kiki
sassy
lozzy
interns
Filed under: billy slater, footy, footy observations, gold coast titans, nathan hindmarsh | Tags: Posted by Sassy
It’s true, all good things come to an end. Just as everyone’s favourite ironic self-promoter Wendell retired, the Kangaroos shaved off their awesome mos. Apparently they didn’t want to face up to the English in the Four Nations final with giant pimpin 70s moustaches.
Johnathan Thurston and his dead mo walking.
To this I say: that’s fucking insane. If you thought the mozzie twins distracted the Frenchies with their saminess and twinniness, how much do you think moustaches would throw the poms off? Johnathon Thurston held out for just a little bit longer than the rest, but eventually even JT went the shave on his Cheech Marin moustache (thanks to Adge for the pop culture reference!) and went clean-faced.
RIP the mos. My pants and my heart are equally sad.
Although not nearly as sad as they were when I realised that as part of their training in England the boys have been playing soccer.
Shillo and Jarryd-with-a-Y making my ladyparts depressed.
…. and Robbie helps them finish the job.
SOCCER? REALLY? As if I don’t have enough problems, now my national league team is inflicting the most boring of all God’s creations – soccer – on me. And no, I won’t call it football. I refuse. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME. UNLESS YOU’RE EUROPEAN, CALLING SOCCER FOOTBALL IS JUST KINDA PRETENTIOUS KTHANKS.
Billy Slater had limited success. Probably would have done better with a round ball. He may be the Special Child of the Kangaroos.
And according to Kangaroos TV the boys have also been busy doing other-things-that-in-no-way-relate-to-rugby-league. For their day off they went, wait for it …. trap shooting. Really. No offence intended to the Kangaroos squad, but if I was in charge and sitting behind my giant mahogany desk reading my emails and approving requests for the Kangaroos on which activities the ARL was willing to pay for them to do, ones involving WEAPONS would not be high on my list. After the two year scandal-fest that has been the Aussie NRL in 2008 and 2009, I would totally have a nothing that cuts or shoots policy for all footy players at all times. Instead of kitting them out with guns and sending them to a field in England where they might accidentally shoot:
a) a miscellaneous Pom
b) some kind of valuable privately-owned pheasant
c) themselves
d) all of the above,
and end up in the British tabloids, I would have a firmly Soft Objects Only policy. You know, stuff like … sending them to play in the ball room at Ikea. Building forts out of doonas. Eating marshmallows. That kinda thing.
I seriously can’t believe the whole thing didn’t end in tears and/or a lawsuit.
I think it explains why the players had to shave off their moustaches, though. I’ve watched a lot of Crime documentaries in my time, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about creepy serial killer type dudes, it’s that they are bandits for a moustache. I’m not kidding. The Green River Killer, Jeffrey Dahmer, Leonard Lake … it’s moustaches ahoy!
Basically, nothing is creepier than a man with a mo carrying a weapon. Most of the time they are just plain awesome, but with a gun in your hand, all of a sudden you look kinda like you should be driving an unmarked white van and doing something shifty.
I think Nathan Hindmarsh and his few-day’s-growth proves this pretty authoritatively. Swap that microphone for a shotty and he would be TERRIFYING. Moustaches and shooting just don’t mix.
Of course no Kangaroos update would be complete without our Dave Taylor (also moustache-less) spotting for the day. HI DT!
Back in Australia Willie Mason is in trouble for mouthing off.
In other news the sky is blue.
And the Gold Coast Titans have some schmick new uniforms for 2010:
Does anyone else think Scotty Prince has been practising this? His pensive yet content look into the distance is pretty much perfect right here. Has he secretly been doing catalogue work no one knows about? Cause that shit is GOOD.
Scotty gets some feedback on his ‘pensive’ face
Meanwhile I know y’all love updates on the Errol staff. Work experience boy Lachie has been on light duties since he injured his shoulder and has been hitting the weights to get all bulked up. Clearly we would’ve appreciated it more if he used his newfound strength to make Wendell Sailor stay at St. George, but NO DICE. We’re gonna have to have a talk with him I think.
