tigers vs rabbitohs: happy heritage times

Ok first of all: tell me you watched Monday night football. Right? If you didn’t, it means you missed two of the greatest television moments so far in 2009.

1) being the boys cracking my shit up presenting this week’s Monday Night Retro, and;
2) being Joel Monaghan cracking the shits when Melbourne scored, lying on his tummy on the grass and banging his feet on the ground like an angry kid in a supermarket. The Storm make me feel exactly the same way, Monas.

I’m not gonna talk about that game though, because Canberra are kind of my second team and it’s just too depressing. Let’s talk Tigers instead.

So if you’re following us on twitter (you should be) you’ll know I went to the Tigers vs Rabbitohs game on Sunday at the SCG. God knows you wouldn’t have found out about it on Facebook, because those fascist bastards shut us down. This fills me with rage because they said we weren’t ‘an individual’ when quite clearly we are a collection of individuals and if those couples who have joint ‘MARRIAGE IS ALL ABOUT SHARING’ Facebooks get to stay then so should we.  FIGHT THE POWER!

Until they can prove to me there is an actual individual named JonAndMelinda Clarke with 8 albums of wedding pictures then I will continue to be pissed about this.

What was my point? Oh yes, sunday afternoon footy. God the SCG is glorious on a Sunday afternoon. Even in the shitty seats on the east side with the advertising banners in front of you and the pretty Sydney sun in your eyes. STILL LOVELY. I do enjoy a good example of historical architecture.

We could almost telepathically hear the voice of Phil Gould sitting in the Channel 9 commentary room stroking some kind of cat (and/or Ray Warren) and purring I lovvvvvve Sunday afternoon football, don’t you Rabbits?

Instead of our fave fake married couple Gus and Rabs, though, Kiki and I and our Errol BFF Suchy got the commentary of some poor man’s Errols behind us. By which I mean they call David Kidwell ‘Kiddy’, and Fetuli Talanoa ‘Tally’. Let’s be honest … as nicknames go, they’re no Tiny Dancer or Hot Bitch, are they, boys?

Even though we were squished on one side looking into the sun, the SCG was amaaaazing. So so beautiful, and such a fantastic enthusiastic crowd. The little kids in footy jerseys were cute enough to touch even my cold, black heart. It is also one of the top ten best things in life when little kids yell out criticism at the field. Like, ‘way to drop the ball, dickhead!’ and ‘that pass was FORWARD!’

Their snarkiness is to me like babies’ laugher is to normal people.

In other news, I have realised that when you’re not a fan of either team, a messy game is an entertaining game. It’s not like when I watch the Roosters and almost have a stroke every time they have no-no times.

I was seriously so relaxed, just chillin in my seat, looking for my Lucas Paw Paw ointment that I totally brushed the Rabbitohs mascot. Apparently he was standing there for aaaages waiting for me to shake his hand or hug him so he could keep going and I just studiously ignored him. Sorry bunny! Please don’t badmouth me to Rusty! 

You can bet I wouldn’t have missed it if the Tigers mascot came by, because from what I can tell the actual Tiger has retired and just been replaced by the Ali Baba Kebab man. I’m assuming he gives out kebabs, in which case I think this is a brilliant development. Mmmm …. food.

Normal jersey …

… Robbie Farah spray-on jersey. How does he lift his arms?

After last week’s Country vs City I thought Robbie Farah was all over the blue number 9 jersey for State of Origin. He played the shit out of Wade Park. And he didn’t change my mind on Sunday. He distracted me slightly with his super super tight sprayed on Heritage jersey (do they have to cut him out of it, like a swimmer?) and his new beard (it looks hot, keep it up Robbie) … but I’m still team Robbie for Origin.

Especially after he ran smack-bang into lil Issac Luke in the second half and scared the hell out of me. I swear I heard the collision. I thought we were in for another Anthony Quinn convulsions incident and I was all set to cover my eyes like a Delicate Lady. I mean … what? I am a Delicate Lady! Ask anyone!

*cough*

But Robbie soldiered on, and apparently puked like crazy as soon as he got off the field. Which is why I can’t be disappointed he missed the field goal when Souths evened it up at 22 all. He was concussed, people. That’s the kinda spirit that you need for State of Origin. The spirit to take a violent knock to the brain, then continue playing a game in which it’s likely your already fragile brain will be knocked once again.

It’s actually a bit weird to see a player get hit in the head and have it not be Mick Crocker. Yes, Mick is back. And in case you didn’t realise, he decided to try and start some tensionz on the field within the first five minutes … just to get your attention. Either that, or someone mocked his spray-on hair.

Meanwhile even I wasn’t expecting Nathan Merritt to pop out of nowhere and kick a field goal with one second to go. And no, I’m not exaggerating … literally one second. NATHAN MERRITT. Really? In the end we had to take Tigers fan Suchy out on the field for some post-game frolicking on the SCG to ease his pain at his boys losing by 1 point. ONE POINT. 

It’s times like these (when you aren’t a fan of the losing team) that rugby league is amaaaaaazing.

teeny tiny tiger!

Getting to run onto the field is heartwarming for at least five reasons (plus possibly a few more that I don’t remember cause I was a bit tipsy). It involves seeing boys try to create a kicking tee from a white loafer, a plastic schooner glass, and a mate’s hand. It involves adults momentarily losing control and tacking little kids for footballs. Also, people kicking balls into other people’s heads. Everyone loves a falcon!

There’s also the boyfriend running away from his girlfriend with a footy in his hand; when she falls over on the grass, he looks back … then just keeps running. That boy has a field goal to kick, after all.

Plus the awesome sight of a policeman pretending to arrest someone just so his friends could take photos. This is why I love Australia.

The only vague downer was the man kicking a Sherrin around on the ground … and when we booed him for bringing his dirty AFL ball onto the grass he answered ‘um, it’s the SCG’.

So … what? If the name of the ground matters, then you should be playing cricket, DICKHEAD. I hope he got hit in the brain with that Sherrin.

And on that cheerful note, special thanks to the Rabbitohs supporter who got taken out of the SCG by police. He was so cheery! Even the potentially incarcerated had a great day! That’s the magic of Heritage Round.

Thanks to the fierce Cronkster and Kiki’s swish new iPhone for the pics.