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footy observations: god, uncle wayne and shark week 2010

August 2nd, 2010

First things first: IT’S MOTHERFUCKING SHARK WEEK! YEAH!

Ironically, even though we don’t like Cronulla, we LOVE Shark Week. What’s better than a Shark documentary? Nothing. That’s what.

As you should already know, our office motto – well one of our office mottos – is actually “live every week like it’s Shark Week”. Wise words, no? We totally stole it from 30 Rock.

(Our other mottos include, but are not limited to: “Pants are for suckers!” “of course I want another pie!” and “if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing in hotpants”. That last one is embroidered on the label of all Intern John-John’s shorty shorts).

Pic. Getty Images

In honour of the glory that is Shark Week, we want to give a shout-out to Errol hero, Russell Crowe. There was yet more proof over the weekend that he is awesome and benevolent like Jesus:

RUSSELL CROWE gave eight indigenous kids the day of their lives last Sunday when he treated them to an afternoon in his corporate box. The kids were largely from a mission in Bourke and were rewarded with a trip to Sydney as part of a program called Centacare. ”We told them they’d come to Sydney and get to go to the footy if they had 100 per cent attendance at school for a period of time,” said Mark Hollman, who oversees the program. ”And they all did that, so we got in touch with Souths Cares, who organised tickets and packs and footies for the boys.”

These kids were from the back of Bourke and they’d never seen the front of Bourke. When they got to Lithgow and saw a lake some of them thought it was Sydney Harbour. ”When we got to Sydney I got a call from Russell’s manager, Grant Vandenberg, who said we might get to come up to the box and meet Russell. Not only did we get that but all the boys sat in the box for the entire match. Russell fed them all and went up to each of the boys individually and had a chat to them. They were just blown away by the whole day. They have not stopped talking about it since it happened.”

… Seriously.

Back with the mere mortals, Brett Kimmorley says he might finish out his 85-year footy career at the Sharks. Or at least he won’t rule it out. He met with Shane Flanagan about it, and then said, “to be honest, it would be like going home … I spent such a large part of my career there.”

We just have one thing to say about all of this: WHY? Why, Noddy, why?

We choose to express our advice to Noddy in picture form.

As if we all didn’t know already that the Shire and their team is cursed. What other conclusion can you draw from the fact that they have never won a premiership, that they’re $x million in debt and that Toyota Stadium is constantly beset by a freezing cold wind of death that may or may not be the result of having built it on the remains of some kind of burial ground for the criminally insane?

We had proof again on Saturday night when the West Tigers won an ugly, ugly game over the Sharks at Leichhardt. Let’s be honest, the Tigers had no right to win. The Sharks were well and truly in the game until – bizarrely – Ben Pomeroy scored a possible try …. and was penalised. Even referees hate the Sharks. It was the most ridiculous decision of the season so far, and that’s coming from a Roosters fan (Izzy Folau, anyone?)


Nyello Houston? We have a reffing problem.

Little known Sassy fact: I studied epistemology at uni (of couse I did). Also known as the philosophy of logic. So to help y’all, I put my little logic hat on and made up symbols to represent the five main facts in this case:

1. The ref had called held on the tackle

2. He called it relatively early when he hadn’t done that all game (deemed irrelevant)

3. After the ‘held’ call, Pom continued to fall towards the line, then put the ball down.

4. After the ‘held’ call, at roughly the same time, Bryce Gibbs came into the tackle.

5. Somehow, Cronulla was penalised.

Then I put them all into a logic equation to see if I could make it work, and all I came up with was:

I’m 99% sure this stands for ‘God hates the Sharks’. Even during Shark Week! Sucks to be from Cronulla.

We also found out yesterday that God doesn’t care for the Matty Johns Show. God as in Wayne Bennett, not biblical God.

(You can tell the difference between them because, although both are omnipotent and all-knowing, bible God has never won a premiership).

John Singleton, Matty Johns and Shane Webcke all rang Uncle Wayne to try and get an interview, and Uncle Wayne said … no thanks.

“But he said no … maybe he’s too important.” – Singo

We don’t like to stick our noses into other people’s business (lies, of course we do), but of course he’s too important! He’s Uncle Wayne. Frankly, we’re surprised he even talks to the humans, well, the ones who don’t have schizophrenia with attendant aural delusions anyway. So don’t feel bad Singo.

And to finish off the footy and God round-up, we’re still trying to figure out what to make of the Malbourne vs Canberra game yesterday. Well, not so much the game. Clearly, much as we adore the Raiders, Melbourne played better. (Even Brett Finch played well and apparently he’d spent Friday night getting pissed. He obviously doesn’t get two-day hangovers like we old ladies do). We mean the weather.

How does a game go from this:

Pic. Getty Images

… to this:

Pic. Getty Images

in less than 80 minutes? That’s a hailstorm! For reals. To quote the double rainbow dude, WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

All of  a sudden, it was hailing, Cameron Smith and Billy Slater were on the sideline (being divas? maybe), the Storm had won the game and a PROP was trying to kick goals and failing miserably, Ryan Hinchcliffe was hiding under Jeff Lima, and David Shillington was tenderly cradling Josh Miller’s injured head to protect him from the hail. It was anarchy!

Cooper Cronk totally thinks you’re soft Hinchcliffe. Just look at his face.

KODAK. MOMENT!

It was one of the best/weirdest moments of the season so far.

Stay tuned for a recap of my personal BEST moment – the Roosters vs Eels game from Saturday night. It’ll be posted soon, promise!

Thanks to Cronkster for the Shillington cap, and Lucy Pryor for the Lima cap.

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footy observations: romance and pantslessness go so well together

July 29th, 2010

Well someone from the Melbourne Storm’s just become the most popular girl in school!

But first, let’s cover the breaking news stories of the day: Firstly, the Cronulla Sharks continue to win at life. Secondly, FACEBOOK IS EVIL. Apparently the police have warned the footy community that people might steal their identitiez on the interwebs, and Penrith have even banned Facebook and Twitter. Can I just say if they want anyone to travel around with Nigel Vagana and teach the boys how to be safe on the net (BE SAFE KIDS!), they should just send us. We’ll just slap them on the hands with rulers and yell MAKE YOUR FACEBOOK PRIVATE AND DON’T ADD RANDOMS. Done and done.

Now back to the breaking up of the Melbourne Big Four.

