Category: Sport

Ton of fun

Here we go – 100 posts chalked up on the board – if I was a cricket player I’d be raising my bat in triumph – this raises a question or two that I’d like to see answered – namely “why is 100 runs called a ton in cricket when it’s generally a measure of 1000 kgs?”, “why celebrate 100 anyway – why not make the mark 77 – it’s much more achievable?”, “What was a ton called before the metric system?” – if you know the answer to these questions I’d love you to tell me.

You’ll notice that for a limited time only you can view all 100 posts on the main page. I read some of the earlier ones – and like everything that I write and reread I think some of them are terrible and I apologise in retrospect for inflicting them on you.

I’ve used this blog to comment on a number of topics ranging from myself and my (mis)adventures, politics, the media and sport.

Luckily for you mr(s)/(-r +iss)/(-r + s) reader there’s plenty more where that came from with the wide world providing ample fodder for me to shake my proverbial stick at. One day I hope to be an old man sitting on a porch shaking a literal stick, but for now I’ll be content with what I have.

My (mis)Adventures
Lend me your ears (or eyes because this isn’t an aural experience) and I will tell you tales of strange dreams, daring adventures and wild animals.

For those of you unfamiliar with this tail(sic) last week I dressed up as a lion to help a friend in need. I’m assuming that he’s had enough time to spread the news so that I don’t get the scoop. A picture will be posted shortly – but the long and the short of it is that Aaron proposed to Donna with my assistance (and I mean on the night, rather than right from the beginning when I was instrumental in their coming together – I can actually claim credit for that one). I sold him a flower with a ring in it, and the rest, as they say, is history.

But the story doesn’t end there. Well hopefully not for Donna and Aaron – but definitely not for me as you’ll now read. The night before last while engaged in peaceful slumber I had a very strange dream. I dreamt that I was in the lion suit again, only it had become a dolphin suit. I was suggesting that someone else try the dolphin suit on, but the suit had suddenly developed buttons. I had some trouble with the buttons and they eventually ripped off the suit – the buttons that is, not the person. At that point I woke up and found that I’d somehow managed to insert myself into my quilt cover and the buttons were in fact real.

Media and politics
There’s hours and hours of stuff I could write about the media at the moment – who’s buying, who’s selling. It’s a world gone topsy turvy – but so far nothing too scary has happened. I suspect it will be like every other controversial law passed by the government – it’s impact will actually be fairly minimal.

The ABC is in the throes of a series of rolling strikes from staff demanding pay increases across the board. The best strike story came last night as a camera man walked off the job mid story.

Sport
I’ve been meaning to post this for a while – it’s a few weeks old, but it still makes me cringe…

So there you have it. 100 posts featuring more than 54,600 words. That’s more than a novel.

Can’t Haka it

The Tri Nations Rugby League tournament kicked off* the other night. Normally international Rugby League is a chance for the best performing players from the season’s NRL competition to put off their post season holiday and earn a healthy representative bonus (and it’s a chance to bump up their asking price at the next round of contract negotiations). This year there’s a little more on the line because somehow the Kiwi’s are the reigning Tri Nations champions. The opening bout had all the ingredients of a successful representative match – an all in brawl encompassing a camera man, a length of the field try, and Willie Mason getting absolutely smashed by a flying shoulder charge from David Kidwell. The spite displayed on the field was apparently (at least so the media beat up claims) brought about by Willie Mason’s posturing during the All Black’s traditional posturing. A significant level of public outrage has developed because Mason so obviously showed contempt for a “significant” cultural display. Now I’m not Willie Mason’s biggest fan. And I won’t defend what he had to say – unless my lip reading abilities have done me a disservice and he was actually talking about a firetruck. But I will defend his right not to treat the Haka as a “significant” cultural display. It would seem to me that calling for a war cry to be humbly respected and observed on a cultural basis would open up a can of worms – must we then stand by and allow the Nazi’s to conduct their purge of all non Arians because that’s a significant part of their culture? A war cry is a declaration of open hostility. The Haka is no more culturally significant than a Nazi salute – and Mark Bosnich can attest to how much trouble that gets you in. At this point I should point out that I’m not condoning anything as offensive as the Bosnich salute. But to present the Haka as a cultural institution to be treated with the same respect as a national anthem seems ludicrous to me. To my knowledge the national anthem of New Zealand was not used to rouse spear wielding Polynesians into battle frenzy. I’m not against the performance of the Haka – I think it’s a completely appropriate form of preparation for an on field battle. I am against the idea that one team should sit idly by while their opponents attempt to psychologically intimidate them. For Big Willie’s benefit I have prepared a list of alternative activities for next Saturday’s haka that are guaranteed to be more off-putting:

1. Run around flapping your arms screaming “I’m a Faerie/Fairy/ferry watch me fly”

2. Prance about with your shorts pulled up as high as possible linking arms with team mates and spinning around.

3. Play hand clapping games (including chants) with the team mate on your left

4. Form a line and do a Riverdance (remember that Irish dance troupe who were all the rage in the mid 90s – complete with Michael Flatley) demonstration

5. Move into position and take a quick kick off catching your opponents unprepared – you should be able to regather and score the first try untouched.

