Xmas Stocking Full of Surprises

Over the past couple of days I’ve opened more emails asking about Infarkt than 2Day FM has received hate mail.   

Since I’d loathe being on the back end of a public outcry over something as simple as prank calls, royals and Darwin’s theory of natural selection, I thought it appropriate to bang out a few hundred words in a special Xmas edition of Infarkt, looking at the main headlines since my last post in mid-October. And there’s been a hell of a lot happening in the weird and wonderful world of sports.

Lance is a confirmed dope, Punter finally got punted, the independent municipality of Parramatta was on the cusp of being occupied by Israel, Man U wobbling their way to the top of the EPL, the ADP experiment with SFC has gone FUBAR, Quade Cooper wanting to practice pugilism, F1 and men’s tennis exciting their fans till the very end, and RDM following AVB with a quick EXIT at CFC. All the while Brendan Rogers is still in phase one of a three year project that will take Liverpool from the cusp of contention to mid table mediocrity.

So let’s dive into our Xmas stocking a little early and examine in greater detail some of the lovely little sporting presents Santa left us at the back end of 2012.

Man United goes X-rated

Q. Who goes down quicker than Jenna Jameson?

A. Manchester United

Q. Who comes from behind harder than Ron Jeremy?

A. Manchester United

I used to love the inevitable Man United comeback - always exhilarating, always exciting, and in many ways, always inevitable.

• Down 1-0 against Liverpool in the 1999 FA Cup with two minutes to go. 2-1 at fulltime. No sweat
• Two early goals by Juventus in the Champions League before Fergie had a chance to sit down and pick his nose. 3-2
•  Down three zip to Spurs at halftime during the 2001/02 season. Five United goals after the break
• And the mother of all comebacks. ECL final versus Bayern. Stoppage time had ticked over. Lothar Mattheus was on the bench with his pants down getting a Euro Champ tattoo on his arse. Then in the blink of an eye the Teddy and Ole show broke their hearts. Breathtaking.  

This year they’ve spent their entire season coming from behind to save or win games, but unlike the Devils of yesteryear, the 2012/13 model resembles Basil Fawlty - bumbling, slow, incoherent and irritatingly enjoyable. If we weren’t six points clear at the top of the table I’d be poking my eardrum with a sharp 2B pencil. Come of you Reds!

Location, location, location: A couple of weeks ago Israel withdrew from Blacktown with a view to invade Parramatta. Local authorities tried desperately to cut a deal in order to arrange for a peaceful occupation, but totally buggered up the negotiations. In the meantime Israel saw more value in an assault on Randwick, leaving Parramatta free to fight another day.

To be perfectly honest the real winners in the Folau saga are the Eels and the GWS Giants. GWS no longer carries the burden of a useless player with a monster salary. Meanwhile the Eels avoid having a backline of Izzy, Hayne and Hoppa looking on in frustration as Chris Sandow fails in every metric applicable to being a quality halfback. In the losers corner the ARU has picked up another overpriced league convert who has demonstrated no passion or real desire for union, and will stick around long enough to cash a few cheques while meandering on the wing without touching the ball.

It’s not often that I applaud the bumbling buffoonery of the Eels management or NRL hierarchy, but on this occasion I view it as a blessing in disguise. Now if the brass at Parra has any sense at all they’ll use some of the cap space they’ve cleared to sign a backrower capable of busting the line and offloading.

A needle in a haystack: And so it comes to pass. After seven consecutive victories at Le Tour, hundreds of millions of dollars raised in cancer awareness programs and thousands of rumours about performance enhancing drugs, Lance Armstrong, the poster boy for hope and  aspiration, has been outed as perhaps the worst drug cheat since Soviet gymnast Ana Bolic’s testicle popped out her costume.

For all the cycling junkies out there I strongly recommend you add Tyler Hamilton’s ‘The Secret Race’ to your Xmas shopping list. Absolutely fascinating read – I say that even though I downloaded it as an audiobook and listened to it on my phone.

ADP = FUBAR: I copped a lot of flak from the fanatical football community at the Roar when I had the gall to poke a bit of fun at the Del Piero signing, claiming Sydney FC might sink faster than the Titanic due to the lack of quality surrounding Il Pinturicchio. To all of you haters out there...eff u!!! And no I don’t hold a grudge.

