2 

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.

I WASN’T CRYING! I JUST HAVE A WELLING PROBLEM!

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.

Oh, and maybe a few more words: STILL FEEL KINDA PISSY YOU DIDN’T COME TO THE ROOSTERS, WAYNE. HMPH.

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

4 

roosters vs eels recap: in todd we trust

August 4th, 2010

Pic. Getty Images

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uncanny, no?

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

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

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

[Note from Sassy: OMG SHUT UP THAT JOKE WAS TERRIBLE.]

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Wait, where was I?

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

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

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

READ THE NEW ISSUE OF RLP GUYZ. WE GUEST-EDITED IT. IT HAS AN AWESOME HINDY FEATURE AND MUCH MUCH MORE. AVAILABLE NOW IN ALL GOOD NEWSAGENTS AND ALL BORDERS STORES.

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

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

shit kane might be injured.

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

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

fuck me carney incredible spiral pass dead of joy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Hayne plane is having difficulties.

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

HAHA brian smith just gave thumbs up to the camera

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

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

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

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

IN TODD WE TRUST.

13 

footy observations: divers, hotpants and coconut ice

July 27th, 2010

Alright, kids, let’s solve Dive Gate once and for all. The Daily Telegraph have done their best to get us the story straight from the mouth of Nips. But to be honest, the story isn’t nearly as interesting as Nips Farah’s regular column in Mx magazine – “EYE OF THE TIGER”, seriously it’s our favourite complimentary weekly public transport-based column. Nonetheless, we choose to believe Nips’ side of the story.

Like our belief that Scott Prince wouldn’t live in an illegal house (he’s too snuggly to lie!) we also believe that Nips, being a Serious and Thoughtful Young Man, wouldn’t take a dive for a penalty. Of course, we were slightly torn when we heard Anthony Watmough was calling ‘dive’, cause God knows we’re Watmough freaks. But while we do enjoy his alleged stern stance on inappropriate outfits at family events – he just has strong opinions about fashion GUYZ – and we also appreciate him being super-supportive every time we’ve seen him, we’re gonna have to disagree on this one. Forgive us, Watmough?

In fact, the only thing we support about Dive Gate 2010 is the Daily Telegraph’s excellent photoshop work. Sure, it’s no intern John John in a sarong … what is? But it’s pretty damn awesome. Almost Kiki-worthy, no?

We are totally printing it out to hang on the wall of the Errol office. We think we might hang it right next to Nips’ appearance in the 2008 Gods of Football calendar, where he channelled Britney Spears.

Sigh, we miss you, pre-crazy Britney.

Now if you’ve jumped on the This Week in League bandwagon, you’ll know that one half of the show is Glen, who’s spent the last four months calling Lote Tuqiri ‘the revelation of the 2010 NRL season’.

(If you don’t know, TWiLeague is the world’s most fanciest sports podcast, and Glen is my most persistent heckler on twitter. Seriously. That shit is out of control).

And I have one thing to say to Glen – WHY DO YOU LIE? After Monday night’s game, we all know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the revelation of the 2010 season is the Chooks’ very own backpacker, Shaun Kenny-Dowall.

Thought I was about to say Todd Carney, right? Nah, he’s always been awesome. Awesome and … occasionally in trouble. But let’s not talk about the Unpleasantness. Todd and his fucking amazing running game are now the proud owners of a Roosters uniform with a pair of shorts so tiny they border on indecent.

Can I just say I am totally on board with the Roosters’ new hotpanted uniform. We all know I hate pants, they’re so binding! I wore a pair of acid-washed denim shorts out on Saturday night and with all the extra leg-freedom, my drunk dancing was at least 10 times more incredible than usual.

Mitchell Pearce apparently has the same opinion – thanks to the CountryRL twitter for giving us the heads up!

What was my point? THE BACKPACKER. Oh yes. I occasionally/sometimes/often criticise his ill-judged passes at vital moments. But I only do it because I can. It’s fine when Roosters fans bemoan the Roosters because we say it with love. Also, he does need to work on his pass choices, so whatevs. What’s important is that with the ball in his hands he’s a footy savant.