And I’ll leave you with Adam MacDougall’s thoughts on Wendell leaving:
THE game is going to miss Wendell Sailor – but not as much as I will.
MADDOG YOU BIG SOFTIE. Wanna hug?
All pics via Getty Images
Filed under: billy slater, brett morris, cooper cronk, david shillington, footy observations, jarryd hayne, josh morris, movember, nathan hindmarsh, robbie farah | Tags: Posted by Sassy
One week into Movember already … I’m so happy/sad/overwhelmed in my pants region. Obviously I’m overjoyed that people are starting to show some dirty facial hair, but kinda heartbroken at the same time that my favourite month of the year is already a quarter over. IF ONLY THERE WAS A WHOLE MO-YEAR. Mo-thousand-and-ten, anyone? Two-thousand-and-beard-leven?
Just think about it, people. That’s all I ask.
Meanwhile the Four Nations is also almost over, which I suppose we should talk about. The Kangaroos held out a spirited comeback by the English last weekend, blah blah blah … the main thing is Adrian Morley didn’t start any fights. This meant I was disappointed, so let’s move on. Even though they won, the boys still have to face off against France before making it to the final.
And there’s been lots of dramz about the fact that Inglis and Cam Smith and Billy Slater weren’t going to be in the team. Instead, (one half of the cutest twins on earth) J. Moz and Michael Jennings were picked to play in the centres, Robbie Farah at hooker, and Cooper Cronk on the bench.
Sexiest coach in league nominee Tim Sheens is Not Pleased.
Everyone was calling them the “B team”, which in my opinion = not really that bad. Call me crazy, but considering my greatest ever sporting achievement was taking out the 50m backstroke final at the Independent Girls Grammar Schools’ Sporting Association swimming carnival in 1993, I reckon being in the B team for the Kangaroos is pretty fucking sweet. Just sayin. Apparently Tim Sheens has higher standards than me, though, because he was tres offended.
Kiki was also offended, because she agrees with whatever Tim Sheens thinks, because, and I quote “HE’S JUST SO DREAMY”. True story.
Personally, I also think reuniting the Mozzie twins on the left side of the field is a stroke of coaching genius. First of all, it will give them a psychological boost to get them over the fact that while everyone else in the Kangaroos is sporting amazing Movember moustaches, they’re sporting … um … skin. Sure you’re hairless, but you’re representing your country! Good for you darlings!
Will the Errol girls still love me if I can’t grow hair for charity?
Secondly, it’s totally gonna confuse the Frenchies. Since Setanta folded, I’m guessing the French haven’t been watching much of the NRL. Assuming French television is as backwards as french plumbing, this means all they’ll have had to watch for the past few months is right-wing political talk shows, repeats of Neighbours dubbed into French and old Jane Birkin film clips.
Clearly, this means that they’ll get the shock of their lives when two identical twins run out on the field and they have to mark them.
They’ll be all mais qu’est-ce que c’est? Quelle confusion! Est-ce qu’ils sont des gemelles? Je ne sais pas! Croissant! Ou est-ce qu’on met le table?
(Disclaimer: some of that may have just been random snippets from my year 7 French book. Whatever. Just be grateful I didn’t accidentally explain to you how to get the bus to Creteil to go windsurfing).
The point is Tim Sheens is a Machiavellian genius.
There’s also a lot of talk about the French being niggly in the game, because they have nothing to lose. I also think it would happen, mainly because they are French. Europeans care not for rules! It’s one of my favourite things about them. I almost fell over in shock the first time I got to a Metro station in Paris and realised not only are there no voiceovers warning you to stand back from the track and no yellow lines, they even let you OPEN THE DOOR YOURSELF. Insanity! Who knew there were places where you’re allowed to do as you please and fend for yourself? You can even drink in the street.
As opposed to Australia where there are rules for absolutely everything, because we are considered to be inherently kind of incompetent and untrustworthy and need to be protected from ourselves. IT’S CAUSE WE’RE CONVICTS, ISN’T IT?
