Tipping the Final Curtain

Tony was the only one to get a point last week, which was not enough to put him in contention. Noone can beat Jacob now in fact, though if the cards fall perfectly John may equalise.

Here are our scores:

Jacob: 39
John: 36
Hamish: 35
Tony: 35
Dave: 34
Drsimmo: 33

And now for the final act, which is promising to be a cracker betwen two great teams.

I'm tipping Adelaide to beat Melbourne 3:2.

Jacob's tip:
Melbourne 2:1

Incidentally, The West End Terrorists beat Sickaz last week 2 nil in a tightly fought match of Indoor Soccer. But the winter soccer is all getting organised and the boys start training for that this week. Jacob keeps saying now that he can't wait for 'real soccer' to start. To which I reply, "Me too."

To the ineffable universal, may the Grand Final be a cracker, may the best team win, may there be good sportsmanship on and off the field, and may there be no serious injuries.

Cheers.

Tipping Adelaide vs Newcastle

It's 3am. I'm writing this rather psyched up to go into town to watch Australia play Denmark, strangely detached this time from the whole winning/losing thing, but excited and anxious nevertheless.

Jacob is still asleep. I'll wake him at around 4.45 so we can catch the 5.12 into town to go to the Pig n' Whistle. My own alarm was due to go off in another half an hour but stuff it I can never sleep once I've woken up so I'm using the time to get a bit of stuff done, including this post.

Well the tippers have less points to go for each time now, as the A-League contenders whittle to three and the weeks to two. Here are our scores:

Jacob: 39
John: 36
Hamish: 35
Tony: 34
Dave: 34
Drsimmo: 33

We're only just beginning to be sorted out ourselves, with Drsimmo needing all six remaining points to just draw with Jacob. With a three point lead over second place, Jacob is looking a bit like Melbourne in mid-season. If he keeps his tipping form for this weekend, I'm going to owe him a dinner. Quite convenient for me really.

Note a new ad hoc ruling: I'm only giving points for the full time result. If you predict a draw, by all means say who you think will win a penalty shoot-out, but there's no bonuses.

My tip:
Adelaide United FC vs Newcastle Jets FC
Newcastle 1:2

Jacob's tip:
Adelaide United FC vs Newcastle Jets FC
Newcastle 1:2

May the best team win, may there be a glorious, sporting crowd at Hindmarsh, brilliant and entertaining football and no serious injuries.

And meanwhile... Go the Socceroos!

Blogging some Bollocks

Yeah, I know I haven't really been on the blog, and I know everyone is still talking about the A-League. I reckon it's cool that Sydney have been knocked out, as they deserve in my view, but I haven't been watching the games, and have been content to read the analysis from Mike, Tony, John, Cecilia and Wayne.

I've also gotten a bit involved in the discussions over at the Queensland Roar Supporter's Forum. I'll do a bit of an analysis of that one day perhaps. Right now suffice to say that when it comes to "Why I hate Sydney?" I just don't relate. I don't even think it's funny.

Increasingly I'm thinking that it is hatred that is the irrational demon in our game. For all its glory, beauty and transcendental spectacle, is is just me who can see that football doesn't mean anything at all? That is, it means EVERYTHING of course, but meanwhile it means nothing at all. That's Football's superiority as a religion: unlike other religions, there is no pretense that some universal incontrovertability is underlying it. Unlike with other religions, there is no claim that football is not an earthy institution completely contrived and constantly corrupted by humans. Unlike with other religions, at the end of the day we can have a beer and a laugh with our most bitter enemies. I don't hate Sydney. I'm just bloody pleased that they're out.

For the handful of longer-term followers of this particular blogscape, The West End Terrorists are back for their second season, which is just a snappy two months ending with a finals day between the top four on the 31st March, just in time for the winter soccer to begin. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, the The Terrorists are the indoor soccer team my son is part of, and which I manage.

Last week they began well with a 3:2 win over The Hogz, but unfortunately this week (yesterday - Sat - morning) they were defeated with the same score, by AC Milan. Personally I blame school 'leadership' camp, where after being expected to go to sleep in cabins full of old mates at 8.30pm, the rest of the night is a bitter and exhausting conflict between adults and children, finally resolved by corporal deprivations of enforced standing still and quiet outside for hours. I remember that crap from when I was a kid and I still think it sucks. The kids got back Friday night and needless to say they were all quite stuffed.

Meanwhile the world is full of the beauty of our game and institution. For Brisbane folk, the kick-about continues every Sunday at 4.30pm at South Leagues Club. Last week we got up to 12 a side. The real over-35s competition looms, which will be my first organised competition since I was about 8. But tomorrow, for the sheer hell of it really, I'm also going to a kick about in the morning with the Roar supporters crew, at Tarragindi. Might be an interesting thing. I've learned heaps about watching the game by playing it, and for any football tragic with even a modicum of health and fitness, I think it is compulsory. You've just got to kick one of those balls occasionally.

And there is always, always football games to watch. For the last two Saturdays, cheaper than Fox and more convenient than Suncorp, I've watched games down at the local pitch at El Salvador Soccer Club. 20 or 30 fans, not including the birds, a Corona from the humble little bar run by volunteers, and some wholesome, passionate football. Last week was 'Brazil' vs 'Lebanon'. These were pretty much fully ethnic teams as far as I could tell, screaming at one another out there with their own lingual protocols. Of course I expected the Brazilians to win but they were thrashed by the Mediteraneans. This week was two 'El Salvador' teams, less ethnically based, but with some great individual skill. It was an entertaining 2:2 draw, with a red card and a bit of fire toward the end. Good stuff. You could write volumes about the worse things one could do with a Saturday afternoon.

Football is a religion. It's not just the A-League. It's not for the elite. A part of it will always be a ball of socks on a dusty street in the sun, but it flowers and grows and articulates. It's solace, it's esperanto, it's biophilia, it's love.