Momma said knock you out: Quade Cooper has recently re-signed with the ARU, so his little flirt with boxing is probably a thing of the past now. Unfortunate because I would have loved to watch Cooper get his arse kicked by a semi-drunk taxi driver. Ex-leaguies in the ring is a joke half the time, but at least they’ve experienced some bodily punishment through the whole tackling process. A rugby player…especially a back…entering the ring is hilarious. This is a guy who is allergic to tackling and avoids physical contact like the plague.

Who moved my cheese? Nole Djokovic followed up one of the greatest seasons in tennis history by retaining the number one crown. Considering the points he had to defend 2013 might have been the greater accomplishment. A Grand Slam title, two GS finals, five Masters Titles and some absolutely epic encounters with Roger, Rafa and Andy. Yet his greatest achievement may be this: http://www.smh.com.au/world/tennis-champ-chomps-into-donkey-cheese--at-1200-a-kilo-20121211-2b6gm.html

Temporary turmoil: While it’s not unusual for a club to announce a temporary manager, in most cases it’s an assistant thrust into the top job until the end of season when a real manager can be appointed. Not so Chelsea Football Club though, firing the guy who just won the Holy Grail and inserting Rafa Benitez with the title Interim Manager. Having Benitez on a temporary basis is about as useful as a hooker with a nut allergy.

How the mighty have fallen: The Aussie selectors finally bit the bullet after Ricky Ponting’s Stevie Wonder impersonation versus South Africa. In slipping and sliding around the crease desperately reaching for the ball he resembled a heavyweight entering the ring one too many times. Great career and hats off to Ricky. On the other side the world Sachin Tendulkar faces similar questions about his place in the Indian team. Unfortunately though the Indian selectors have one less ball than Lance Armstrong, and would never consider asking this cricketing deity to declare his innings. With no Indian youngsters knocking on the door with a bucket load of runs in the long form of the game, Sachin could well bat on for another decade.

Share and share alike: UEFA recently announced its plans for Euro 2020 to be hosted across the continent in multiple countries, which for each host city is like hearing from your girlfriend you’ve got the biggest d#ck amongst all your friends. Great news but…

And so I bid you all farewell for 2012 and wish you all a safe, healthy and happy new year, and an enjoyable Xmas…especially those lucky enough to follow the Julian calendar.

               

Being: Brendan Rodgers

It has been an extremely challenging start to the English Premier League. As an unabashed Manchester United devotee I’ve had to deal with De Gea’s flaps, Vidic’s dickey knee, Giggs’ arthritic condition, Scholes’ continued calming presence as our midfield’s saving grace, and Nani. 

But more demanding than accepting an opening game loss to Everton or the shambles of a performance against Spurs, has been the display of self restraint required not take the piss out of Liverpool FC at every available opportunity.

I’ve used every fiber of my being to hold back, and my word it’s been a thankless task.

Believe me it hasn’t been through a lack of ammunition. It’s been Liverpool’s worst start since before Alexander was Great. Three points off the bottom, negative goal difference, losing to Man United, letting Andy Carroll go without bringing in a replacement, floating Robbie Fowler, Michael Owen and/or Emile Heskey as possible solutions to their threadbare striking options, Luis Suarez trialing for the Uruguayan diving team, Jonjo Shelvey’s head, Raheem Sterling’s power sperm, and dominating possession without scoring goals. The list goes on, and on, and on.  

Throughout all of this I’ve remained merciful. As the Good Book says, do unto others etcetera, etcetera.

 But Lord please forgive me. I can hold back no longer.

The teaser trailer for the next episode of ‘Being: Liverpool’ features Liverpool gaffer Brendan Rodgers (desperately trying to) inspire his team by brandishing three envelopes during a team talk. He tells his charges he knows there are three players among them that will let him down the cause this season, and he implores them to do whatever they can to avoid having their name penned in aforementioned envelope.

Sound ridiculous?

Because if f#cken is!!!

If you haven’t seen it I implore you to Google ‘brendan rodgers envelopes’. It doesn’t matter how bad your day has been I guarantee it’ll put a smile on your dial…unless of course you’re unlucky enough to belong to the Liverpool faithful.