Meanwhile if you think we’re excited about footy, you should see the French kids. They’re bandits for the Kangaroos! Apparently they mobbed Jonathon Thurston and trapped him against the side of the team bus with the sheer force of their fandom.
Maybe it’s because he’s a world-famous halfback. But maybe, just maybe, it’s because the French appreciate a good moustache. I’m going with the mo. You know it makes sense! It also explains why there’s that massive flock of kids surrounding David Shillington, because he is growing an especially natty mo, don’t you think?
Aw, stop it you guys! You’re making me blush! (Just kidding, don’t stop).
What can I say? I’m a sucker for a classic mo. As much as I enjoy the way Jonathon Thurston looks as though he was a key player in the Sydney waterfront dispute of 1998:
(Pls feel free to use your imagination to insert and/or photoshop Jonathon Thurston here.)
… I can’t resist a neat little 1930s moustache. Which means that the Sassy prize for the first week goes to Cooper Cronk:
Amazing. It’s almost Errol Flynn-ish. Naturally, we adore it.
Jennings and Thaiday are eager to be considered for next week’s Sassy prize
Yes, yes, we see you too, boys.
And while we’re talking facial hair, shout outs have to go to Billy Slater, for his amazing Super Mario effort:
Nathan Hindmarsh for his ongoing transformation into Russell Hammond:
and, um …. participation awards? Sure, let’s call it that, for Jarryd-with-a-Y and Robbie Farah:
Participation awards, babies! (Also, in Robbie’s defence, he has probably been too busy negotiating with the Unions and transport companies on the waterfront with JT to have time to grow a mo).
Remember to watch the game TONIGHT on channel 9, and come back with your game/mo updates. And to sponsor the boys:
All pics via Getty Images.
So you should just about have time to read this before you watch the money you bet slip away the Cup this afternoon. That sounds bitter, right? It’s not meant to. I have a real soft spot for Melbourne Cup (Kiki hates it with the fire of a thousand suns, if you’re wondering. Along with glitter nailpolish, it’s one of the only things we disagree on).
Mainly, this is because I approve of events where you can drink on a Tuesday morning without fear of judgment. Sure, you can drink on regular Tuesdays, but there’s always that nagging voice/narky passerby/priest/boss/therapist who comes along and ruins it by suggesting that maybe you should drink your morning orange juice without champagne in it. UM, IT’S MADE OF GRAPES. HOW IS THAT NOT ACCEPTABLE AS A BREAKFAST BEVERAGE? FASCISTS.
I also have fond memories of my slightly-morally-compromised Nanna picking me up early from primary school every Melbourne Cup day so I could come home and eat tiny tiny sandwiches with her and her silver-haired friends, and see first hand whether my horse won. This mattered because Nan would also put $2 bets on for me at the TAB. Any day when you get to miss school AND WIN EIGHT BUCKS is, needless to say, pretty much the greatest day ever for a six year old. That eight bucks could buy you 800 chocolate freckles. Or a primary school slave for about a week. No wonder I love Melbourne Cup day. It’s just a whole inevitable Pavlovian thing, you know?
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that children love gambling.
And of course Melbourne Cup also involves some of my all-time favourite things as an adult. These things include, but are not limited to:
- Drunk girls buying giant bags of Doritos at the servo on Alison Road opposite the racecourse at 6pm. Nothing goes with Doritos like wilted feathers and a bunyan.
- Fascinators in general. They’re played out and ugly, yet people refuse to let them go, which I find delightful in a really mean and peverse way. Think of it as the headwear equivalent of ‘the Emperor has no clothes’.
- The actual news being replaced by endless montages of horses and people in fancy outfits for me to judge as I eat my dinner. YES PLEASE.
- More importantly: footage on the news of some girl from Melby who got blind and vommed in a sulo. Anything that makes my behaviour in general life look better is something I approve of.
- Awkward office Melbourne Cup functions. When I worked in an office, the prospect of having to make small talk with Sheila from accounts over a glass of slightly warm champas in the foyer, while she rocks a printed wrap dress with her regular day-to-daqy office mules and asks me why I don’t have flowers in my hair made me want to die. Now that I don’t I think they are just peachy.
