sassy’s grand final wrap-up: only one errol can win

October 5th, 2010

I won’t lie, there was a point – about 15 minutes into the second half of the grand final – where I cried. Not snotty Marley and Me-type crying. It was more a general Brett Morris-esque welling. I promised Kiki before the game that I wouldn’t weep, and I was determined to keep my promise. I’m nothing if not really petty and really stubborn.


By that point, all was lost and I knew it and it was heartbreaking. More than once I wished I was watching the game at home so at least I’d be able to listen to Rabs Warren commentate. His voice is just really comforting, and boy did I need comfort. Then Flossy Nightingale scored his second try and I got beer all done the back of my 2009 wooden-spoon jersey from over-excited Dragons fans and the sheer cold shock of being covered in mid-strength beer (they were fresh ones) snapped me back from the crying abyss.

So here’s how the game went down from our seats in the stratosphere.

The view from our seats: I should’ve known this was a bad omen.

SO MANY DRAGONS FANS. Those bitches was everywhere! And who was surprised? After last year, they had to Believe. Their team just had to transfer their skills into the finals series. On the other hand, as a Roosters fan, there’s a reason I didn’t have tickets: Because I’m not insane. I’m only that much of an optimist when I’m drunk or take a knock to the head.

I was expecting maybe … seventh or eighth for my boys. Knocked out first or second round of the finals at best. You know, something respectable, but not excessive. Something to inspire them to keep going for next year. Little did I know that Brian Smith – teeny tiny Smithy of the soothing voice and the dry, dry jokes – was a Rooster-whisperer and my team would start pulling Tigers-2005-style wins off as the season went on. It was like coming out of a hellish breakup (also knownas 2009) fat, acne-covered and depressed, and all of a sudden realising you’ve met the most perfect guy EVER. I was shocked and amazed and delighted.

Is it sad that I’m comparing my footy team to a boyfriend? Probably. But considering I spend Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights with football, it’s pretty accurate.

In the end, it turned out the 2010 Roosters/my new boyfriend weren’t going to have the whole fairytale package. They lost the grand final/he snores … but whatever. They made me happy, and I’m proud. And here’s why I think my babies couldn’t pull it off and Kiki’s dragons could.

GRAND FINALS NEED GRAND FINAL PERFORMANCES. I’m looking at you, Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. The Dragons left-side is always their go-to attack side (shout out to Brett Morris for making the Kangaroos side again!) but with Gasnier back they started moving the ball to Flossy on the right wing, and the Roosters were too tired/demoralised to keep him out. Flossy you little gun! We always believed in you! It totally helped that he wore his lucky boots: those black ones that make it look like he’s a little kid who forgot his boots and had to play in school shoes. Maybe he could get sponsored by Clarks?

Truthfully, we thought he’d take the Churchill medal, but it turns out Joyce still really loves fullbacks (remember her lolz quotes about Billy Slater?), and I’m pretty sure Flossy doesn’t give a shit anyway cause he’s a grand final-winner.

Instead, we got to see Darius Boyd give one of the most unintentionally nerdy speeches ever when he accepted the Clive Churchill. It started with him standing around awkwardly and yelling ‘WOOO!’ and ended with him saying “now let’s go party!” like an American frat boy. Oh, Darius. It was an appropriate speech to hear when the Whitest Team in the NRL had just won a grand final.

Darius bringin cool back to the locker room whut whut

(For the record, not saying they’re white supremacists n stuff, just that they’re literally WHITE. B.Moz, Hornbag, Benny Creagh, you see where I’m going. There’s a lot of milk in the Dragons fridge and not much coffee).

WHAT’S THAT WAYNE BENNETT QUOTE ABOUT A CHAMPION TEAM NOT A TEAM OF CHAMPIONS? Cause yeah … that. I thought Floss was the best on the field and the most improved on the field but I wouldn’t fault any of the others, bar a few rain-related mistakes. Dean Young killed it. Jeremy Smith killed it, while looking like even more of a complete babe than usual.

Exhibit A. Dean Young congratulates Jeremy Smith on winning a non-tainted premiership and being a dirty spunk.

Weyman killed it, while he was on the field. Which reminds me, I refuse to believe Daniel Conn came in with a swinging arm until I see it. I also plan to never watch the replay, so Daniel Conn is innocent. The end. QED.

And lastly, TWO HOOKERS ARE BETTER THAN ONE. At least that’s what Charlie Sheen says. Boom tish! With the beauty of hindsight, 80 minutes of Jake Friend was no match for Dean Young and Nathan Fien. They were too sharp and speedy and his defence got too soft. Sad but true. I wouldn’t say any of my boys had shockers. They just didn’t bring the spark: they were a six when – at times this year – they’ve been a nine. Two words: next year.


Wanna know WHAT WE DID?

The UDL really brings out Yassy’s classy side.

Through a massive stroke of luck, we had tickets to the game, and the always fabulous Yasmin came with us, even though her two favourite players Moonie Vanoodie and Jarrod Yee-Hah weren’t playing. It probably helped that she has dirty crushes on Todd Carney and Ben Creagh, though. She sat between us, and even let me lay my head on her shoulder in despair in the second half. Usually she doesn’t much care for being touched, so thank you Yas!

After the game, while the Indian Roosters fan in front of us openly wept and was consoled by his girlfriend, we decided the best way to celebrate Kiki’s win, drown my sorrows and avoid train queues was to head to the Olympic Park pub and drink UDLs and dance to a covers band. Nothing cures sadness like dancing to Footloose and some comforting hugs from random Roosters fans and kindly Dragons while Kiki can-can dances around the pub. The general theme of the night from Drags fans was: BUT YOU GUYS DID SO WELL THIS YEAR! CONGRATULATIONS!

