Brownlow Live!

Perky Girl has been a fan of the Brownlow Show for several years now, this evening she lured me in with dinner and it’s 30 minutes in and we’ve laughed and cried.

 

The most notable style is elasticised calves on all players suits and tight ankles all round. Hamish, his breeding should have prepared him for this, is showing a big chunk of white shirt below his jacket button, it’s been there for a while. Isn’t some flunky supposed to look out for this?

 

There were a few hilarious horrors that had us in stitches, Daisy Pearce and Kate Riewoldt looked great, classy outfits, great colouring.

 

Now there’s a skinny girl hollering some overwrought song. By the beard of the prophet, glad I’m not there. An awful lot of blue light, do they eat dinner in there? That’d look unusual.

 

Aragorn is making a speech, it isn’t memorable. Now it’s highlights of Round One and he’s reading the votes, reasonably quickly but I dive for the CD cupboard and Bruce Springsteen is strumming and singing ’bout how it takes a red headed woman to get a dirty job done.

Natural or bottle, Bruce?

 

The count goes on. Players are occasionally seen to sip a beer, mostly they sit there, trussed up in white shirts and bow ties, looking mighty uncomfortable and doubtless envying their teammates in Greece and Mexico who at least get to choose the colour of their T-shirt.

 

We went out for a smoke and a talk about food. Back in the loungeroom and the E-Street Band are thunking away, jeez, this is corporate programmed rock at its finest.

 

King Northern Soul, phew! That was close. Junior McCants is singing and Sarah Perkins is on telly. Now there’s a kid eating an ice-cream, somewhat less highlights of the round and back into the ballroom of the uncomfortable.

 

There’s Ben Brown, in the regulation shirt and bow tie. Rory Sloane is leading the count, Dustin’s hair is near mohawk, give it twelve weeks and dye it yellow and black, it’ll look great.

 

Betting shops finances will also be looking wobbly if this keeps up, twelve for Rory, eight for Dustin, the AFL website has got R5 up as the teev hit R8.

 

Highlights of ex-footballers, where is Roaming Brian? He adds a dash of witty sophistication sorely missed this evening. Brendan Fevola got a look-in early on, Erin and Shaun are on now, what’s their caper?

 

Worst tackling attempt award presentation and it’s being accepted by Dan Rioli on behalf of the bloke who missed him.

 

Kids are doing some ints, a few players, Bob and Jarryd, kneel down and talk face to face.  I’ve been thinking about Bob, would Footscray have won one flag if he hadn’t been injured? No-one, especially not those at the centre, will ever be able to quantity the effect he had on the rest of the players.

 

Take another step, would he be Beloved Bob if he’d been recruited by Collingwood?

 

Oh, there’s Johnny Platten, his hair has only changed colour. Perky Girl reviewed the 196 songs I’d selected for her birthday party and was very happy with the result.

 

Isn’t that wonderful? You know how it is when your wife does something and you’re thrilled with it and she says that it’s no big deal and then you spend hours going through the files putting a playlist together and it aint really a big deal cos  going thru song lists is really good fun but especially when you’re doing it for her, so shrug and grin.

 

AAAGGHHH!!! The dreaded BT! Must. Flee. Loungerooooooonhnhneerr….

 

Darcy and Marcus are up now, Marcus, fix your jacket. Joe Daniher has a medal draped around his neck,  he’s had a haircut and some locks have been inexplicably glued to the left side of his forehead.

 

Dustin’s out in front, bookies breathe a bit easier. Willie Nelson’s on the stereo, thanks, “it’s my life” I don’t want anyone yelling at me. Can’t much bear Marshall stack rock these days.

The helicopter camera sweeps across the blue lit room, cinematography learnt a lot from Vietnam War combat photogs.

“Testosterone and oestrogen.  They’re all young and skinny” says Perky Girl.

 

Dane Swan in an old Iron Maiden T-shirt. Another ad for the Michael Hutchence doco, which seems horribly necrophiliac. Bloody hell, it’s 22:24 and this still aint done, it’s only R16.

 

We’ve been shooting the breeze for a bit, it’s R22, Dangertrick is ahead but Dustin can’t lose.

 

“There’s Daisy, she’s gorgeous!” we chorus from the couch.  “She’s the Sally Field of football,” says Perky Girl.

 

Dusty’s onstage, just refused a tray of schooners.  He’s wearing a tie. Ah, so’s Dimma. Only two I’ve noticed going against the code, delivered to every invitee by three heavily armed standover professionals in a black AMG, Dustin laughed ’em off.