- Did I mention you can drink in the day? At work?
And because the Australian Kangaroos team are still on their quest to be the most awesome sporting team in Aussie history, they’re not just doing Movember, they’re also on the Bigpond website doing a Melbourne Cup Sweeps.
Of COURSE they’re doing a Melbourne Cup sweeps. It’s part of their big plan to Make Sassy Love Them. And yes, boys, the plan is totally working.
I may have squealed a little bit watching the video. In my defence, I’m only human. If you can watch giant footy players jumping in the air to try and pull tiny bits of paper out of a bowl and exclaiming with glee at their horses without squealing a little bit, then you have no soul.
Here’s my pick out of the footy boys’ tips:
Ben Hannant likes Master O’Reilly, because it’s running as number 4, and his kid is turning 4 today. You can’t argue with that logic! It’s the kind of logic that people have used for centuries to make up PINs for their EFTPOS cards and win lotteries. It’s foolproof.
Disclaimer: May not be actual Ben Hannant.
But if you really want a good tip, you’d have to go with Billy Slater right? His pick in the sweeps and his pick to win is Alcopop, and you have to admit bitch knows his ponies. If anyone has the inside word from the land of the jockeys, it has to be Billy. Plus, if you look closely, you can also see that he’s well into growing a sweet sweet moustache for Mobember … and if you can’t trust a man growing a mo for charity, who can you trust?
SEE? Sweet mo indeed.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bet on Alcopop. IF IT LOSES YOU OWE ME $20 BILLY.
Filed under: billy slater, brett morris, footy, footy observations, justin poore, movember, nathan hindmarsh, robbie farah | Tags: Posted by Sassy
So you know how we can be narky bitches? Some things make even our black hearts overflow with joy. And two of those things are happening RIGHT NOW. Thanks to some pretty fabulous boys, October and November have quickly become my favourite non-footy time of the year.
TIMMY MANNAH DOES THE WORM
Remember last year we told y’all about Justin Poore, Nathan Hindmarsh and the boys and the awesome work they were doing for Village of Hope in Rwanda?
Pic. Gregg Porteous via news.com.au
Well apparently it was enough to inspire J.Poore to single-handedly try and provide enough content to fill up the Daily Telegraph’s ‘Scandal-Free Back Page’ for the whole of 2009. Because using his giant front-rowers arms to build homes for the Rwandans still suffering from the genocide of the 1990s wasn’t enough, he set up Poore Rwanda, which has already raised more than 30 grand towards the goal of building five homes for families in need, AND has taken another bunch of Eels players over to do their bit.
Um …. are you speechless? Yeah, me too. Pretty sure when I first heard about all of this I had to pause, put my cereal spoon down (why yes, I was having cereal for dinner. What of it?), and the only words I could manage to spit out were: “YOU MAKE ME WANT TO BE A BETTER MAN”.
Seeing the work J.Poore, Joel Reddy, Joe Galuvao, Tim Mannah and Kris Keating were doing on this trip is almost too much, you know?
I’m like a five year old, I don’t handle too much excitement well. Like the time in Las Vegas when I was so drunk excited at the prospect of seeing Elton John live at Caesar’s Palace I almost lost my damn mind. Kiki literally had to tell me to STOP SKIPPING THROUGH THE CASINO. YOU LOOK LIKE AN INSANE PERSON. It may have been because I was wearing a leopard print skirt at the time. I’m not sure. But I do know she was thisclose to giving me a flash of Phenergen and sending me back to the Hard Rock.
So you can imagine what I looked like when I saw the first pics of the boys over in Rwanda. Not just being adorable and doing good … but being fucking hilarious and awesome and Oz. They’re pretty much international ambassadors for Aussie culture.
Which makes sense, really, because if there’s one thing Australian men always ALWAYS do when their overseas, it’s roam in packs. Seeing an Aussie man alone overseas is like spotting a Tasmanian Tiger. And it’s the same with footy players – where there’s one, there’s always more. Usually also wearing screen-printed hoodies or team tracksuit pants. Cause that’s how they roll.
