This isn’t half-baked. You are either a Queenslander or you’re not and I am,” Kennedy said. “It was only when I went to Queensland that I started playing footy.
“I had 12 months of playing with my mates in NSW but it was in Queensland when I started to play seriously.
“I was born in NSW but my early years were on the farm in northern NSW. When you are young you really don’t know who you want to play for.
“My idols are Shane Webcke and Steve Price.
“If you grow up in Queensland, Queensland player are your idols.
“My greatest achievement before playing first grade was making the junior Queensland sides. All the junior rep teams I made were in Queensland.
ARGH, THE COBRAS THE COBRAS! Aside from ‘miss, did you know your dress is caught in your underpants?’ those are pretty much the most upsetting words I’ve ever heard. See, I can get on board with people living their whole lives in Queensland and growing up bleeding cane toady maroon blood. But the idea of someone who’s lived, you know … anywhere else, and choosing to call themselves a Queenslander blows my damn mind. And makes me feel a little nauseated. All that maroon *shudder*
But here’s the main thing: Geoff Carr (sup Geoff! how are ya?) says they don’t know which state he qualifies yet, but the important thing is: YOU CAN ONLY QUALIFY FOR ONE. First senior game. Not one senior game, not ten. It’s not like getting on a plane and choosing the chicken or the fish. Rules are rules.
Pic courtesy of awesomestorm. Thank you missy!
Amirite or amirite Cooper Cronk?
According to our Errol-fanz, responses to this whole Martin Kennedy debacle include:
“WE DON’T EVEN NEED HIM FOR QLD!”, “Who gives a rats arse?”, and even “They can have Kennedy, we’ll take Inglis back”.
Here’s the way I see it:
If it turns out he’s a Queenslander, then crack a XXXX and let’s all smash a Red Bull and a Stillnox.
If it turns out he’s a proper Blue, then … can we turn him down? If you don’t want to play, you shouldn’t, right?
And if the answer turns out to be “he’s eligible for both and he chooses Queensland like Greg Inglis” then I will straight up cut a bitch. And if being eligible for whichever state you like most is the new rule, I will also then build a time machine and go back and put every player who idolised a NSW player straight into the Blues team. Adrian Morley, come on dowwwwn! Doesn’t matter where you’re from! Just matters that you have love in your heart and a footy in your hands.
Queensland kinda needs to make a decision here. Either State of Origin is heaps important and shit, and actually proves something, in which case you have to follow the rules. Or, it’s just a random game we play and you might as well go nuts and start buying in Maori in the Origin version of Storm-salary-cap cheating. Mal Meninga could even make a little hand-made card and post it to the Crusaders saying ‘Sonny Bill, your wish has come true! You’re a Queenslander, eh bro!’
But if you’re not gonna take it seriously, no one’s allowed to cry when they win. Kk? Deal.
In other Maroon news, the NRL’s newest coach Anthony Griffin has told his boys not to fall in love with themselves after their winning streak.
“We’ve been good but it’s really important we don’t fall in love with ourselves,” he said after naming an extended 20-man squad on Tuesday.
Oh no, no, don’t worry, boys. When he says ‘love yourselves’ he didn’t mean THAT.
Ben Hannant, it’s okay. You can go back drinking your water, it was just a metaphor.
And Sammy Thaiday, don’t look so sad, since it’s a metaphor you can still have Special Alone Times if you want to.
Well of course Anthony Watmough is in trouble for peeing on the Corso. Oh, Watmough. And I won’t judge, because I’ve read the bible, and I’m pretty sure there’s a bit in there about letting she who has never peed in the street at night cast the first stone.
All I know is fish gotta swim. If you have a keg like Watmough in your second row, sometimes he pees in the street. Or calls someone’s outfit slutty. Or turns up to a community event in white board shorts.
Errol is commitedly biased. This is why you like us, yes? So we’re going to keep you up to date all through Origin on the Awesome Shit that NSW Origin Players Do and Say. Catchy name, huh?
Pic. Getty Images
Today, we’re starting with Jamal Idris …. just being generally adorable. (How much do you love that he’s besties with Ben Creagh? So much).
According to Jamal, it’s tough living in Sydney sometimes.
‘It is hard. I feel for people like [Bulldogs teammate] Ben Barba, whose family is up in Mackay. There is no substitute for family, the only thing you can do is put your head down and try to take your mind off it, as hard as it is, wrap yourself up in a blanket of footy.”
A BLANKET OF FOOTY! Oh Jamal, you make our hearts want to explode with your cuteness. Also, nice metaphor! I’m serious. It’s vivid and rich.
Actually, the blues are all about playing with language this year, cause over in the second rowers section, Anthony Watmough was repping for tolerance in the best kind of way … with a pun.
Pic. Getty Images
We love ya Choc!
Lastly, and possibly bestly, apparently Timana Tahu is on a campaign to win back all the footy fans who thought he shouldn’t play Origin after “defecting” to union. The general essence of his plan? BEING AWESOME. He told reporters at the media call:
Queenslanders think Origin belongs to them.
They think this game is theirs and us New South Welshman are only good for turning up every year to get bashed. To lose.
That’s what they think, what their fans think, too. And to be honest, I hope that’s what Chris Close is telling them.
Because I can assure you they’ve got another thing coming this year. For me personally, this NSW jersey means more than any I wore representing my country in rugby. Means more than playing with the Kangaroos.
I put this jersey on and get shivers right down my back. Honestly, I get goosebumps.
Have you missed us darlings? I know, I know, it’s been a whole week and a half without any new Errol goodness in your lives.
Surprisingly, no, it’s not cause we were busy in our bunker sitting at a big judging desk, arguing, looking at photos, doing Tyra Banks impersonations, and picking the NSW Origin team. Although, Planet Eels suggested on twitter that we should be on the NSW selection panel, and to that we say YES PLEASE. CALL US ON YOUR COCONUT PHONE LAURIE DALEY, WE CAN FLY OUT IMMEDIATELY.
What we’ve actually been doing is dying slowly. The entire Errol office has come down with a hideous Ebola-like infection of death. We’ve been sleeping roughly 20 hours a day, coughing, wheezing, crying, moaning, and generally not being allowed out of our sanitary bubbles in case we infect the rest of the world. I’m actually kinda surprised no one has bled from the eyes or seen a vision of Jesus.
Needless to say, it’s kind of hard to blog when you can’t even make proper sentences. But thanks to the wonders of horse-strength antibiotics I’m vaguely upright, just in time to talk about Origin.
Come on down the boys in blue!
Kurt Gidley (capt)
… come on down so we can judge you.
Ah, Gidley, we meet again. Having met Gidley, once, for about 30 seconds, I can confirm he is a human, speaks English and has two arms and two legs. Other than that, I know nothing special about him, but everyone says he is “a good bloke” (which is the greatest compliment an Australian can give) and a great captain and all-around footy-playing champ.