 

I loved watching him play this year, he runs and shoves like an All-Black, onstage he drains water and shuffles and bounces out of his skin, puts his hand in his jacket and I flick the sound to catch his short speech, focussed, honest.

 

The kids ad, do the players portrayed receive royalties and how does Malcolm Blight’s rate compare with Moana Hope’s and will two plucky u/11s recreate the Brereton-Yeates collision next year?

 

Time for new music, I looked in the cupboard and everything seemed really normal… but, here’s Brisbane’s finest guitar girl gang, Gazoonga Attack. Great album… okay, just one more little glass of wine, agh no, too much! guess I might as well have it now.

 

 

About Earl O'Neill

Freelance gardener, I've thousands of books, thousands of records, one fast motorcycle and one gorgeous smart funny sexy woman. Life's pretty darn neat.

Comments

  1. Mark 'Swish' Schwerdt says:

    I eschewed Twitter during the telecast, so I don’t know what I thought of the night.

    Ralph Carr’s Marn Grook headpiece was quite fetching and Toby Mitchell’s speechwriting was sharp and to the point.

  2. John Butler says:

    Much more entertaining than the actual broadcast, Earl. :)

    I like the suggestion re the Brereton-Yates recreation. Hope the creatives run with that one.

    Cheers

  3. I’m occasionally prone to be a wet blanket, but to put it succintly the coverage this year was tedious. They meandered counting the first 16 rounds, accelerated through the last 7 ! Too much filler, detracting from what should have been a highlight of the year.

    Great win Dusty, let’s see if you can quinella it on Saturday.

    Glen!

  4. Phillip Dimitriadis says:

    Terrific stuff Earl,
    Very funny and entertaining unlike much of the laborious telecast.
    Daisy is a refreshing addition. Like the Sally Field comparison. Flashbacks to the ‘Flying Nun’.

  5. She’s the Sally Field of football is a great line Earl. Your story was much funnier than enduring the telecast, although I did enjoy Dane Swan’s Iron Maiden t-shirt.

    Thanks Earl.

  6. Noice Earl. I wonder if you had shuffled from Bruce’s salacious tribute to red headed women to some Barry White then Curtis whether your night might have been spared the agony. Still, we got a good laugh with the journey as it happened.

    Here are a few of my take-outs from the night in question:

    1. The video footy summary before each round looked like a cross between Benny Hill out-takes and early Graham Kennedy Funniest Home Videos. So many shots of ball whacking heads and balls into nuts.
    2. Betting rules. We kinda knew it but now we KNOW IT. Will that be the end of footy as we know it? Will we still feel fine?
    3. How rank to speed through the vote call just cause we know who’s gunna win. Surely the night is about recognising everyone’s achievements, not just Number 1.
    4. McAvaney creeping up/popping up behind Dusty – what the? SNL could not send up a scene like that better.
    5. I take it that with Cometti gorn that Brian Taylor is the Oscar Wilde of AFL commentary. So what is worse for footy, BT or betting? Too hard to call.
    6. Dusty could not have looked more out of place as the centre of attention if they had asked him to sing his speech. How lovingly did he look at the beer offered to him when on the podium? It was both touching and a little bit sad to see how lost he was. His stage as he noted is the G.

    Cheers

  7. Excellent work as always at making me laugh, Earl. Thankfully I avoided the Brownlow (knowing the winner, the tedious nature of the count and the betting ads), but you have captured all the action (or lack thereof) very well.

  8. Footy version of Goggle Box starring Perky Girl and Earl? Fox Footy would be up it like a rat up a drainpipe if it weren’t further up Aragorn.
    Lisbon is a great city. Free musos everywhere. Kids sitting in parks with Vaucluse views sipping goon bags listening to the next Jeff Buckley, who had some jazz guys sitting in last night. Perhaps you and PG could do a live cross next year?

  9. John Butler says:

    RK, re your point 1. That occurred to me as well. They even added wacky sound affects to one round.

    Added to the usual failings, this year had a strange, disembodied feel to it. Caused by the result being so predictable?

    In terms of the production, the night looked like it was thrown together in the last five minutes before going to air. Is this the result of the cost cutting and deskilling across the industry as a whole, as the stations teeter towards bankruptcy?

  10. Great stuff, Earl.
    Enjoyed reading this much more than watching the telecast.

    I reckon last night’s broadcast was a new nadir for the Brownlow.
    The overbearing relentlessness of the betting promotions was an utter disgrace.

    Interesting to note that the red carpet telecast has an A list also. Plenty of couples who were not seen nor heard from – and very few indigenous players.

  11. Good point Smoke re Red Carpet edits. There’s a PhD in the way the red carpet has become a thing.

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