[Another old post from my Diary of Dadness archives]
I still have my old football cards which date from about 1969-1985. Every now and then I look back over them and critique them as works of photography.
Geoff Blethyn kicked 107 goals in a VFL season this year (1972), wearing glasses. And yet you never hear about him. The photographer has chosen the same dramatic angle for all the Essendon shots it seems. A kind of, well, up the shorts angle really.
What is going on here with Ross Brewer’s arms? I’ll bet he was a hoot when he did his Mr Tickle routine in the rooms after training.
I love a player who strikes the same pose year after year, especially a lairy one like “selling the dummy”. Peter Bedford had all the skills and won the Brownlow Medal. Paul Callery is mostly remembered for being tiny and going on to be a stats man on ABC radio – I think he has a PhD now as the other fellas call him “Doctor”.
Sometimes the ball gets a bit slippery. These pics all have a touch of “whoaaaah there” about them.
And finally: the Swans mostly-white jumper seems to have caused some over-exposure problems here. He would have been stumbling around blinded for a while after the flash went off.
[This is my comment on Dugald’s post that has now grown up to be its own post]
I jumped about like an idiot when Dusty scored – so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy about the four points! But looking at the big picture – where is the progress in the last 12 months? If our veterans, our improving mid-range and our star youngsters all lose their bottle like that? Against Carlton, again, just like round 1, 2013.
The Vickery goal near the end was like something from an under-6 soccer game. And our miserable opposition – the worst Carlton team we have faced in years, they came out with their boots on the wrong feet, and we still couldn’t put them away?
When two teams have a traditional rivalry, pumping that up is always to the benefit of the weaker team. And I think we are currently a much better team than Carlton.
Next time we play them (you wouldn’t think they’ll make the finals so probably next year) I would like us all to treat them like the Western Bulldogs, or St Kilda. No fear, no undue respect, no hoodoo, no rivalry. Just a team who are so light on talent they still hope Jarrad Waite is going to turn into a player.
4 goals up at quarter time, 6 goals at half time, kill it off in the 3rd and in the last you have the choice; go for percentage or rest a few guns. This is what I want from Richmond!!
There’ll be plenty of time for Rivalry Razzamatazz when we are duking it out for a spot in the top 4. For now, it just plays into their hands.
|Where do you live:||Elsternwick|
|How did you come to barrack for Richmond:||How did you come to barrack for Richmond: I was born into a house in Richmond. We lived at 152 Church Street, the house is still there, until I was eight. Dad went for Melbourne and he’d go along to games and their song was the first song I ever sung. Mum was Carlton. I was a Richmond girl.|
|Favourite all-time player?||Royce Hart, number 4, he was just fantastic.|
|Favourite current player?||Chris Newman. He was a great captain and he’s fantastic too. I love watching him play.|
|What do you most like about Richmond?||I just think I love the yellow and black. I’ve enjoyed coming along to the games and sitting with the cheer squad for the last eight years. They’re like a big family to me, and there’s so much passion, and they’re here every week, rain, hail or shine. I just come along and sit with friends and enjoy the football.|
|Do you have a match-day superstition?||No. I can’t say anything because I don’t have one.|
|When will we next win a premiership?||2015, why not?|
Hi, welcome to the new TTBB. For my first (non-recycled) post, I want to thank Tim Squires, who has been my web-design guru over the last month. He has given us his time for free, and he’s not even a footy fan. But he is a tigers fan, well thylacines really.
Beside his web skills, Tim is a fellow graphic designer and an amazing natural history illustrator. Have a look at his work, and perhaps consider buying one of his beautiful limited-edition wildlife prints.
OK, I am going to kick this off with one admittedly stale sighting of one admittedly long-retired Tiger, premiership wingman Stephen Mount. His wife/partner was the MC of the Saturday morning Queenborough Little Athletics meets in Sandy Bay, when my kids were younger. I didn’t know who he was until later. He is well-preserved, looks very fit and spent a lot of time giving his toddler piggybacks here and there.
– Chris, Hobart
It’s so disappointing to go down the same track three times against Carlton this year. Pulled the first one out of the fire, but R21 and again yesterday the deja vu was … just very painful.