But he’s also Not Jarryd Hayne. Is he?
My flatmate Denee hates football, and all football-related things. They confuse and annoy her. But last night when I saw the Origin announcement and yelled “HOW CAN YOU HAVE A DALLY M WINNING FULLBACK AND NOT PLAY HIM AT FULLBACK?” even she said “… well that just makes no sense”.
MARK THIS DATE, PEOPLE. DENEE HAD HER FIRST EVER FOOTBALL OPINION.
We’re gonna say it, you knew we would. B.MOZZZZZZZ! MOZZIE MOZZIE MOZZIE! Without doubt the best winger right now based on form. Not to mention polite and lovely and all things sunshiney in this world. When B.Moz scores a try, angels lose their necks and get their wings.
And when B.Moz plays outside Hot Bitch Cooper … you can guess that bit. We’re defending this choice all the way, kids. Remember Hot Bitch’s tries at ANZ in 2008? We do. Our pants do too. When he’s in form he’s a menacing defender and massively strong and seeing him in form, in sky blue, restores our faith in the world.
Timana Tahu, on the other hand, makes us feel kinda nervous. As the ever-eloquent Daniel Anderson put it, at the beginning of the season he was “rubbish”. Fair call, coach. He’s an experienced player though, and he’s improved, and God knows he’s stacked like a block of flats. If he lifts to rep level then maybe – just maybe – NSW’s backline has a chance of stopping the rampaging wildebeest Greg Inglis. Maybe.
(We’re already doing our part and sticking pointy little Errol pins into our GI voodoo doll. We made it out of light grey felt. It’s surprisingly life-like).
Which brings us to our Dally M winning fullback. On the wing. He’s a bit unpredictable in the regular season, and lots of people hate him. So he’s kind of … the Anthony Watmough of outside backs. But he also totally lifts for Origin – like Watmough – and we approve of this.
We can’t say anything else about him except DAMMIT YOU WERE ROBBED FOR THAT TRY LAST YEAR JARRYD-WITH-A-Y. ps our friend Kate thinks you look like Rihanna. She’s right.
What up Jarryd? I like yo bob.
Well, well, what up Jamie Lyon! So your torture at the hands of the blues selectors continues.
Remember when you said you didn’t want to play Origin last year, and they made you play?
And remember when you said you wanted to play in the centres this year, and they put you in the halves?
Every time I say ‘centres’ I think of chocolate. Then I remember I can’t taste anything. MOTHERFUCKER.
Oh, how they must have laughed!
Jamie probably does deserve to be in the team – remember his defence last year? – plus he can kick those pesky goals. We’d rather him in the centres but then … who plays five-eighth? Our beloved Terry Campese isn’t exactly in form (sorry T.Camps!). Maybe Trent Barrett? Brett Finch is Origin kryptonite. And John Sutton … plays for the Rabbitohs. Ugh. If we were in charge we would totally put Barrett in the team just because there’s a chance that he might hit Greg Inglis in the face again.
If anyone wants to run for NSW Parliament on that platform, by the way, I’d totally vote for you.
Meanwhile, when Queensland sit down to pick their halfback, they’re choosing between Johnathan Thurston, Scott Prince and Cooper Cronk. In NSW we choose between Kimmorley (this isn’t meant to be offensive Noddy), crippled Mitchell Pearce, and recently returned from crippledom Jarrod Mullen and Peter Wallace. I won’t even include Todd Carney in contention for any position because I’m too worried about him stressing out and hitting the booze again, and Trent Hodkinson is, like, 12 years old. DAMN that shit is depressing. Should we put in another centre? Josh Morris, you busy?
While you’re deciding, feel free to sign my petition to bring back Joey Johns. He looks totally match fit! It’ll totally work!
Where God injures a halfback or three, he replaces them with 85 awesome back rowers. Between Watmough, Waterhouse, Creagh, O’Donnell, Gallen (ew, Sharks), Hindmarsh, Laffranchi, Lewis, Learoyd-Lahrs, hell even Greg Bird, NSW literally has enough second rowers for three Origin teams.
We woulda put Lewis in the starting side, (and O’Donnell if he was fit cause damn that boy loves to fight) but we are happy x 1000 to see Watmough and Creagh in there. Watmough is MADE for Origin. He’s a sky blue dynamo. And when Ben Creagh runs the ball we deadset get occasional flashbacks of the Beav. Future Origin Hero. Trust.
First of all – WEYMAN! Has there ever been a more deserved first Origin call-up? Weyman’s gone from playing like 30 minutes max to being a blues frontrunner. And we feel weirdly … proud. Proud because we love a big fat footy dynamo, and weird in that the first ever thing he said to us was “I fucking hate journalists”. It was a joke, but still it’s lucky we’re:
a) not actually journalists
b) not easily offended.
Prove us right, Michael. Prove. Us. Right.
And secondly … good God, Josh Perry? Is this what we’ve come to? Where the hell are the NSW front rowers? Can someone not hurry up and clone an invincible George Rose so we can play him as a starting prop and on the bench? To quote our mate Greg, “Perry’s a pillow. A marshmallow. And not even a good Pascall one either”.
From now on, he shall be known as Home Brand Perry.
One word. Jamal. Forget where they’re gonna play him, we are currently taking bets on what super-amazing Origin hairstyle he’s gonna rock. I feel like the next progression from his tight pigtails at Country Origin is the full bun:
So what do we think overall? We live in hope. LET’S GO BLUES!
I know, I know…we have been absent of late. We are shit and we know it. People keep harassing us asking for more blogs and are all WHY HAVEN’T YOU WRITTEN ABOUT THE GRAND FINAL YOU LAZY SHITS etc etc. We have no excuses except this one : being writers for a living now is both a blessing and a curse. Amazing because we get to do what we love and get paid for it, but shit because it kinda sucks out our creative juice and leaves us a bit well…dry.
And yes I am aware of how (untintentionally) gross that sentence was.
Now let’s sum up what’s been happening in mah head lately
a) The Grand Final was bloody awful. And no, not because the Storm won. It was awful because I spent the whole day in deep emotional pain thinking THE BLOODY DRAGONS SHOULD BE HERE GODAMNIT THIS SUCKS. And by ‘thinking’, I mean ‘loudly announcing it to no one in particular then kicking the ground like a small child’.
I was in the middle of a booze ban but I had to down a couple of vodkas to cope. Once again, the Dragons are directly to blame for my alcohol intake. I hope Peter Doust has a special fund set up for my future liver transplant.
Also, I spent most of the day being enraged at the massive amounts of Parra bandwagoners that were milling about just begging to be punched in the face. Look I am all for new people coming to the game, and I truly want league to be really popular, but is there anything worse than tools sporting freshly bought merchandise and being Smuggy Mc Smuggersons? I’ll answer it for you: no, no there is not.
