The 2017 George Gay Cup

Greetings Tipsters

 

Earlier this year I rhapsodised about numbers and patterns, asked if there had ever been a match that resulted in 15.10.100 v 7.7.49. It almost happened last weekend, folks, had the Funky Purps registered one more behind, kicked, punched, rushed, whatever, that match would live forever.

 

Such is life. One point, one second, one mile, one enormous consequence. Battle of Midway, f’rinstance. Lt Cmdr Jack Waldron, USN flight leader, intuited the location of the IJN carriers, found them, the first flight of obsolete TBD Devastator torpedo bombers was blown out of the air. Ensign George Gay was the only survivor of USS Hornet’s Torpedo 8 squadron.

 

Yamamoto was thinking Battle of Jutland and kept his battleships far out of range, intending to pound the US fleet. He should’ve used them to pound Midway and let his aircraft concentrate on the US carriers. They were swapping bombs for torpedoes on the flight deck when the US dive bombers found them, the fighters were shooting down the last of the torpedo bombers.

 

George was floating in the ocean a few miles from the IJN carriers, he had the only seat in the house, front and centre at the pivotal battle of the Pacific War. Read his thoughts here – http://www.defensemedianetwork.com/stories/midway-the-sole-survivor-of-torpedo-squadron-8/

 

Would you do that? Oh, okay, we are middle-aged, would you expect your children to do that?  Wade McClusky, Max Leslie, Dick Best, George Gay, first or second match in the seniors, they risked their lives so we could enjoy ours.

 

Milne Bay, first defeat for the IJA, it was blokes like Stan and Laurie that did that. North Africa, when the Wehmracht copped a bloody nose for the first time, Mick and Cec were there, burning their hands on the six-pounder.

 

Then they came home, to the other side of the world, where the sun always shines. English, French, German folks, they were already home, and it’d been blown to slivers. Thirty years of war and decadence and depression and more war. Now we have smartfones and the Italian birth rate is 1.2.

 

There was a great piece on the Almanac last year of a grandad, a staunch trade unionist who agreed that the Tories had a point sometimes. Much like my paternal grandad, who was selected in a NSW side around 1924, but he had to pay his own fare to get there and couldn’t afford to take the time off work anyway. Dad told me about Grandad’s last pair of footy boots. He’d had them a few years, a memento, living in Lithgow, late 1930s, a bloke asked if there was any work they wanted done in return for a feed and a bed, his shoes were buggered, so Grandad pulled the studs out of his footy boots and gave them to the bloke.

 

It’s a measure of the exponential rate of change that a time within living memory can seem so distant, go back another 80 years and we’re in the Industrial Revolution, prior to that nothing much had changed in the lot of the average bloke and chick for centuries. Millenia in some places.

 

Taking branches off trees with a fellow pop music nerd today, a lot of laughs quoting lyrics in various spoken tones.

 

My buddies and me are getting real well known. The bad guys know us and they leave us alone. Said Sal from Brooklyn.

 

What a glorious age we live in. Hot running water at our fingertips.

 

Cheers, Tipsters

 

P&C, a Stop Privatisation Of Footy Production, a division of Trans-Dementia Inc.

Brought to you with the assistance of The Tempations.

 

 

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. Warren Tapner says

    Rock on Earl. Van Morrison is still with us, and it probably won’t rain today.

  2. Shane John Backx says

    What in Gods name was that weird collection of words, sentences and paragraphs about. Still trying to comprehend it!!

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