Kiki’s Grand Final headpiece (she made it herself!) both entertained and confused drunk people.

Next stop: The Beach Road Hotel for Kiki to gloat at Roosters fans. The only problem was that everyone there was so pissed they thought she was wearing Roosters colours.

And lastly: a drink and a pizza with our mate Shorto from the Jacksonville Axemen. Love you Shorto! Say hi to your dad for us!

I can’t express how much I adore every single Rooster for rebuilding us back into a team to be proud of this year. They finished second but it’s not enough of a reward for everything they did. All I can say is that seeing this broke my heart. It hurt even more than seeing Fitzy leave for the English Super League with a wooden spoon and a 16-point loss to the Cowboys, urgh.

And just as I was about to fume about Mark Gasnier sailing back in to get a Premiership ring, he stepped in to comfort Frank-Paul the Wrecking Ball:

Two words: NEXT YEAR. Next year, my darlings.

All pics: Getty Images


dragons + eels + ass = awesome

September 4th, 2008

So yeh, it’s Wednesday and I am only just now writing my weekend recap. People have been hassling my ass since Saturday night to write about the Dragons. CALM DOWN BITCHES! I know Errol is your crack but Aunty Kiki has got Things To Do. Like spending 20 minutes in the deli section at Woolworths trying to decide what sort of cheese to get (I went with Jarlsberg if you’re wondering) and watching Law and Order SVU repeats while I organise my nailpolish by season. Everyone knows you can’t rock black nails past August and I like to be prepared. OKAY?

Dad and I decided it was worth the trek to ANZ Stadium to watch our Dragons in action. Turned out to be totally worth it. What a cracker of a game! More a thrashing than a cracker but whatevs. My babies breathed fire and burnt those Eels to a crisp. Oh yeh!


Let’s break things down shall we?

1) I spent the entire game yelling things like GO HOT BITCH! And GOOD BOY FLOSSY! EXCELLENT WORK! People kept shooting me glares of death and confusion. It had me perplexed. Until I realised not everyone in the world reads Errol. Poor unfortunate souls, living their whole lives without Knowing our genius. I will not rest until I hear Rabs saying things like “and that’s a beautiful try from Hot Bitch Cooper”. Then Gus chimes in with “set up by a maaaagical offload from Flossy Nightingale”. WILL.NOT.REST.

2) The dackings. Oh, the dackings. Obviously my eyes are always a) on the ball and b) on the ass. I’m a woman, I can multitask. Theres alot of subtle arse crack flashing in league, but Saturday night was a deadset Assathon. ASSATHON O8! I said out loud OH THE GAYS ARE GONNA LOVE THIS, much to the distaste of the old men sitting next to me. There were four separate dackings. It must be a record. FOUR! Three to Josh Morris, one to Jarryd Hayne.

Dedicated journalists posess a great attention to detail. They go to painstaking efforts to bring you all the facts. No half assed (heheh assed) reporting for me. So with no further ado I bring to you, in an Errol exclusive, not one..not even three…but ALL FOUR dackings!










Oh yeh, I’m gonna win a Walkley for this shit.

3) Now lets move from gratutious nudity to heart warming fuzziness. Kiddies, I shed an actual tear the other night. Let me make this clear, I am not a particularly emotional person. Well not for a girl. Everyone I know thinks I’m a man trapped in a womans body. Or as my best mate so eloquently put it “I love you because you’re like a guy….but with tits!”. Nice.

I have an aversion to public weeping but oh my god those Dragons bastards, they killed me. KILLED ME! First of all they bring out groups of tiny kids to sit on tiny tiny chairs while giant Dragons players read them books. Apparently the Dragons are involved in some sort of reading program. The sight of a hulking forward perched on a teeny little chair whilst animatedly reading a childrens book got me right in the ovaries.


THEN, in my softened up state, the bastards play a farewell montage dedicated to Brownie, Gaz, Ryles and McGregor. I’m talking slow-mo footage, sad music, the whole works. AND I CRIED. In public! I AM SO EMBARRASSED.

4) I’m not gonna lie, watching Big Dell score a hat trick was one of my Best Footy Moments to date. Another was when Michael Devere had a giant gash in his head put back together with a staple gun on the sideline during State of Origin. AMAZING. Everytime Dell even looked like getting the ball the crowd just lost their minds. Only Dell could create actual atmosphere inside that stadium.


When he grabbed that intercept and scored in the middle of the posts I may or may not stood up and yelled GO YOU GOOD THING, pumped my fist and then knocked over my entire drink. It really is a mystery why I’m single. Such grace, such elegance.

Meanwhile my Dad has a total mancrush on Dell. He talked about him literally the entire game. Yeh yeh, I get it Dad…the man is an amazing athlete.

5) Speaking of mancrushes, I am sensing the formation of some serious Man Love within the Dragons. For years Hot Bitch Cooper and Gaz were the faux couple of the red and white. But things have changed. Gaz is leaving. Leaving his love behind. Since his announcement I’ve been truly worried about Hot Bitch and his obviously broken heart. Well I can worry no more!

In the middle of the game I get a text from Sassy saying “I think Hot Bitch is moving on. Look at the way he’s smiling at Dell. It’s LOVE Kiki!”.

And she’s right. It was a beautiful sight. I haven’t seen Hot Bitch smile like that in MONTHS. Coops doesn’t need you any more Gaz! All he needs is the Big Dell. Together they are side by side on the piano keyboard, living together in perfect haaaaarmony.