In an ironic twist, Billy Slater decides he hates overexposed fullbacks
On the bus there, we were sitting next to a girl who was wearing…wait for it…a backless bodysuit and a Parramatta scarf. Because her back is so hot but her neck is FREEZING! GO PARRA! She teamed this with skin tight jeans and strappy high heels. ARGH. We were forced to listen to her inane questions which consisted of ‘so, like, is there like, a toilet near the seats?’ and ‘do you think the Eels would be like, nervous today?’. I bet her favourite player of all timez is Jarryd Hayne. He’s sooooo hot.
And yes, if you’re wondering, I am completely aware that I am bitter and resent the fact the Eels found form when my boys lost theirs. But in my defence, Kate, my other-bestie-that-isn’t-Sassy, the biggest Parra fan in the entire universe, also hates the bandwagoners with a passion. When I sent her an sms to describe the Bodysuit Girl she said ‘murder her immediately, I will visit you in jail I promise’.
b) In a twist that is worthy of a Mexican telenovela, I have decided I that I now like Billy Slater. Yes, really. I know, I know…I’m freaked out too. Next thing you know my evil twin is gonna appear wearing a maroon jersey and stilettos, drinking Bundy rum and yelling QUEENSLANDER in peoples faces.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but I think it started with Rexona’s Greatest Athlete. Then it snowballed when our friend Edwina started to like footy. And by that I mean she started to obsess over Hot Bitch Cooper and Billy and started forcing me to realise Billy has beautiful skin and pretty eyes and oh god…he’s kinda cute. And worst of all, likeable. I kept telling myself the only reason I was on GettyImages searching for Billy pix was for Eddie but then at the Grand Final I involuntarily yelled GO BILLY. I hate myself so much.
Kiki retreats to 1997 fashionz to ease the off season pain
c) I have literally experienced post season depression. I’ve been massively emo. For ages I couldn’t figure out why I felt like something had stolen my heart and filled my chest with sad sad cement then I realised oh my god, it’s because there’s no footy on. I am simultaneously proud and ashamed of this.
Okay now onto things that aren’t me.
So last week we got to play with the VB Kangaroos. Seriously. Somehow we managed to annoy charm the NRL’s media manager, David Taylor, into letting us come along to their media call and conduct some video interviews. Being the legend that he is, DT asked us who we wanted to speak to and he just made it all happen. Seriously kids, we just sat on our little lounge and superstahs like Billy Slater, Robbie Farah and the Mozzie twins were just brought over to us. Footy player delivery!
Anyway, since JJ and the boys had to hold down the fort at Errol HQ, we brought along our interns for the day, Loz and Butch. They found Errol by googling naked photos of David Williams, which is really quite fitting. They are basically 17 yr old versions of Sassy and myself, which I find both terrifying and delightful. Here is their take on the day (yes these interns actually exist and they wrote this for reals!).
Last Tuesday was National Nipples Day Out (thankyou Robbie ‘headlights’ Farah, ambassador of this campaign), otherwise known as the Kangaroo’s media call. We are best friends, we love football, the Sea Eagles, Georgie Rose, High School Musical, doing the hoedown throwdown whilst cooking and Big Del (Little Del goes down alright to). We DON’T love dirty dirty Queenslanders, with the exception of Billy Slater.
After 2nd helpings of Maccas breakfast, due to the fact we were an hour early, we met Kiki and Sassy and made our way into the Pullman htel, got settled and dolled ourselves up, ready for Robbie.
From the moment he walked around the corner, Robbie’s infamous visible nipples were on full display for us (and didn’t we LOVE it). Bitch is also full of lolz, who knew?? When asked about his recent shirtless kebab photo, Robbie seemed….errrrr, slighty….confused, like he’s done it on many occasions……which is AWSOME, coz it means there are more out there. Here’s a preview -
Anyway, turns out Robbie is extremely proud of when he punched Anthony Watts waaaaaaay back in round 19. He was all ‘nobody thought I’d do it……..but I DID!’. Kinda like how kids are when they go to the toilet by themselves for the first time.
Next was Billy Slater. As we all circled around him (after Sassy elegantly kicked over a glass coke bottle that smashed everywhere), Kiki told him that this wasn’t gunna be a normal interview, he replied with (whilst looking slighty nervous) “I can see that”. Pretty AND observant, what’s not to love? Billy didn’t even seem bothered by Butch’s question of how he keeps his skin so radiant. His answer? GENETICS!! However, we did get the goss on who in the Melby (gag) team moisturizes. Cooper Cronk? OF COURSE he does. When one is a fierce bitch like Cooper Cronk, one must look after one’s skin, non?
Also, we are 99% sure that Watmough recognised us from the Manly fan days and shit like that were we have met him…. It may have also been that time when Butch walked past his car and he had ‘DAMN WHO’S A SEXY BITCH’ blaring (don’t even pretend that wasn’t aimed at me Watmough, you sly dog -B). Or, it could have just been in our heads. We have active imaginations, WHAT OF IT?
So while we waited for the Mozzies, we relaxed on the lounges. Apparently we’re relaxed interns (meaning we do nothing). Butch demonstrated how relaxed we were by reclining on the lounge in a slightly provocative manner. That magic moment was caught on tape by some lucky sport channel. Youtube it bitches!
Meanwhile, B.Moz cares not for being top point scorer of the Errol Wildcats, or the top try scoreer for the NRL, bitch just wanted to be captain of the Wildcats!
LOOK HOW UPSET HE IS! It seemed to us that J.Moz was kinda put off that B.Moz knew all about Errol but he didn’t. They also seemed quite please by the fact that they were nominated for the best legs in league, but slightly affronted that Uncy Wayne wasn’t nominated for Sexiest Coach.
In conclusion, footy we love you! We also kinda, maybe, probably, defssss love the people that play footy. Oh and Kiki and Sassy, we’ll intern for you anytime and we promise actual communication to the players next time, not just nervous giggles.
The girls were hilarious and adorable and we will have them intern with us again any time. We love you kittens! Sassy and I will be writing our own post on the day, including VIDEO INTERVIEWS. Real ones! I know, I can’t believe they let us that close to the players either.
Is this the longest Errol post ever? Possibly. It should shut up you whingers that have been blog-begging for the past month anyway.
PS – MASSIVE thanks to the amazing David Taylor for hooking us up on Kangamaroooooos Day. DT, you are our new favourite person!
PPS -The Errol Awards are coming I swear to God. We decided this year to leave them until after the season ended so we could stretch out the footy goodness as long as possible.
So I know some of you all may have missed the Dally Ms on Tuesday night, because … well, most probably because you had more important things to do, like googling ‘cancer’ to see if that funny feeling in your throat is deadly or listening to Faith Hill albums. WELL YOU MISSED OUT.
Didn’t you know that Events Involving Rugby League are always always worth watching? Because anything ridiculous or awkward that can happen in life will always always somehow happen to league. Don’t believe me? Well you can piss off and try and find another sport that has had an INTERNATIONAL MANHUNT in the last two years. I rest my case. It’s just … destiny. The same way that if there’s an aging bogan or an underage boy in the vicinity they will ALWAYS manage to find Kiki and me like magnets.
