon. If Ruben doesn’t get a premiership this year, there is no justice.

pic: Brett Phibbs

COME ON NEW ZULLAND!  As Ruben Wiki’s wrist bandages say: Carpe diem, bitches.**

* Aidan Kirk

** Disclaimer: it might not actually say bitches.


footy observations: vun, two, three

September 2nd, 2008

Gather round little vuns!  Footy observations time!  Only a short one this week as we have been super busy planning Intern Brownie’s farewell party.  So many novelty Brownie wigs to buy, so many balloons to blow up, so many arguments about what to engrave on the back of his farewell gold watch.

Plus since John John was planning to secretly change the engraving to a pornographic sketch, we had to send little Lachie to the jewellers instead and he mixed up his lefts and rights again and ended up lost for a whole afternoon.  Long story. (Don’t worry we eventually found him safe asleep in one of the puppy cases at Pets Paradise).

Anyway, let’s dive in.


abc.net.au file pic

Not only will the Roosters be taking on the St George Dragons next week in the last round of the regular footy season – meaning there may well also be a domestic hetero-life-partner dispute between Kiki and me – but Anthony ‘the Count’ Minichiello has decided to up the drama by making his long-awaited return to the Roosters side.

Mini!  I missed you so!  It’s been two months since he was last on the field, due to his back of glass, and I like the sense of occasion he’s brought to his return to the game.  Saving it up until the final week of competition, for a game that will determine whether the Roosters will finish in the top four of the competition, against the team that beat them last time the two teams played at the footy stadium.  Oooh the drama.

I think someone’s been taking advice from Terry Biviano.  I will be in no way surprised if he enters the field on a white horse wearing nothing but his cape and a pair of stilettos.  Girl knows her drama like she knows her ghd (and that is HOW).

Mainly I just hope that Mini isn’t injured again this Friday night, and especially not by one of the Dragons.  Kiki and I are watching the game from the members’ stand instead of The Cheap Seats (like we usually do), so we have promised to be on our absolute best behaviour and try not to spill anything or break anything or embarass ourselves in public, and that kind of shit just might bring us to blows.


screencap: leaguehq.com.au

Um … how is it possible that two men are going before the judiciary this week for spitting?  Two!  In the same week!  When has anyone been called up for spitting before ever?  Never, as far as I remember.*  Admittedly too much television and loud music and vodka has destroyed most of my long-term memory cells, but I maintain that this is a very odd turn of events.

But oh yes, beardy Wade McKinnon of the Warriors and Matt Hilder from the Knights are both in trouble for gettin their spit all up in peoplez faces.

And sure, maybe they did.  But what I wanna know is how exactly the judiciary decides.  How do you know where someone is spitting?  Spit aim is notoriously bad, so how do you decide what they were spit-aiming for?  Did they hit the official?  Did they hit Anthony Quinn?  Does that make a difference?  If there’s spit-trauma do they get a sterner punishment?  What if Anthony Quinn was being a bit of a wanker and totally deserved it?  (I love him but it’s entirely possible).  What if it was the same touchie who made the ridiculous Issac Luke 40-20 call?  Was there a second spitter?  Behind the bushes, on the gravelly road?  SO MANY QUESTIONS.

And more importantly, will that League HQ screencap be an exhibit in the hearing?  God I hope so.  I love how you can actually see the spit flying like a comet from his mouth.  I also hope there’s a whole video of the spit-incidents with a spotlight digitally added and an NRL official with a wooden pointer walking the panel through it moment by moment, tracing the path of the loogie and using trigonometry to thusly determine the target at which the spittle was aimed.




And making up the third bad boy of this post: Steve ‘Ray Warren’s Man’ Matai is also being sent to the Principal’s office.  This time for a high tackle, not for on-field hocking, if you were wondering.

Now I like to think I am in touch with the people of Errol, and I am sensing that the people don’t really care about that.  Instead, our readers look to Errol for the important developments in league, the major issues.  Issues like Steve Matai’s hair.

I like to think being in a professional football team is kinda like prison, and in all those hours when Des Hasler is giving them the silent treatment again and the boys have no pressing appointments to train or be weighed or eat protein bars or sit in ice baths they just loll around the Manly clubhouse plotting their escapes and braiding each other’s hair.

And they’re so creative!  Bless their little hearts.  I especially like this one with the perpendicular row down the middle.  Very … dinosaur, non?  I can’t wait till they get together to do Dave Williams’.  GOOD LUCK WITH THE BEARD, GUYS!

* It was in 2005, according to the Herald.