And oh the joys that Dell has ahead of him. Like a romantical evening on the harbour with an underweared Hot Bitch.

klkCosmopolitan Magazine

I hope they don’t mind if I join them. And by ‘join them’ I mean putter along behind their cruiser in a tinny, looking through binoculars and yelling HOT BITCH PLEASE LIVE IN MY PANTS. It’s gonna be great.

(Assathon pics from the lovely Artie at FM forums and our fave blog)



sunday fun in the sun – dragons vs warriors

August 27th, 2008

I was supposed to go to this game. For once in my life I was home before 3am, wanting to get a good nights sleep before the drive down to the Gong. I drank a litre of water and ate some healthful vegemite toast. Okay that’s a lie. I made the cabbie take me through Maccas drive thru and I had two cheeseburgers, large fries and a giant coke before I fell asleep on the lounge watching the Crime Channel. But! HOME BEFORE 3AM PEOPLE! This is how much I love my Dragons.

I woke up the next day all bright eyed and bushy tailed and Ready To Go. No crippling hangover to weather! I felt so…. unnauseated. Is this what normal people feel like every weekend? Amazing. Just as I was deciding which Dragons merchandise to put on, my Dad announces he feels sick and we are no longer going. And yes I do go to the football with my father, don’t judge me…he buys the beers.

So, disappointed and a bit pissed off I wasted valuable early morning drinking hours, I settle in to watch the game. My my WIN Stadium looks pretty today. It’s Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper’s favourite stadium. True story! I’ve decided more footy stadiums need ocean views. It’s just so damn pretty. I am a scenery bandit, what can I say? I just love a beautiful vista!


The game kicks off and I am immediately grateful for Dad’s mysterious illness. THERE ARE SEAGULLS EVERYWHERE! ARRRRGH! FLAPPING THEIR GIANT WINGS OF FILTH! They aren’t of normal size. Or even birds. Those are freakin pterodactyls! I have a Serious bird phobia. It’s not one of those manufactured idiosyncrasies that lame people invent in an attempt to give themselves some sort of personality. Oh no. Everytime one flaps by I get shivers down my spine and scream bloody murder. Give me a snake any day.

When I was in Year 4 I was forced to work in the school aviary and I got BIRD LICE. Bird lice!! Who gets bird lice? It’s so…..ye olde times. Like I contracted it en route to Van Diemens Land as punishment for stealing a loaf of bread from Lord Dudley of Englishtown.Errr…where we we? The football? Right. First things first, seemingly at my request, Ben ‘Hornbag’ Hornby has finally relinquished his hair clippers of doom and let his hair grow to a normal length. Yes Hornbag YES! This is good! I also notice Stuart Webb has taken time out from his humiliating TV appearances to play in the number 9 jersey today.


9 minutes in, Fein punts a beautiful kick into the in goal which Big Dell easily cleans up. He is all over the high ball isn’t he? Brent Tate attempts to tackle Dell and ends up with an elbow of granite to the throat, temporarily crushing his windpipe. He lies on the ground rolling around attempting to breathe. My bloodlust gets the better of me and I stifle a laugh. Bet he’ll never try to tackle Dell like that again. AH-HAH!

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I notice Wade McKinnon looks quite fetching in his Ruben Wiki Tribute Beard. He was never attractive before, was he? Well he is now. The mysterious power of the beard! Everyone thought Our Davey Williams was a lone bearded nutter, but bitch knows whats up. The commentators discuss ‘the Warriors beard mystery’ and wonder what the deal is. UM. I THOUGHT EVERYONE KNEW. We have known for weeks! Silly boys. Too busy concentrating on insignificant things like rules and statistics to pay attention to the REALLY important things like players facial hair. GOD! Clearly they need us. Call me Gus?

olkjSandra Mu/ Getty Images

Apparently Wade’s beard has migrated to other parts of his body, forming some sort of hair suit. I think I like it.

Rabs announces Jerome Ropati ‘goes in and nails his man’ and I giggle. Hehehe…nails his man. It’s funny coz it’s homoerotic. The crowd roars every time Big Dell gets the ball. The man is a bulldozer on legs! Dozin the bulls! Solomana is nothing but a speedbump. Aaaah I love watching Dell play. After much pestering from me, Intern Brownie finally let him play two weeks in a row. SEE BROWNIE! I TOLD YOU HE WAS AWESOME!

The Dragons attack is looking confident. Lots of short sharp passing. I like this boys. Their confidence pays off when Hot Bitch steams through and scores an awesome try in the 18th minute. Set up by Hornbag, scored by Hot Bitch! My babies! I rub my eyes in disbelief…is that Hot Bitch smiling? EMOTING? He seems different. Cocky even. I check with my pants and they approve of this new development. Gus seems to have developed a bit of a crush too. He describes him as a ‘big powerful man’ and announces that Coops should watch video of that try every night before he goes to sleep.

What a coincidence! I too watch videos of Hot Bitch Cooper every night before I ‘go to bed’. I have a whole collection in fact. My favourite is ‘Wet, Dirty and In White – Volume 3’. It’s a classic.


Gaz easily converts the try. It’s 6-0.

The commentators crack my shit up by discussing the heinousness of Brent Tate’s pitiful ginger beard. Rabs moans something like ‘ooooh those metres taste gooood’. That’s pervy right? It’s not just me? Okay…maybe it’s just me. The Dragons attacking brilliance continues and Joshie Morris scores a cracker of a try. I rejoice then cry silent tears. DON’T LEAVE US JOSHIE! My heart can’t take losing one of my twinnies. I won’t stand for it. Next year I am going to sneak into dogs territory, kidnap Josh and bring him back home to the Dragons. Plus it will give me an excuse to wear that fierce cat burglar outfit I’ve been saving. Sweet.