Now it’s a given in most people’s minds that, after the whole salary cap debacle, at least one of the Melbourne Storm’s Big Four will have to leave the loving embrace of Globo Gym. It’s just maths … right?

And no, I won’t call them the ‘Fab Four’. When did we start using that phrase? It makes Cooper Cronk, Cam Smith, Billy Slater and GI sound like a reincarnation of the Fab Five on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. This is patently ridiculous, because Cam Smith can’t cut hair, and even Carson Kressley is nowhere near as fierce as Fierce Bitch Cooper Cronk.


I rest my case.

I much prefer calling them the ‘Big Four’. It makes it sound like other clubs are hunting them down for sport, like big game hunters in Africa trying to bag the big five of African animals.

What was my point? I got distracted imagining Greg Inglis with a rhinoceros horn.

Oh right, competition is heating up between the NRL clubs to sort out who gets to take Greg Inglis home. Melbourne don’t want to let him go, plus the Broncos and the Titans both want him. But bitches better watch out, because someone new has stepped into the ring.


…. me? Really? He wants me?
pic. Getty Images

Oh yes, Russell Crowe wants GI for the Souths’ backline.

“He wants him bad,” a source close to Inglis said. “I’m not sure if it will happen but Russell will do what he can to get him there.”

HOW ARE THE OTHER TEAM OWNERS MEANT TO COMPETE WITH AN OSCAR WINNER? Not only does he have blue eyes like a husky and a voice as majestic as the Snowy Mountains, he also has a country estate AND he’s friends with Snoop Dogg. And according to the Tele, Rusty is ready to ‘wine and dine’ Greg, make some conversation about books and movies, order the second most expensive wine on the menu, and order the lobster for him in a chivalrous fashion until GI gives in and signs with the Rabbitohs. And by ‘signs with the Rabbitohs’, clearly I mean ‘takes his pants off’.

GI has since denied the whole story, but …. he would, wouldn’t he? This is Russell Crowe, after all. For all we know his phone calls have caveats of silence on them, like the CIA.

And our advice to GI is to play hard to get. That way hopefully he gets more play dates with Rusty. Genius, right? That’s what we’d do, anyway. Remember Rusty’s gladiator thumb (at the game where his Rabbitohs crushed my Roosters)? That was AWESOME. Russell is pretty much our favourite human ever, which is why we always defend him vehemently against the Fire Up! boys and hope to one day be loaded enough to follow his example and own our own footy teams. If Greg plays his cards right he could live our dream of being Russell’s bestie.

And if Sam Burgess is reading – who am I kidding, he totally is – don’t worry babe! We’re sure he still cares about you, too! When he took you to that movie set last year and told you Souths needed you, and only you, he totally meant it. He really does think your accent is adorable, and that you have a great tan and a beautiful smile. He just wants the freedom to see other people as well, you know?

And on the topic of pantslessness: remember last year when the Tigers had some kind of club-wide reading group going? The one where you could totally tell that Tim Moltzen was reading Sophie Kinsella’s ‘Confessions of a Shopaholic’? Good times.

Well this year, it seems like the Tigers have moved on from encouraging kids to read good, and moved onto spreading the gospel of pantslessness. Now THIS is something everyone at Errol HQ can get behind. Heh, behind. We totally support the Tigers’ efforts to end the tyranny of pants!

Nips Farah tries to start a locker-room pants off revolution ….

… and Chris Lawrence takes it to the set of the Footy Show.

We love the Tigers’ Crusade against Pants almost as much as we love the news that JAMAL HAS HIS FIRST ACTING JOB. Not only is he gonna be on the Footy Show, he’ll have a guest spot on ‘Cops’ with Gary Sweet. Congratulations, Jamal baby! Our dream of seeing Jamal remake ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ is getting closer and closer every day.

Now why don’t you take off your pants and tell us where you think GI will end up?

Thanks to the awesome Cronkster and Smithyman for the caps!

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footy observations: grudges, bitches and victory, sweet victory!

July 19th, 2010

We don’t like it either, boys.

So we hate to start the week on a downer, but you all keep asking for our thoughtz on the Melbourne Storm, so let’s get it out of the way first, shall we?

Yes, they are more cheaty than even we suspected, and it took a team of professional auditors to figure out just HOW cheaty they were. Also, yes, David Gallop’s new glasses are freaking awesome, huh? We love us some nerd glasses. We think they make him look very distinguished.

Here’s the way we see it: while it sucks for the innocent players that they have to be called cheats by rowdy New Zealand crowds, can you really blame the kiwis? Every other team in the NRL that played by the rules got screwed by the Storm. Of course the fans are angry. It’s kind of mean, but totally understandable. Also, the guy in Auckland with the “BILLY SLATER’S A COCK” sign clearly wrote it on the back of a beer carton at the game while drunk, so no judgment.

I would also like to include twitter-friend Hilius‘ brilliant summary:

I don’t see what’s wrong with “BILLY SLATER’S A COCK”. Penile banners are a proud tradition in rugby league – see the Roosters’ “WE’LL BEAT YOU WITH OUR COCKS” and the Bulldogs’ “STAGG, GO IN HARD – DON’T FLOP”. Billy should be honoured.

Lolz x 1000.

Best solution as we see it is for the Melby Storm to start putting things right. As in actually start making the Big Scary Decisions about which players have to go and which players can stay. At least then the fans would feel like they’re serious about getting under the salary cap, cause right now it seems like the Melbourne storm just don’t really care and aren’t trying. Offloading Ryan Tandy isn’t exactly a huge show of good faith, you know? Plus the longer they wait, the more players will end up on reduced contracts at the Storm, or overseas, which would suck for the NRL and for their own livelihoods.

GET CRACKIN, STORM PEEPS!

And that’s all we have to say about that.

Instead, let’s talk about the epic footy-boner that was this weekend (except for the Sharks and Manly. Soz guys). AMAZING. Phil Gould was saying on the Sunday Roast that he thinks this is probably one of the softest seasons of footy he’s seen … as in no teams are really dominating. He’s right, in that you really don’t expect the team at the top of the table to cut it as fine as the Dragons did against the Rabbitohs. But if games like we saw this weekend are the result then who cares?  I LIKE IT.