Luckily, Lozzy and Kiki came over to mine to watch the spectacular with me, and I’ma recap all the important parts for you. Don’t worry, you can repay me with thankyou gropes.
Unrelated note: how beautiful is Simone Ennis? So beautiful.
So we start with super-glamorous shots of all the schmicked up footy players and their dates arriving at the State Theatre. God I love footy players in suits. It’s one of my top ten favourite things. I love the way they keep looking around uncomfortably and pulling at their collars. It’s so deliciously awkward. Kinda like when they make Serena Williams wear a formal dress to the ball after she wins a Grand Slam and it looks like she’s just been wrapped in chiffon against her will. Or watching a dog walk on its hind legs.
Apparently the theme of the ceremony this year isn’t ‘irony’, cause Greg Alexander starts the show walking up the aisle talking solemnly into the camera while some kind of Space Odyssey: 2001 orchestral music plays super loudly in the background. Bet there’s at least one guy sitting in the audience praying and thinking ARE THE DALLY MS CANCELLED? ARE THEY GONNA SCREEN STAR WARS INSTEAD?
No, my sad friend. What they are gonna do is get an orchestra to play while we watch slo-mo league highlights. Because nothing says ‘league’ like an orchestra. Right? Personally, I was hoping for interpretive dance. Everyone loves interpretive dance.
So then Laurie Daley and Warren Smith get on stage and Warren’s got this crazy Napro Livecolour Just for Men shiny maroon hair for some reason and they’re bantering like it’s the Loz & Waz comedy hour and Lozzy is just sitting on the couch looking at me like ‘what the fuck? You got me over here to watch this?’. I feel like any second they’re gonna tell me to enjoy the rest of my cruise and try the prawn cocktail.
I totally freak out when they read out the Rookie of the Year nominations because, well, they’re Dan Dan Mortimer, Josh Dugan, Jarrod Croker, and Jamal Idris. Lozzy takes the piss out of me mercilessly after I actually wail ‘I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I LOVE THEM ALL’. Apparently in my mind I decide the awards. Crokes’ skunk striped black and white hair from last week is all just dark brown now … did David Furner make him dye it? I’m guessing yes.
Jamal takes it out and ambles up to get his award, lookin all sharp in his giant suit. Apparently he wears his hair out for formal occasions. Pigtails are only for sporting activities. We all lose our shit because … well because he’s Jamal. WHAT’S NOT TO LOVE? HE’S AMAZING. HE’S DOING HIS HSC AND HE HAS A MOUSTACHE. You don’t see that every day.
He also tells us that he chose league over javelin cause “you get to hit people, and you can get hit. It’s more fun hey.” I’m gonna put it out there that there would be a much bigger audience for javelin if you could hit people. It would be so … Roman gladiator. As if you wouldn’t tune in if there was a chance of a competitor getting a well-placed javelin through the thigh. It would be CHAMPAGNE TELEVISION.
The Polar Bear and his lady. Pic. Gregg Porteous
What was my point? Oh yes, next Ben Hannant wins the front rower of the year award and looks all happy and chuffed about it. It’s adorable. Good for you Benny! Even though he’s a Queenslander he’s impossible to hate. I think it’s the lovely blond hair. That and the fact that they call him a polar bear (that totally won Lozzy over. If there’s anything she loves more than a larger man, it’s an animal reference … preferably a LolCat). Needless to say Lozzy is now all over Ben Hannant’s swagger.
Just quietly – how totally and completely rugby league is it that players got swine flu? Seriously, is there any other sport in the world that had to have players quarantined for swine flu? OF COURSE THERE ISN’T. Because ridiculous shit like Swine Flu quarantine scandals only happens in league. Shit like international manhunts, and players having to be taken off the field with the runs, and naked hotel corridor scandals, and that time Billy Idol’s mike didn’t work. It’s one of the things we love most about it.
We seriously called it about four weeks before it happened that at least one NRL player would get swine flu. Not any other Australian sport … just league. We were so convinced that on the morning when the news broke Lozzy and I literally ran in and jumped on a sleeping Kiki yelling WE KNEW IT. BEN HANNANT HAS SWINE FLUUUUUUU. Best alarm clock ever, right?
Next up Anthony Watmough takes out second rower and the Errol gallery loses their damn minds. I have no idea when it happened, but at some point in 2009 we all became complete Watmough freaks. Just absolute bandits for some Watmough. TEAM WATMOUGH! *high kick* Maybe it’s because he’s always lovely and polite to us/remembers what we do/gives us awesome career advice? Who can say. It might also be because of the way he carved up the Queenslanders in game three of State of Origin this year. Either way, we all squeal with joy.
Plus, he looks seriously dashing. Points to Watmough for the best suit and best tie of the night. Who would’ve thought a forward would win that award? Amazing. He also jokes that he plays well just so he doesn’t piss off Des Hasler, and that makes us happy because we kinda suspect it’s the truth. Des can be a terrifying, terrifying man.
Warren Smith tries to introduce David Gallop to give a speech and …. um, has anyone seen DG? Anyone? He’s, wait, he’s on the way? On the way from where? Is he peeing? Is he drunk in the corridor like Kiki suspects he is?
[I imagined him clutching a bottle of whiskey, sobbing and refusing to go on stage. I CAN'T DO IT...DON'T MAKE ME DO IT! - K]
Bet they’ve never lost the head of the AFL at the Brownlows … oh, league. You are so special.
About twenty minutes later someone finds DG and shunts him up on the stage to give the Most Ironic Speech Ever:
“We’ve seen our players do extraordinary things this year … “
Nate Myles I believe this is directed at you!
“… and they deliver so consistently.”
This one’s for the Roosters, right? They have been bloody consistent this season. In a lot of ways.
We get some crowd shots of Jamie Soward looking completely furious and about to give up on life and/or start a shooting rampage. Possibly because there’s no booze. That’s right, this year the players have been squished into little seats at the State Theater. No moving, no food and no booze. It’s like the awards equivalent of being grounded for bad behaviour. This is not surprising. Even winning TWO awards doesn’t help.
Have you ever seen a happier man? Unlikely. *cough*
Nathan Hindmarsh and Fui Fui Moi Moi are all tucked in their little seats next to each other like dates. They make a lovely couple. Hornbag’s skin looks lovely and glowy. The Mozzies look like the cutest twins in cute-town, as always. Brett Kimmorley’s broken cheekbone is tres upsetting and has given him a crazy-zombie-red-eye. If I was him, I would’ve worn a nifty little formal eyepatch. Maybe one with spangles on it. Like Gabrielle!
