sunday arvo recap: roosters vs raiders

So the boys are playing this match down in our Nation’s capital, Canberra, which means that for the last week foxtel has been bombarding me with ads where Alan Tongue stands in front of the camera in his turtle headgear and announces that the Roosters are in for “… SOME CAPITAL PUNISHMENT”.

As a footy follower, do you know what I love? PUNS ABOUT THE DEATH PENALTY. I love them almost as much as when players are forced to do embarassing promos. Heart.

Note: this is a completely arbitrary pic of Alan Tongue. I could have used a recent one, but I prefer this. I like how it looks like he and Monaghan are waiting anxiously to go into Court on trial for public rangadom. BUT WE CAN’T HELP IT YOUR HONOR!

The Raiders are milling about in the change-room looking cheery and relaxed, except for David Shillington, who mainly just looks skinny. SO SKINNY!  I feel a little bit worried. Do they not have pies in Canberra?

Mmmmmmm pie.

Note to self: send Shillo a care package of four-and-twenties.

The Roosters are standing like unwilling refugees in the away change-room, and J Aubs looks a little like he might vom. On the bright side they have some new super-cute jerseys with little white collars and mini v-necks. I approve. Minichiello has his collar popped, possibly because Terry Biviano jjuzhjed him before they left the house, possibly because he actually really enjoys being referred to as the Count and is just running with the look.

Ees possible!

The boys run on field and something amazing happens: The Roosters don’t suck.  

The forwards are running forward with something that looks like confidence and determination, and somehow even though the Raiders have totally been bogarting the possession of the ball … there are no points on the board.  I believe this is what was missing last week, and I believe it’s called … ‘defence’. Hallelujah!

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

That’s when I remember I actually tipped the Raiders and I feel confused and guilty and kind of like the roosters must know that I was disloyal.  I’M SORRY.

Note to self: find way to make it up to the Roosters. Consider fruit flowers?

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

 
Minichiello grabs the ball and prances through defenders only to be brought down just before the try line. It’s an awkward pile-up of a tackle and Mini comes out of it looking like he’s riding on Space Mountain and holding his leg in a really worrying way.

Even though he’s limping like a half eaten gazelle he shoos away the trainer and stays on the field. Oh, Mini, you so brave. I love you even though you have a body made of glass now and haven’t played a full season for at least two years.  I’m not even being sarcastic, I really do. I just wish you weren’t made of delicate delicate parts like Rod Wishart.

Peg-leg Minichiello moves out on the wing and in the next Roosters set he staggers across the line with his popped collar like a hunchback to score a try.  AMAZING! TRY BY THE ONE-LEGGED MAN!

Mitchell Pearce can’t manage a conversion but he can manage a really random kick out on the full a few minutes later. Luckily, he is now signed to the Roosters until 2012, which means plenty of time to work on that tricky kicking business.

Mitchell needs some more study times on the big book of no-nos.
Pic. Getty Images.

The Raiders kick and Mitchell Aubusson looks over his shoulder then decides the best way to stop Joel Monaghan grabbing it is to leap sideways and use his butt to deflect Monas.  It’s kind of … graceful.  Balletic, even! I like to think M Aubs is a massive fan of So You Think You Can Dance and has been practicing this at home with J Aubs.

Both teams start passing to mid-air and dropping the ball and this feels a lot more like last week. Frank-Paul Nuuasala is on field and gets all ghetto when he’s pushed around in a tackle. Whut, whut? He is thisclose to ripping someone’s weave out.

The Roosters also show what they thought of Shillo’s comments during the week and David Milne is shocked.

OH NO HE DI-INT!

Justin Carney takes out the Mayan King Soliola while he’s in mid-air and Braith Anasta isn’t having any of it. Oooh, biff! Well, at least as close as you can get to biff in 2009, which is grabbing people’s jerseys and pushing then a little bit. Maybe sometimes kicking them in the thigh like Colin Firth and Hugh Grant in Bridget Jones’ Diary. Braith then taps the ref really condescendingly on the shoulder and a little bit of my love dies.

Justin Carney also somehow has Jamie Soward’s hair on as a kind of hair-hat. Halftime, 4-0.

The Raiders botch two great try opportunities and try and reach some kind of record for turnovers. Shaun Kenny-Dowall pops in for a revenge try on the left wing, and Josh Miller and Mark O’Meley collide with a massive smack like two giant towel men made of wet towels. The towel men have a little trip to Disneyland and we replay the collision three times on Foxtel IQ because we are gross and creepy.

At this point I think I can sum up the rest of the game by saying: Braith Anasta loses his damn mind.

It all starts when he dives to tackle David Milne right on the try-line and manages to be dragged sideways so that he runs crotch-first and horizontally into the comically cow-print goalposts. Ten minutes later when he finally manages to struggle to his feet he bends over to check on his boys … maybe gently remind them that this kinda stuff happens in footy.

But Braith Anasta’s crotch is having none of this. Braith Anasta’s crotch is MAD AS HELL AND NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE.

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

Don’t worry, he doesn’t actually rip T Camp’s head off.

Instead, Braith Anasta’s crotch sends in Mitchell Pearce for a try. Then Braith Anasta’s crotch leaps over Justin Carney in the in-goal and miraculously grounds a ball right on the dead ball line for another try.

Just to rub it in Canberra’s face, Braith Anasta’s crotch finishes his decimation of the Raiders by intercepting a pass and running 40 metres to score a single-crotch try. Fitzy converts for 28-0.

At this point, Bronson Harrison manages a sneaky last-minute Green Machine try, but Braith Anasta’s crotch doesn’t give a shit. Braith Anasta’s crotch then gives the whole of Canberra the forks … game over, bitches. 28-4.