THE BITCHERY

Y’all know we think Cooper Cronk is the fiercest bitch in ruby league. Well the bitch has competition from an unlikely corner: Manu Vatuvei. Usually when he scores a try/drops a ball/does something insane his response is just to grin and flash his gold teeth and continue being the Beast. And the crowd goes wild, naturally, cause he has charisma on Wil Smith-type levels (but without the creepy possible ties to Scientology).

On Saturday night he bungled a kick receive in spectcaular fashion, grinned, ran in a try a few minutes later and GOT ALL UP IN COOPER CRONK’S BIZNESS.

The tension was palpable. The fact that no one got bitchslapped was a miracle. I thought Manu was gon’ polish up his acrylics and cut a bitch. Welcome to the Fierce Bitch club, Manu.

And is it a coincidence that as soon as Manu discovers his inner bitch, the Warriors string together a whole bunch of impressive wins? For most of the season our tipping policy has been to only tip the Warriors if they’ve lost the week before, cause God knows they’d never win two in a row. Congratulations on ruining my tips, guys.

In related news, Kevin Locke is back, and still adorable.

THE COMEBACK

For all the people who got to half time in the Penrith and Parramatta game, thought it was done and dusted, and pushed the big red Foxtel button to watch Manly instead … bad choice. Seriously, bad choice. Big, huge mistake. Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne outran Michael Jennings for one man miracle try like Nathan Gardener against the Roosters the other week. (Except when Hayne did it, it didn’t make me want to top myself, like it did when Nathan Gardener did).

People cried! Nathan Hindmarsh was everywhere! Just Horo scored a try! Feleti Mateo DID stuff.

Parramatta are starting to make me realise what it’s like to be a teacher. You get frustrated because you know little Parra is JUST SO TALENTED, and if they would actually study, and try, they’d be awesome, but they’re too busy picking their nails with scissors and refusing to concentrate. Then all of a sudden at exam time they breeze in without even opening their textbook and manage to get an A.

If Parra make it to the finals again this year I won’t be surprised. At all. Totally the kind of thing those contrary little Eels would do, right?

THE ROOSTERS


I am so proud right now. Of my Roosters for their win on Sunday, and of myself for finally – finally – managing to win Kiki over to my team. Okay, so she’s not totally ready to adopt the Roosters as a second team yet, but I’m getting closer. She is now officially a Shaun Kenny-Dowall super fan, a lover of Todd Carney and Mitchell Aubusson, and closet lover of Martin Kennedy and Jared Warea-Hargreaves.

TOLD YOU THEY WERE LOVABLE KIKI!

She even – grudgingly – said something nice about Mitchell Pearce and Braith Anasta last week. Really! I swear! Whether you love them or hate them, my boys have heart.

I was sceptical when Braith came to the Chooks. I wasn’t sure I was down with all this ex-Bulldogs fuckery, until I saw him in 2008 get hit in the face and literally CRAWL downfield on his hands and knees to stagger to his feet and get back in the game. That’s heart. Mitchell Pearce’s defence has heart. Mitchell playing through his 8,000 career knocks to the head is definitely heart.

The Sunday game was there for the Bulldogs to take, but the Roosters wanted it more, no? If you didn’t enjoy this game, then you are clearly dead inside and I pity you.

Wanna know my two highlights of the game?

1. Pearce and Carney combining to score a try from that Jake Friend pass. Why do Todd and Mitchell look so profoundly … troublesome when they’re together? Who knows. They just have an air of about-to-do-something-mischievous. Whatever. It works. When they play well, angels get their wings. Possibly also Todd gets another tattoo.

2. Braith Anasta’s Rage. I didn’t think it was possible, but I know love Braith’s bitchery as much as I love Cooper Cronk’s. His quarrels with Gavin Badger made my heart sing. He’s the kind of captain who leads from in front. His Rage is actually now another player in the Roosters team. (Dunno if you remember, but yes, Braith Anasta’s Crotch is also a Roosters player. He’s very versatile, that Braith).


THE NOD


Lastly, there are lots of grumbles about Noddy Kimmorley not getting the recognition he deserved for playing 300 games. So in tribute to our favourite footy gnome, let’s relive the time the NRL made him sit on Sassy’s knee at the NRL Players’ Christmas Party. Click on the link, scroll to the end and enjoy.

All pics: Getty Images

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man-kissing, hot chips and adventures in canberra

June 13th, 2010

Well, that was an eventful few weeks. We leave the internet for 10 days and all hell breaks loose.

What was meant to happen in the last week was this: we would head down to our nation’s capital for the Raiders vs Titans, do a little bit of work, relax a little, maybe hit up Questacon or ride bikes around Lake Burley-Griffin, and head home. Then we’d do some typey-typey for some new projects we’re working on and come back to Errol as if nothing had happened.

BUT NO.

In the interim league went fucking insane. First Billy Slater and Jarryd Hayne got involved in a Melbourne vs Parramatta headbutt spite-fest at Parramatta Stadium. This, as we all know led to the Gayest Fight in Football History.

No, we don’t mean ‘gay’ as a derogatory term. We love gays. We mean it literally. Fierce bitch Cooper Cronk was not having any of this, and ran in to protect his fullback Billy Slater. Have you seen his face? We wouldn’t want anyone headbutting it either. He’s adorable. So far, so logical.

We saw Cooper running in … then Cooper diving onto Headbutt Hayne, and then ….

ARE THEY MAKING OUT? (yes, we did actually yell that at the tv).

Apparently the internet was equally confused/amused, because a complete genius came up with this:

Oh internet, how we love you.

We also especially enjoyed when Cam Smith gave the world a lesson in sportsmanship. First he yelled at the ref “WE CAN’T WIN THE PREMIERSHIP, WHO CARES WHAT WE DO?” He then threw an Errol-worthy tantrum and quit that whole shit.

Can’t win? Don’t try.

We can’t wait till that image is used in motivational posters in offices all over Melbourne.

And, of course, the tension resulted in two of the prettiest boys in history to ever share the sin-bin: Dan Dan Mortimer and Billy Slater. Surely people that pretty don’t belong in the bin? Evidently Billy agrees, because bitch was pissed.

The dramas didn’t stop at Parra vs Storm, though. There have feelingz happening all over the NRL. At Brookie, injury is taking it’s toll on Dave Williams. The man that … well, people who aren’t us like to call ‘the Wolfman’, is not dealing well with being a sideline fixture.

We interviewed Daveypants 2 weeks ago for the NRL and he seems so, so sad. His poor little arm is still in a sling and he is the saddest panda of all pandas in history. It took all our strength not to hug him.

