monday night recap: cowboys v storm

March 29th, 2011


Welcome darlings! It’s the first game recap of 2011, and it should have happened a lot sooner. It couldn’t though, because for the last three weeks I’ve been living with no internet. NO INTERNET. IN MY HOME. It’s straight-up torture. My flattie and I are thisclose to just giving up on modern life and going full Amish, churning our own butter and marrying dudes called Samuel. Then at least I could wear adorable brightly coloured maxi-skirts like whatever that movie is where Kirstie Alley makes over an Amish community while she’s on the run from the law.

What was my point? Oh yes, it’s the Cowboys v the Storm, it’s in Townsville (meet you in the casino after the game) and it’s raining.

The Fox boys tell us this will be a “clash of two great halfbacks”, which I think we all know means “an 80 minute battle to see who’s the best at bitching out referees”.

Warren says “Jonathan Thurston, what a battle it will be against Cooper Cronk”. Luckily, Waz is not referring to a real battle, because I think we all know that if this was a real battle Cooper Cronk would straight up spear someone in the eye, while JT would be the one at the back, hiding in a haystack weeping, and wearing an enemy uniform underneath his own just in case he’s about to get captured.

We know this because Cooper Cronk is a fierce bitch. And even Craig Bellamy agrees:

See? Fierce! (And thanks to Eliescha for finding it xx)

The game starts with Brian Norrie – or as we like to call him, Johnny Anonymous –  losing the ball, the Storm giving away a penalty, and Cam Smith wearing an elastoplast headband. With his stubble and his headband all diagonal and askew, he looks vaguely like a homeless Vietnam Vet.

When he says ‘spare a dollar’, it means ‘kick a field goal’.
Pic. Getty Images

Billy Slater chases up a Storm kick and tackles Matt Bowen and I am overwhelmed by cuteness. What can I say? I have a weakness for fullbacks on the lower end of the neck-length-spectrum.

The Storm fire up another grubbery kick, and if you can take a minute or two to watch this handy YouTube clip, I think TLC sum up my feelings on this game better than any other words could. U-N-P-R-E-T-T-Y.

Kalifa Fai Fai Loa gets his first touch, and as always when I hear his name pronounced ‘Fai Fai Law’ I feel like we’re talking about an obscure maritime treaty and giggle cause I’m a massive nerd.

Little Matty Bowen (yes that is his official name. Feel free to call him LMB) offloads and the ball gets to Will Tupou for a try on the right, but JT misses the conversion cause he’s too busy thinking how much of a bitch I am for saying he’d be a terrible soldier.

Hey, did you remember Anthony Quinn existed? I totally didn’t. Soz Quinny.

Kalifa Fai Fai Loa picks up the a Storm kick from just in front of the try line, runs it back, keeps running, OMG HE’S STILL RUNNING GO KALIFA GO GO GO! He drops it out to LMB for a beautiful try. LMB seems to think about diving in like a showpony, but resists. I like to think it’s cause he just really cares about safety. OH&S, y’all!

JT makes it 10-0, and when Ashley Graham barnstorms past Anthony Quinn I make a conscious effort to forget Anthony Quinn again.

Laurie Daley tells us that you always have to be aware with Cam Smith that he can kick, and that he’s looking to kick 40 …. 20s. In the 8 or 9 mintue pause between saying the words ’40’ and ’20’, Cam Smith kicks a 40-20.

An error to melbourne. An error to NQ. Waz says “it’s a greasy old night”. Mmmm greasy. I could smash a sausage roll.

Ashton Sims is penalised for … who knows, really. He always gets penalised for something, it’s hard to keep track.

Kevin Proctor makes a run of approximately minus 15 metres, Cronk kicks on the 5th tackle, it’s batted off to Sika Manu who .. loses the ball when he’s tackled from behind. It’s bleak. If you didn’t see it, just imagine Sika Manu trying to ground the ball, and replace each hand with one of these:

Yep, it was like that.

Cooper Cronk is not pleased with this turn of events. He’s screaming wildly for Justin O’Neill to kick the ball, but instead he passes to Billy Slater who … passes to the ground.

Pic. Getty Images

Considering I tipped the Storm this is wildly depressing, so let’s all take a moment to lift our spirits with a glorious picture of Flossy Nightingale …. um, well I don’t really know what he’s doing. Maybe he’s chasing butterflies. Or passing an imaginary football. He’s just Flossy, you know?


The Cowboys reach their fifth tackle, take a kick, every man and his dog chases it in-goal. Dane Nielsen gets kneed in the face and rolls his ankle simultaneously. Ashley Graham somehow decides to go all Paul Mercurio and slides in on both knees, then knee-butts the ball dead. I would explain it but I … I don’t even know.

