THE PRE WRAP – Round XV
For the Philosophical Marngrook Follower
What a few weeks it’s been in Footy Eddie. We’ve got a new Whip Cracker at Jellymont House and already we’ve got Footy on Good Friday. LHOP. And here we are coming into the home turn of Season 2014 with Port Adelaide continuing to Power away from the opposition. Out at Waverley, The Mayblooms are taking it one week at a time. Steak & Kidney and The Mauve Miasma demonstrate that you can kick soccer scores and still be a Group One winner. Meanwhile down in Group Two, in far away Sleepy Hollow, the Millionaires are feeling the pinch as the glacial grey winds of Winter skip down Corio Bay and drive into the very heart of Flat Town. The Woodsmen, the Shinboners and The Little Master’s Sunbeams hang onto the last three rungs of The Stairway to Paradise. All deserve an honourable mention and a months supply of Mars Bars for work home & play.
As for The Rest, they make up the numbers this season and reflect on what might have been. The Weagles continue to fight their demons. Not the least of which is a freakishly gifted athlete who doesn’t recognize his god-given gift. (Maybe he does recognize it as a gift from heaven and chooses not the abuse it in the mundane pursuits of mortals – Ed) The Crows still can’t decide whether or not to unpack their game on match day. The Misery continues for the Blues, as they await the cycle to swing their way again. Sadly, for them, the days of Bully Bucks administration and the purchasing of off-the-shelf success are gone for good. For The Sons of The West it’s been a one step forward and two steps back sort of season, but hope blooms eternal out on the edge of the Basalt Wilderness. The Leviathans, after a flying start when they rolled The Vaucluse & Cremorne Set, fell into a bit of a hole. Back–to-back wins against The Lions & Mickey’s Bluebaggers have blown any chance they had of collecting a threepeat of Coveted Sylvan Shields. (It makes you wonder a bit, doesn’t it though? In days of yore, that Carlton loss would have seen the sacking of the coach, which suggests they’re totally devoid of ideas – or money – around there at The Little Ground Next to The Cemetery – Ed)
Down in The Cellar The Redlegs have notched up four commendable wins and the Consultancy Coach has even hinted that he may take up the third year option on the table. (He’s even been nominated for Coach of The Year. Wow! That must have been the Ayatollah’s last stroke of the pen – Ed) Next come The Striped Marvels; they just can’t drum up a win. At least the coach is saying he’ll shoulder the blame for not getting them playing a winning brand of Footy. (Are you suggesting that there are some coaches out there who pass the buck Wrap? I’ll whistle and you point – Ed) The Brissy Lions are looking more and more like The Boys From Old Fitzroy – just before the Guillotine dropped. And The Feeling Faints are even further away from the Junction Oval in body, but closer than ever in spirit. (I think that’s the only one you got right in your pre-season call Wrap – Ed)
If you’ve noticed we’ve left out The Club That Dare Not Speak Its Name, that’s because we’ve saved them for a special slot of their own. You see, you play tennis on a court, not Football. You play Football on a paddock, the park, an oval, the field, a ground, The Sacred Turf, The Hallowed Turf, at The G, at The Gabbatoir. In The Lions’ Den, at Punt Road and on Princess Park. At Victoria Park and Glenferrie Oval, at Subiaco and The Picturesque Adelaide Oval, at the SCG and any number of more or less level playing fields up in Sin City. You play it at Bellerive Oval and Aurora Stadium. In the Shadows of Anzac Hill & Mount Lofty. In the sweltering mid-winter humidity of Cazaly & TIO Stadiums. But never, ever in or on a court. Never ever. But they do out at Whingy Hill. They play a game all of their own out there where the Maribyrnong meets the Mountains and the big jet engines roar.
They’ve called Sir Frank Downright back from semi retirement and pulled the best brains money can buy from the legal team at Downright Lie & Procrastynate, to show beyond reasonable doubt that the evidence collected against them was unfairly obtained, and as such is inadmissible. If they hope, at the same time, to convince the Football Public that a team of elite athletes needed a crash course of weight reducing pharmaceuticals, and that the people they employed to administer them were highly trained and respected scientists, they may find that the some of the people you can fool all the time are wearing Red & Black beanies and have double figure IQs.
But enough of my gabbin’. The Wrapcave has been a bit chaotic lately, and to be perfectly honest, what with Sepp Blattermouth’s temerity to even suggest he’ll nominate for another term, the on-going revelations of what Rudyard Kipling’s Flannelled Fools have been doing in the name of the Almighty Dollar, and the sight of those Empire Game’s uniforms has brought on a deep depression. We’re taking some much needed mid-season R&R in The Green & Pleasant Land. Back in August for the run home.
In the meantime, good tipping, and even better punting.
And remember, if you read it in The Wrap you’ll know it’s not crap.