It’s no suprise he has turned to comfort eating. Specifically, comfort eating chips on the sideline. The saddest part of all was when he offered one to Jamie Lyon and was brutally rebuffed. WAY TO MAKE HIM FEEL LIKE A PIG, JAMIE.

Meanwhile we were down in the Nation’s capital hustling and getting ready to watch the Raiders vs Titans. In a moment of perfect timing by the universe, we needed to interview the baby Raiders AND Titan’s coach John Cartwright. So on Sunday morning we headed off the pick up Carty and take him for a coffee and a chat. The only problem? Literally NOTHING is open in Canberra at 9.30am in Canberra.

What the hell, ACT? It was like a nuclear apocalypse took place and no one told us.

Not even WANGS massage was open, although at least it gave us a few lolz.

In the end, intrepid Carty led us into a food court, to find a tiny tiny window called the House of Vitality. Kiki ordered a diet coke, to which Carty said “a Diet Coke? …. for breakfast? Shouldn’t you at least have a normal coke for nutritional value?”

Kiki’s only answer was SHUT UP I’M HUNGOVER. She ordered the Diet Coke anyway.

What’s more glamorous than doing an interview with an NRL coach in a food court? Pretty much nothing. For reals.

Next stop was Bruce Stadium for Raiders vs Titans. For Sydney girls, going to Bruce Stadium is so … so weird. Actually, Canberra is weird to us. It’s all organised, and tidy, and convenient. All the suburbs have different names, but they’re only like two blocks apart and EVERYTHING IS SO CHEAP.

Two voddies and a beer for $12? $5 parking at the footy? $13 for a pizza and two Diet Cokes? Yes, please. It’s developing world prices without all the pesky airline travel and vaccinations.

As we drove into the Bruce Stadium carpark a friendly dude pointed out that Sassy’s bonnet was askew and maybe not closed properly. When she admitted it was just wonky from her bad driving, he came out with I HIT A KANGAROO ONCE. IT’S HEAD POPPED RIGHT OFF. I KILLED IT, BY THE WAY. Oh, Canberra. Nothing cheers us up like an animal decapitation story. Turns out it really did make Sassy feel better about her driving.

That, and a stadium with seats close enough to hear the OOF when two men tackles.

Wait, make that a decapitation, Bruce Stadium, and our new bestie in the next row down.

We asked Josh McCrone about this: “… definitely from Queanbeyan. He’s probably Campo’s neighbour”.

Then as a farewell to the ‘Berra, we met a few of the baby Raiders for interviews after recovery on Monday: Jarrod Croker, Daniel Vidot, Josh McCrone and Shaun Fensom. WE ARE IN LOVE. Four of the most hilarious, humble footy players you’ll meet (if you ignore Dan Vidot’s love for a glamorous self-portrait. He really, really loves them. Especially if they involve shirtlessness, which is fair enough. Have you seen him? He’s a total spunk).

McCrone and Crokes – actually all the boys really – are fucking hilarious. Shaun Fensom managed to burn Kiki within ten seconds of meeting her. We like his hustle. We also especially enjoyed Croker and Vidot taking the piss out of each other about their Adventures in Hair Highlights.

Apologies to the boys for springing it ON TAPE that some of them are gay icons, and to Shaun Fensom in particular for Kiki stroking his pretty hair like a massive creep. The trickiest part was convincing them to have their photos taken to go with the story – Dan Vidot only wanted pre-approved images that he’d had taken earlier included in the mag. He’s so J.Lo. We loves him

And Crokes was traumatised because his hair looked ‘shit’ (it didn’t, it looked messy and cute…bed hair!), he hadn’t shaved, and his shorts were soaking wet. “But I’ve got a beard! Can’t you come back another day and take them?”

NO. WE’RE NOT DRIVING THREE HOURS AGAIN.

But probably the highlight of our trip was telling Trevor Thurling of the huge section of his fan base who refer to him as Trevor “Sex Machine” Thurling.

According to google, this is what a Sex Machine looks like:


Trevor, is that you?

This story led to us hearing Shaun Fensom utter the words “yeah, I lived with a family when I first got here, now I live with Sex Machine”. Awesome.

Try not to die waiting, but the story will be out in the next issue of Rugby League Player mag. and in the meantime, here’s a picture of Josh McCrone being a hilarious human and posing comically in front of a palm tree. So awesome. Doesn’t he look like Prince Harry? He totally looks like Prince Harry. Till next time kittens! xx

Big thanks to our favourite media manager and one of our favourite humans, Ben Pollack, for hooking us up the whole weekend. And thankyou to the boys for being generally awesome. WE LOVE YOU RAIDERS!

Thanks to the brilliant Cronkster for the caps. LEGEND!

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footy observations: sassy’s favourite things

March 4th, 2010

It’s just a fiesta of a week this week. It’s as though the Universe designed it specifically with me in mind. WHAT WOULD SASSY LIKE TO SEE?

Well it pretty much goes like this:

1. FOOTY’S BACK!

The NRL made it official that the footy season is back with a booze-free launch extravaganza on Wednesday (also known as a Brett Stewart drylaunch). Oh, football, my sweaty, infuriating, sometimes violent boyfriend. I’m so glad you’re back.

I’m also so glad that you decided to announce your return by making all the team’s captains and representatives stand in full uniform on a barge in the middle of Sydney harbour with a huge mock NRL trophy. Yes, people, this is what happiness looks like:

Pic. Ryan Osland

Also, HI ALAN TONGUE. We think you’re lovely!

And David Gallop and Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne made it official by making some fantastically cheesy jokes to the media:

… there was little alcohol or glitz and glamour when the NRL did so again yesterday.

Just bad jokes.

ASKED if he felt the Eels had a stronger team this season than when he led them on their stunning run to last year’s grand final, Jarryd Hayne told reporters: ”Yeah, a lot of the boys can lift a lot more weights, so they’re stronger.’

”There’s no truth to the rumour that Willie [Mason] and I will be doing a reality dieting show in the boardrooms of Australia, called My Boardroom Rules,” said NRL chief executive David Gallop in reference to Mason’s criticism of the ”fat businessmen” on the Roosters board who wanted him out of the club.

Oh, DG. I actually have no idea if he has any kids, but based on that joke I now feel certain that he has both kids (cause that was a total dad joke) and a fucking sweet idea for a TV franchise. My Boardroom Rules? Yes please.