Rabs informs us it’s Josh’s birthday today. AND! He then helpfully announces its his identical twin Brett’s birthday too. AMAZING! Twins sharing a birthday, what’s next? Me pashing inappropriate people? Oh Rabs, I could not love you more. Gaz misses the conversion. It’s 10 nil.

I notice Logan Swann has one of the greatest names in rugby league. It’s so delightfully soap star. I can imagine him heroically rescuing me from a warehouse fire only to be poisoned into a coma by his meglomaniac uncle (who is also secretly his father). He is now in direct competition with Beau Champion and Ray Cashmere in the names-to-envy stakes.

26 minutes and the Warriors go in for a try via a Ropira offload to a speedy McKinnon. Witt’s conversion is successful. 33 minutes and Hot Bitch goes in for another try. WOOOO! He smiles…again. Twice in one game. This in unheard of.

My joy quickly turns into rage when I realise Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale is lying prone on the ground thanks to a nasty (and unecessary) shoulder from McKinnon. My heart leaps out of my chest. THAT BASTARD! No one hurts my Flossy! I take back all the nice things I said about you Wade. Also, maybe if you were concentrating on making a proper tackle and not just hurting someone you woulda you know….saved the try. I like Flossy at fullback. He returns the ball from kicks with such enthusiasm. Like a labrador playing fetch in someones backyard. It’s bloody adorable.

ohoihLeague HQ

Gaz converts. We go halftime at 16-6.

My phone rings. It’s a video call from newly minted Intern John-John Williams! He tells me he is still so!excited! about his promotion from work experience boy to intern. The paper captain hat has been on for two days now. Baby is so thrilled about his new workplace opportunities that he serenades me Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5. I love it when John-John does half time entertainment.


Annnnnd we’re back!

Nothing of much note happens until Dean Young goes in for a try at the 56th minute. Go Youngy! I am not an arse connoisseur, but The Gays tell me Dean Young has ‘the perfect arse’. Let’s examine this claim further.


Okay yes, that is pretty damn nice. Good for you Dean…a try AND a great arse. What more could a boy want? Gaz converts. Damn he is having a good game today. It galls me. I kinda wish he was all useless and crap so I could feel okay about him leaving. SIGGGH.

At some point Hot Bitch Cooper goes down with an apparent groin injury. Rabs announces it’s definitely the groin because ‘lets just say he didn’t let the trainer rub it’. OH GOD THIS IS TOO EASY. I don’t even have to make the joke. I will however say that this is yet another reason why female trainers are needed. I nominate myself. Obviously for the pervy groin rubbing reasons, but also because I am good with blood, injuries and grossness. As long as they don’t vomit. Then they’re on their own.

Someone called Matalina lands an absolutely massive hit on my Hornbag. For the second time today my heart leaps out of my chest. NOT MY HORNBAG! As usual, Benny gets right back up. No milking penalties for my boy. He might look innocuous but bitch is tough as nails.

66 minutes, Gaz pulls off a brilliant offload and sends Joshie Morris in for his second try. Successful conversion, its 22-6. The Warriors try alot of things but nothing seems to stick. 72 minutes and Gaz further annoys me with his awesomeness by passing a freakish flick pass to a flying Flossy, who scores easily under the posts. Complete with a full (and unecessary) commando roll accessorised by a giant goofy smile. Aaaah he really is labrador. Can’t you just imagine him wearing a jaunty red bandanna?


Gaz converts and its 34-6. Bloody Gasnier and his magic. I shake my fist at the TV.

As the game winds down Big Dell gives us yet another reason to adore him. After running across field to assist his team mates in mongreling a Warrior into touch he bends down to help him up. AAAH! Only in rugby league. Gus announces it’s stuff like this that makes it a ‘great game’. And that we will survive no matter what. Sing it Gloria!



maaaaaad monday!

July 22nd, 2008

So as I said previously, I am not going to recap this game. However, too much awesome dramaaaz occured for me to ignore it completely.

First of all, let us talk about my boys sporting a pink V. Oh, they looked so LOVELY. Just lovely. The pink V has magical powers because one look at Gasnier in his and the palpable rage I feel for him quickly dissipated.

I did however notice he was a total man island in the changeroom. Everyone was totally ignoring him, even his former husband Hot Bitch Cooper. THEY BE PISSED AT YOU GAZ. By the way, Hornbag is totally Unimpressed by your contributions to the proceedings.

Now lets talk about Hot Bitch in his pink V. Ooooooh mama. On anyone else, pink seems to subdue masculinity, softening it into something benevolent and approachable. Not our Hot Bitch. The juxtaposition of pink on a man stallion of Cooper’s calibre was something quite remarkable. The pink somehow managed to make him seem more virile. I didn’t know that was even possible, but it is. He prowled that field like a lion in the savannah. All rippling muscles, manly potency and carefully controlled aggression. Lets not even talk about when it STARTED TO RAIN. It made my pink V really really happy. See what I did there? Made a dirty joke! Because Pink V is a metaphor for vagina. GET IT?

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Okay lets talk about Mick Crocker. Forget headgear, the man needs to invest in a helmet for game days. He is way beyond modern aerodynamic cycling helmets. Mick has suffered so many brain injuries he needs help from the 1980s. Bitch needs a Stack Hat.