We’re getting closer to the big announcement, when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd struts out on stage. Of course he does. Of course K.Rudd has nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than attend the Dally M Awards. God knows he wouldn’t be fine-tuning the proposed ETS. He’d much rather be drinking beer shirtless with Billy Slater or presenting footy awards. I love our country so much sometimes, and this is one of those times.
Pic. Brett Costello
The camera gives us a shot of Kurt Gidley, who for reasons we haven’t quite figured out, is wearing an amazing shiny metallic grey suit. He’s either planning on a trip to the moon later, or has built some kind of time machine for a trip back to Studio 54 circa 1981. I like it.
We take bets on who’s gonna win the thing, and – more importantly – on when Tiny Dancer Sowie is gonna blow. My guess is that he’ll leap up, punch Brandy and run for the exit within the next five minutes.
Straight after this, I am not exaggerating, the BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN happens on the tv. I shit you not. Someone who is apparently from ‘Australia’s got Talent’ gets up on stage and starts singing the Josh Groban song ‘You Raise me Up’. Then …. I also shit you not, they start showing slow motion footage of footy players out in the community doing various good works. It doesn’t sound that good, so far, right? Well that’s because I haven’t told you that part of the footage is of Shane Shackleton leaping on a jumping castle for deadset thirty seconds. With children. In slow motion.
If you haven’t seen the Love Shack leaping in slow motion on a giant inflatable jhumping castle set to pop-opera, well then, my friends, you haven’t lived. I lost. my. damn. mind.
Finally, after the shortest, dryest, booze-free awards ceremony ever, the winner is ….. *drumroll* … JARRYD HAYNE.
Kiki and Lozzy yell out AT LEAST IT’S NOT THURSTON. And it’s true. It makes our sky blue hearts happy that a NSW player won it. If Queensland won anything else this year we would’ve exploded with rage.
Hayne decides to totally tug on my heartstrings by kissing his mum on the shoulder (HIS MUM IS HIS DATE. CUTE) then telling the whole of Australia “I feel like crying”.
Crying from happiness, I presume. After all, he’s just won the Dally M player of the year … and he made it through the whole of the 2009 season without getting shot at. That’s pretty sweet.
I’m so touched that I don’t even correct his grammar when he says “it blew my mind away. I’m so gracious I went on that tour [with Fiji]“.
He poses with the rest of the Dally M team of the year – including Michael Ennis holding his award like a giant penis – and in true rugby league style, the ceremony ends with a giant explosion of confetti that scares the absolute shit out of Jarryd Hayne. He leaps about two feet and almost chokes himself with his medal. It’s amazing.
Pic. Steve Christo
It could only be more league if the confetti had somehow poked the Dally M player of the year in the eye and/or given him swine flu. Don’t you think?
What’s that word people kept saying earlier this week? … MAROONWASH, was it?
Oh, the sweet satisfaction of Queensland being denied their fairytale. Yes, we know they won the series, but we also know that instead of prancing off into the sunset to a sunny Queensland island to relive their victories, they’re gonna be sitting at home, lights off, watching slo-mo replays of this game and wondering just how it all went wrong. Johnathan Thurston will probably cry. He does that.
But the bottom line is the same: NO TROPICAL HOLIDAY FOR YOU NOW, BITCHES.
This game was a victory for brotherhood, tenacity, pettiness, spite, and sheer stubbornness, with just a hint of FUCK ALL Y’ALL added for spice.
If you’re wondering, you eat this delicious dish with … wait for it … THE FORKS.
For those who were not blessed enough to watch the game in all its glorious suspense, drama, violence, and hilarity, the Blues won. THAT’S RIGHT. Our baby blues brought it home 28-16.
The addition of the two Old Men in Blue, Trent Barrett and Brett Kimmorley, turned out to be a stroke of brilliance. Kimmorley was all over the field like a man half his age. The addition of Michael Ennis, captain of the good ship giving-away-stupid-penalties, maybe slightly less so.
But let’s talk about what you’re actually interested in: yes, there was a KO. A real one. No (non-literal) shit. After a bit of scuffling in a tackle, Brett White leapt out of his play-the-ball and picked an old school stand-up fight with Hot Old Man Steve Price.
Tragically, this didn’t involve anyone getting shirtless to punch on, which is one of the greatest football traditions ever. What it did involve was about three air swings, then Brett White making perfect contact with Steve Price’s jaw. We swear on our most precious vintage t shirts he was unconscious before he even hit the ground.
And we’re gonna stand up and say … yes, we was kinda shocked. We had always had a vague suspicion that Brett White was more … how do you put it? More a lover, than a fighter.
Pic. Getty Images
Can’t imagine why. Turns out Brett White has a fucking mean right cross, and it’s Steve Price who isn’t much for fisticuffs. Even his Warriors coach Ivan Cleary was terrified about what might happen.
I saw Pricey look to shape up and I thought, ‘What’s he doing?’ I thought, ‘Oh no.’
With all due respect to Pricey I couldn’t imagine him going great in a fight.
Love how he says “all due respect” like it matters. Now that we know Pricey is like a kitten without claws you can say whatever you like Ivan. Go on! Let it out!
And we won’t lie, Brett White kinda won my heart when after the whole scuffle, as Justin Hodges was making snake eyes – we aren’t kidding, he really did it with his hands like Barney from How I met Your Mother - he just licked his lips, mouth all covered in blood, and laughed … it was kind of hot. OOOF. Excuse us now while we hide our faces in shame for enabling violence with our perviness.
But somehow Trent Waterhouse (not to be confused with Trent from Punchy) was the one sent off and fronting the judiciary for running in as third man and tackling the falling unconscious Pricey to try and end the fight. Our boy Trent is now first man to be sent off since Gordie in 2000, and first blues player EVER to be sent off. His mama must be so proud!
Perhaps she can have the title painted onto a plate for the mantle.
(Gordie, on the other hand, is probably at home busily hand-sewing up a storm, whipping up a Trent Waterhouse voodoo doll and sticking pins in its knees, chanting BITCH TOOK MY TITLE).
But we’re putting it out there that Trent had the best of intentions and is getting an unfair rap. Soon as we finish writing this blog and painting our nails, possibly eating a sandwich, we fully intend to start a FREE TRENT campaign.
Don’t worry Waterhouse! WE’RE ON IT!
And if it turns out we’re wrong and Waterhouse was doing something dodgy, Sassy volunteers to spank him for being a Bad Boy. Yes, she really did say that. Her wrongness knows no bounds.
Tell you who’s not getting any help from us though? Oh yes, we’re looking at you Thurston. Don’t-you-walk-away-from-me JT.
As if we weren’t unimpressed enough when Thurston said “go away, you spastic” to Kurt Gidley. Um … spastic? Really, JT? We’re hardly in the position to be holier-than-thou about offensive comments, but we will say this: is it year four now? Have you time-travelled? Update your insults please.
But then we saw your boot making contact with Dave Williams face as he lay on the ground, and we is pissed. YOU KICKED OUR DAVE IN THE FACE!! UNACCEPTABLE!