Even Kiki is in on the SKD love parade. She started thawing last year, and now all of a sudden she’s sending me messages that just say SKDDDDDD OMGGGGGG like a super-happy footy-watching lolcat.

Confession: we may even have given the backpacker a new nickname. In honour of his four tries, and how endearingly flushed he got scoring them, he shall now be known as pink man. PINK MAN. Doesn’t he sound like an awesome superhero with really good circulation? Pink Man might even have usurped the crown of pinkest man in league from our past winner, Anthony Quinn.


All of a sudden, seeing Mitch Aubusson and Shaun Kenny-Dowall in the same photo, I feel like a coconut ice.

Really it was just one more proof that Monday Night Football is one of God’s greatest gifts to his children. Last week, I got to stand on the hill at the Lilyfield Rectangle and watch Benji Marshall set up that last awesome Tigers try, this week I watched my boys grab third spot on the ladder. Add in Gorden Tallis bein’ Gordie, and Brandy Alexander coming close to a rage-induced stroke at the video ref and it’s pretty much heaven.

Haters to the left, and Roosters love in the comments pls.

Roosters pics. Getty Images

18 

postcards from port macquarie: day one

May 4th, 2010

Let’s get this out of the way: WE GOT A HUG FROM JAMAL. IT’S ON VIDEO. YOU WILL SEE IT. IT WAS AMAZING.

Now, where were we?

Day 1 of our Port Macquarie Odyssey took us to local skills clinics with both City and Country teams and some Port Mac schoolkids. Pretty obviously, the weather was a massive bitch. Hence, we look like slightly drowned dogs, and did most of our interviews under a random signing marquee. Good times.

Here’s the rundown, before we get to the sweet video action: Intern Lachie is so teeny! Yes, we see him around the office every day, but we have an average height of 5’5″, so seeing him amongst other footy players is completely different and really worries us. Don’t break him please!

Lots of you asked for Josh Dugan interviews, but this morning he was far too busy talking on his mobile and being interviewed in a public toilet block by a really shifty looking ‘journo’ for us to get interviews … sorry guys! Next time, we promise.


Jamal got the same treatment; we like to call it George Michael TV.

Make sure you pay attention in our favourite bits of the video:

* Todd Carney shifting around like he has ants in his pants, thanks to Michael Robertson and Joel Thompson sitting off-camera and playing footsies with Todd’s Crotch.

* Ronnie Palmer gazing off into the distance as he talks about shorts, and how he secretly rolls his up when no one’s looking. What was he looking at? Carty was cracking up, at Ronnie’s expense.

* Carty fending off the ‘ambush’ questions about us being pests. According to him we are “very good girls”. AWWWW.

Sadly, what you can’t see in the video (but we could see) is how interested Greg Bird was in the informative literature we brought about the sights of Port Macquarie. He loved it! Couldn’t wait to find out what historical peccadillos Port had in store for him. We are also 99% sure Joel Thompson took home the Frangipanni massage pamphlet. Good choice.

After we wrapped up our interviews, we headed back to town for lunch. Something classy for two classy ladies … like Subway. As we were parking we drove past Carty and Ronnie – everyone’s favourite City rugby league power couple – heading out for a lunch date. They seemed to like Sassy’s mum’s sweet Subaru station wagon. “Nice car, girls”.

Apparently everyone had the same idea, because inside Subway we found half of the city team on a sandwich date: Trent Waterhouse, Lachlan Coote, Joel Reddy, Tim Grant and Michael Jennings. Before you ask, no we aren’t stalking them. And yes, they eat Subway, just like regular people!

Kiki had a Moment of Trauma in Subway when she found herself lined up behind Trent Waterhouse, really really wanting to order a footlong turkey sub, but kind of embarassed since giant prop Trent Waterhouse had just ordered a footlong, too. After a brief moment of indecision: does she just WHISPER her order? should she order a six-inch like a lady? … she thought DAMMIT. I REALLY WANT MY FOOTLONG. Cue the following exchange at the cash register:

Kiki: “I can’t believe I eat the same lunch as a footballer”
Subway dude: “… actually a little bit more”
Sassy: “Is that cause she ordered double cheese?”