Wes Carr can write the theme song. Rexona and Powerade can be the sponsors. And DG and Big Willie can be the new Simon Cowell and Ryan Seacrest, trading barbs while my brother and I sit on the couch, eat vegemite toast and talk about how we suspect they’re secretly having a bromance. I like to think Big Willie will dismiss the fatcats who haven’t lost enough weight by looking them up and down and announcing: “Big Willie pronounces you … TOO BIG.”

In other news I also feel certain that Lozzy would’ve laughed at those NRL launch jokes. Go on and comment and prove me, right Lozzy. Prove me right.

2. CRY ME A RIVER

Remember how amusing I thought it was when Steggles started sponsoring the Roosters? Manly obviously took that as a comedy challenge and made a special announcement this week on their website:

RECEIVE A FREE TISSUE PACK WITH EVERY ONLINE MERCHANDISE ORDER!
m-r0-tissues
There are so many ways that I love this promotion. It’s perfect for everyone! For Manly fans to cry into when their team loses, and for Silvertail-haters to snot into when they have hideous infectious colds. You can even wave them as white surrender flags when the DJ starts playing Eagle Rock again at Brookie. MAKE IT STOPPPP!
3. DOGS NAMED AFTER PEOPLE ARE THE BEST KINDA DOGS
So apparently I’ve found the future boyfriend for my dog this week. You know, my dog. Dolly Parton the greyhound. Because some excellent human has named their greyhound after Taniela Tuiaiki.

Pic. Mark Evans

I totally see the resemblance. It’s the muscular ass, right?

According to the Tank:

“It was a bit of a shock when I heard that there was a greyhound named after me. It’s something that doesn’t happen every day.”

Well-spotted, Tank. It doesn’t happen every day. Footy players being literal is one of my favourite things.

Now all I need is for Zac Efron to ask me over for a platonic night of snuggles and Disney movies and all my prayers will have been answered. Call me, Zef.

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footy observations: nostradamus and shaking hands

March 1st, 2010

Notice anything different about me? YES, THAT’S RIGHT, KIDS. I AM FEELING EXTRA SMUG TODAY.

One of my top twenty favourite things in life is Being Right. I’m basically an idiot and – to be honest – it doesn’t happen very often, so when it happens twice in one week I get some extra swagger in my havaianas.

Remember last week when I warned Knights fans that this year they were stuck at the bottom of the wheel of footy fates and they should spend the rest of the year in their backyard bunkers?

I think the Knights should just accept that they are the new Roosters (who were the new Bulldogs) and will suffer calamity all year. Just hibernate for the next 12 months. As a Roosters fan, trust me, it’s not worth the psychological trauma of staying awake.

No it wasn’t just a brief, horrible dream. You really are the new Roosters. The latest news is that Danny Wicks’ scooter buddy Chris Houston has been charged with drug offences by police and stood down. Which means, well, badtimes for him. But more importantly, no more jokes about him looking like an old-timey blacksmith for us. It’s always the bloggers who suffer.

As the voice of experience though, I’m here for you darlings. I know the pain. I made it through 2009. Sure, I lost a few brain cells from incessantly banging my head against the nearest supporting wall, but then I found out that also burns calories. WIN.

And if you follow the Errol twitter you’ll also know that, as soon as the Houston story broke, I knew in my heart of footy hearts that somewhere a subeditor would see this story, grin with glee and headline it HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM. Aaaaand this morning the Sydney Morning Herald subbing pool did. I am pretty much Nostradamus right now.


Check my rocking white tights, whut whut.

While I’ve been living in my belltower writing down the future on parchment and that, and Knights fans have been buying up big on Xanax, Errol’s favourite ladykiller Tim Sheens sent his boys to etiquette class.


Class valedictorian and Tim-Sheens-in-training Beau Ryan.
Pic. Gregg Porteous.

Etiquette class! I’m not even kidding, I think this is genius. After all, I went to etiquette classes at June Dally-Watkins’ deportment school and look how well I turned out. Sure I may be tactless and inappropriate, but I can sit down without flashing, set a table with proper cutlery, and if I ever run into the Prime Minister and a Catholic priest simultaneously at a cocktail party I can introduce myself and shake hands perfectly, all while holding both a canape and a glass of champagne. I believe these are what they call “life skills”.


…. hmmm. Tell me more about this “can of peas”, Sassy.
Pic. Gregg Porteous

I’m also going out on a limb and suggesting to the lovely etiquette trainer that maybe Tim Molzten needs a few more lessons.

SCOFFING A DANISH FROM MICHEL’S PATISSERIE AT MEDIA EVENTS IS NOT ON THE LIST OF APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOUR MOLTZ. Seriously, it’s not. Just ask Beau Ryan. You can’t kiss a lady’s hand with danish breath.

We all might want to consider giving up the booze, too, because apparently Todd Carney’s new policy of laying off the beers has rekindled his love for life.


Pic. Phil Hillyard

So happy! Now that he doesn’t have to take up valuable time buying, refigerating, drinking and sleeping off beers, and dealing with awkward questions about people’s pants catching on fire, Todd has rediscovered the simple joys of a roller coaster. A sunset. A rainbow. An afternoon spent shopping with Shaun Kenny-Dowall or with a cup of Earl Grey on his balcony.

He was hands down the hit of the Roosters Luna Park fan day.


That worried looking lady? Yep, she’s been reading the tabloids.

Wondering why the Roosters all look so happy, by the way? Oh, yeah, cause we won again. That’s all. Carry on.

Love Sassy xxo

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footy observations: a tale of four fullbacks

February 17th, 2010

So it’s probably obvious that since we got back from the Gold Coast on Sunday we’ve been feeling pretty miserable. The faces in the Errol office have been worryingly bleak and Russian-literature-esque. Or if you’re not a fan of Tolstoy references, we was sad pandas.

After all, how are you meant to go back to normal life after the lovefest of a week we had and the brilliant All-Stars game? You can’t. Not without help. And luckily for us, instead of having to hit the pharmacy and beg for some uppers, we got this. If you didn’t read it, here’s what you missed:

Central Districts are marvelling at the courage of their left-arm bowler Ewen Thompson who bowled 10 overs on the trot in their one-day semifinal win against Canterbury with a kebab stuck in his throat.