We are thisclose to issuing a JT death fatwa, like Iran did with Salman Rushdie. Surprisingly, yes, we do know a lot of high profile Mullahs and we aren’t afraid to ask for favours.
Dunno if everyone’s aware of this, but Dave Williams (and no we won’t call him ‘Wolfman’; it’s a shit nickname and we refuse) happens to be the Patron Saint of Errol. As a sidnote, we cannonised him literally 6 months before anyone else knew his name so don’t you dare accuse us of being ‘Wolfman’ bandwagoners.
Anyway, we love Davey. Even though his defence of Greg Inglis was lacking in sections. Sassy maintains it’s because he failed to watch Wiz and Gordie on Monday Night Football presenting the new segment CONTACT CORNER. They specifically taught everyone how to defend Inglis … with role plays and everything! Seriously, if Bellamy didn’t let the boys have MNF tv privileges then he totally dropped the ball.
Anyway. Back to JT. In some ways we’re kinda like the mafia round here: we love chunky gold watches, cannoli, and fur … and we don’t take no one messin’ with our boyz.
So for convenience’s sake, we have drawn up a list of all our adored NRL babies.
So if anyone even THINKS of harming a hair on one of those boys heads, there will be hell to pay fo realz.
Let’s talk about Anthony Watmough. The man was a MACHINE! Played the whole 80 minutes and never looked like tiring. Bitch has endurance. Kinda like the way pre health kick us used to stay out dancing and drinking schooners until 6am. Yes, exactly like that. We were doing it for NSW too.
We know he gets a bit of a bad rap in the league world, but in our personal experience Watmough is a bit of a champ. And by that we mean whenever we have spoken to him he has been awesome and really encouraging of what we do. Which is enough for us to be on Team Watmough.
At this point Kiki would like to point out that this amazing form from Watmough is a direct result of her accidentally offending him at the Beaver tribute dinner last year. She somehow found herself alone with him and somewhat lost for words, and in true Kiki form she blurted out something inappropriate.
K – Hey Watmough…remember when you used to play Origin? And you were heaps good?
A - ……….yes.
K – Those were ummm…good times! *encouraging slap on the arm*
Obviously this was his ‘rock bottom’. He made a commitment to himself he would play like a man possessed and make the Origin team in 09. And he did! THANKS KIKI!
Just imagine how different things could have been if Kiki had made conversation about the weather. That is some Sliding Doors shit right there.
And Watmough teamed up with Ben Creagh to send in Benny for a try, too. ALL THE WAY WITH BENNY CREAGH. And that’s on top of Creagh getting the honour of being sinbinned. Amazing. Shout out to Mama Creagh! We especially enjoy that it was for … well for avoiding getting into a fight.
(All the way with) Benny Creagh was obviously upset when Queenslanders piled into a tackle on Kurt Gidley, so he pushed Justin Hodges off, then … well then he ran away. HEART. Kiki thinks he put in the shove then suddenly had a vision of how fucking terrifying Wayne Bennett would be if he got suspended and had to backpedal like crazy. Either way Benny Creagh gets a membership card to the Steve Price Boxing Club. Look out for it in the post, Ben.
And last of all, Sassy’s dad’s favourite moment of the game: a Queenslander getting so excited at Dallas Johnson’s try that he spilled his beer. We like to think he made exactly the same face when the full-time buzzer sounded. Enjoy:
Hey Greg Inglis! We got you a little gift. Lotsa love, New South Wales.
Yes THAT IS TOTALLY A TRANSFORMERS REFERENCE. You know that shit is apt. Because the Queensland team are evil Deceptecons (apart from you Steve Price) and we are noble Autobots. Yep yep.
Yeh so we shoulda written this yesterday but we were a) viciously hungover and b) annoyed at the world. And by world we mean QUEENSLAND. Booooo! As if things couldn’t get any worse, our eyes were subjected to herds of detestable Queensland supporters waddling about Sydney Airport the next day. All clad entirely in maroon. God, why are they so punishing?
This series loss is crap, but we knew it was coming.. By that we mean DAMMIT THOSE QUEENSLANDERS ARE JUST TOO GOOD. Did we really think that our baby blues could beat … pretty much the Australian team? Maybe. In the same way we think there’s a chance we could compete in Miss Universe. We live in a world of immense possibility, after all.
But the dream wasn’t to be. So lets just do a run down shall we?
WE LOVE AUSSIE LEAGUE FANS. There is nothing that brings out the best in people like State of Origin. It’s like … the Olympics for fans. BEST. SIGN. EVER. There’s so much to love about it. I love that it’s actually addressed to Greg Inglis.
We love when fans direct their rage AT the actual players. Like when we went to watch the Roosters lose in dismal fashion against the Tigers at the SFS this season, Mitchell Pearce was standing in the corner in from of us, one irate fan stood up on his chair about three rows back from the field to yell ‘MITCHELL’.
The angryfan was so surprised when Mitchell actually turned around that he couldn’t even remember why he was so pissed and just pointed and shook his finger while making an angry ‘ngggggnnnnnnnnnggghhhhhhh’. It was awesome.
Also, don’t you love the simple fact that someone bothered to make a sign large and intricate enough to include the word BOWRAVILLE? He is so committed.
Possibly the only thing better is that – according to one of our Errol spiez, the lovely Jess – when the Maroons ran out a New South Welshman in a suit mooned them. Pulled on down his pin-striped suit pants and MOONED THEM. I am so proud to be from NSW right now.
JUSTIN POORE. What a dark horse! First he’s building orphanages in Rwanda, next thing you know he’s whipping up a tasselled bra and smashing Mick Crocker with a right hook in Origin. He is a man of layers. And luckily for us, one of those layers is PUNCHING. Hallelujah!
Exhibit A – J.Punch Poore gets his sexy on
And we have to admit something. With this single act of biff Justin well….he became SEXY. Um hello ripped jersey! We have always adorrrred him, but more in a OMG HE IS SO AMAZING AND PERFECT AND HAVE U SEEN THOSE EYELASHES sort of way. Now his appeal has taken on a whole new dimension. Welcome to the Hot Man Stable Justin baby!
And yes, we know violence is wrong but FOOTY VIOLENCE IS DIFFERENT. We really enjoy watching Anthony Watmough almost magically appear in the vicinity whenever a fight erupts, all full of eagerness and busting to just punch someone. Anyone! He sniffs it out like an enthusiastic labrador diving into the bushes and popping out with an apple core. Heart.