Before any resident Rugby Union fans interject with “all those effeminate activities are entirely appropriate for Rugby League players” – I would suggest the union team not only adopt these policies but provide coaching for any league players struggling to come to terms with being a fairy. If there’s one thing that should unite League and Union fans it’s a common hatred of the Kiwis.

Another story sure to cause a stirring of the old League v Union rivalry is the news that the Gold Coast Titans are looking to snare Jonah Lomu. This would have been really big news ten years ago before Lomu was floored by repeated kidney failure. Now it would be just as significant as Union signing someone of similarly redundant vintage. But it shows a certain willingness of Union superstars to make the jump over to what I would say is arguably (although that implies there’s a level of conjecture – whereas I would argue that there’s no real argument – I just couldn’t think of a better word) a vastly superior game. There’s an old saying about rats deserting a sinking ship. And another one about chef’s desserting a sinking ship (which had to do with the distribution of ice cream on the Titanic as it went down – unfortunately the chef’s creative “Iceberg” dessert also went down like a sinking ship (or a lead balloon) and he was summarily executed)**.

* It’s nice to be able to use a cliché somewhat literally rather than in a figurative sense.

** All information contained in the parenthesis completely untrue.

Wrestling with stupidity

I’ve been meaning to write something about this topic for a while now. But I had to quite literally* collect my thoughts on this issue before putting pen to paper – or rather putting fingers to keys to screen. Some of you may be shocked to learn that I am a fan of the circus freak show that is professional wrestling (or wrasslin’ as it’s known in some boroughs). Others have known this for some time and have been studiously praying for my soul – or waiting for the fad/phase/moment to pass. Sadly I must report that it’s been more than 1.5 years since my introduction to the WWE and my interest shows no sign of abating/waning. In fact I feel compelled to publicly defend my interest in the “sports entertainment” industry on the basis of some loosely held claim that said interest is purely from an “academic” stand point and a desire to understand the American psyche through this particular form of pop sub-culture. I could also point out that Federal Treasurer Peter Costello is similarly fixated with the WWE – and Rove McManus and Wil Anderson are also said to be celebrity fans of the spectacle.

Wrestling is stupid. Everyone readily admits this. It’s stupid in the same way that any work of fiction is stupid. Critics of wrestling fans are stupid because they fail to realise that everyone (except the greenest of fans) knows the results are all rigged – in much the same way that everyone knows that the people in their favourite TV shows are actors. Wrestlers are just athletic (and admittedly sometimes wooden) actors. It’s a show people. A circus in a square “ring” where daring feats of physical strength and acrobatic ability are appreciated by the ignorant American masses who bay for the blood of the athletes. Blood sports are a thing of a bygone era. Wrestling is the last bastion of hope in an era dominated by politically correct, emotionless, professional, dollar driven sport where fighting is harshly discouraged (I mean even ice hockey is cracking down on in ring violence). Cynically – wrestling has taken that paradigm and subverted it. In plain English – what they’ve done in response to professional sport where content is driven by the dollar and a team’s success is based on the size of its bank account (ala Chelsea) is they’ve become a massive commercial conglomerate where the wrestler’s success can be directly correlated with the amount of money they pull in for the company. The fans have ultimate control over character development – if they choose to support (or hate) a wrestler it will determine that wrestler’s future in the company. If a wrestler can draw an emotive response from the crowd, if his merchandise sells and his matches sell tickets the company will make him a success. Wrestling’s continued success relies on the use of binary opposites to create tension – the good v evil nature of each bout keeps the fans cheering for the good guy (or the face – from babyface) or booing the bad guy (or heel). They’ve injected passion and violence (albeit fake), and removed political correctness (one wrestler even had the temerity to take a dig at Steve Irwin two days after his death) in a bid to engage the audience. Like any long running serial drama – characters often switch roles from good to bad in a bid to bring something new to the fans, and like any long running drama some story lines are memorable and exciting while others are frustratingly stupid, annoying and painful. Unlike any long running drama the “actors” involved are actually involved. They get hurt. As the compulsory disclaimer at the beginning of each show (designed to prevent copycat injuries in lounge rooms across America) says “Bodies have been bruised… necks broken… careers ended in an instant. Yes this is entertainment – but the hazards are real.”

So next time you pay out a wrestling fan – make sure you only watch documentaries and other “educational” television.

*In an exaggerated metaphorical sense.

