Southern Cross Ten SUCKS!

I want ONE!
I hate the fact that this country's media regulations are stuck in the 19th century.
I can has more live sport please kthxbai!

2009 Port Adelaide

As the most recent team to enter the AFL, Port Adelaide introduced "teal" to the code. Teal of course is better known as AQUA, although their shade is slightly lighter than the famous colour the Broncos Aquanauts wore.
The Power's 2009 away jersey is nice to look at, but only from the front:

The back of their jersey is not so good though.

Please Port, stop looking so "Jekyll and Hyde" like. Make the back of the jersey white and change the colour of the numbers to black. I know some of the commentators would tell you to change the numbers to black no matter what you do - the sunshine at Subiaco against West Coast in round two made the numbers illegible both on TV and at the ground.
It all isn't bad news though - the 2009 Port Adelaide away jersey is 100x better than the last version:

2009 Melbourne Demons

Their football may suck, they probably shouldn't exist; but the 2009 Demons away jersey looks rather spiffy. The use of one of their older (1980s) logos in navy silhouette on a plain crimson jersey is certainly the right idea behind a "clash" kit. Not too sure about the blue cuffs and neckline, but it's not a deal-breaker.

Don't the Raiders wear Green?

Curious...
The Canberra Raiders usually wear lime green jerseys, white shorts and lime green socks. So why did they wear the above kit against the Gold Coast Titans? Surely the overwhelming presence of royal blue created more of a kit clash against the blue socks and shirts worn by the Titans.

Having said that, it is a very snappy away kit for the Raiders, but really they only have one occasion to wear it - when they play the Rabbitohs in Sydney. Otherwise, please leave it at home.

While I was looking for pictures of last night's game; I came across this particular item on the Raiders website.

I sincerely hope that Raiders fan vote for the option A, the plainer look is much better on the rugby league field - the multiple lines in option B make it look way too busy. What's your choice?

I want this...

I've never really wanted a baseball jersey until now.*
But I really REALLY want this Albuquerque Isotopes replica jersey NOW!
It's their 2009 season Sunday alternate jersey in the style of their MLB partner LA Dodgers.
It is super cool looking and I would love to have something this unique...

*OK that's a lie - I played baseball as a kid and we never had proper jerseys until the season I finished and I had to give it back at the end of the season. Plus as a kid (in the 1980s) I loved the NY Yankees (yeah I know) and I did want a Yankees jersey for a while, but I got over that - I wouldn't look good in pinstripes...

Grapple Tackles!

PROOF!!

The Melbourne Storm have been employing the infamous grapple tackle technique from as way back as 2002.
This extraordinary photographic evidence comes from Round 21 in 2002 when the Brisbane Broncos Aquanauts defeated Melbourne 48-20...

My Cats died...

So Geelong lost yet another Grand Final... one of my favourite writers explains the feelings of many Cats fans...(From The Age, October 1, 2008)

Footy gods showed us they remain in charge

John Harms | October 1, 2008

I'M SITTING in my study. I have no idea what to write.

I am surrounded by Geelong stuff. The Geelong FC pennant I've had since the 1960s hangs from my bookcase, not far from my copy of Road To Kardinia and just up from Cats on the Prowl. My Gary Ablett figurine rests on the window sill.

Last year's WEG poster (now framed); that glorious WEG poster, which means so much, is propped up against the couch. A poster of this year's Geelong squad is blue-tacked to the wall, under the dart board which the Handicapper gave me for my birthday (an inspired decision).

Ian and Bruce Nankervis, Larry Donohue and Gary Malarkey watch over me from the noticeboard. They are the only four Scanlens cards pinned up there. My pens and pencils sit in a GFC stubby holder (circa 1984) with the words of the Geelong song on it. The newest item, which I won in a Loose Men Charities raffle, is a GFC shield illuminated by the thin neon tube that borders it. It's like a votive light that sits atop my filing cabinet. I turn it on when taking strong drink, and pretend I'm in Ireland.

I'm sitting here trying to make sense of what happened to us on Saturday afternoon. It was supposed to be such a memorable day. I went with the Handicapper. These days, she is a genuine Geelong supporter. Theo, our 11-month-old, watched the first half at home with Tash, our wonderful babysitter.

We had excellent seats, ground level in the Olympic Stand. Immediately behind us were about 200 Hawks supporters. During the anthem, one of the Hawks fans yelled out: "Do it for Crawf." Another responded: "No. Do it for me."

The Hawks fans had me puzzled. They were so confident. They looked at each other with that we're-gunna-win-this look. That I-believe-it-do-you-believe-it look. Like they were all members of some secret society (one that ran the world). By the time Jarryd Roughead kicked the Hawks' third goal, they were calling for the engraver.

I was a little concerned, but not really worried. I was quietly confident about the result. I thought it would be tight early, until the Cats surged, and that would be it.

All week, I had thought this was such an important game, not just because it was a premiership and the chance to cap off a superb season, but because it offered the Geelong Football Club, and especially us supporters, the best opportunity for nearly 50 years to rid ourselves of that debilitating notion that things happen to us. That we just had to wait around until the gods chose us.

If ever there was a chance to assert our free will, to make something happen ourselves, this was it.

I believed in the boys. Throughout the second quarter, I was convinced we were dominating, mainly because we were. The Hawks looked tired. Static. "We're gone," the Hawthorn bloke behind us said, and a few minutes later exploded his blow-up supporters' clapper in disgust.

Brad Ottens won the knocks. The midfielders won the clearances. But we lacked the crispness we'd known all season and our kicking for goal was deplorable. But I still believed. We'd pile on six and that would be it.

Tash brought Theo along at half-time, dressed in his Cats T-shirt and mini-Dunlop Volleys. Inside the ground, he was fascinated with the people, and the noise. It would be our first family premiership.

Again, Geelong looked strong. And then it happened. It was like routine in-grown toenail surgery had gone wrong and the PA was calling Code Blue. Goal after goal to Hawthorn. Their fans were delirious. It was so loud, I thought I was at Wembley.

Brad Sewell, down early, had said: "Come on boys." And worked his way into the game. He was magnificent; never beaten.

At three-quarter-time, I was still confident. The Handicapper wasn't. "They could lose," she observed Sybillishly.

"We'll be right," I assured her. "They're exhausted. We'll finish over the top of them."

I was reasonably confident until Buddy kicked that goal. And then the Cats wilted. Sam Mitchell's goal finished us. We were defeated.

The Hawks sang and embraced and looked into each other's told-you-so eyes.

It was awful.

I have been thinking about it since, thrashing it out with others. The grand final wasn't just another game of footy; a disappointing end to a stellar year. If you accept the premise that reputations are made in grand finals, then grand finals are more than that. Especially this one. This was enormously significant and if we shy away from that, we will suffer all the more. Now is the time for total honesty, total commitment and loyal support.

I don't speak for anyone other than myself. I ask: how do you teach young men to imagine expectation as something other than a burden? How do you teach them to crave the contest until the very end?

But still I wonder. Still I find myself contemplating my old understanding: that Hawthorn people have their place in the universe, and we have ours. And that there are footy gods after all.

I was so close to being convinced otherwise.

FA Cup "Magic"

Congrats to the four "no name" teams who overcame bigger name opposition to make the final four of the FA Cup.

Cardiff City and Barnsley especially encapsulates exactly what the FA Cup is all about.
Best of luck to the four teams (although I don't really care for West Brom or Portsmouth) in the semi finals at Wembley on April 5-6.

At least this season I won't be cheering on the sun as it crosses the pitch on FA Cup Final day.

Lame or funny?

The Superbowl was on yesterday, I took half the day off to watch it.