DAVEY HAS NO NO TIMES
Ooooooooh dear. What can we even say? We aren’t gonna describe all of Dave’s fuck ups because well…you guys have eyes right? What we will say is:
a) Watching his distraught face on the TV literally broke our hearts. That shit was BLEAK.
b) Okay yes his mistakes were shockers, but most of the team under performed. If anyone is blaming him for our loss they are delusional.
c) Players have had bad debuts and gone on to be Origin superstars…hello Jarryd Hayne and Justin Hodges! Don’t write him off yet.
d) Guess the bubble had to burst for him at some point. His last 18 months have been somewhat charmed. But wow…what a way to come back to earth. THUD.
e) Even if everyone else in the world is ripping into you…WE STILL LOVE YOU DAVEY! So so much! If you ever need a place to hide out, we can blow up a bed and you can sleep on the floor of Errol HQ.
K.Hunt is overjoyed at the win; regrets sharing a fork with Nate Myles.
Seriously, Nate Myles = almost as unfortunate as Ben Hannant. Is there anything worse than having it announced to the world that you have diarrhoea? THAT’S RIGHT, PEOPLE. NATE MYLES IN DOUBT FOR ORIGIN CAUSE HE CAN’T LEAVE THE CAN. We love it when embarassing shit happens to Queenslanders, we really do.
BABY HAYNE WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU
Yaaaaay! Go Jarryd-with-a-y! Hayne has often been thought of in the league world as being lazy/arrogant/generally unlikeable. Well forget all that shit coz bitch KILLED IT on Wednesday night. Not only did he score that sweet sweet try (revenge for the video ref debacle of Origin 1) he was also enthusiastic in defence and was probably the Blues best player. WELL DONE MISTER! You get an Errol gold star. Lucky boy.
At this point we would like to make a request.
Queenslanders, we are okay with you winning a record series. It’s hardly a suprise. But please, for the love of all that is good and holy, stop pretending it’s about heart, pride or the ‘Queensland spirit’. IT’S COZ YOU HAVE THE ENTIRE AUSTRALIAN BACKLINE FOR CHRISSAKE. Stop being self mythologising fantasists and accept you are just the better team.
See you in Game 3. We look forward to our Trent ‘our new favourite person’ Barrett smashing some more maroon jaws. What whaaaat!
After the success of the Harvey Norman Women in League round, and before the next Origin match, the lovely folks at the NRL and One Community threw the last Women in League dinner for 2009. And, somehow, the Country Rugby League were kind enough to ask us along as their guests. I know, right? How nice are they? It makes no sense. Maybe they saw us in some of our Mary Kate Olsen-ish hobo outfits and thought we were probably in need of some free food and drink, and maybe a roof over our heads.
The event was up at Magenta Shores, where the Blues boys are staying for their Origin camp. If nothing else this should end those annoying ‘NSW are pampered princesses’ comments cause … well I’m pretty sure pampered princesses don’t stay in resorts that smell like swamp. THERE. WE SAID IT. The resort is lovely, but still, it’s unnerving.
We want to say a big HI BOYS to the high priests of rugby league, David Gallop and Geoff Carr. Thankyou so much for the chats and the encouragement, let’s be best friends, call us every day.
First of all we have a huge complaint: why did no one mention on the invite that there might be tears? There should be a little WATERPROOF MASCARA warning right under where it says ‘Dress code: smart casual”. Between mains and dessert Mario Fenech interviewed the irrepressible Daisy, a league volunteer of 57 years. FIFTY-SEVEN YEARS. When he asked her what inspired her to support kids’ footy, her answer was ‘just seeing their effort to get those little legs all the way down the field”. We knowww, Daisy. Nothing cuter than little kids playing footy … remember how much we fell in love with Jacko in Orange? Her passion was enough to get us teared up, and we think Mario was choking back a few too.
We also really enjoyed that she turned Mario’s thank you kiss into a mouth-on-mouth moment. To be honest he’s not really our type (we know you won’t be offended, Fenech) but what a minx. Call us, Daisy. We’ll go out on the town.
To turn the night into a WiL-Origin extravaganza, the organisers sent one lucky Origin player to each table … except ours. Discrimination! Either discrimination, or somehow the players got wind of this and bribed someone to make sure they didn’t have to eat with the Errol girls. Instead we sat with ErrolSuperStaaah Bert. Sure he’s great company but if he’s given us Swine Flu we will be pissed.
If you’re wondering who gets the most love in the Blues team, it’s a tie between Robbie Farah and Craig Wing. When those two were sent to their tables, the crowd damn near lost their minds. Bitches are hits! One table even called over Dave Williams and his rapidly fading fairy floss beard to take their pics with Wingy. Um, this is a Kangaroo winger. Not a photo monkey! Can’t they rope in the Daily Telegraph photog for this shit? Poor Dave.
In other news now that the pink dye is fading, Dave isn’t so much fairy floss as coconut ice. Under the pink is a big ol layer of white beard. We couldn’t figure out if the beard is a fashion crime or a tasty delicious snack. Sadly we have no updates from Dave’s life for you because to be quite honest we couldn’t look at him without laughing, let alone carry on a conversation.
So let’s talk about the rest of the Blues.
Obviously Kiki is overwhelmed with joy at her Dragons boys representing NSW, and was even more joyous when Justin Poore strolled in, smiled and said hi … all of his own volition! We didn’t even force him to be nice! It’s always comforting to know someone has read Errol but still isn’t terrified of us.
Put down your flippers Monas! You’re playing Origin!
We were also delighted to see Joel Monaghan in the squad as a shadow player. As he walked in we spontaneously yelled MONAS WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? and rushed in for the sort of big emotional hug that you usually see at the Arrivals terminal in Sydney aiport. Not only is he the funniest man in the NRL, he also looks ever so dapper in a suit. It’s not his fault he forgot to bring shoes to match. Maybe he just doesn’t like wearing them, like me? I DON’T LIKE TO BE CONFINED! I’M A FREE SPIRIT! LOZZY SAYS SO!
Incidentally I somehow overlooked the fact that he would be there. Why? I don’t know. I am an idiot. But my subconscious somehow knew, because on Wednesday morning I went to stay ‘Origin’ and accidentally said ‘Monagin’ instead. IT’S LIKE I’M PSYCHIC. I HAVE A FIFTH SENSE.
Trent Barrett’s selection was quite the suprise, and truthfully we have been fairly ambivalent about it. There were tears and arguments in the Errol office, till eventually work experience boy Lachie used his one good arm and shoulder to get out the butcher’s paper and got us to brainstorm our way back to love and understanding.
Sure we were disappointed that the NSW selectors didn’t stick with their ‘new blood’ selection policy, and heartbroken that Errol retro fave T.Camps isn’t in Origin II, but there are pluses.
Universal truth: it’s not easy to pull off anger while holding flippers.
Pluses like since Barrett is in the team, we now have an Origin rep who is OLDER THAN US. But four years. Hurrah! Finally! We’re sick of those baby blue bastards rubbing their youth in our faces.
The intimacy helps me cope with the disappointment.
And the bright side of Hot Bitch Cooper missing out on selection is that we didn’t pass out from lust over the entree at the Women in League dinner. God I am so glass-half-full today. I almost make myself sick.