I get to one game a year at most – my heart goes out to the diehards who are there home and away, rain or shine. Multiply my angst by 100 and that’s how they would be feeling. The cheer squad banner was so beautiful – the G full to the brim with happy nervous Tigers. If nothing else Richmond can say we were part of a magnificent footy occasion.
11-year old Marcus (who had never seen a Tiger final) fled in tears when Judd tore us apart in the 3rd quarter. He knows in his guts that this Tiger team don’t have it in them to reverse momentum like that. Until we mature into a team that just doesn’t give up 5 and 6 goal runs, we are going to have these heartbreaking games.
Oh, so Dusty has mates in jail? Cool. Never would have guessed. I hope someone gave him an ultimatum on the spot about that disgraceful goal celebration. I was hoping Benny Gale had a direct line to the bench and would say to him “You have just taken $100,000 off what we are prepared to pay next year. You are a liability and if you are someone else’s problem next season we can live with that. You have taken the privilege of playing in a final and used it as a soapbox to show off your worst influences”.
Some guys who have been huge for us this year really came up short yesterday when the tide turned, and I count coach Dimma among them. He was squarely out-coached and I listened in vain to his post-match for an acknowledgement of that. It was all statspeak. He would have been shattered and not at his best, I’ll allow him that. But he didn’t concede what was obvious – Judd got off the chain and won 3 or 4 or 5 centre breaks on the trot. Losing Conca was a factor I guess.
It’s amazing that we had the rub of the green with the umpies, had the same number of scoring shots yet got flogged. Long before Carlton hit the front they had our measure. What was the rationale for Riewoldt AND Edwards going to defence in the 3rd quarter?
I am sorry I am feeling a bit negative at the moment. I will maybe start looking at the positives out of the season during the week. It’s been a very long wait, and although we have talented young players our club has never been good at backing up a good season (at least since the Whitlam years anyway).
Time for a proper match report. I have been to more Carlton Richmond games at the MCG than all my other AFL games put together. Out of about 8 matches I have only seen the Tigers win (and sung the beautiful club song) ONCE. Spoiler alert – this record still stands.The one win was round 22, 1999, the night the scoreboard caught fire.
I was in Melbourne primarily for Presentation Night but took the opportunity to gather together my group of originally-Tasmanian mates who all barrack for Carlton, and get along to see Richmond go into a game as favourites for once.As a sentimentalist I insisted we meet under the clocks at Flinders Street – John and Michael were there but Alex was coming from the south so he insisted on meeting us at the G rather than sailing past it on the train. It was a beautiful day, and we got pints of proper beer on board by the Yarra before taking the new (to me) walkway over to the coliseum, where mid-strength beer is now the rule.We gathered by the statue of Ponsford and waited for Alex. And waited. The other boys went in, I said I would wait for him but was overruled. I had his ticket, was trying to call him, getting nowhere, didn’t want to miss the bounce, ran in and out through the turnstiles three times, did miss the bounce, and almost missed the first goal. Between that and second goal I finally located the man whose nickname is Tardy [Surname Suppressed] for good reason. I finally settled into my seat in 2nd tier above the right back pocket, and drank it all in. What a magnificent sight it is – like a huge banquet laid out in front of a starving man.
Back to the first goal – what was Malthouse thinking starting promising under 13s player Josh Bootsma on dual Coleman Medallist, Jack Riewoldt? That’s tanking, that is. The first time the ball came their way Riewoldt just unbalanced Bootsy who slid to the ground, while the high-stepping show pony dawdled into goal and hoisted the ball over the cheer squad into the top tier. Which set the tone for the first quarter.We were down the other end and I had not brought the binoculars, so I had only a distant view of our eight first-quarter goals. I saw Jacko nail one, and Vickery, and they just kept coming. I had decided to watch Alex Rance’s work behind the play on Lachie Henderson, and actually picked a bad quarter to do it because my study kept being interrupted by goals. I did see one pretty weak effort by David Astbury when he was beaten for agility by 9-foot Blues ruckman Warnock. I was already halfway to wearing out my voice, and barracking like the hopeless once-a-year man-in-the-outer that I am. “MATTY MATTY MATTY MATTEEEEEEEEEEE” I yelled as various smaller players who were not Matt White (late withdrawal) kicked goals or executed snappy give-and-gos. “BURY IT TROY!!!!” as Tyrone Vickery lined up the big sticks. After that I just called him a different Irish county every time he got the ball. “MAYO!!” “WATERFORD!!!!” Yes, the beer was working wonders and I’m sure rows BB and AA were regretting it.
