Sharks vs Redcliffe – Round 3
Straight into it this week lads, no mucking around though I do just want to put it out there that I will not be in attendance for our next game so if anybody wants to write a match report for the next game, you are more than welcome to do so.
We’re used to losing players prior to the commencement of a game at our level of competition, be it to injury, incarceration or just down the back of a couch (it could happen…Mary is only little) but the monotonous regularity with which we now lose Bones pre-game is becoming a cause for concern and ridicule.
With each new game, Bones’ withdrawal seems to come a little earlier. For this game he called an end to his fitness test one minute into his warm up. Be sure to watch for him next game driving his pre-game warm up laps instead of getting out of the car, just to save time.
Whilst we’re on the subject of the Huston brothers and their pre-game routines, I should point out that even just sitting next to one comes with its own set of hazards. In error I found myself drinking from Pedro’s pre-game Powerade, which either he’d already started using as an ashtray or they’ve introduced Winfield Red as a new flavour. I came away from the experience with a strange new set of cravings. I wonder if Powerade sell patches?
The Redcliffe ground is set against a lovely, semi-rural backdrop that is as sedate as it is welcoming. If I had to knit pick though it would probably be in reference to the enormous, seemingly genetically engineered mosquitos that engulf the ground. The standard repellents did nothing. Usually my personality acts as repellent enough to most living creatures but these were no ordinary insects. When you see a group of them (presumably teenagers) standing around, drinking from a can of Aeroguard, you know they’re tough.
It was by no means an aesthetically pleasing game but rather one played with great passion and desire. Even the perpetually smiling Brian got fired up at one stage. Not to be outdone Wolfie soon found himself in a little push and shove. Both combatants went toe to toe and eye to stomach until they could be passively restrained. The big guy had the last laugh though, responding shortly after with a strong contested mark before drilling Haema on a lead with a beautiful pass.
It wouldn’t be a match report without mentioning another bruising, bone jarring bump from Presto which raised the ire of the opposition. It should be mentioned that Presto doesn’t hit anybody outside the rules, he just hits them hard. This week’s victi…ummm…recipient, clearly nonplussed at the sudden bout of internal bleeding he had been administered, climbed slowly to his feet to begin remonstrating by hand. I dare say it had to be non-verbal communication. If he’d dared open his mouth I think the sudden outpouring of teeth might have had me yelling “Yahtzee!”
Among the individual highlights:
*Haema kicking 3 beautiful set shots for goal.
* What I suspect was Nicko’s finest game for the club, predominantly off a half-back flank.
* Micky “Mouse” Joyce maintaining a tightly run board as Sparksie continues to coach away games via correspondence. Joycie’s impassioned pleas, urging the team at half time not to be “Wallflowers” seemed to give us the required lift, perhaps fearing any further comparisons to other forms of decorative arrangement.
* The War Horse, the Old General himself, Burger pulling out a vintage display of ruckwork around the ground in what many are calling his best game in recent memory. There are records of him having better games than this one but those scrolls are presently on display at the Museum of Ancient History and can only be viewed by appointment.
* Chris (“Corky” last season but apparently “Buffet” this year) had his finest outing for the club, an absolute cracker.
* Which brings us to Cracker, he was given a licence to run and break tackles where possible, especially given the relative immobility of Beefy at full forward for Redcliffe. He took the honours on the day, holding the dangerous Beefy goalless, courtesy in part to a couple of air swings from big Beefy (one of which blew possums from trees two suburbs away and forced several planes into holding patterns over Brisbane airport.)
For the record, Cracker doesn’t need permission to take on tacklers. The people closest to him have been trying to hug him for years but he just instinctively puts out the “don’t argue” and is away. He just never stopped working…which, for an airline steward, is standard. At game’s end I saw him ushering both teams towards the exits before moving over to ensuring everybody on the bench was once again sitting up in the upright position (thanks Mel for this joke…I love you).