Instead we decided to chat up Craig Bellamy and see if he really is White Goodman. Remember that post? … good times). To our incredible disappointment he’s … likeable. GOD. How inconvenient. Likeable and charming in a well-fitting suit. I would even say he’s rather … dapper. DAMN YOU BELLAMY. Doesn’t he realise we’re trying to hate the Storm? Selfish bastard.
We also discovered Glenn Stewart looks pretty sharp with his new blonde hair (keep it Glenn! We like it) and that Anthony Watmough is an awesome and supportive cheerleader for women in league and in the media (and especially us, bless his heart).
And in true Errol fashion we managed to embarass ourselves. As the boys left for their villas, Kiki gripped Justin Poore by the shoulder and fervently announced in a stage whisper: “I’m so proud of you, Justin“. She really is invested in her Dragons boys. And the only think she could manage to say to Robbie Farah was to yell HI ROBBIIIEEEE in his face.
Worst of all: we got burned by Mario Fenech. No shit, kids. As we were chatting to him he told us “well you two are .. characters”. And when we protested that was ambiguous and kinda mean he followed it up with “…. well I was trying to be nice”.
THAT WAS NICE? MARIO FENECH TOTALLY DISSED US. SEE IF WE PLUG YOUR SOON-TO-BE-LAUNCHED WEBSITE THEFALCON.COM NOW.
Hot Bitch Cooper is out with a niggling back injury and seems rather miffed at his inelegant surroundings. Those cheap ass chairs look mighty uncomfortable and I worry about his fragile back cramping up in the chilly air. I immediately wish I was there to lie underneath him and act as a human pillow. I never go cold Coops! A constant 37 degrees! It’s good for your muscles. Keeps them limber.
The game kicks off. Rabs informs us that Baby Chase is turning 19 years old next week. I for one am thrilled because this means I can stop feeling guilty for thinking hes a bit of alright. About 6 minutes in Anthony Watmough charges in to join a tackle and manages to knock himself out using his team mate Josh Perry’s skull. It’s quite an achievement and he floats off to Disneyland for a good few minutes.
While hes busy riding the giant teacups Beau Scott sneakily shoots through and scores a try for the Dragons. The commentators discuss whether BeauBeau deliberately targeted Woozy Watmough or it was just a lucky coincidence. I like to think it was deliberate because thats what footy is all about – taking advantage of your semi concious opposition.
Soward misses the conversion with an absolute shocker of a kick. I shake my fist in anger. Nothing much happens until the 15th minute when Speedy Stewart gets on the outside of Nightingale and sends David Williams over for a Manly try. I am horrified to find myself deeply attracted to Williams despite his horrendous Ned Kelly beard. Orford (who I’m sure is technically a little person) easily converts. Manly leads 6-4.
23 minutes in and Soward sends a kick across field, Manly fumbles and Ben Hornbag Hornby cleans it up and triumphantly scores a try for the Dragons. I really really love Hornbag. He is one of the most lovable players in the NRL. He is also vastly underrated. I’m not talking about his footy either. Fact is, he suffers the major injustice of never being recognised as one of the HotPlayers eventhough to the trained eye he totally is. I can see your hidden cute Hornbag! I’m the cute whisperer.
You see, up close he is super adorable but due to his extreme blondness he looks kind of well…beige on TV. This upsets me and I strongly suggest eyelash tinting. Maybe eyebrows too. Hell, I’ll even do it for him! We can make a night of it.
Hornbag being beige from a distance
Being adorable close up. SEE! ADORABLE PEOPLE!
Okay back to the action. Soward converts and performs a rather hilarious dance routine whilst doing so. Rabs likens it to a jazz waltz but Gouldy insists it looks like his cat when its about to take a shit. I maintain he is simply auditioning for the position of head baton twirler in the Dragons marching band. A few more jazz hands and hes pretty much there.
The next phase of the game is marked by shocking incompetence by the Dragons. They manage to screw up seven sets of 6 in a row. SEVEN SETS! By this time I’m left with no cushions on the lounge as I’ve thrown them all at the TV in a fit of rage. Manly take advantage of the Dragons ineptitude and Beaver Menzies shimmies through for a fantastic try. I adoreSteve Menzies. 34 years old and bitch plays like a guy half his age. And he’s just so damn nice. He also hasn’t aged since about 1997. It must be the headgear, its keeping his skin supple!
Orford converts and we go to halftime with Manly leading 12-10.
Second half! The Dragons start by dropping the ball. Hooray! Something new and different for them! 51 minutes and Steve Matai decides to take out Soward about 5 minutes after he kicked the ball. Soward lies prone on the ground and I fill with rage. Matai you dirty bastard! I want to rip out that ridiculous rats tail and strangle you with it. Why is it a foot long? Gross. Well deserved penalty to the Dragons.
Soward recovers from the late hit and manages to launch a cross field kick resulting in about a million leaping bodies clamouring for the ball. Nightingale somehow finds the ball and gets it down. The try looks doubtful and predictably goes to the video ref. The VR literally looks at the try for about 5 minutes. JUST MAKE A CALL FOR CHRISSAKE. Gouldy hates the ridiculousness as much as me, remarking that people have gotten bored and gone off for a pie. Mmmm….pie.
Finally the VR does the unthinkable and rewards the try due to benefit of the doubt. YAAAY! I love this ruling. It’s the rule equivelant of a participation medal. You tryed so you deserve some love! Have the 4 points! Soward misses the conversion. Damn!
64 minutes and Menzies looks to go in for another try but drops the ball. 69 minutes and technical little person Orford sends a kick across field. Michael Robertson seems to defy gravity and retrieves it for an awesome try in the corner. Orford converts. Manly leads 18-14. My heart is in my mouth. COME ON DRAGONS! Speedy Stewart momentarily breaks my heart by appearing to get a try in the 72nd minute. It’s ruled a no try due to a knock on. I praise Jesus.
75 minutes and Bretty Morris pulls some brilliance from no where and puts his twin Joshy in for a beautiful try.Its twintastic! Its 18 all. Come on Soward, do your dance! Jazz hands baby! His crazy dance pays off and he converts with a phenomenal kick. My heart returns to my chest. I think we might win!
FULLTIME! Inexplicable Dragons victory!
Despite their general atrociousness my boys somehow pull off a win. Gouldy announces that the Dragons must be ‘absolutely brain snapping’ for their supporters. It’s true, they are. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you boys!
Okay so yes, the game was played on Friday night and I’m recapping on a Sunday. I had important weekend things to do like staying in my pyjamas all day, eating an entire pepperoni pizza and watching Adam Brand film clips on YouTube.
So! The game is being played at that lovable old stalwart of suburban grounds – Brookvale Oval. Tribalism is an important part of rugby league and I love going to and watching games at ye olde ovals but daaaamn Brookie is looking tired. I’m pretty sure the injured players and their entourage are being forced to sit on plastic school chairs underneath a large piece of corrugated iron encased by a chain link fence.