I had planned to tweet through the match and keep in touch with various Blues and Tigers around the ground and around the country by text, but had creatively left my phone in the car when Elf dropped me at the airport. I had a replacement phone but without all the numbers it was a bit useless. So I focused on the boofheads I was with. They had been gloomy about their chances, and at five goals down by 2 o’clock they were feeling pretty dire.
But the 2nd quarter was all Carlton, six goals to 2, so again all the action seemed to be miles away. McLean kicked three and the general impression around us was that this was an admirable but doomed fightback from an undermanned team who would never be able to sustain it. Our skipper Cotchin was very quiet though, and in the back of my mind I started to go over all those other losses to the Blues. Alex is late, I forget or mislay something important and Richmond lose – its usually like clockwork.
At halftime I found Joe from Launceston over in the other pocket. He had his mind made up – we were going to lose. I said that we had just let them back in it as we need to generate a finals-like atmosphere in the second half to practice for the weeks ahead. The Tigs are guaranteed finals participants for only the 3rd time since 1982.
I think in the 2nd half, that fact – guaranteed finals – eroded some of our competitive spirit. Maric was trying hard, Grigg and Conca and Ellis were pretty busy, Deledio must have had 12 or 14 running bounces for the game. But the goals wouldn’t come. Had a close-up look at Eddie Betts having kittens about taking a set shot. I’ve never seen anything like it – if modern-day Wayne Harms had suddenly appeared behind him I think Eddie would have dished off a handball, even though he was only 20 metres out on a 30 degree angle. Grimes was not very effective in his first game for months, and subbed for Tucky.
The mood was strange. On the scoreboard we could see that the Suns were touching up the Power (ugh to expansion club nicknames, UGH) and that gave the Blues fans a bit of a whiff of finals themselves. The Richmond crowd were, like the players, cushioned from the usual misery of fluffing a winnable game by the very UNusual thought – we’ll be back here in a final in 3 weeks, win, lose or draw today.
And so it went. There were signs of a late rally, and if there had been another 5 minutes the Tigs may have pulled it out of the fire, but … siren went with Carlton 10 points up and my delirious so-called friends reminding me that they are the old dark navy blues. Actually they were very kind, and said they wished the Tigs had actually won since I had come such a long way. Again, like so many times before, I reflected that I had really enjoyed their company, the big occasion and the quality of the game, but was really disappointed with how Richmond fell away conceding 13.8 to 6.10 after quarter time. It was just complacency and a few players deciding to coast.
My plan had been to leave the old dark navy blues and have a few drinks at the Cricketers Arms with the boys from Launceston before finding a cab to Tullamarine to fly home. This was always a dangerous plan, and with the unexpected bereavement of a loss I felt at liberty to change it. I said goodbye to Alex and Michael and walked back to Flinders Street with John. On the way through the parkland we passed a few kick-to-kicks, and one bit of old fashioned man-on-man scragging with no ball in sight. A bloke in a Richmond guernsey upended his mate in a Carlton guernsey on the grass in a textbook tackle, pinning the arms. In a yelling mood and 5 or 6 mid-strengths to the good, I called “He hasn’t got it umpeee! He hasn’t goddddddddddddddit! He didn’t bring it!!! IT’S AT HOME ON THE COFFEE TABLE UMPEEEEEEEE.”
Old mates and beer are the keys to unlocking a much wider emotional range than I usually have. John and I slipped into another Yarra-side bar for a last pint together, then he got on his train and I went up to Little Bourke St to find solace in dumplings. You had to order them with an iPad.