Everyone at Errol HQ is enjoying the Cowboys’ recent uniform redesign.

To my surprise and delight, someone in the stands reboots the Melbourne mixing desk and the Storm bust out a beautiful set play for Gareth Widdop to score a try. Cam Smith kicks a kick of amazingness for a 10-6 scoreline. Pretty sure I just heard a player yelling ‘what the fuck’ caught on the referee’s mike. I agree, mystery player. I agree.

Pic. Getty Images

Coming back from halftime, Tariq Sims goes for a strip on Billy Slater and is penalised. Of course he is. Sims boys attract penalties like flames attract moths. To explain it in footy terms, the Sims family is to penalties what Luke O’Donnell is to punch-ups. And to hotness. Oh Luke O’Donnell, we miss you already.

Sika Manu is taken off with leg troubles. Tonight is really not his night. It’s possible he’s offended the gods.

I notice Cameron Smith has taken off his headband. Did I offend him?

The Cowboys run in a try through Ash Graham and there is absolutely no doubt of any kind that the tipping gods hate me. This is the worst. 16-6 Cowboys.

I  miss about 10 minutes of the game because I happen to find this article online.

Perhaps it is because of the criticism that Andrew Johns has been ordained the next Immortal by some experts.

In what universe is Andrew Johns getting an easier ride to potential immortality than Darren Lockyer? Excuse me while my head explodes.

When I actually remember there’s footy on, Lozza is telling me Widdop is “a good mover on his feet”. As opposed to not on his feet. I love you, footy commentary. Never, ever change.

Matty Bowen runs in a beautiful try and grounds it with his torso from a JT kick for 22-8, and Ash Graham bags a double for 28-6. Just to clear things up, when the cmmentators say Matty Bowen is “changing his wheels” on the sideline, they are not talking about the “PAUL GALLEN GRABBED ME ON THE WHEELS” kind of wheels. They mean his shoes.

Proctor mounts a massive hit on Bowen, Billy saves a Fai Fai Loa try with a kick to the grandstand. If only my campaign for a rugby league six-and-out rule last year had worked. I won’t even get started on my petition for the shirtless v pantsless All-Stars.

The Fox boys tell me Ash Graham “has 19 runs tonight”. No wonder Billy is confused.

Melby have only one person on the bench, btw. Which is just like the Roosters on Sunday arvo, except that this wasn’t Neil Henry’s fault.

To finish off the rain-soaked tipping carnage, Tariq Sims somehow manages to run in a try without getting penalised, and it’s 34-6. Did that really just happen? Is this a betting scandal game again? Because I am 99% sure I’m not drunk.

Andy Raymond interviews “a very happy Dallas Johnson”, who looks pretty much the same as angry Dallas Johnson, and sad Dallas Johnson, and all other Dallas Johnsons. How could Andy even tell? Maybe Dallas just announces his feelings, like ladies with botox have to do.


Cooper Cronk tells Australia that: “I know this sounds silly, we’re not really focussed on winning games at the moment.” WELL THAT’S LUCKY COOPER CRONK.

Wayne Pearce tells us this win will be good for the Cowboys, because it’s like “mental nutrition”. Hello my new favourite phrase.

Stay tuned for a wrap of my all-round terrible tipping and the Erroltips leader board later this week.


footy observations: crazy cat ladies and biff

July 23rd, 2009

So … I guess I should talk Roosters. Cruelly defeated by the Warriors on the weekend just the day after they found out their coach Freddy was getting the boot. Can’t that result be reversed somehow? Emotional distress? That always worked for me on exams in high school. That and period pain.

Sassy on her way to the SFS

Cause my chookies straight up deserved to win that game. Not just because I really REALLY needed a win for the sake of my sanity. Somehow, even though my boys are at the bottom of the ladder, I’m still managing to get up every day and have a shower and do my hair. For now, anyway. I’m not quite at crazy-trolley-pushing-cat-lady yet.

BUT THAT DAY MAY COME SOON. Just so you know. A few more weeks of the kind of shit season the Roosters are having this year and I just may lose my damn mind. If you see me shuffling around Bondi Junction with a crappy old fm radio sticky-taped together and blasting Phil Collins, try not to be alarmed.

More like my babies played with heart. People love calling the Roosters sell-outs almost as much as the Errol girls love a bevvie … but my boys proved em wrong. Sadly, that still ended in a loss. Excuse me while I weep softly for a few moments.

And I can call them my babies, because they are all So Tiny. Tiny like macaronis! Apparently their average age is only 21. I say ‘apparently’ cause clearly there is no way I’m getting out my calculator and figuring that out. Just believe it or I will kick you in the shins.