While we are talking about Crocker’s head, lets discuss what in Gods name is up with his hair. There is alot of balding men in the NRL, but Crocker doesn’t fit easily into that category. I don’t even think he’s balding. This is an entire new strain of hair weirdness. I have never seen hair like his on another man. Ever ever ever. Let us carefully and professionally examine this oddity –

There is only one conclusion. He suffers from chronic hair thinness and has sought to rectify the situation by using hair in a can. Thankyou Jerome Russell! Sorry Mick baby, but you’re gonna have to surrender your hair to airport security when you leave for England in 09. You know full well aerosols aren’t permitted on international flights.

Ryles getting sent off. Oh dear, Gavin Badger…you really are a twat of epic proportions aren’t you? Referee boss Robert Finch has already come out and said you were wrong, so lucky for you I am going to skip chastising you for now. Thank your lucky stars because I was totally gonna hurt you with my words of poison. Poison words!

Okay, so onto the fight. FIIIIIIIGGGGHT! I love fights. I love how quickly a civilised, professional game of rugby league can descend into mob violence. It makes me happy in my soul. And last nite was an absolute doozy. This shit was Origin worthy. It even had stages, three of them. The whole thing still seems surreal to me. Out of all the people to be involved in biff I cannot believe that it involved Tiny Dancer Soward, Flossy Nightingale and Billy I-Love-Pony-Club Slater. REALLY? You guys? REALLLY??

The best thing about this fight was the fact that PonyClub Slater rushed in from across the field to defend his boyfriend Cooper Cronk. Ain’t nobody be messin with my maaaans! (In my mind he’s a ghettofied black woman). Yes Billy, god forbid the tiny tiny Jamie Soward object to your boyfriend being a dirty little niggler. OH NOES!

You know Billy spent the whole time in the sin bin filing his ghetto nails and combing his fierce weave. Trust.

The second best thing about this dramaz is the way Hot Bitch Cooper stepped in and tried to break it up. Oh, that Coops, hes so measured in his responses. No flying off the handle for this perfect specicmen of a man. Oh no. Together with Hornbag he calmly and steadily grabbed players and steered them away from the fracas. And they obeyed him. Who wouldn’t?

My league loving friend Alex (hi boofhead!) sent me a text saying something like “look at Cooper breaking up the fight. He has such….presence”. Yeh, thats totally straight man code for I WOULD BEND OVER FOR MATT COOPER. It’s okay Alex, we all would.

(The magnificence above is thanks to our new account at Getty Images. I don’t want even want to say how much we paid for it. Lets just say when I turn it into a doona cover it will be totally worth it.)


au revoir gasnier…

July 17th, 2008

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Right, so….obviously I have Alot of Feelings regarding le drame de Gasnier. Mostly angry ones. I think. God, I don’t even know anymore. Thing is, I’ve been trying to write this post for the past few days but keep changing my mind about how I feel. Monsieur Gasnier has deadset turned me bipolar. Now he’s flush with euros he better be paying my therapy bills or I’m gonna be putting my suing pants on ASAP.

When it first came out that Gaz might be going to France, I was utterly devastated. I’m not gonna lie, I may have cried an actual tear. Don’t judge me you assholes. It’s just that I have always adored him, even during the whole sauce squirting scandal. I mean come on who hasn’t drunkenly left a sexually explicit message on an acquaintances voicemail? I do it at least 3.5 times a year.

I even have a Gasnier doll (or ‘action figure’…whatever, its a doll) that I enjoy posing in homoerotic positions with my Captain Jack Harkness doll on my kitchen bench.

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But sadly for Gaz + Jack, things have changed. They can’t be a hot plastic couple any more. You see, I can no longer bear to look at plastic Gaz so he has been unceremoniously removed. Banished, if you will. Did you even THINK of Captain Jack when you decided to leave league Gaz? HMMM?? So selfish, so completely and utterly SELFISH.

Okay, lets be Serious for a minute. After much emotional turmoil I have finally accepted that Gasnier is leaving the Dragons. I am okay with that. I understand he likes money and he wasn’t getting enough of it. He got ripped off, it was unfair and he has every right to look elsewhere for a better deal. That’s the rational conclusion and everyone who thinks otherwise is histronic and spiteful right? I dunno.

Alot of people have been accused of being overly emotional in their reactions towards this saga. These are fans, Dragons and non Dragons fans alike who feel cheated, betrayed and frankly really pissed off. And you know what? I totally get that.

Fact is, no matter how much we wanna put our Logical Business Hats on, when it comes down to it rugby league IS emotional. All sport is. If not for emotion, then why do we watch? Why do we tune in every week? What else to gain but emotions….happiness, elation, sorrow and frustration. Some fans wear a cloak of jaded cynicism and who-gives-a-shitness but fact is, deep down we ALL give a shit. Quite frankly, Gasnier leaving our game hurts like a motherfucker.

There are alot of issues that have beeen brought to the surface thanks to the Gaz drama. I’m not going to examine them because I highly doubt people visit Errol for in depth league analysis. Suffice to say there is a hell of alot wrong with the NRL, and shit needs to be fixed immediately before we die a slow horrible death.

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I have to say though, although I bear Gasnier no ill will…I simply cannot believe they have made him captain for the rest of the year. It defies comprehension. The boys had played smoothly and victoriously without him for 7 weeks, he comes back last week and they lose their shit. Hot Bitch Cooper barely emotes (at least in public) but my god last Sunday he was PISSED. He literally radiated rage. You can’t tell me Gaz’s return and Hot Bitch’s hostility aren’t somehow related.

And look at Brett in that photo…could he look LESS concerned about his captain? Photos dont lie babies!

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Also, the Tazos thing? REALLY?? People already wanna punch you in the face and you go and say this Gaz??