The look on his player’s faces is priceless. There’s obviously a disconnect between the message Rodgers is trying to deliver and the information that’s being absorb by the players. Supposedly Sir Alex pulled a similar stunt in the early 90’s with Manchester United to great effect. Unfortunately Rodgers has neither the gravitas nor the charisma to pull this off. It’s hard to take seriously a Northern Irishman who looks like an extra from ‘The Hobbit’.

First of all most Scousers struggle with the simple task of reading and writing, so there are obvious issues with most of them not being able to recognise their names in print. Rodgers may be better served just printing their numbers which are more easily identified, although still a challenge for many Liverpudlians.

Raheem Sterling stares at the envelopes in the hope they all contain a baby bonus cheque to support his growing brood.  Three kids at 17 years of age!!! Believe me this guy needs all the financial assistance he can get. I know Stewart Downing is secretly optimistic his name IS in one of the envelopes…at least that way he’s confident he’ll get a run on the park this season. Ditto Jordan Henderson.

Joe Allen ponders the prospect of his name being in the mix. He might be able to force a move back to Swansea City. And Stevie G has similar thoughts. If he drops the ball he might get to join his soul-mate Dirk Kuyt at Fenerbahçe. Finally Jamie Carragher is praying for Brendan Rodgers’ name to figure at season’s end. Is he the only one pining for Rafa’s return?

Meanwhile the international contingent has no idea what Rodgers is babbling on about. Luis Suarez, fresh from abusing young Oussama Assaidi, wants tickets to the upcoming ‘John Terry talks Race Relations’ seminar, while you get the impression Fabio Borini is looking to get a one-way ticket back to Italy. He was led to believe his transfer was to Liverpool, Australia, joining his compatriot Alessandro Del Piero down under. Instead he’s been duped with a depressing stint in Merseyside.  

There’s almost a Shakespearean quality to the tragedy that has become Liverpool FC. Or for some, myself included, a Shakespearean comedy is more apt a description. This tale has featured an aging Prince unable to relinquish his claim to the throne, dour servants loyal to the cause, a big friendly giant from the North, a Latino court jester, a shylock ready to take a pound of flesh for payment, and the return and fall of a King.

I can’t wait for the next installment in this epic saga.

Bathurst - boobs, beer, burnouts and a little bit more

Bathurst.

There are few, if any, sporting events around the globe that simply take the name of host city. The Great Race has had a number of aliases over the years – Hardie Ferodo 500, Tooheys 1000, Super Cheap Auto 1000 – but sponsor acknowledgment aside, motorsport enthusiasts and rev-heads the world over know this 161 lap ball busting test of man and machine as Bathurst.

And it’s my favourite time of year in the sporting calendar.

My experiences with Bathurst date back as far as I can remember. My old man would always celebrate the race with a BBQ. This wasn’t just another excuse to throw a few steaks over some hot ash. For me it represented a ceremony, an offering to the Sporting God’s if you will. Invariably after six hours I’d join him in lamenting Dickie Johnson’s poor luck as Peter Perfect would win again, and again, and again.

My first trip to Bathurst was in 1987. I was a wide eyed 10 year old crashing a party of old ethnics and teen mechanics. The race back then was known as the James Hardie 1000. It was the first year of the Ford Sierra’s and marked a foreign invasion of European mercenaries brave enough to tackle the greatest challenge in motorsport.

I remember celebrating the one-two win by the Ford Eggenberger Motorsport team. Third was Peter Brock and Co. in a Holden Dealer Team Commodore. Brocky of course broke into tears at finishing third, and kicked up enough of a stink that a year later the two Ford’s were disqualified.

That year my love affair with Mount Panorama was forged stronger than the rings of Mordor in the fire of Mount Doom.

Over the next seven years I made five trips to the Mountain, and each experience was life changing. Not because of what happens on the track...which is undoubtedly some of the most exciting motor racing on the planet, but for all of experiences in and around the campsites on top of the Mountain.

Despite the Ford versus Holden rivalry that underpins the Great Race, what Bathurst is really about is the letter ‘B’ - boobs, beer and burnouts. Bathurst offers more boobs than the Bachelor Party, more beer than a Bavarian bier hall and more burnt rubber than the Mardi Gras.

