Maximum Power required for Cat victory

Geelong needs toughness. Geelong needs brute force. Geelong needs at least one player raised by Norwegian Vikings on a diet of the raw flesh of fallen foes. Geelong needs Max Rooke.

Max Rooke, born in the frigid waters of the Berent Sea in the 6th century to parents Odin and Frigg Rooke, is world renowned as the toughest Norwegian God on Earth.

When he was growing he would often fight off, with his bare hands, the packs of Polar Bears that roamed the Arctic wastelands looking to punch Penguins. The blood smeared across his sharpened teeth, he would carry back half a dozen dead carcasses to feed the starving, huddled masses of Kalvaag who could not survive the sub-zero temperatures like the hirsute Rooke.

Bearded from the age of seven, the Legend of Rooke spread across the northern hemisphere like egg across the face of Michael Voss. Wherever he roamed, men trembled. Wherever he walked, women trembled (but in a slightly different way).

He was freer of the downtrodden. Captor of the uptrodden. Men wanted to be with him. Women wanted to be him. His mere presence affected all who came into him in strange, unexplainable ways. Stranger still than the mind of Joffa.

One morning, as Rooke set off on his morning swim in the icy waters of the North Sea, he was surrounded by sixty-three Great White Sharks. After lashing them together with the tentacles of a Kraken, he decided to ride them to a land far away that he had read about in the last issue of “Norwegian Thunder Gods Weekly” at the local fish ‘n chip shop.

That place? The mythological Geelong.

Geelong, he had read, was “Home to Heaven on Earth.” Unfortunately due to the poor wage afforded to the English translator at “Norwegian Thunder Gods Weekly”, the publication could only pay for the services of a semi-literate year seven drop-out who mis-read the original article as “Home to Trevor of Perth”. It was an uninspiring tale of a man who had moved to Geelong because of the affordable housing, but Rooke cared not for details.

He arrived upon the coastline his heart filled with ambition, and quite a lot of blood and oxygen.

As soon as he set a foot upon the shore, he heard a roar the likes of which he had not heard since that time he had slapped three hundred and eleven lions across their snouts for dare claiming that they were King of the Jungle. It was an odd comment, seeing as they were no jungles in Norway, but since the lions were lost and had somehow ended up in the Arctic, it was an entirely understandable misunderstanding. Rooke had eventually apologised and to make up for his woopsie had knitted each and every one a great fur collar from the hair of vanquished Wooly Mammoths. And that’s how lions came to have great manes.

He soon came to realise that the town of Geelong was a great one, revolving as it did around this magnificent sport called Australian Rules Football. The game immediately appealed to Rooke. The incredible athleticism, the brutish nature and the pretty blue and white hoops of the local team drew him in.

And when he saw an ad in the Geelong Advertiser placed by the Geelong Football Club looking for “Wild, bearded men to eat the hearts of vanquished foes” (it was very specific) he knew he had found his calling.

For years on end Rooke was unleashed upon frightened opposition. Seeing the words Max and Rooke side by side put the fear of Max Rooke into all who came into contact with him on the football field. And when that contact came, it was merciless.

The 2009 Grand Final sealed Rooke’s reputation in the hearts of every red-blooded man, woman, and child of the Wildebeest species.

So, with preliminary final time upon us once more, Bomber Thompson, playing mind games all weeks, knows the importance of Sir Max of Rooke. That is why this pundit believes he will unleash the Great Rooke upon the MCG.

He won’t play, that’s true. But the very presence of Norwegian God Rooke in the stands, his eyes boring holes in the jealous, hate-filled minds of Collingwood’s pressured players will cause the ground to rumble, the Pies to shake and the Cats to rise once more.


  1. What a wonderful fairy story Hans Christian Malekelis. “Home to Trevor of Perth” = brilliant.

  2. Terrific Sydney, I loved it. Go Geelong.

  3. Hahaha, Sydney, this is brilliant!!!

    Just what the doctor ordered after tonight’s disappointment.

    Interesting(ish) story: I know someone who knows someone who’s friends with Max Rooke. Apparently, when his mates go to his place to hang out, he makes them all sit down and meditate first before they do anything else.

    And he has a lettuce/cabbage garden.

    That Max is quite the character.

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