And the winner is…

For a bona fide Australian male sports fan I felt particularly apathetic about the past weekend’s football finales (that wasn’t a spelling mistake but I could just as correctly said finals it just wouldn’t have been as fancy). Maybe it was the fact that no teams I care about were playing. Maybe it’s because I loathe AFL and am at least casually indifferent towards the idea of a Sunday night Rugby League Grand Final – even after 5 of them with no realistic chance of things actually being changed back to how they were in the good old days of yesteryear with the traditional Sunday afternoon family affair… but alas… we’re stuck with the pressures of commercial television and the night final is here to stay. I tried hard to get into the AFL the other day – if listening to 15 minutes of Roy and HG calling the last quarter and getting out of the car with 1 minute to go constitutes trying – but it just didn’t grab me. I wasn’t enthused. The cliff hanger ending was there. But even lawn bowls has cliff hangers. A game’s goodness is not determined by its closeness. Maybe it was Roy and HG’s total disregard for the actual flow of play and the niceties of the game (although as far as I’m concerned AFL has no niceties – that’s three or four less than Rugby Union). Although I suspect my apathy which this year encompassed both the league and union stems from the lack of tribal affection for any of the teams on show. In fact the team I felt the most empathy for was the Sydney Swans. But that’s ok. I’m good with that. I heard some anti-sports intellectual arty type on JJJ condemning Australia’s love for sport and the disparity between the recognition our leading sports stars and academics receive and I thought “you know what, you just don’t get it” until you’ve seen your team win something (or even felt the pain of them losing over and over and over and over again (it’s been hard being a Manly supporter lately) you’ll never really grasp the passion or affinity supporters feel for their teams). I enjoy watching a good game of sport between quality teams (most of last night’s game was good quality), but at the end of the day I’m just not going to get goose bumps watching the Broncos beat the Storm by just 7 points, or the Swans going down by 1 point to the evil West Coast Eagles. The connection a supporter feels with their team is unique. It’s often forged for the simplest of reasons but in most cases it’s a bond that will last for a life time. There was an old article I read comparing the loyalty a man feels to his football team to the loyalty they feel to a spouse (looking at spiralling divorce rates) which showed a complete cultural aversion to swapping teams even if the team you support ends up being a dud. What does this mean for all the Gold Coast people who are about to trade allegiances from the Broncos to the Gold Coast ahead of next year’s season – is that a free pass to ditch an old team for a newer, more exciting model?

This blog was a bit of a ramble, but it really effectively killed my spare time. I am starting to wonder if anyone other than Mark and Joel actually read my posts anymore anyway. The comment counts on the last few have been really low. I don’t think my family even bother coming here any more. Maybe the bad puns are turning people away. Maybe it was the fact that I kept insulting commenters – or maybe it’s the complete lack of meaningful content. Maybe you should suggest (in comment form) why no one comments anymore…

Danger is his middle name

Mat Rogers has shocked the Union supporting his world by turning his back on what is ultimately a very stupid game.

The league community is set to welcome the dual international back with open arms as he rejoins the newly formed Gold Coast Titans in 2008.

All this is good news. Great news really… Rogers was a revelation in union – he taught them a thing or two about ball skills, running, tackling and kicking. He was pretty much the complete Union package… and he was only a league winger. Imagine if a really talented league player switched. Anyway I digress. The thing that struck me about the Rogers story… and in a subject dear to my heart (I was considering a blog entry exclusively on this issue) is the name of his third child. Max Danger Rogers. Now it may seem clichéd… but Danger is this kid’s middle name. And Max Danger… that’s got to be up there with Max Power (or in fact Will Power)… ahh… what a name.

In other blogworthy areas… When I asked my CEO if there was anything I could do for her today she asked if I could provide her an extra hour in the day – which got me thinking – if we reduced hours to 57.6 minutes we could have 25 hours in one 1440 minute period… It’s just a thought – I’d say we all waste, on average, more than 2.5 minutes per hour. The evidence of this is the time people spend reading my blog.

Also, I was reading something the other day where someone wrote about waiting with “baited” breath… does that mean they sat with a prawn on their tongue? I can’t remember where it was… but it got me thinking about the word “bated” – how does “with restraint” come into a debate – does a debate remove restraint? Who knows? English is a fun language.

That’s all for me today following my last mammoth effort… stay tuned for more tales from the adventurous emails of Ben and Nathan – there’s a humdinger of a discussion happening currently…

Long time no blog…

I apologise for my lack of blogging lately. I would suggest attributing it to a complete lack of blogworthy content. Any other suspicions would no doubt be completely unfounded.

I was a Hair’s breadth away from posting some form of comment on the Pakistan cricket fiasco… but then decided not to. If Darrell Hair really does believe ball tampering was going on then good on him for taking a stand. Lucky Dean Jones wasn’t commentating at the time the Pakistani decision not to return to the field was clearly an act of sporting terrorism.

There’s a state election happening in Queensland soon. It must be the least exciting election ever. When you have to choose between an incumbent idiot and two challenging idiots who do you choose? Actually, Springborg strikes me as a really genuine kind of guy, it’s a shame he genuinely has no policy solutions for the health and water crises… neither of which are of his making. It seems unfair that he should have to clean up Beattie’s mess, and be punished for not knowing where to begin. That would be like me having to tidy my housemate’s room – or vice versa.

There were also some interesting word things that I thought I might blog about – but you can look up anally retentive on wikipedia for yourselves.

I went to Magnetic Island again yesterday with a journo from the SMH. It’s the first time I’ve hosted a journalist there in sunshine. We conducted site (and sight (i’ll never tire of that pun)) inspections of some very nice new developments over there that I’d buy if I had the money.