According to the team manager:

“ET is kicking himself a bit because he is supposed to watch what he eats. He was in a rush to eat before training [on Friday] and he scoffed down a kebab and obviously some meat got stuck.

“The fact that he was able to bowl 10 tidy overs on the trot for us and only go for 36 runs, feeling the way he was, was quite remarkable.”

EWEN THOMPSON YOU ARE THE GREATEST HUMAN EVER. And for so many reasons, not least of which is the fact that he was on his way to an athletic training session, and thought, what shall I eat to propel my body to maximum physical fitness? A KEBAB. It sounds so … Mark Riddell. And it made me smile for a good 3.6 hours.

Know who else loves kebabs? Whoever owns this board:

Awesome.

FYI league fans, you will be delighted to know that the offending kebab was not one of Ali Baba’s famous Robbie Farah Kebabs (TM). As the English Four Nations commentators explained in detail, Robbie Farah Kebabs (TM) are healthy – “they have chicken in them!” – and do not constitute a choking hazard for cricketers.

The Willie Mason drama-fest continued with this story, too, about how Willie Mason is a footy membership angel of death, and:

The Roosters have sold 409 memberships since February 5 when Mason made his move to the Townsville club – an increase of more than 40 per cent from the 287 memberships sold in the 10 days before Mason’s departure.

The surge also coincides with the Roosters signing producers Steggles as their major sponsor until 2012.

It’s not necessarily that I enjoy reading bitchy things in the paper (that’s a lie, I totally do), but that I am pretty much a scientist (remember the Oh Errol Experiment in 2009?) and I have spent the last 24 hours trying to figure out which of these things is true about Roosters fans.

a) do they really really hate Willie Mason?, or

b) do they just really really love chicken?

Either way, the message is that you should never ever call Nick Politis ‘fat’ in a press conference, or the Universe will punish you with bitchy newspaper stories about how no one likes you.

But the footy news this week is really all about fullbacks. Kurt Gidley and his mysterious knee injury are apparently going to be out of action until round 10 of the season. Hopefully that means he also gets a doctor’s letter giving him four months exemption from having to pee in a cup. HE CAN’T STAND PROPERLY, PEOPLE. HOW DO YOU EXPECT HIM TO AIM AT THE PLASTIC CUP?

I think the Knights should just accept that they are the new Roosters (who were the new Bulldogs) and will suffer calamity all year. Just hibernate for the next 12 months. As a Roosters fan, trust me, it’s not worth the psychological trauma of staying awake.

At Roosters HQ our new coach Brian-Smith-please-God-help-us is making the boys focus on the positives.

In my mind, this means they all have canes and dance around singing ac-cen-tuate the positive. Other than that … I got nothin. I remember no positives from 2009.

What I do know is that on Sunday when the Chooks play the Tigers, Todd Carney will be playing at fullback. I know we haven’t known each other long, Brian, but this confuses me. Carney at fullback in a team with Minichiello as captain? And Ben Jones in the halves? I love lil Benny like my own fabulous ranga child, but surely after his game on Saturday you’d consider him for hooker?

Is it just cause Brian the great white hope is trying to keep Carney as isolated as possible from the rest of the players as often as possible in case his aura of calamity infects the other players and someone goes up in flames?

And his opposite number with be Timmy Moltzen, which breaks my heart, cause I thought he was a massive improver in the halves last year. I was so proud I even caught Kiki’s weird condition where watghin him play made me talk like a league commentator. “… and hasn’t Moltzen really come along this year?” “He’s really liking that no. 6 jersey, isn’t he?” “That’s the kind of confidence a coach loves to see”. I JUST REALLY LIKE HIM, OK GUYZ?

But the fullback superstar of the week is clearly Jarrod-with-an-O Sammut. Who is now taking styling tips from Cap’n Jack Sparrow. I can’t wait till he starts plaiting beads into his moustache. the news of the day is that bitch is STACKED! Oh, yeah, and he has a tattoo that’s spelled wrong.

Those extra ten kilos will be perfect for crushing the poor tattooist who traced out ‘justify your existance’.

Meanwhile thanks to the sub-editor who called him ‘the incredible hulk’ in the tele, now every time I hear his name I think of the Simpsons ep where Bart calls Milhouse an “emotionally crippled mini-hulk”. From now on, in my mind, he shall be known as Milhouse.

And cause it’s only four-ish weeks till the season starts, here’s a completely lolz thread of summaries and predictions for each of the teams (not by us). Enjoy xx

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4 

footy observations: tigers, chickens and chicken legs

February 6th, 2010

The important news is that Errol HQ will be pretty empty for the next week or so. You see, Intern John John’s busy with pre-season training up in FNQ, work experience boy Lachie is spending the weekend out in Penrith at the Panther’s members day …. And us? We have a busy week ahead of BEING AWESOME.

Tomorrow Kiki and I are hitting up the Return to South Sydney game at Redfern Oval, and entertaining some lucky peeps at a pre-game party. Then we’re flying up to the Gold Coast to bring you live bloggy-updates about all the All-Stars vs Indigenous preparations.  Lozzy’s volunteered to mind the nest/water the plants/make sure no neighbourhood hooligans break in and steal our booze, then she’s coming up on Friday so the whole Errol crew can watch the game together.

Okay, so maybe not so much “BEING awesome” as “BEING three losers … around awesome people”. Potato, Potahto.

And if 2009 was the year of rugby league scandal (aren’t they all?) …. Then 2010 marks the Return to League. Every Lote, Timana and his dog is coming back to the loving arms of rugby league.

We knew you’d come back, babies!

Timana Tahu has come from the dark side of the force, aka rugby union, to play with the Eels. Lote’s come from the Telegraph’s back page to sign with the Tigers … even Greg Bird has come back from his busy schedule of court appearances to sign with the Titans.

It’s just like that Peter Allen song: all of the shiiiiiiips come back to the shoooorrrrre. He wrote that about rugby league, right? Yep I thought so. He totally did.

Just quietly, he would also totally approve of Greg Bird’s choice of team: the Titans have by far the prettiest uniforms in the league. I know this because my fierce gay friend Rick tells me so. Also, because Prince Scotty the Caramel plays for the Titans, and whichever uniform he wears is by default the prettiest.

More importantly, how many potential halves do the Titans have now? Mat? Scott? Preston? Greg? Is Carty running a full two-string team now, like NFL? Shit is ridiculous. And by ‘ridiculous’, clearly I mean ‘I’m shitty they don’t play for my team’.