“….but is it fair when it comes to stuff like footy cards? I’m happy to say those Tazo cards for instance, I’d love to know their sales – we get $1000. Is that fair?

“Not attacking the [Daily]Telegraph, but I’d like to know what you guys made off them footy cards that you buy two bucks a pack with the thing. Do the players get any of that? No. Little things…”

Oh honey no, just no. Are you sharing a publicist with Sonny Bill Feelings now or something? Bad bad BAD.

The only thing more tragic than a talent like Gasnier not only leaving my club, but the game I love is the fact the Morris twins are going to be separated. This absolutely breaks my heart. I adore my twinsies, their cuteness makes my ovaries twinge. Separately they are great players, but together they are magical. We have already seen a few amazing twintastic tries this year, one could imagine thats just the beginning for those two.

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Well, it would have been if Gasnier had have made his mind up earlier. Sadly, Joshie is off to the Dogs. Separated from his twin, his home and his beloved club. Obviously we can’t blame Gaz entirely, but there is definitely a causal link.

This isn’t just me being a drama queen either, the twins father (and Dragons legend) today admitted to being totally torn up over the situation.

“I’m so disappointed,” Morris said. “I’ve been disappointed for three months that they’ve let him go. I’m absolutely shattered. The poor kid had no alternative.

“After he signed on [with the Bulldogs], I was in tears the first game he played, against the Roosters … It’s a real shame. They lost a centre and they’re going to have to buy another centre next year. If they’d known what was going on, I’m sure they wouldn’t have let him go.”


The only brightspot in this festival of sad is that the twins can stay together on some level. As our readers know, I have nicknamed my boosies ‘The Morris Twins’. So while the twins may no longer be together on the field, they will always be together in my bra. Sleep tight kids.



May 22nd, 2008

Can you guys smell that?? It’s the unmistakable aroma of dead canetoad! Squished, pathetic and utterly humilated. Oh yeaaaah.

Ah, success is sweet. It was especially sweet because not only did the boys in blue absolutely spank the Maroons, they did it in a way that made Jonathan Thurston cry. Yes people, he actually cried, I totally saw it. Thankyou lockeroom-cam! In the past I thought that camera was good for nothing more than broadcasting players in their underpants (something I mostly enjoy) but last night it revealed a whole new purpose.

Once again I shall present my thoughts in point form. Let us begin!

* I’m sorry Gaz! I take it all back! I was PMSing I’m sorrrryyy! I am so embarrisingly fickle. One look at him in that beautiful blue jersey and I was all gooey again. I blame the Channel 9 cameraman who zoomed in for an amazing close up of those earnest blue eyes during the national anthem. That’s just not fair. How can i stay mad at him? Anyway he played a blinder, had a hand in a few tries and broke the line like no other. PLEASE DON’T LEAVE US GAZ! I’m gonna hunt him down, grab onto his ankle and just not let go. If he wants to go to France he has to literally drag me along behind him. I’m a woman with a plan.

* Karmichael Hunt did you have a busy afternoon or something?? Couldn’t squeeze in those 5 minutes it takes to have a shave? There are very few men in the world who can pull off casually rugged stubble, and you my dear are not one of them. Sassy pointed out that it looked like you chopped off a chunk of Sam Thaidays hair and glued it onto your face willy nilly. And shes right. Poor form K.Hunt!

* The Blue Wall. I haven’t seen defence that strong in a long time. They just wanted it. Everytime Queensland looked dangerous they shut them down without even looking flustered. Keep doing that boys.

* QUINN FOR THE WIN! Quinn is my mothers maiden name therefore I am claiming Quinny as my relative. Was remarkable in attack (hello two tries on debut) and even greater in defence. That tackle on Billy Slater made me feel funny in my special area. And yes I do get a tiny bit turned on by great tackles, stop judging me.

* I think Carl Webb has ‘I Love Queensland’ tattooed on his neck. Seriously. That joke just writes itself doesn’t it? Thanks Carl.

* No Neck Slater managed to screw up two passes to the right. Sassy and I believe it’s because his chin is fused to his shoulders therefore severely limiting his range of motion. It’s just science.

* JARRYD-WITH-A-Y! Oh baby you did so well! I am ever so proud. The selectors totally read my blog and thats why they picked you. You can thank me by snuggling me while wearing a fleecy hoodie. And I’ll stroke your hair and tell you you’re pretty and then we can share an icecream. Um…anyway. Jarryd-with-a-Y was fabulous last night. Very strong in defence and was flawless when returning the ball out of the in goal. He was so…reliable. Reliable isn’t a word I thought I would use regarding Jarryd but there ya go. Reliable and snuggly.

* Fitzgibbon you battleaxe! I’m so glad they gave him a run last night. Although the weak conversion rate caused much nerves in my household. He redeemed himself by playing on with blood dripping into his eye and the fact he refers to himself as an ‘old boiler’. HEART.

* How ugly is the colour maroon? I mean really. Out of all the colours in the spectrum the banana benders picked maroon. Its basically red that got shit in it.That’s all I need to know about them. It’s bad enough on a uniform but how utterly heinous were the coaching outfits?? VOM! In stark contrast, Bellamy and his entourage looked effortlessly chic in their royal blue schoolboy ensembles. Anna Wintour would totally approve.

* I would like to extend a huge thankyou to Dallas Johnson for providing the biggest laughs of the night. More specficially I would like to thank Big Willie’s giant kneecap for knocking Dallas out so he could subsequently bring the lolz. I don’t usually laugh at concussion, but theres something about the sight of a Maroon violently face planting the turf that makes me giggle like a school girl. An evil, bloodthirsty schoolgirl. Even better than the actual head-to-knee clash was the way he stumbled off the field like me leaving the Judgy at 5am. Sweet.