And the Eels boys over in Rwanda didn’t just have the ‘group travel thing down’ … they’re also ambassadors for Aussie fashionz. Check it out:
Joel Reddy displays the national costume of all Aussie boys when overseas: boardshorts.
Timmy Mannah wears his heart on his bucket hat. MATE DID YOU KNOW I’M AUSTRALIAN? IT SAYS SO ON MY HAT/TOWEL/BOARDSHORTS/HAVAIANAS.
And is that a chesty bonds I spy over there on the left on Justin Poore? A CHESTY BONDS LOOKING ON WHILE TIM MANNAH DOES THE WORM?
Excuse me while I die of joy.
So far, Hope Rwanda has built 30 houses for homeless families in three years, and if you wanna give them a little helping hand, maybe head over to HOPE:Rwanda or Poore Rwanda … you know you want to.
ps. Welcome home, boys!
Rwanda pics copyright www.hoperwanda.org
MOUSTACHES ARE FOR WINNERS
And yep, that’s the other reason why October and November make me happy in my heart … and in my pants. ONLY FIVE SLEEPS TILL MOVEMBER!
Nyello, I have an awesome mo on the line … will you accept the charges?
All of us Errol girls are complete bandits for a man with a moustache. Which, to be honest, you should be able to tell considering that we have Errol Flynn and his dapper little moustache rocking out on our website banner. HI EZ!
I love any man who’s willing to give up vanity and be part of Movember. Cause those first two weeks of trying to grow a mo are seriously bleak. They’re the facial hair equivalent of those awkward teenage years, where you have to wander around your workplace trying to look authoritative and competent despite the fact that you have four or five tentative, sad little moustache hairs sitting on your lip, and everyone looking at you like they’re not quite sure whether you’re doing Movember, or have just gone through a bad breakup and given up on life.
Plus you can’t wear a tracksuit of any kind for at least a fortnight cause, with the creepy little half-mo, it makes you look like a teenage meth dealer.
The upside, of course, is that at the end of four weeks you have a fucking sweet moustache that makes me girls go crazy for you, and you get to raise much-needed funds and awareness for men’s depression and prostate cancer. [I'd like to add that this will be our first ever Movember where one of us is actually going out with a mo-grower. That lady is me and I could not be more excited *waves at Suchy* - lozzy]
So any man who signs up for Movember has our respect. Also, they can feel free to come up and say hi if they see me in the street and I’ll give them complimentary gropes.
Last year we celebrated Movember by running our own campaign with everyone’s favourite intern, John Williams … can you believe we raised almost TWO AND A HALF GRAND? I seriously still can’t believe it.
This year, we’re not running our own Mo-team, but we’re doing something almost as good. We’re throwing our support behind the Kangaroos.
Because you all read our blog over on She Knows the Rules (you do … right? RIGHT? Hmmmm?) you already know that this year the Kangaroos are doing Movember.
Finally! Our dream of footy players being forced to participate in Movember has come true. Apparently they’re actually competing to see who can grow the best mo, but I think we all know already that’s gonna be Cameron Smith. There’s no way that bitch is gonna let anyone beat him. THIS IS HIS EVENT. HE FUCKING OWNS IT. If there was a Four Nations Tournament for hair-growing he would be captain, for reals. With Sam Thaiday as his deputy.
Cam Smith has already hinted he plans to grow a handlebar, also known as the Merv Hughes. Good choice, by the way.
But in case the rest of the boys are undecided, I’ve got a few suggestions.
Robbie Farah is clearly a special for the Errol Flynn. Nothing would go better with his neatest-hair-in-the-world than a dapper little Errol mo.
I think he’s got the fashion sense to pull it off too. When the Wests Tigers media officer asked him about Kangaroos camp, he gave us this gem about Royce Simmons:
Roycey is always Roycey…tries to be funny but really he isn’t. We always laugh but what he doesn’t know is that we are laughing at him, not with him. He has promised me he’ll let me take him shopping while we’re over here because I’m sick of his crap polo shirts and ugly brown shoes that he always wears. He must have 10 pairs of them!
Oh, Robbie.