I also, apparently, have the mind of a small child. Because anytime anyone mentions Lote’s new job, they seem to use the phrase ‘Lote the tiger’, which causes my brain to produce this image of Tony the Tiger:

LOTE THE TIGER I LOVE YOUR WORK! AND YOUR TASTY SUGARY CEREAL!

I like to think Lote picked the Tiges purely for this reason. Mark my words within six months he’ll be wearing a jaunty red neckerchief with his Tigers uniform and spruiking Frosties breakfast cereal in the ad breaks of the Channel 7 evening news. Mark. My. Words.

Kiki thinks the powers that be at the Tigers needed to hire Lote to keep up their dreadlock quote. After losing Daine Laurie to the Panthers they were in serious deficit.

It’s also possible he just wanted to be close to Blake Ayshford. After all, the man has eyes.

And while other teams have been busy bringing ex-league players back to the fold, my boys the Roosters have been busy signing up … Steggles.

That’s right kids, Steggles chickens are the new major sponsors of the Sydney Roosters, and it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. If there’s one thing Errol loves, it’s Really Literal Thinking.

Remember that time Kiki posted about going to Orange AND USED A PICTURE OF AN ORANGE?

Yep, we are all over this chicken-to-chicken connection. Sure, as Brett Oaten kindly pointed out, it might not be the best fit for a team of Roosters to be sponsored by a company whose primary business is the wholesale slaughter of chickens.


The chicken formerly known as Brent Grose.

And as twitterer and generally hilarious human Jen Bennett suggested:

… now we know what they do with underperforming players. Wait, has anyone seen Fittler recently?

LIES! They told me they sent Freddy to a farm!

I like to think Daniel Conn was being serious when he told facebook now they get paid in chicken. Mmmmm, chicken. What footy player doesn’t love food, hmmmm? More importantly, what self-respecting footy player doesn’t love chicken?

We know for sure that Stanley Waqa does, because he told us so the first time we ever met him, back when he was playing for the Newtown Jets. I believe his exact words were – as he looked up from eating a chicken schnitzel: “… I love chicken”.

I rest my case.

All they need now is to convince the Steggles sister brand – Bartter Eggs – to sponsor the Roosters Under 20s side. It’s called Brand Synergy. Get onto it, Nick Politis.

[Personally I think the Chooks should print all position numbers on jerseys this year as Nugget 1, Nugget 2 etc etc – lozzy]

But back to the Return to South Sydney match tomorrow: the Bunnies will be playing the Manly Sea Eagles, and there’s one man we’re especially excited to see.

Michael Robertson … come on down!

The reason? We really, really need to check out his backside.

I’m serious. According to the Cumberland Courier, back in the day when Robbo was signed to the Sea Eagles, he was a legs-and-arse charity case. The generally accepted wisdom was that a footy player needed strong legs and a lot of junk in the trunk (this certainly explains Wendell’s success), but Robbo:

“… failed miserably on the sight test. His legs wouldn’t have been out of place on an anorexic chicken while his backside was non-existent.”

Poor Robbo, with his chicken legs and sad, unpadded pelvis.

And poor Robbo for having it revealed in the newspaper. Why does the media constantly print and broadcast embarrassing things about Robbo and his crotchal region? Remember the wang dance?

But rest assured, because we are committed journalists and confirmed perves, we will use our time tomorrow at Redfern Oval wisely, and make sure that we suss out the current state of Robbo’s union, so to speak.

Till next time, make sure you check our twitter account for all the vital Errol hapz. See you on the Goldy!

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footy observations : jamal, daine and the federal government

February 3rd, 2010

WHAT UPPPPPPP!

My god it’s been awhile since we’ve e-connected, right kittens? I bet you miss me like Danny Wicks misses his freedom. Unless of course you follow us on Twitter. I am all over the Twitter. I even have my own account now. Try to control your excitement.

[Ooh, yes! Me too! follow me, love me, and enjoy the minutiae of my daily life, twitter-style. – S ]

Tweeting is fun. Tweeting after a few vodkas is even better. Sassy and I are still trying to figure out what hilarious political commentary I was trying to tweet at 4am from QBar late last year. We found it the next morning, just sitting there in Twitteriffic, half finished.

“Imma let you finish, but the federal government is …”

IS WHAT KIKI? IS WHAAAAT? And is that, was I trying to, wait … was I making a Kanye West joke? About the Australian Federal Government? Worst of all, I totally remember us both absolutely cracking up at the time and saying “we have to tweet this!” And now it’s lost forever. RIP awesome joke, we hardly knew thee.

Anyway, back to things that are relevant. This off-season has been particularly punishing for me.  The only things that have kept me from complete emotional oblivion are:

a) The Contender (turns out boxing is almost as good as footy, also I LOVE YOU GARTH.)

b) the fact I live at the beach now and am treated to a daily show of hot tattooed shirtlessness frolicking in my driveway

c) the way in which rugby league keeps churning out the top shelf entertainment despite the fact there are no actual games being played.

Let’s start with Jamal Idris, shall we? Our favourite (and possibly only) Afro-diginal footy player. And after this recent story, he is fast becoming one of our favourite all around humans. Watch out Anthony Bourdain/Wendell Sailor/Zac Efron, this kid is gaining on ya!

I first read this article on my phone whilst in bed, attempting to get to sleep. It didn’t help my slumber because I spent the next 20 minutes literally loling at the hilarity of it all. I think I even said “oh Jamal, I love you” out loud. Yeh, that’s not weird at all.

There’s so much goodness in this article, I barely know where to start.

“Acting is something that I’ve really thought about getting into for a couple of years, but I don’t really know how to go about it,” Idris told The Daily Telegraph after the Bulldogs’ annual Twenty20 cricket match at ANZ Stadium yesterday.

I love the ‘really thought about it’. It’s not just a passing fancy people! Jamal is Serious about this. When it comes to his future career as a thespian, bitch is thinking Rodin style.

k

I’ve always thought Jamal was like an overgrown puppy. Adorable and enthusiastic and delightfully innocent. Remember when he signed his Bulldogs contract last year and didn’t realise he had to pay tax? LOVE. He displays his gorgeous naivete again with this gem:


“I didn’t do drama at school or anything like that, but love watching movies and DVDs. It’s hard to describe … but when I watch a movie I sort of get carried away and can imagine myself being there in the scene.”