Israel, water, and Roman rule

Well. It seems I’ve promised a few people that I’d share some of my thoughts on a range of current issues via the ever expanding pages of this ‘ere blog. I haven’t done much blogging lately. I’ve been a bit distracted. Anyone who doesn’t know why should probably head to Mattias’ blog. For anyone who doesn’t want to read Mattias’ blog, her name is Robyn (while Matt got the scoop, I get the substance.) So here goes… a triple bunger.

I was talking to some people lately about the tension in the Middle East – and in particular the Israel/Hezbollah conflict. It’s a bit of a political hot potato really. But lots of people have opinions. And lots of people are stupid. Mel Gibson is stupid. Actually, pretty much anyone who takes a particular side in the conflict is stupid. The conflict itself is stupid. The re-establishment of the state of Israel, in hindsight, was probably stupid. You don’t see any Italians pushing for the reinstitution of the Roman empire do you. But then there wasn’t the same religious attachment or reasoning behind the Roman empire. The whole rebuilding of Jerusalem was based on a theologically flawed premise anyway… so there’s the background of my thoughts on the Israel/Lebanon tension… my thoughts on the tension itself are as follows:

No one in the world will ever have appropriate economic motivation to fire a nuclear weapon.

That’s my theory. The only people I can see firing one are a) Al Queda, b) North Korea, c) some crazy fundamentalist Christian sect from Northern Ireland. Al Queda because they hate everyone. North Korea because they’re crazy and want to be taken seriously even though they’re the smallest kid in the playground. The Fundamentalist Christian sect because I think fundamentalist muslims get unfairly tarred as the only crazy religious people – I mean, we’re forgetting Mormons and Scientologists when we tar all crazy people with the same brush.

I can’t see the US or any of the Arab states actually wanting to fire a missile into country side rich with the oil fields they all so desparately want to possess. I can’t see the Islamic countries firing a nuke at a city that holds a large amount of religious significance to their people. So, on that note, I’m not overly worried about world war three occurring this week.

Someone else asked me what I thought about the water shortage. Water shortages are bad. Especially if you are a farmer, or a particularly hygienic person. Whether you can legitimately blame a water shortage on a politician is another question. I don’t think you can. I think I should give some air time to my friend Joe’s theory on water use:

“We’re all going to run out of water at exactly the same time – so why shouldn’t I get more than my share of water while I can.”

Isn’t he a caring, sharing guy…

Speaking of caring sharing people. And because my blog follows the form of traditional newspapers with the sport at the end. I feel it’s time for me to give my first preview of the English Premier League which starts very soon.

Chelsea will win. Because Roman Abramovich will continue to pour his money into the club. This is a bad thing. As pointed out by this article. I was going to write more, but got bored, and distracted.

This blog has been performance enhanced…

I’m in a state of shock. The positive drug test returned by Wallabies wannabe Wendell Sailor sent me into a bit of a headspin. I mean, Wendell is like, totally a role model right… and Warney and his mum’s diet pills – they weren’t helping him perform at all. I mean if those poster boys of modern sports ethics didn’t have you questioning the drug testing bodies then who will. Surely Wendell would never ever have been anywhere near a line of cocaine. I had some serious doubts about drug testing in sport – and this week those doubts have become fully actualised disbelief. It’s not enough that they tarnished the names of such reputable, luminary sporting figures. Now they have to drag two men who are at the pinnacle of their respective sports into the mire of a “positive” drug result. Drugs in cycling. I mean who’d have thought. Next we’ll be told people are using drugs in sports like weightlifting, baseball and professional wrestling. And now drugs in the 100m sprint. That’s taking things too far.

There are conflicting views on the issue of drug use in sport. Obviously health, “spirit of competition,” and “role model” issues aside there are certain points for and against either side of the performance enhancing drugs argument

Here’s a couple of quotes from the Sydney Morning Herald.

The most infamous drug cheat of them all, Ben Johnson, has his two cents’ worth on drugs in sport:

“The spectators don’t care, the sponsors probably don’t care … all they want to see is the world’s fastest man …”

German television station ZDF boss Nikolaus Brender puts the boot in on the Floyd Landis doping scandal in the Tour de France:

“We signed a broadcasting contract for a sporting event, not a show demonstrating the performances of the pharmaceutical industry …”

So some people are a little concerned about drugs in sport. Some people think sports stars should be having a positive influence on society. That sort of thinking is dangerous. Taken to its unnatural extension it creates problems where sports stars suddenly think they’re academically qualified to be making decision that have some bearing on wider society.

For example:

Outcast Brisbane Lions midfielder Jason Akermanis on his wooing into the world of politics by Queensland Premier Peter Beattie.

“I know a bit about politics. I have seen how politics can ruin a football club.”

Here is a man who is seriously considering entering the political arena. Celebrity and politics have always been a volatile mix. Lets look at the long list of successful celebrity/politics crossovers…

Ronald Reagan, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Peter Garrett… intellectuality at it’s best… well ok, I’ll begrudgingly credit Garrett with some brains. But in reality these men have been elected on the back of fame rather than ability.

I thought I had a problem with ex-sportspeople becoming media personalities (Except Channel 9’s Andrew Slack, he’s good, and Richie Benaud, although he was a police reporter while he was a cricketer… I’ll bet some of you didn’t know that) until they decided they wanted to be politicians instead.