Till next time darlings!

3 

fantasy league friday : round one

March 19th, 2010


We googled ‘fantasy’ and this is what came up. Awesome.

WHAT UP ERROLERS!

Welcome to Fantasy League Friday. This will be a weekly occurence. And by ‘weekly occurence’ we mean it will appear every Friday until we get distracted/lose interest/spill vodka all over our laptops making it impossible to blog. But never fear darlings, it’s safe to say we are completely and utterly obsessed with fantasy league. Hardly a suprise, considering we never do anything by halves. But for Kiki it’s got to the point where she couldn’t sleep a few nights during the week because she was stressing over what changes she should make to her team. TRUE STORY.

Anyway, let’s cut to the chase shall we? Who is better, the sinners or the saints? Wellllll…..*very dramatic drum roll*….

WINNER


Kiki Lil Angels : 400 points

LOSER

Sassy’s Second Chances : 396 points

DAAAAAAMN. So close for Sassy, yet so so far. Kiki feels lucky to ‘get away with a win’ so has repressed any urges to perform an obnoxious victory dance.

As you may have noticed, neither of us scored particularly highly. Why so? Because, as is the answer we use so often….we are idiots. We didn’t realise the bench players actually contributed points. Sure we shoulda realised that considering that’s how actual football works but…WE ARE IDIOTS, REMEMBER?

Consequently our benches weren’t properly thought out and had players that didn’t even play over the weekend, that’s why we are so shit in our own competition etc etc.

So this week, the gloves are off and we is Serious Supercoaches. Any loyalty we had towards players we picked in the first round has been swiftly disposed of replaced with cut throat pragmatism. Sure, Kiki adores Daniel Mortimer but the useless (and expensive) thing only scored her 11 points. ELEVEN POINTS PEOPLE. He’s gone.

Behold, this weeks transfers –

Kiki’s Lil Angels


Nick Kenny in for John Kite - well John Kite wasn’t even named in his team last week, a detail Kiki managed to overlook. Nick Kenny is a worthy member of the Angels, as he was a nominee for Ken Stephens Medal in 2009. We worked the One Community Awards for the NRL and consequently had to study what each nominee had done. We won’t go into details but Nick’s good deeds moved Kiki to tears. Actual wet droplets coming from her eyes.

Also, he’s a qualified physio so if one of the Angels has an injury he can use his Jesus like hands to do some miracle healing. NICK KENNY YOU ARE LOVE.

Corey Patterson in for Alan Tongue – Sorry, Sir Alan. You didn’t do anything specifically wrong, but Corey scored more points last week and cost less on the salary scale. He qualifies for the Angels because he’s fronted up publicly about his battle with clinical depression and encouraged others to seek help.

Joseph Tomane in for Daniel Mortimer -
Reason for cutting Dan Dan are above. Kiki googled Tomane and he has yet to have a public scandal so BAM welcome to the Angels Jo.Toms!

Sam Perrett in for Krisnan Inu – One Jebus lover in for another! Sam is what we lovingly call ‘a happy clappy Christian’. Hey if you’re gonna worship the lord you should totally do it while harmonising with other Islanders right? He also has a lovely habit of high scores in fantasy league. Sorry Krisnan. Maybe start praying to your Mormon God for more ball.

[Also – Sam deserves a little public adulation after he was CRUELLY ROBBED in the Footy Show’s talent contest back in … whenever it was. The Soul Brothers from the Roosters were clearly a billion times better than the James Blunt dude who won it. – Sassy]

Due to his amazing high score last week, Coach Kiki has ditched Nips Farah as her captain and given Sam the honour. DON’T LET HER DOWN SAMUEL.

Over in the Second Chances camp, spirits are high. Sure, the boys didn’t take home the 2 points for the win, but there are Very Promising Signs. Their fearless leader Todd Carney smashed his first round with 51 points. Fifty-One!

After the game the rest of the team spontaneously stood on the locker room benches and chanted O CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN. It was some straight-up emotional Dead Poets Society shit.