Oh, honey. You are amazing. Well Jamz, imagine no more. With the power of a) my brain and b) photoshop you can see your acting career in solid visuals. I’ve decided if you’re gonna act, go all OUT baby. Forget predictable special effects blockbusters. Be brave and REMAKE THE CLASSICS. Oh yes.

Jamal Idris is….Citzen Kane.


ROOOOOSEEEBUDDDD

Not into Orson Welles and multiple Academy Awards? Okay then. Everyone loves a southern gothic tale sooooo…what about, some Tennesee Williams?


Stelllaaaaa! The goggles, they do nothing!

Every aspiring actor wants to be Marlon Brando. This role would be perfect for our boy Jamal. I know it’s intmidating, but if he wants, he can pop over to Errol HQ to run lines and practice the infamous soaking wet white t-shirt scene. Intern John John, fetch the hose!

But if he wants to start small, I’ve come up with the perfect compromise. Stick to what he knows. ie: being pigtailed and adorable.

That pirate hat is absolute killer.

In other God-footy-is-hilarious-like-no-other-sport news, the Sunday Herald tells me Daine Laurie and Willie Mason are in the midst of a feud. WE LOVE FOOTY FEUDS. They are so … biblical. And by the sounds of it, this one is an absolute doozy.

Recently described by the ABC as a “rugby league vagrant” (HAHAHA), Willie has been having a bad time of it lately. It’s made him bitchy like woah and apparently he’s been blabbing all over town that D.Laurs is a ‘poor excuse for a footballer’ and ‘a drunk’. Unsuprisingly, Daine took to this news rather negatively.

He told the Herald : “Tell Willie Mason when I see him, I’m going to slap him in the face”.

OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD FROM AWESOME. I know it’s only Febuary, but hot damn this is easily the best league quote of the year.

Now I don’t like to boast (that’s a lie), but as always, Errol is ahead of the curve. Cultural zeitgeists you say? Oh, I agree. Way back in 2008, we spotted Daine Laurie as a slapping extraordinaire. Not just any old slap, but a BITCH slap. You heard it here first.

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off-season update: a lil bit of lowes and the broncos olympics

December 9th, 2009

Talk about some slack blogging, kittens. How long has it been since we wrote anything? More importantly, how long has it been since there was football on? We are not coping well with the lack of footy in our lives.

The only thing that’s keeping me from weeping uncontrollably about the whole thing is that I am currently too exhausted/dehydrated/generally beat down by the festive season to muster up tears. I’m dessicated Sassy right now. With the amount of Christmas parties with open bars and ‘OMG WE NEED TO CATCH UP BEFORE CHRISTMAS’ pub-trips and beers while we’re watching Danny Green fight and Fleetwood Mac concerts I seriously do not have that much moisture in me.

I also haven’t cleaned my house, or managed to face the grocery store in about two weeks, so I am basically living on things in tins I find in the pantry, and amongst several gigantic piles of clothes that look a lot like some kind of hurricane relief drive. HEEEELP! See what happens when there is no footy? I lose my damn mind and need to be rescued by either my mother or the Red Cross.

But do you know what made me feel better? Someone helpfully pointed out this week that Lowes have their new season ad images up on their website. We all know what that means …. FOOTY PLAYERS IN NORMAL PEOPLE CLOTHES. It’s my favourite thing! It’s like when you see Venus Williams in an evening dress. It’s strange and unusual and special like an eclipse, or a unicorn.

And my favourite new picture of all is of Scotty Prince being a dapper and amazing business man:

Scotty auditions for the Wall Street sequel.

Considering that I am currently living in my own festive season filth and have about eight baskets full of dirty laundry, I am considering taking his advice and heading down to just buy myself a whole new wardrobe. I think we all know that living out of my remaining clean clothes just isn’t working. Yesterday I had to dress as some kind of 1970s housewife because all I had left that was vaguely wearable was a selection of rainbow-coloured sundresses.

And while I’ve been living in a state of permanent hot chip and free beer hangover, the NRL boys have also been busy. In Todd Carney and Jason Ryles’ cases, busy freaking me out. Sure I knew they were coming to my team the Chooks, but actually seeing them in Roosters merchandise is unnerving like woah. I felt equally weird the first time I saw Anthony Tupou as a shark. IT’S WEIRD AND WRONG AND I DON’T LIKE IT, ONE BIT.

I’m not even kidding you when I say I find this picture of Jason Ryles:

Jason and Stuart use their pocket flashlight to search for their missing dignity.

MORE normal than this:

He actually makes a kinda reliable looking security guard, don’t you think? And Todd Carney, for his part, makes a really really good pattycake partner. Mitchell Pearce told me so.

Up in Queensland, whenever they manage to find time out from their hectic schedule of electoral scandal and debating whether daylight savings fades curtains, the Broncos have been busy busting their guts to get super-fit for the 2010 NRL season.

They do this by staging some kind of …. Broncos Olympics? That’s totally Denan Kemp and Peter Wallace practising long jump, right? Whatever. All I know is that I really love Peter Wallace’s zinc nose. It’s very Michael Hussey. It’s also an excellent example to young rangas everywhere … SUN SAFETY IS COOL, KIDS!


Some of the boys struggle with the concept of ‘hurdles’

I also like to think that Israel Folau has really settled in with the Brisbane team. Like maybe in the early days he had a few teething problems. He’s sort of a baby still as footy players go, maybe he played up a little, ran off at training when he saw something shiny or a dog passing by, had trouble concentrating. But since they put him on a lead, little Izzy has really stepped back into line.

If you can keep him in the one place long enough, Izzy’s quite the good listener.


.. he just needs a hand-holding partner when the team walks anywhere or crosses roads. His road safety still needs some work.

And in a lil round up of the rest of the NRL teams, the Tigers boys are being cheeseballs over on Tigers TV (I don’t know that Steve Folkes would approve of this break from training, just quietly):

Justin Poore now has HAIR! Must be because he’s at Parramatta now, far far away from Ben Hornby and his Hornbag Clippers of Doom:

And, possibly inspired by Todd Carney, John Sutton spent Rabbitohs training week in Coffs Harbour playing pattycake with dolphins:

Pic. Frank Wedward

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go eat a tin of corn kernels. Till next time, darlings.

All other pics via the awesome BS and his blog, and Getty Images.

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