Jason Akermanis reckons he knows a thing or two about the water crisis. Apparently Australia is an island, surrounded by water… so we shouldn’t have any problems waterwise… maybe we should just start watering crops with salt water Jason. I’m sure that’s a wise and valid suggestion… (I’m aware that salinity is a problem, that comment, like the rest of this entry, was tongue in cheek… although a men’s 100m sprint with everyone on drugs would be kind of cool).

Irony, Irons and other stuff

A little while ago someone suggested I write about the misuse of the word irony in the lexicon. Well I would, but ironically I don’t know anything about the topic (See that was funny on a couple of levels). I will point out my favourite example of this societal abuse of the word – Angst ridden Canadian Balladeerette (is that a female singer of ballads?) Alanis Morissette’s song ironic. The only irony in that song is that it doesn’t actually contain irony…

“A traffic jam when you’re already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
It’s meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife
And isn’t it ironic… don’t you think?”

No Alanis I don’t think… and clearly neither did you. I’d suggest that’s more like poetic justice… as found in the correctly titled song Poetic Justice – written by Tom Kimmel and covered by Jane Saunders.

I feel like the king when the queen loses faith
And the crowd rushes in to tear down the gate
While the whole palace slept, and I never rang the bell.
Maybe that’s poetic justice, but it’s pretty hard to tell.”

Actually – perhaps ironically that doesn’t sound like poetic justice to me – but perhaps that’s due to a lack of context. Ironically, again, Jane Saunders released an album called Poetic Justice – with the Tom Kimmel song as the title track. The song contains these lines:

“I feel like the king
When the queen loses faith
And the crowd rushes in to tear down the gate
And declare what was mine
I stole from someone else
Maybe that’s poetic justice
But it’s pretty hard to tell”

So if her album is named after the song, and she sings the song, could she not be declaring something as hers that she stole from someone else… Guilty as charged I say.

So as you can see it’s almost impossible to learn anything ironic from a female song writer… or in fact from anyone at all. Except perhaps H.W Fowler who is quoted on Wikipedia (note: I understand the irony of claiming it’s hard to learn about irony from anyone and then turning to the source of all “reputable”* information**) as saying

Irony is a form of utterance that postulates a double audience, consisting of one party that hearing shall hear and shall not understand, and another party that, when more is meant than meets the ear, is aware, both of that “more” and of the outsider’s incomprehension.”

So there you have it. An ironic insight*** into irony.

My iron beeps when it’s been left on for too long. Isn’t that a useful function. I discovered this while preparing to attend the races (of the equine variety) yesterday. Perhaps ironically*** (after my post last week) I did place a bet on a horse and it was quite literally pipped at the post. I bet $5 and lost – I figure the $5 goes a small way towards repaying Jupiters Casino for kindly inviting me into their corporate marquee for the day and feeding me seafood and cake. They would have provided me with free beer too (or heavier stuff) if I wasn’t feeling fluey and congested still. I had a day last week where I wasn’t feeling fluey and congested but then I got up at 4.55am to host the Today show breakfast people up here and the lack of sleep didn’t help my cause. (Look how I tied four pieces of information into the one paragraph – watch and learn people… For those at home wondering what the four pieces of information are: 1. My iron beeps, 2. I went to the races, ate at the corporate tent and placed a bet (all one topic (but three pieces of information I guess)), 3. I am sick, 4. I had the Today show up here last week). Wow. Are you awestruck yet? Probably not. I should point out that I’m actually not as arrogant as I sometimes sound…

* “” Denotes sarcasm
** referring to Wikipedia
*** used ironically

I’ll bet…

The mighty Manly Warringah Sea Eagles are on a roll. I was so confident they’d beat the Panthers that I placed a bet with a friend of mine who happens to support them. Is this wrong? If I was sure the Sea Eagles were going to win isn’t that tantamount to stealing? If I was uncertain – is that poor stewardship of my money? Is gambling in and of itself wrong – or is it the associated greed? I don’t want the $5 that Pat is going to have to cough up because his team are unable to function effectively as a unit – I wasn’t motivated by greed. I just like to win. A game is infinitely more enjoyable if there’s actually something weighing on the outcome – by enjoyable I mean exciting – there’s more adrenalin involved if you actually might win or lose something depending on the outcome. But am I going to hell because of this bet? (well no, I’m not going to hell… at this point that was a little bit of rabbitical hyperbole… not that I’m claiming to be a Rabbi, or a rabbit…) Is gambling sinful? Should we be condoning or facilitating any form of greed. The Catholics have been running Bingo competitions as fundraisers for years so they obviously don’t have a problem with it. Neither does the Australian Chief Executive of Woolworths who is a professing Christian.

In that story above (by above I mean contained in the link above…) he made some pretty carefully considered statements about the decision his company has made to invest in a series of gaming establishments.

“I don’t think that’s a moral judgment, I think what is a moral judgment is that one needs to be careful and concerned about the environment in which they sell in the market facilities of that nature.”