*HOT BITCH COOPER! Oh my sweet jesus did he have a blinder or what?? He defended better than any of the ‘passionate’ Queensland forwards. When he came out of nowhere to shoulder Tate into touch I almost fainted from joy. He is becoming more and more of a Hot Bitch as he gets older. He is a raw and powerful man stallion and I love everything about him.

Sterlo, Sassy and myself believed he deserved Man of the Match and he was totally robbed when they gave it to Bird. If it’s any consolation Coops, you will always be Man of the Match in my pants.

Now I’m sure Queensland will come back and win Game 2. But until then..ON YA BIKES MAROONS!


Footy Observations of the Week

May 20th, 2008

This week I was planning on recapping the Roosters v Eels Friday night clash. Sadly it turned out to be one of the most boring games ever (apart from every game the Canberra Raiders have played in since approx 1991. Whatever ever happened to the Green Machine?? Those were good days). Anyway, this game was mind numbingly bad. Even the chookies obsessed Sassy nodded off on the lounge around an hour in. Granted that could have been due to the copious amounts of white wine she consumed that afternoon, but my point still stands.

I did watch my baby Dragons inexplicably beat the Storm but my viewing conditions were more than slightly compromised. I don’t trust myself to do an accurate recap as –

a) I watched it on TV at the greyhound races. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t so much ‘TV’ as much as projected onto a giant piece of fabric hung on the wall.

b) I was under the influence of numerous Tooheys News

c) There was no sound

d) I kept running out periodically to watch the dogs run (I won 28 bucks. I’m pretty much a gambling genius.)

So! This week I am going to share my Footy Observations of the Week….in point form, because I am a literary genius.

* One sleep until Origin! I agree wholeheartedly with everything Sassy said in her brilliant post. I would like to point out that although she is prone to exaggeration (one of her many charms), this time she is entirely accurate. Queenslanders really are self mythologising fantasists.

There was an article in the Herald yesterday wired in from the northern wasteland carefully detailing the training habits of the Maroons. Apparently they are such Geniune Blokes they train in suburban parks next to scrappy gap toothed orphans. Because they are one with the People, salt of the earth and mate…they are just REAL okay?? Unlike those wicked Blues! They have the nerve to train inside a stadium. Sheltering themselves from the People in their fortress of cold steel. Steel and money.

Queenslanders are proud of their obsession with Origin, and the fact they usually sell out every game every year. We Sydneysiders are passionless bastards donchaknow? We don’t care about our team. We are far too busy sipping lattes, discussing property prices and being generally shallow to get to every game, every year. Or maybe, just maybe it’s because in Queenslander going to the footy is the cultural event of the year. And they are far too self obsessed to see this truth. Surely not!

* Sonny Bill is threatening to go to rugby again. Jesus christ this kid is testing my last nerve. Don’t get me wrong, I like watching him play… his shoulder charge is delightfully violent and regularly satisfies my bloodlust. However, bitch needs to make up his mind. He has more mood changes than an unmedicated Britney. Within 10 days he has expressed an urge to be a Strong Leader for the Polynesian kids in rugby league, play State of Origin and to also be captain of the All Blacks. All noble pursuits but Sonny, my love… you can’t have it all.

I know Origin is the greatest competition in the game and you wanna have a go and believe me I would love to see you out there in a blue jumper demolishing Carl Webbs face with your shoulder, but honey listen carefully – you are a New Zealander. You have played for your country, numerous times. You are covered in Polynesian tattoos (they are hot btw, keep doing that) and most importantly you have the strongest Kiwi accent I’ve ever heard. We can’t change the rules just because you waaaaanna plaaaaay. You are acting like a spoilt child and I for one am heartily sick of it. Now just shut up, take your shirt off and go sit in the corner where I can see you. Ah yes, much better.

* Gasnier is also threatening to go to rugby. What the hell is going on with these two?? Isn’t being two of the most highly paid and highly lauded players in the game enough? Shit is getting ridiculous. Now I have always loved Gaz. He has a football pedigree like no other, is the captain of my team and the mighty Red V looks damn good on him. Good and RIGHT. Because he is a GASNIER and is meant to play league. Forever! If he goes to union it will be like a Waugh brother playing baseball. The wrongness is beyond comprehension.

My love for Gaz has been tested this past week. Apparently he wants to go play French union because his Australian sponsors owe him some money and they just wont pay up. I don’t really understand why this means he has to not only leave the Dragons, but leave the code AND the country? Can’t lawyers sought these things out? That’s what they do isn’t it? WHAT IS GOING ON.

The details are all very vague and I’m trying my best not to draw conclusions of him being a soley motivated by cash. However…its damn hard not to think that.

Both Sonny Bill and Gaz are emotionally manipulating their clubs, the game of ruby league and its fans. Yes you guys are immensely talented and valued members of our game, but we can survive without you. Don’t laud your talent over us. Stop pretending like you are doing us a huge favour by staying and gracing us with your presence. If you want to go…JUST GO. For chrissake make a decision and let us have some peace.

Wow, I get a bit emotional don’t I? Yes I am from New South Wales and I feel emotion. Crazy!



The Weekly Recap – Dragons vs Eels

May 11th, 2008

I’ve decided I will recap one game per week. Chosen at my discretion. This week we will be examining the clash between my beloved St George Dragons and the Parramatta Eels. There is a palpable tension between these two clubs. I’m not quite sure why, but I think it might have something to do with the time Trent Barrett (ex Dragon) punched PJ Marsh (Ex Eel) in the head….from behind. It was special.