^ Sad Roosters.

So it’s no wonder I feel kinda big sisterly about my chicklets. And seeing their disappointed faces after the last-minute loss …. my heart broke. For reals. I was gutted like they’d just lost a grand final. Fitzy looked like he had lived through five liftetimes of pain, and when Mitchell Pearce was interviewed I think he almost shed a tear. Usually only Jonathan Thurston does that.

I shouldn’t admit this, but I may also have fought back a tear, In my defence, that was probably cause I’m on a the Errol health kick and my body’s freaking the fuck out now that I don’t have any fatty carbs in my system. I’m like an addict in withdrawals. I almost cry everytime I see people eating pasta on tv. PASTA, HOW I MISS YOUUUUU.

It’s just lucky there were some rays of footy light to ease me through the Sunday afternoon blues.

In amongst all the drama about Freddy leaving (and taking his footies with him thanksverymuch) and Brian Smith being hired as the 2010 coach … everyone was asking ex-Newcastle players what they thought of Smith. Kirk Reynoldson chatted to a reporter and gave us this gold:

“I’d trust Shane Warne with my wife more than I would trust Brian Smith.”

… Well that’s just unnecessary, don’t you think, Kirk?

So … obviously not a big fan of Brian Smith. But more importantly, do you know HOW unimpressed he is with him? UNIMPRESSED ENOUGH TO MAKE JOKES ABOUT SHANE WARNE AND HIS TEXT MESSAGING INFIDELITY. I like to think that in no other sport would this be a totally normal way to explain how you feel about your ex-coach. We love you, rugby league.

And then Robbie Farah turned up on the tv to turn my frown upside down. When the Cowboys scored a try in … what? 10 seconds after coming onto the field? It looked like the Tiges were going down. But after Anthony Watts unexpectedly punched Robbie Farah in the face in a scrum … it was on, bitches. The next time there was a scrum, the rest of the Tigers split it in two so that Robbie could square up for some revenge.

Who knew Robbie Farah had it in him? He always seems like such a Serious Thoughtful Young Man. Now we know that he’s a Serious Thoughtful Young Man, who, given the chance, can lay five awesome left uppercuts on someone. Robbie’s got fists of fury! That bitch was going down. Sure they were both sent off, but it was glorious while it lasted.

Watts told the media he wasn’t sure how many Tigers were punching him in the scrum cause there were lots … oh, honey, no. There was just the one. Well, I guess it could be three if you count Robbie and his two fists. How did you know that was exactly what would cheer me up Robbie Farah? I love a sin-binning!

Sassy likes mah headband? SCORE.
Pic. Mark Nolan

And when the boys came back from the bin, Robbie was talking smack and wearing a rocking retro headband, and Anthony Watts looked suspiciously like he had been stung in the face by a thousand bees. Daaaaamn. Bitch looked beat down.

I also shouldn’t admit this, but when Robbie unleashed on the field, I actually said “… I have a ladyboner AND a footy boner”. I know this cause Kiki told me. That bitch has the memory of an elephant sometimes. *cough* Anyway. What can I say? I have a dirty dirty weakness for footy violent times. It’s one of my (many) shames.

And from there the Tigers were full of excitement and Benji Marshall magic and all that is good and right in Leichhardt. That’s right, their win was pretty much all thanks to the fight. You can’t argue with facts. I was wearing my labcoat when I typed that and everything.

But the best news of all? INTERN JOHN JOHN’S FAMOUS. Well, of course he is. He’s Errol’s favourite intern. But he’s also in Big League this week. *waves to John-John*

Obviously we kinda hate that in the headline they call him “the Wolfbrother”. His proper name is INTERN JOHN JOHN, and his brother is called the HOT PIONEER, kthanks. But we love when people give him raps.

“I’m not aiming for the limelight or anything. I’m just happy to go out there and do my job and play good footy,” he says.

“As long as the boys around me are recognising that and knowing I’m busting my arse for them, then that’s the most reward you can get. You want your team-mates and your coaches to be happy with your performances.”

WHY SO HUMBLE BB? After all he’s an Errol superstar. We’re just sad they didn’t use any of our quotes in the Big League article. I can’t believe that the magazine’s readers don’t wanna know that JJ is an expert limbo contestant, always puts love hearts in our lattes, rocks a pair of purple spangly hotpants at office parties … or THAT HE GREW US A MOUSTACHE FOR MOVEMBER.

Poor journalism!


footy observations- tap arse, biff and white shorts

April 16th, 2009

Last weekend’s footy was a veritable festival of lolz. The Lolz Festival! I would totally go to that. Who am I kidding, I would be straight out performing. No…HEADLINING. Youse are all invited backstage of course. Together we will make that rider our bitch.