While personally I don’t have a problem with gambling if you can remove the element of greed from the equation – if it’s budgeted entertainment with no addiction involved then go for it… who am I to say that using a pokie machine is any less fun than playing an arcade game. My problem is making a distinction like Mr Woolworths (not his real name) has made here. It reminds me of a scene from the Godfather where the Mafia Dons (head honchos) are gathered round a table discussing a move into the narcotics industry – one of them says ”

“I don’t want it near schools — I don’t want it sold to children! That’s an infamia. In my city, we would keep the traffic in the dark people — the colored. They’re animals anyway, so let them lose their souls… “

Somehow the logic in both those quotes seems strikingly similar to me – as long as we’re careful where we put the bad stuff people can go and do the bad stuff if they choose to. Gambling addiction is, without question, a destructive thing. Like the Whitlams I wish I could blow up the pokies… but then I’d lose out on cheap pub steaks designed to attract gamblers. So in conclusion I haven’t exactly figured out my position on gambling yet… but I thought that article was interesting… particularly the quote below, and the fact that Mr Woolworths said he’d be happy to sell bullets at supermarkets if it was legal and there was demand for them. Again, not a moral decision apparently. But where do we draw the line for Christians involved in business? Is it wrong to work at Maccas if they cause obesity? Is it wrong to be a lawyer? I think Mr Woolworths actually has it right in this case…

“I believe that I’ll be accountable one day for my life and so to that extent I’ll be accountable for my integrity,” he said.

State of the Union

I’m sitting down to write this post with no actual content in mind to fill it. It’s more out of a sense of obligation and in recognition of the fact that I’ve had nothing of substance to say for quite some time. Unless of course you count last week’s efforts on the word queue and the North Korea situation. Part of the reason I’m writing this is because I’m sick of the “ronery so ronery” title sitting at the top of my blog page. Those of us still carrying the world cup torch know that the hotly anticipated all European final is on in the early hours of tomorrow morning. For those supporters out there who’ve fallen off the wagon Italy (boo) are playing France (Oh ho ho) in a battle worthy of an Olympic 10 metre platform dive final. The number of dubiously decided close games in this World Cup have done nothing to further the game’s cause in Australia. Speaking of games in Australia, I made the mistake of watching a bit of last night’s Bledisloe Cup. For those of you not interested in the petty fights between League and Union fans I’ll give a quick summary of my problems with Rugby Union.

1. Its fans claim superiority over league based on the flowing nature of the game. Sure the ball is in play longer because there are less penalties given (only because Union refs actually play the advantage rule properly), but so much time is taken up setting up the lineouts and scrums, and the ball is constantly tied up in rucks and mauls. The game flows about as fast as an arctic river. Which is to say not very fast at all. Their tries are invariably scored in an all in “stacks on” on the tryline. Hardly the result of dazzling ball play, creativity or athleticism.
2. Union fans claim the moral highground because their scrums are contested. As far as I can see, contested scrums are not necessarily a good thing. They do not punish dropped ball to the degree that league scrums do, and they take so long to get right. I can understand the ref’s concern with a correctly packed scum, because if they go wrong people will get hurt. I was once told that international rugby players develop hemorrhoids due to the pressure exerted in the scrum. And I believe it.
3. Union aficionados always claim a higher level of sophistication and intelligence than their league counterparts – this claim was historically rooted in the fact that union players traditionally came from good private school, university educated stock. But no longer. These days the Wallabies backline (traditionally the smarter team members) are more likely to have a background in League than a private school education, and they’re much more likely to be getting themselves in trouble off the field (ala Wendell Sailor – those two factors probably go hand in hand). They’re also more likely to get caught out lacking sophistication on the field too, thanks to the wonders of modern television.

Really that link and a genuine dissatisfaction with the quality of last night’s game were the only reason I made this post. I suspect I’ll also get more response from particular female readers (Miriam and Robyn come to mind) than from any passionate male Union supporters. So over to you girls…

Ronery… so ronery

Just when you thought I couldn’t get any less holy – I open a post with a Team America reference. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie… don’t. I can’t recommend it in good conscience. However, I will continue to quote it because it’s actually very funny, and now surprisingly (well it’s actually not really a surprise) relevant given situations in North east Asia. It seems the craziest man ever to wear platform shoes has taken short man syndrome to the next level. Crazy Kim the coiffured nepotist from North Korea has decided to flex his military muscles by sending 7 really expensive missiles to the depths of the Sea of Japan. It says a lot about a man’s character if he’ll gladly waste seven missiles when his people are starving. There were plenty of better places to aim the missiles. The Big Brother house maybe. Channel 9. Boy, am I mister current events or what… Why didn’t he test them by firing them at a terrorist you might ask? Well for starters Hazem El Masri was indoors… and secondly Kim Jong Il is a terrorist in training. He’s just not very good. Yet. He clearly needs more practice – the US reported that one missile fizzled just 40 seconds after launch. There’s a lot of places you can take missile jokes. But I won’t. One can only hope his missiles didn’t harm any whales. I suspect that’s why the Japanese have imposed trade sanctions – it’s certainly the only reason anyone can think of for imposing sanctions on the Japanese. I think the popularity of karaoke would be another one, and the popularity of anime… and those stupid game shows… and umm… well I guess there are lots of potential reasons actually. But I feel sorry for the poor Japanese, not only do they have to put up with a crazy irascible despot on their doorstep, they’re not allowed to snack on their favourite meal in the whole world. Whale. For some reason the rest of the world doesn’t see taste testing as a scientific test. Last I heard science was the use of the senses (observation) to test a hypothesis. I think on that basis Japan can eat all the whales they want.

