Poetry: A Barry Crocker of a Year

By Rick Trewavas

Screw the game, it’s not the same
If your mob’s not out there.

It’s the final stanza for all but five,
Too late to sell a game alive to the NT, bugger it – it was worth plenty.
But at least our B&F Tink is rid of umpies’ mistakes,
Ducks and drakes, their whistles are blown for others’ sakes,
Fair dinkum, sometimes they put in a Freemantle Docker.

Screw the game, it’s not the same
If your mob’s not out there.

Clearances, recruitment, 2010 budgets,
Sign the best ten as soon as you can – la crème de la crème.
The Karmichael recycle is a reasonable punt,
But the West Sydney dream is not in the hunt,
It’s a Freemantle Docker.

Screw the game, it’s not the same
If your mob’s not out there.

Plug the gaps in the engine room,
Force Eade to concede, that’s what the coach likes, looking for Pykes
So its beep tests, managers’ meetings and skin folds
To ensure the Board meets the coach’s moulds
So it’s not going to be a Freemantle Docker

Screw the game, it’s not the same
If your mob’s not out there.

For some, finals mean plans for future premierships
Reviewing coaching staff and listening to bar flies, pity the losing magpies,
And carn’ the Saints, not the Malthouse complaints,
No Cats, but maybe the Doggies a good picture paints,
If they don’t put in a Freemantle Docker.