Good morning Steve

How’s it looking on your side of the world?

Pretty damn bleak I’d imagine. But I’ll tell you something for free, there ain’t no “rise and shine, jump out of bed and rip into the day” back here, either.

Having had a full 24 hours to digest the enormity of what you and the oft-mentioned “leadership team” (OMLT) have conjured up, I can tell you, we’re pissed. We’re really pissed. We’re also bewildered, we’re numb, we’re appalled, but worst of all, we’re embarrassed. We’re embarrassed to be Australian.

And that’s a feeling that doesn’t sit comfortably with anybody – old, fat, slow, nimble, young, athletic, white, black, yellow, green, male, female, cricket lover, cricket hater, or any other minority you represent as the captain of our most prestigious and culturally significant national sporting team.

The rest of the world might cheat, sure, but not us. We’re ‘Straylian. We don’t break the rules. We play hard but fair.

Until now. [Read more…]

You can almost hear them gathering around the water coolers, can’t you?

The Melbournians, readying themselves for resumption. The new beginning. That wonderful neutrality of all teams on zero points. Nobody winning, nobody losing. Just hope – even a few prayers – for the winter ahead.

Ah. The “industry” that is AFL. If only the rest of the world understood how important it was…

The head honchos of the game even recently accused Cricket Australia of “staging” the David Warner – Quinton De Kock fracas, to hijack the media and deprive them of pre-season publicity. Seriously. How up yourself do you need to be before that’s even a possibility?

Anyway, one person who’s not waiting for the first bounce of 2018  is a bloke who up until a couple of years ago, was there for  the bounce every week. For 18 seasons in fact.

Not these days. Adam Goodes, AFL legend, 2014 Australian of the Year,  rarely even watches the games on telly. [Read more…]

I wondered afterwards, what Nick was thinking.

Seriously. I’m not being smart. What was going through his mind, watching Roger and Rafa thrash it out on court in the pulsating finale to this year’s Australian Open.

Where was he? Was he even watching? I suppose that depended on what else was on telly. NBA season underway and all. We hear regularly, that’s where he’d prefer to be. On the pine, shootin’ hoops.

In fairness, I can understand if he didn’t watch the match. I’m guessing for the guys inside the tent – the tournament “also rans” – watching the final is a bit like watching your beautiful former fiancee walk down the aisle with her new beau, after she’s give you the Coke and Sars.

It’s where you wanted to be, hoped you’d be, but you’re not. You’re on the outside, looking in. Superfluous to requirements.

But well beyond the offerings of the match (passion, poise, drama, skill, determination, courage, brilliance … what have I missed??) there was the post match. Roger and Rafa reflecting, reviewing, re-living the most recent three and a half hours of their extraordinary careers.

Now Nick – this my friend, is something you simply have to see. If you did, great.  I hope you recorded it so you can watch it again. And again. And again. [Read more…]

This story, sadly, is true.

A couple of years ago, a first grade NRL coach sat down over a coffee with a player manager to discuss the future of one of his emerging young stars.

The coach hadn’t encountered this particular player manager before, and was initially taken aback by his interpretation of “appropriate dress” – shorts, grubby runners and a tatty polo. But he thought he’d give him the benefit of the doubt – who, after all, was he to judge?

However, the longer the meeting went on, the faster the red flags were shooting up the flagpole.

For a start it was clear from the flow of the conversation, the bloke simply didn’t have a clue. About anything.

And then there was his brand new brief case – perched on the table, but remaining unopened. The coach couldn’t help but wonder what was in it. A Vegemite sandwich? A pencil case? Nothing?

He was dying to ask but thought the better of it. Instead, as they were wrapping up, a more generic question: “Out of interest, how many other players do you have on your books?” he asked.

“Oh. I’ve just got the one. I only do this part time,” briefcase boy revealed.

‘And where do you work the rest of the time?” the coach asked.

“At the airport … I’m a baggage handler.” [Read more…]

Well there was a bit of kerfuffle about that refereeing decision, wasn’t there? Plenty of if-a, could-a, would-a, should-a, but-a’s tied up in that one.

In amongst all the volleying back and forth between officials, players, fans, media, blokes who were there, blokes who weren’t, it’s probably worth remembering the game has been decided. It’s over. We can argue all we like – go right back to the legitimacy of the coin toss if we must – but not a lot’s going to change. Perhaps the name of the ref in charge of the final, but that’s about it.

As a final word, I reckon it’s worth taking a leaf of Conrad Smith’s book. The All Blacks’ centre was on the end of a similarly dud decision, when captaining Wellington in a Super Rugby match a few years ago, an “illegal” try awarded after full-time which cost his team the match. But Smith, a barrister, refused point blank to apportion blame. “We simply didn’t play well enough. If we had, the try we conceded wouldn’t have mattered.” OK, he wasn’t playing in a World Cup Quarter-final, but still pretty impressive, Your Honour. Look in the mirror, not through it. [Read more…]

Gee, pretty hard for our sports stars to get away with anything these days, isn’t it?

Hawthorne captain Sam Mitchell, a little “jab in the arm” gesture to an Essendon opponent, and it’s front and back page news in Melbourne for what – three days?

Then Nick Kyrgios, muttering about “scum” at Wimbledon, and it’s picked up by a court side microphone at Wimbledon. Crikey, he was just talking to himself. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

I was reminded exactly how much things had changed this week when I attended a small lunch with a few State of Origin types, courtesy of XXXX.

Technically I’m not meant to be telling you this because the “cone of silence” was in play. But it’s all good – I’ve cleared it with the relevant authorities. Besides, anyone who remembers Maxwell Smart, would remember the cone of silence didn’t really work that well. [Read more…]

I was listening to a mate the other day lamenting his “unlucky” start to the year. Something about stuff happening in threes – lost keys, a smashed mobile phone and what sounded a lot like an insignificant injury.

Not really knowing what to say, I pointed out it could have been much worse. He could have been Robert Allenby.

Now there’s a bloke who’s had a rough start to 2015. How unlucky was he? Standing there on the holiday strip in Honolulu, minding his own business when the pavement jumps up and hits him in the head.

Some guys just can’t take a trick, can they?

But do you know what? Of all the professional golfers in the world, I reckon Robert would be the odds on favourite to have it happen to him. [Read more…]

At first glance, my father in-law would not have a lot in common with Darren Lockyer.

Lionel – OK – his name is Lionel. I wanted to get that on the table and out of the way early. Lionel played a bit of League – for the Sherwood Methodists, whoever or whatever they were. But that’s where it finished. Team sport, anyway.

There are however a lot of different dimensions to Lionel. To pain a simple picture, he’s kind of part Alby Mangles, part John Paul Getty and part Mr Bean.

Outdoor adventurer, at one with nature, Astute businessman – in between marathons, he ran a very successful and reputable provincial legal practice for about 1000 years. But Bean definitely visits from time to time. Not that long ago, I caught him trying to make a phone call on the key pad of a microwave oven. Knowing Lionel I wouldn’t have been surprised if he got through.

The same weekend, he was out by the pool, using a $30 fibreglass kit to fix an old pool brush. “You know you can buy a new brush for about $40 – what are you bothering to fix that one?” I asked.

“Because I can,” he replied, continuing to double the size, weight and strength of the pool brush, without even glancing up.

The conversation, didn’t do any further. It often doesn’t with Lionel. Words, unlike fibreglass, are used sparingly.

Which brings me, rather circuitously, to Darren Lockyer.
[Read more…]