I’ve also decided nothing would go better with Nathan Hindmarsh’s Russell Hammond hair than a Dennis Lillee.
And Billy Slater, aka Errol’s Newest Footy Crush … well, my spidey senses tell me he can probably grow about as much of a mo as I can. Which before you ask IS NOT VERY MUCH. God. What kind of girl do you think I am? So instead of suggesting a mo, I’m just gonna FedEx him this:
If you want to sign up, or sponsor the Kangaroos, get over to the Movember site.
FOUR NATIONS FOR WITHDRAWALS
And probably the thing that makes us happiest: THERE’S STILL FOOTY ON. Thank God, cause it means we don’t have to go straight from four days of footy a week to none. Cold turkey is a bitch. Instead we’ve got the Four Nations to ease us out of the regular season.
And if you’re like me, you watched the Four Nations games on replay on Foxtel. The way the lord intended. Unless I’m getting home at 5am … I don’t want anything to do with the sunrise. It’s uncivilised and unhealthy and I refuse to have anything to do with it. Just one of the many reasons why I’m a writer.
To be completely truthful, it was sort of hard to get up at midday, but that’s not the point.
Pic. Getty Images
The point is it was worth it. Errol favourite Brett Morris scoring on debut for the Kangaroos AND first try of the game. GO B.MOZ GO! I can say with full certainty it was our support during the season that made this possible. Some may say it was thanks to Cameron Smith’s brilliant offload and Greg Inglis’ excellent run, but I KNOW BETTER. That shit was all thanks to Errol.
Yes, he also … well, he sort of fell over and missed out on scoring another try earlier in the game:
“I was trying to set up an in and away on the fullback and I went to step off my foot and I fell down a hole. I put my foot down … tripped over and looked like an idiot. It wasn’t too good.”
Whatever. I maintain that was only because his legs are so long. Like Bambi. IT’S NOT HIS FAULT, PEOPLE.
Apparently B.Moz’s appeal is international, too, because the Sky commentators can’t get enough of him. As far as I can tell, the only time they stopped talking about Fui Fui Moi Moi and Jared Warea-Hargreaves was when they spent 10 minutes waxing lyrical about B.Moz. Isn’t he fast? Did you know he started the year in reserve grade? And he’s only only 23! And on debut!
Um, of course we know. We’re way ahead of the curve, bitches.
Till next time, kittens x
Filed under: anthony watmough, australia, billy slater, brett morris, footy, footy observations, george rose, intern john john, interns loz and butch, jarryd hayne, josh morris, manly sea eagles, melbourne storm, oh errol, parramatta eels, robbie farah, st george dragons | Tags: Posted by Kiki
Intern John John anxiously awaited our return
HI DARLINGS!
I know, I know…we have been absent of late. We are shit and we know it. People keep harassing us asking for more blogs and are all WHY HAVEN’T YOU WRITTEN ABOUT THE GRAND FINAL YOU LAZY SHITS etc etc. We have no excuses except this one : being writers for a living now is both a blessing and a curse. Amazing because we get to do what we love and get paid for it, but shit because it kinda sucks out our creative juice and leaves us a bit well…dry.
And yes I am aware of how (untintentionally) gross that sentence was.
Now let’s sum up what’s been happening in mah head lately
a) The Grand Final was bloody awful. And no, not because the Storm won. It was awful because I spent the whole day in deep emotional pain thinking THE BLOODY DRAGONS SHOULD BE HERE GODAMNIT THIS SUCKS. And by ‘thinking’, I mean ‘loudly announcing it to no one in particular then kicking the ground like a small child’.
I was in the middle of a booze ban but I had to down a couple of vodkas to cope. Once again, the Dragons are directly to blame for my alcohol intake. I hope Peter Doust has a special fund set up for my future liver transplant.
Also, I spent most of the day being enraged at the massive amounts of Parra bandwagoners that were milling about just begging to be punched in the face. Look I am all for new people coming to the game, and I truly want league to be really popular, but is there anything worse than tools sporting freshly bought merchandise and being Smuggy Mc Smuggersons? I’ll answer it for you: no, no there is not.