Err anyway, because Sassy and I are literally married we have a system where we support each others teams. She has been to the last few Dragons games with me, so this last Friday it was my turn to accompany her to watch the Chooks.  We proceeded to get quite drunk at our friend’s BBQ (hi Denee!) then tottled off to the footy.


To put it mildly, what a crap game. The atmosphere was non existent (sup cricket crowd!) and the first half was like watching a reggies match. The Chooks served up some of their trademark ridiculousness, including a player getting up to play the ball to no one, looking around to find a guy behind him….who was also looking around searching for someone. I squealed in horror and spilt my drink. THANKS CHOOKS. Those drinks deadset cost 15 dollars.

Meanwhile I spent most of the game trying to figure out how to get live scores from the Dragons game on my fone. I gave up and went back to the BBQ, hopped on Denee’s laptop and was delighted to see my babies came up with a win. Not a huge suprise, but god knows I love seeing the boys on the top of the table. I even did my Top Of The Table Dance which is basically star jumps until I get buggered and fall on the floor clutching my side in pain.


In natural light, Kiki’s bronzer looked decidedly greenish

Afterwards we walked stumbled down to the Leagues Club to meet some of the Bondi Rescue boys for a drink (I know, I know, we are such total celebs. Autograph line to left…). After way too many Smirnoff Blacks we decided it would be an awesome idea to accost poor Shaun Kenny-Dowall and ask him vitally important questions like ‘SKD! WHY DID U WEAR THONGS IN YOUR GODS OF FOOTBALL SHOOT? IS IT COZ YOU’RE SCARED OF GETTING TINEA?’

To his credit, he was very gracious and tolerant of our crazy. Also, we would like to apologise for terrorising some of the baby Chooks. Specifically to Sandor Earl for bringing up trimmed man pubes in our first ever conversation.

Back to the Dragons. Sadly Hot Bitch Cooper is STILL out, but obviously Channel 9 read Errol (well duh, who doesn’t) and decided to give me some sideline action to soothe my pain.


Joey – So Coops, how does it feel when Kiki violates you on the internet?
Hot Bitch – Yeh mate…not bad. Wish she would stop doing that heavy breathing thing on my voicemail though.

Tiny Dancer Soward continues to be an amazing human. Going great guns for the Drags, and more importantly for our beloved fantasy teams. His pre goal kicking dance routine is one of the top 5 greatest things about league. Like, ever. Obviously the Parra crowd doesn’t think so, those bitches were all up his business with their boos. Poor ignorant people. Everyone knows you do NOT interrupt Sowie Kapowie.



Sassy and I also watched the Cowboys v Titans. We don’t really care about either team, we just didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to watch not one but TWO teams in white shorts. Specially when said teams include Willy Zilly, John John and Luke O’Donnell. Granted, it did take us approximately 20 mins to figure out why the Cowboys looked to be playing in the Newtown Jets strip (hehe…strip), but it was totally worth it.

Onto Monday night footy. I tipped the Bunnies because well… it was Easter. Flawless logic right? WRONG. DAMN YOU RABBITOHS. Thankfully though, this game delivered two things I love: biff and lolz.

The biff was….okay, I wasn’t watching that closely. I’m still not quite sure what started it. But it sure escalated into something kind of amazing pretty quickly. Nothing says celebrating the resurrection of Christ like fisticuffs on the footy field right? We were delighted to see the muchly adorable Benny Lowe right in the middle of it. The man has curls, a sweet tan, great pins and most importantly…dimples. Clearly a new Errol fave.


This brawl’s for you, Jesus!

And then there were the lolz. These lolz stemmed from severe embarassment. Which everyone knows is the best kind of lolz. As the boys ran on for half time, a rain soaked Andy Raymond informed us that Ben Hannant wouldn’t be returning for awhile because he had a, and I quote, “case of the runs”. Oh….my god. As if tap arse isn’t embarassing enough on it’s own, now the poor bloke has to have it reported as news on national television.


Because my brother and I are basically 12 yr olds, we dissolved into a fit of giggles and started imagining if Hannant shat his pants whilst on the field. Would he have to go to the….Shit Bin? Would the ref stop the game? YOU…HANNANT..SHIT BIN! GET YOURSELF CLEANED UP! Would the trainers whack him in an adult diaper, give him a change of shorts and send him back on out there? Or maybe even…stitch his ass up?

And on that charming note, I’ll see you next week.

Screencaps from the awesome BS. Shooshing the crowd joke unashamedly stolen from Lozzy.