Great to see TD back in the Shark’s jersey and making an immediate impact. TD covered a lot of ground and some of it was even in the right direction which is always encouraging. The laws of the game state that there should be 4 changes of end per game. The ever efficient TD just decided to get all four end changes over in the one passage of play.
The last quarter played out as an enthralling arm wrestle with both sides scoring 1 point apiece, ensuring we held on for a stoic victory. An effort made even more wonderful given the absence of Mary, Peter May, Docko and Princess to name but a few of the several who remain clinging to life in the wake of our bruising home game two weeks earlier.
Thank you to the two lads from Morningside who graciously filled in due to their own club suffering a sudden lack of team. Great effort boys that had us singing the song with gusto.
The Supers game started at break neck speed with a Redcliffe goal in the first 60 seconds of play and Hoops responding shortly after with our first.
There was some initial difficulty with the electronic timer on the scoreboard which didn’t start counting down for the first quarter, causing some issues for all concerned. It was being run via a laptop computer, presumably running Windows 10 and even after consulting with the spectator with the thickest glasses, who it was assumed would know about computers, it was left to simply reboot before the second quarter in order to fix the problem.
This game, for me, produced some of the finest transitional football we’ve seen from the club this year. Usually starting with some pack bursting runs from Simmo, Pipes or Tank. The irony should not be lost on anyone that Tank’s graceful bursts of speed and mobility come in precisely the same way that a tank does not. To be able to witness, first hand, this incongruous cocktail of girth and grace, like a Blue Whale on roller blades (which, I’m lead to believe, is truly one of nature’s great sights.) was nothing short of an honour.
Closing out the backline, newer guys Dan and Gus had impressive games across half back and have blended seamlessly into the Shark’s culture and structure and Pipe’s clearance work is better than National Tiles and Rugs a Million combined.
The insurgence of mozzies continued well into the second game and had us all scratching like Lindsay Lohan at an intervention.
As with the earlier encounter, there was no shortage of feeling in this game, teetering several times on a melee. Far be it from me to throw around French terminology indiscriminately but I believe as far as physical disputes go (as measured on the newly introduced Presto scale of intensity) and in order to give you some scope, are ranked as follows:
* party at Burger’s place
Jar Head will be on injury watch this week after he was sent crashing to the deck and limping off in a dramatic slow motion not seen since the early days of Baywatch.
By the closing stages of the 3rd quarter the boys looked spent and that they would be denied again courtesy of some fundamental skill errors that belied their efforts. However an early, last quarter snap around the body from Nicko (and getting anything around that body, other than satellites, is no easy order let me tell you), would prove to be the catalyst that would wrest momentum back in favour of the Sharks. A feat of individual greatness that we will all no doubt read about on Facebook for many weeks to come.
Despite some indifferent form throughout the early stages of the game from Skull, it would be the handsome one who would stand up and be counted for when it mattered most. With only a couple of points in arrears, Skull picked up a loose ball and, displaying the sort of calmness he normally reserves for hiding in the bushes outside other people’s homes, he slotted an absolute beauty from hard against the boundary line.
With the game now in the balance, a minute remaining on the clock and the ball deep in our forward fifty, President Haema showed admirable desperation on all fours and under extreme physical pressure, as though having dropped a dim sim in a mosh pit, to farm out a handpass to the omnipresent Skull who then kicked the sealer.
A huge shout out to the raucous cheer squad of Pedro, Bones, Burger and Yats on hand to offer advice to anyone in earshot and who never stopped believing the boys could do it. Their sledging of the opposition was sometimes informed, often personal and largely incoherent to the point where it must have helped wear the opposition down.
On the subject of drinking we’d also like to thank the good people at Liquorland for supplying this week’s umpire whose passion for 50 metre penalties should keep the liquor franchise in business for many months to come.
Well done lads, inspired stuff.
Last Modified on 06/04/2018 16:42