Another man who is apparently lonely at the moment, allegedly, is Michael Costa. The New South Wales politician who bares a striking resemblance to Dr Evil (oh no, now I’ve also referenced Austin Powers… I’m scraping the bottom of the pop culture barrel tonight)
has apparently (allegedly) been visiting ladies of the night. More specifically a lady of the night. An anonymous lady of the night. An anonymous lady of the night who anonymously made the announcement on talkback radio. Rather than letting the event fade into obscurity Costa decided to sue for defamation – now everyone knows he was the politician named (Merrick and Rosso cut the caller off almost immediately and released an apology without naming said politician). Costa needs a new PR adviser. I fail to see how suing a radio station where the hosts were clearly not culpable (they could perhaps have beeped out the name if their production team had been working on the industry standard 3 second delay) will achieve anything. Particularly if Merrick and Rosso can prove the claims to be true – truth is a defence to defamation provided it’s in the public interest (and the moral conduct of a politician probably falls into that category – some would argue that this shouldn’t be the case, but if you’re going to hold yourself up as a public figure of good moral stature then there has to be accountability). Thankfully we now have uniform defamation laws to make defences easier to remember – it seems these new laws scrapped the public interest element too. Hooray. Defamation was the one area of law I was actually good at. I figured it might come in handy.

We’re through…

What a bizarre game. This World Cup has captured the attention of the Australian public – and if games continue to go down to the wire like that one – it’s likely they’ll be caught up for some time. Harry Kewell finally lived up to the hype. Kalac showed why Schwarzer belongs in the Australian goal mouth. The referee issued three yellow cards to the same player… The game had it all.

Both teams looked much more comfortable chasing qualification than defending it. Neither team acted decisively when they held the upper hand – but Australia continued to play a composed, mature brand of football that I can only attribute to their combined experience playing in top class club competitions, and to the brilliant tactical nouse of Guus Hiddink (who was apparently richly rewarded for taking Australia to the second stage – you’ve got to wonder what he was thinking when Kalac let the ball roll over his body and into the back of the net).

Here’s my player ratings…

1. Zeljko Kalac – Ordinary handling and poor set piece decision making could have cost us our spot in the next round – obviously not match fit. I don’t think I saw him make a save. He was lucky Craig Moore was in position to clear the ball off the line in the last couple of minutes – 3/10

2. Lucas Neill – Again a superb performance – showing maturity, poise and style in the backline. Neill is my favourite Australian player and he’s showing the world what he’s made of – expect a big money transfer offer to come in for him in the weeks following the World Cup – 8.5/10

3. Craig Moore – This guy should still be captain. He’s level headed – and he can score penalties… He was in the right place at the right time to clear the ball off the line at a crucial point in the match. Our 3 man defensive pattern has held up strongly in the tournament so far. 8/10

14. Scott Chipperfield – Made some probing runs down the left hand side, including a beautiful turn and cross which asked questions of the defence. Made way for Kennedy late in the game. Does well balancing attack and defence. 8/10

5. Jason Culina – A favourite son to Guus Hiddink – playing in his club and national teams – always holds his own in the midfield – but sometimes guilty of lazy passing and poor decision making. 7/10.

7. Brett Emerton – Mr Reliable – controlled effort in attack and defence – unluckilly dismissed after receiving one soft yellow card, would have missed the next game anyway because the handball was a clear yellow card offence, he will be missed by Australia. 7.5/10

4. Tim Cahill – was everywhere – looks dangerous on the ball but can be a little volatile. For Australia to do well Cahill must perform. I stand by my statement about his importance to the team. 7.5/10

13. Vince Grella – solid engine room toiler – makes some poor passing decisions but also makes some crucial defensive contributions. He’s a valuable, physical presence anchoring the midfield and keeping tabs on key attacking players. 7/10

21. Mile Sterjovski – I like this guy, makes some great, dangerous runs on the flanks and keeps involved in the play. He’ll be a regular fixture in the green and gold. 7.5/10

10. Harry Kewell – finally delivered on the hype. Kewell looked dangerous all match and consistently troubled the defenders with some neat running, passing and shooting. Was on the spot to capitalise on Bresciano’s brilliant cross to seal our path through to the next stage. 8.5/10

9. Mark Viduka – Viduka is shadowed by several defenders on reputation alone – he never shoots, sometimes bundles loose headers into the keeper’s arms and never really troubles the defence. He’s a master of receiving the ball with his back to goal and looking for an easy pass. He’s penalised too regularly for backing into the defender who’s marking him and holding them off the ball. He’s an imposing physical presence and probably comes back in defence too often. 5.5/10

15. John Aloisi – Australia look instantly more dangerous with two dedicated strikers on the pitch. 7/10

16. Marco Bresciano – provided some spark and forward momentum to the midfield – and a beautifully weighted cross for Harry Kewell’s goal. 7.5/10

Josh Kennedy – He’s a giant. All gangly and stuff – didn’t have long to make an impact but didn’t really make any mistakes either – gives Australia someone to aim at in the box. 7/10

The ref – umm… ordinary effort, someone needs to explain the basics of the game to him. 2 yellow cards = 1 red, handballs in the box = a penalty… Luckily that Croatian guy didn’t do anything special after he should have been dismissed – he musn’t have been too smart though because he managed to fit a third card in right at the death.