Sadly former intern Greg Bird didn’t sparkle as Coach Sassy had hoped. He played not so much like a footy star seeking redemption as … a potato with hands. Hands made of other uncoordinated potatoes. BUT WE LIVE IN HOPE. Coach Sassy is harsh, but fair. She’s ruthless, but occasionally merciful. And this week instead of cutting Greg Bird and his miserable 11 points, she’s giving him another week and lots of cuddles to see if he can improve. Sassy was also devastated when her favourite Jewish winger Bronx ‘Goldwin’ Goodwin was injured in reserve grade. There go his chances of being a Second Chance.

We did boot the injured Arana Taumata and Nathan Fien, and welcome driving-offender Cooper Vuna and Terence Seu Seu for his fine supporting work in the Brett Seymour scandal. It’s actually a hell of a lot harder than you would think to find a scandal-prone hooker. Plus Lote Tuqiri was unwilling to sign as the Second Chances winger for the money we were offering. Sigh. Welcome aboard, kids!

GAME ON.

10 

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

4 

a short victory gloat

February 22nd, 2010

PRAISE THE FOOTY GODS, IT HAPPENED! My darling little scandal-rats and wooden spooners won a game yesterday. Roosters vs Tigers, Foundation Cup, 28-10. If I were any prouder I would have to punch myself in the trachea for being so annoying.

Do I care that it was only a trial match? No, darlings, I don’t. Does it sober me up a little when I remember that the Tigers didn’t name a full-strength team? Of course it doesn’t, kittens. Do I think it’s slightly premature and kind of obnoxious to bedazzle ‘SUCK IT SUCHY’* in red white and blue crystals onto the butt of a pair of swimmers and prance about wearing them to taunt/horrify him? Bitch please.

She could be a farmer in those clothes.

Being a footy fan is like being a farmer. You have to cut up the hay while the sun shines. Or some shit like that. You have to make the most of small victories, otherwise before you know it 2002 is a distant memory, your hooker might go to gaol and people start sending you pictures of wooden spoons. The whole hay business is also multiplied by a factor of Matt Cooper’s hotness if you’re a Roosters fan because everyone hates you anyway, so you have nothing to lose.

It’s like when I was a teenager and had my First Proper Job in a charcoal chicken shop. Oh, the greasy, glamorous stench of poultry-based employment!

Ola Chickens!

Turns out chicken-slinging had its downsides. Who would’ve guessed? Downsides like having to regularly shampoo the smell of cooking oil out of your hair, and finding chicken stuffing embedded in your vans/shoelaces/thongs. Yes, I did wear vans, what of it? It was the nineties, don’t judge me.

Also, downsides like having to deal with at least ninety-five men a day who would order a quarter chicken and follow it up with the requisite leering cheeseball ‘I’m a breast man, myself!’ joke even though you SPECIFICALLY ASKED LEG OR WING TO TRY AND AVOID THIS SITUATION. I’M NOT EVEN WEARING A LOW-CUT TOP. GOD.

Wow, now that I write it all down, working in chicken really is like going to a football game, huh? Frequent and unsubtle sexual innuendo and everything!

But the point is this: after spending a day covered in stuffing and pretending to smile at people’s shit jokes, you feel like you deserve something. Even if that something is a free chicken burger you make yourself and a slap on the ass from the cute Russian stockboy. Chicken-slingers and Roosters fans gotta take what life gives em. And this weekend – life gave me a Todd Carney-led Roosters trial match Renaissance. THANKS TODD! I LOVE YOU NOW!

In other news it was actually totally unplanned that my Roosters simile was also about chickens. Amazing. I feel like Lozzy will really appreciate that. [IT’S TRUE. I DO! I would also like to add that I went to this game, and seeing Steggles announced as the major sponsor not only on the giant screen but also across the loudspeaker will NEVER STOP BEING FUNNY  – L ]

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and write ‘TODD 4ORIGIN’ on my forearm in Sharpie.

* Suchy being our Errol bestie, as well as a lifelong Tigers fan.

6 

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