footy observations: … homer, ozzie and the straw

For awhile, I was hopeful. Hopeful that the Olympics would completely blanket the sports pages and we’d be free of stories about THE DEATH OF RUGBY LEAGUE for two or three weeks. Sadly, no. Sonny Bill Feelings’ fugitive saga continues, and now Greg Inglis is apparently considering drinking the Khoder Nasser koolaid and heading to France.

I’m missing something, aren’t I? About the lure of the Nasser, and about Anthony Mundine. They speak and I hear english, everyone else apparently hears the sweet and seductive chimes of silver bells or the stirring roar of a “man with balls” and a rugby league role model.

If the courts ever do find Sonny Bill, will he be dressed in sunshine yellow robes, brushing Khoder Nasser’s hair, chanting “Jesus loves you” and answering only to the biblical name Meschach?

(The Polyphonic Spree are pissed you stole their look, by the way).

And Greg is kind of the last straw. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I have a lot of opinions, and even more rage, and even more love for league, but I’m finally spent. I’m happy to say to all the boys that if they want to go to France, just go to France. Off you go babies, on your bikes. I hear the south of France is lovely. Enjoy the scenery! Try the cotes d’agneaux!

Mmmmmmm cotes d’agneaux.

This is why you don’t visit the Springfield Mystery Spot

There is something that we really should be worried about, and I’m ninety percent sure that something is in the water over at Canterbury. Jessica’s beloved Reni Maitua is out for the rest of the season after a shoulder reconstruction. You might have guessed that things were Not Pretty when she heard the news. And after she had finally cried herself to the point of exhaustion and passed out on Intern Greg Bird’s shoulder, I had him move her to the couch and look up the rest of the Bulldogs team.

Turns out Reni’s busted shoulder is in fine company. It joins Willie Tonga’s announcement he’s heading to the Cowboys, Sonny’s defection to the Children of God – I mean, rugby – Arana Taumata being shipped out for punching someone’s jaw, Tim Winitana’s broken rib, and Ben Roberts and Lee Te Maari’s Cronulla punch-up dramaz as just one more reason why Belmore oval is a ghost town. WHAT IS GOING ON? How is it possible to lose so many players without actively knocking them off? Did they piss off the mob or something? Cause this shit is ridiculous.

As far as I can tell, this turn of events leaves only Hazem El Masri and … um, who else is left in the dogs? Nick Youngquest? Can he still play? Or is he still busy rescuing a local resident’s washing machine and household pets from a domestic fire?

I know Jarrad Hickey can’t still be playing, because he was accidentally hypnotised into thinking he’s a chicken; Andrew Holdsworth has been overdoing it on nerve tonic, and Andrew Ryan may or may not be suffering radiation poisoning.

That pretty much leaves us with John Kite, Ben Barba … and Daryl Strawberry. Right?

Sydney Water and Brian Waldron, I want you to get onto this immediately please. Jessica will have a stroke if it goes on much longer. She’s already started cackling at inappropriate moments and collecting cans of beans and foil to make helmets so she can climb into the basement and live as a recluse until the 2009 season starts. Bitch is seriously close to going off the deep end.

In the meantime, Jessica honey, why don’t we go to a happy place for awhile?

Titans Learn Read Good

pic: www.goldcoast.com.au

Oh yeah. That’s the good stuff.

Either Scotty Prince is pretty much an angel from above, or these boys have even better publicists than Big Dell, because it seems he and the Gold Coast Titans are launching an educational program.

An educational program. Called TLC. For little kids who need extra support at school. REALLY? Are you kidding me Scott Prince? Are you trying to kill me with cuteness? DAMMIT SCOTTY! I’M ONLY HUMAN. MY OVARIES, THEY CAN’T TAKE IT.

I was already feeling a little bit woozy when I saw that adorable picture of you with your kids. If this is some kind of late run to win the Snuggliest Man in League award, then all I can say is … it’s working. Tip of the cap to you, Mr. Prince. I don’t think the other bitches stand a chance.