I believe more beer is consumed at Bathurst than throughout the entire summer of cricket. It’s like a mini Oktoberfest wrapped into one dirty week. I remember during the Tooheys 1000 years the organisers, in all their wisdom, decreed that alcohol purchases would be limited to two cans per person, with both cans opened on the spot to ensure people wouldn’t be accumulating stockpiles of brew. Showing some real ingenuity, a group of Mexicans (Melbournites...South of the Border...get it?) hijacked a Tooheys truck in the middle of the night and confiscated the contents, which were generously shared with all of the campsites between McPhillamy Park and Skyline. Good times.

Nothing describes the Bathurst experience better than four simple words: “show us ya tits”. Whether you look like Scarlett Johansson, Oprah Winfrey or Julia Gillard, if you’re out and about without a male chaperone you’ll definitely hear that famous catch cry. As a young teen excited by the occasionally flash of nipple on SBS I was enthralled at the prospect that all you needed to do was ask the question. What is even more fascinating was sometimes the girls obliged! There were more bare boobs at Bathurst that an annual international breastfeeding convention.

Burnouts are a no-brainer. Pool together a group of rev-heads, add the smell of high octane fuel together with the sound of V8’s rumbling around each day and you’ve got every dick with a driving licence thinking he’s Larry Perkins. Anytime a car with a bit of balls would come into one of the makeshift intersections around the camping area a group of bystanders would inevitably make the doughnut sign. And for the next 45 seconds, amid a hell of a lot of whooping and hollering, a dust cloud would appear that would disguise the sight of a car spinning in circles at pace before launching itself into the distance.

There is one recollection from Bathurst that I’d dearly love to wipe from my memory banks. It doesn’t involve boobs, beer or burnouts, but rather another ‘B’ word...bestiality. Without going into too much graphic detail, let’s just say I witnessed an experience between an old man and a cattle dog that would make Joel Monaghan blush. There are things an impressionable teen should never have to witness!!!

Excited canines aside, my Bathurst experiences have been memorable. And I can’t wait to get my own BBQ going tomorrow, sacrificing a few T-bones for the God’s and enjoying six straight hours of motorsport madness.

                                                     

Here’s hoping the God’s appreciate my offering and help the Blue Oval greet the chequered flag first.

Rabies Rampant: A Public Service Announcement

Reports disclosed on World Rabies Day, 28 September, indicate that this fatal disease is knocking on Australia’s doorstep, presenting serious ecological, public health, economic and social problems to the country.

After recent events in Sydney one wonders whether disease is already present in Sydney.

Prominent academics and health experts were alarmed by images of a Bulldog frothing at the mouth and gnawing at the ear of a high profile Australian footballer last Sunday.  This was followed by news that a pack of wild Bulldogs were menacing the local community in the Canterbury / Bankstown area on Monday.

The Bulldogs were allegedly extremely aggressive, particularly to humans, viciously barking at females. They were also ‘marking their territory’ by urinating wherever they walked.  

Spread mainly through biting, the disease infects the central nervous system and causes inflammation to the brain, a symptom obviously affecting these Bulldogs.

Academics believe that all it would take is one Bulldog, perhaps from the United Kingdom where rabies is still rampant, to bite other Bulldogs in his pack, thereby transmitting the terrible disease.

Whilst there have been calls for the new NRL Independent Commission to eradicate the problem, perhaps a visit to the local veterinary hospital for a quiet slumber would be more appropriate.

Two great podcasts to check out

I used to enjoy talk back radio, but the constant drivel is no longer amusing. I'll probably jump back onboard when I'm a pensioner complaining about the latest increases in energy prices. And I've fallen out of touch with music so I don't listen to FM either. Instead I devote my listening time to podcasts - Football Ramble, The Basketball Jones, Football Weekly, NBA Today, BS Report, The Manchester United Redcast - to name a few that I subscribe to. 
Recently I came across two must hear pods that I encourage you all to take the time to enjoy:

BS Report: Bill Simmons speaks to Arnie about body building, Hollywood and Wilt Chamberlain trying to ride a horse!!! http://www.grantland.com/blog/hollywood-prospectus/post/_/id/59065/b-s-report-arnold

BBC Five Live Sports Special on the amazing Alex Zanardi: From Formula One, to Indy Car, back to Formula and then to a handcycle...awesome story http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/series/5lspecials

Enjoy