We start the game with a minutes silence for the late Jack Gibson. RIP old mate.

As the players line up it strikes me just how Caucasian the Dragons are. So many whities! This is becoming a rarity. With the recent influx of Polynesians into the NRL most games are starting to look like Poly Day at Gumnut Cottage.

Speaking of Polynesians, god I love Fui Fui Moi Moi. Yes, that is his real name. Not only does he have the greatest name in rugby league (and possibly the world), he also looks and plays somewhat like a bouncer that wandered off his door, found a Parra jersey and ran onto the field. Any man that makes his living as a professional athlete yet still sports a sizeable gut deserves my adulation. That includes you Mark Riddell and Shane Warne. LOVE!

Hot Bitch Cooper (also known as Matt) has thankfully made his return for the Dragons. Just as I was deciding that he is the only man alive that can carry off a rats tail I notice baby Chase Stanley is also sporting one. THEY ARE CONTAGIOUS! What is going on here boys?? I hate to admit it but Chase’s rattie doesn’t look altogether heinous. Still infinitely better than anything AFL players are sporting. Oh yeh, I went there.

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7 minutes in and Eric Grothe steamrolls over Nighthingale to score a brilliant try. He may play in a cover band called Three Day Grothe (yes really) but damn that boy is attractive and I would like him to live in my pants. Burt converts and Parramatta are up 6-0. The genius that is Ray Warren discusses Joel Reddy’s hair with much consideration – “I like the mop of hair Reddy is wearing, it reminds of the old fashion of Nathan Hindmarsh”. Only Rabs could discuss ‘wearing’ hair like it was a hat. Heart heart.

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Baby Chase looks sure to score a try in the corner but Hayne busts out some brilliant cover defence and denies him. Hayne HAS to play on the wing for NSW this year. Hear that selectors? Sure his form took a slide after some bitches shot at him from the street, but bullets flying past your ears tends to make one a tad nervous. Not everyone has the constitution of Jason Moran. Luckily for league fans everywhere, it looks like his confidence is back. Welcome back Jarryd- with- a- Y, we missed you baby!

Nightingale pulls off the perfect offload. Perfect except for the fact he passed it to the opposition. Nice work Jase! He soon redeems himself by bravely rushing off the line to land a huge tackle on Wagon….only to collect a pointy shoulder in the throat, which momentarily crushes his windpipe. BREAAATHE JASE! BREAAATHE! He’s a fairly small winger by todays standards, but what he lacks in size he makes up for in doggedness. Plus he has dimples. What’s not to like?

31 minutes, Grothe coughs up the ball and the Dragons go in for a try. Hooray! Oh wait, the ref does the dreaded rectange mime. Nooooo! He’s going to the video ref. Shit shit shit. Inexplicably the video ref rules that Hot Bitch Cooper stripped the ball, thus ruling a No Try. It is obvious to anyone with a set of working eyes that the ball simply came loose in the force of the tackle. All the commentators blow up, as do I. THE DRAGONS WERE ROBBED! ROOBBBED! THE VIDEO REF IS RUINING THE GAME!! 2 minutes later Hindmarsh puts Burt in for another Parra try. Burt converts his own try.

34 minutes and Mark ‘Chesty Bond’ Gasnier creates magic out of nothing and unselfishly puts Baby Chase in for try in the corner. This bitch is pure class. Phil Gould announces he is the best centre in the game, and the best he’s ever seen. The ethnically mysterious Jamie Soward sends in a cracker of a kick and converts. We go to half time with Parra leading 12-6.

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I endure endless ads for Jim Beam, Bunnings and Brut and wonder why the advertisers haven’t cottoned onto the fact that women watch footy too. How about an ad for us once in awhile fellas??

The second half kicks off. 45 minute and Soward intercepts a Parra ball and takes off down the field, momentarily losing his footing on the ice rink that is ANZ Stadium. Grothe puts his foot down, steams up the sideline out of nowhere and shuts down Soward. A penalty follows and we get another chance in excellent field position. Soward makes another bust but the Dragons bomb another try in a way that only they can. Nice boys. And by nice I mean frustrating as hell and want to slap you all. Really hard.

51 minutes and Jarryd-with-a-Y goes in for a try. He plays for the opposition but I can’t help but be glad for him. He’s just so damn lovable. Again Burt converts with little effort. Hot Bitch Cooper answers with steaming through the defence and putting Nightingale in for his second try. BRILLIANT! Soward converts and its 18-12. AND WE’RE BAAACK IN THE GAAAAME! Maybe. Come on boys! We can do this!

The Dragons try their 87th charge down of the game and it ends in diaster with them being soundly bundled into touch. Someone called Matt Keating punts a brilliant 40/20 kick for Parramatta putting the Eels in perfect field positon. Brett ‘British Teeth ‘Finch wisely kicks a field goal. I suffer a minor stroke. Apparently the aforementioned tension between the teams has dissipated as we witness Eels Piggy and Hindy having a nice little chat to Dragons forward Jason Ryles…..whilst packing the scrum. There are grins and affectionate head pats for everyone. Back in the day scrums were pits of macho posturing, now they provide a convenient chat break. Excellent.

79 minutes , the boys in red try ANOTHER charge down (i think we know what point Brownie has been hammering in this past week). Hot Bitch Cooper streaks away and scores a magnificent try. Its the rats tail, its aerodynamic i tells ya! Soward converts. But it’s too little, too late. My heart lies in pieces on the floor.

Is it 2009 yet??