Feeling Blue

I apologise for the title. Some times there’s nothing wrong with the obvious. Here are the three reasons Queensland won tonight:

1. They played very well
2. New South Wales were rubbish, mostly because of point 1, partly because of point 3.
3. Brett Finch is a gimp.

New South Wales took terrible options in attack and had an atrocious completion rate. There were way too many long, floating passes to no one in particular. And the Blues forwards were outmuscled and out enthused. And Queensland’s halves were halves. That probably helps.

Some people have complained that my posts are too long these days. I think those people should check out this site here.

That’s all I have to say for tonight.

Except that I think people should go out to their nearest, or most trusted, CD shop and purchase something by Lior. Lior is brilliant. And not at all gay, despite what my sister might have suggested at one point. That might be the sister who has posted a picture of a model as her profile picture…

Man of the moment

They say football (soccer) is a game of two halves. In reality its a game of 90 minutes where things can change in an instant. The beauty of the “round ball” game is the ability for games to dramatically turn around in the blink of an eye. The game’s critics in Australia cite low scores and the possibility of games ending deadlocked at 0-0 as reasons not to embrace the code. These detractors have failed to understand the drama involved in a game where just a momentary lapse in concentration can mean the difference between victory and despair. Australia’s world cup fortunes have been decided by a series of such moments. Some would say the moment Guus Hiddink put pen to paper on a contract agreeing to manage the Socceroos was one such turning point. The few seconds it took for Harry Kewell’s bungled shot to fall for Marco Bresciano to bury into the back of the net in the qualifying match against Uruguay were another. That goal altered the course of Australia’s World Cup campaign. The microsecond it took for Mark Schwarzer to choose the right (left) direction in what turned out to be the decisive penalty save was another key moment. All these moments played a part in Australia’s long awaited return to the world’s biggest sporting show.

Tim Cahill was Australia’s man of the moment last night. He was the man of the match too. Two moments of brilliance. Two vital goals. Tim Cahill managed to snatch Australia a victory from the jaws of an undeserved defeat. John Aloisi’s third gives Australia’s goal difference a vital boost in a group where for and against could be the difference between second round glory or an early trip home. Australia had the lion’s share of possession in the match and looked the better team in attack. Japan are a team seemingly more comfortable defending a lead than extending it. They seemed content to keep men behind the ball in defence, launching probing counter attacks down the flanks when given the opportunity. As Hiddink searched for the breakthrough he brought attackers on for defenders. His substitutions proved a masterstroke. The introduction of Tim Cahill, John Aloisi and Josh Kennedy were too much for Japan’s shaky defence to handle. Cahill buried his first through a sea of defenders. His second, coming as both teams looked content to battle it out for a draw, was a brilliant strike from outside the 18 yard box. The midfield dynamo gave some spark to an otherwise lacklustre performance from the Australian engine room. The truth is, for 80 minutes the Australian attack looked impotent. Shots were mistimed, miss hit and misplaced. Mark Viduka is potentially the game’s greatest defensive forward. His imposing physical presence keeps defenders on their toes, but he too often fails to the goal mouth itself. He looked lonely as the sole player in a one man front line. Josh Kennedy’s introduction to the fray injected some life into the Aussie attack. A regular partnership of Kennedy and Viduka as a strike duo would do much to allay concerns over Australia’s inability to get the ball across the goal line.

Schwarzer stood largely untested in the Australian goal mouth – his bungling role in Japan’s solitairy goal will be excused by some due to the attention he received from a kamikaze striker’s charge. In truth, a goalkeeper of Schwarzer’s stature should not be being forced off the ball by a diminutive striker. By rights he should have claimed that ball. Luckily he was spared further embarrassment thanks to Cahill.

Cahill’s arrival on the field last night also saw the introduction of product placement to a World Cup already teeming with sponsors. Cahill is sponsored by Weet Bix. A point the SBS commentator was only too aware of. “We can only hope he’s had his Weet Bix” he said as Cahill took the field. 33 minutes later when Cahill slipped the ball deftly between the legs of two defenders and into the net the commentator saw this as an opportunity to point out that Cahill must indeed have imbibed his daily dose of high fibre breakfast cereal. Of all the players involved in last night’s event it was the commentator who truly had a shocker. His outrage at the circumstances leading to Japan’s goal led to a constant stream of criticism for Egyptian referee Essam Abd El Fatah. As the whistle blew for half time he said something like “and perhaps fittingly the Egyptian referee has the final say, bringing the end to a sometimes controversial half of football.” Umm, could someone explain when the referee does not have the final say in a half of football?