In an ironic twist, Billy Slater decides he hates overexposed fullbacks
On the bus there, we were sitting next to a girl who was wearing…wait for it…a backless bodysuit and a Parramatta scarf. Because her back is so hot but her neck is FREEZING! GO PARRA! She teamed this with skin tight jeans and strappy high heels. ARGH. We were forced to listen to her inane questions which consisted of ’so, like, is there like, a toilet near the seats?’ and ‘do you think the Eels would be like, nervous today?’. I bet her favourite player of all timez is Jarryd Hayne. He’s sooooo hot.
And yes, if you’re wondering, I am completely aware that I am bitter and resent the fact the Eels found form when my boys lost theirs. But in my defence, Kate, my other-bestie-that-isn’t-Sassy, the biggest Parra fan in the entire universe, also hates the bandwagoners with a passion. When I sent her an sms to describe the Bodysuit Girl she said ‘murder her immediately, I will visit you in jail I promise’.
b) In a twist that is worthy of a Mexican telenovela, I have decided I that I now like Billy Slater. Yes, really. I know, I know…I’m freaked out too. Next thing you know my evil twin is gonna appear wearing a maroon jersey and stilettos, drinking Bundy rum and yelling QUEENSLANDER in peoples faces.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but I think it started with Rexona’s Greatest Athlete. Then it snowballed when our friend Edwina started to like footy. And by that I mean she started to obsess over Hot Bitch Cooper and Billy and started forcing me to realise Billy has beautiful skin and pretty eyes and oh god…he’s kinda cute. And worst of all, likeable. I kept telling myself the only reason I was on GettyImages searching for Billy pix was for Eddie but then at the Grand Final I involuntarily yelled GO BILLY. I hate myself so much.
Kiki retreats to 1997 fashionz to ease the off season pain
c) I have literally experienced post season depression. I’ve been massively emo. For ages I couldn’t figure out why I felt like something had stolen my heart and filled my chest with sad sad cement then I realised oh my god, it’s because there’s no footy on. I am simultaneously proud and ashamed of this.
Okay now onto things that aren’t me.
So last week we got to play with the VB Kangaroos. Seriously. Somehow we managed to annoy charm the NRL’s media manager, David Taylor, into letting us come along to their media call and conduct some video interviews. Being the legend that he is, DT asked us who we wanted to speak to and he just made it all happen. Seriously kids, we just sat on our little lounge and superstahs like Billy Slater, Robbie Farah and the Mozzie twins were just brought over to us. Footy player delivery!
Anyway, since JJ and the boys had to hold down the fort at Errol HQ, we brought along our interns for the day, Loz and Butch. They found Errol by googling naked photos of David Williams, which is really quite fitting. They are basically 17 yr old versions of Sassy and myself, which I find both terrifying and delightful. Here is their take on the day (yes these interns actually exist and they wrote this for reals!).
***********************
Last Tuesday was National Nipples Day Out (thankyou Robbie ‘headlights’ Farah, ambassador of this campaign), otherwise known as the Kangaroo’s media call. We are best friends, we love football, the Sea Eagles, Georgie Rose, High School Musical, doing the hoedown throwdown whilst cooking and Big Del (Little Del goes down alright to). We DON’T love dirty dirty Queenslanders, with the exception of Billy Slater.
After 2nd helpings of Maccas breakfast, due to the fact we were an hour early, we met Kiki and Sassy and made our way into the Pullman htel, got settled and dolled ourselves up, ready for Robbie.
From the moment he walked around the corner, Robbie’s infamous visible nipples were on full display for us (and didn’t we LOVE it). Bitch is also full of lolz, who knew?? When asked about his recent shirtless kebab photo, Robbie seemed….errrrr, slighty….confused, like he’s done it on many occasions……which is AWSOME, coz it means there are more out there. Here’s a preview -
Anyway, turns out Robbie is extremely proud of when he punched Anthony Watts waaaaaaay back in round 19. He was all ‘nobody thought I’d do it……..but I DID!’. Kinda like how kids are when they go to the toilet by themselves for the first time.
Next was Billy Slater. As we all circled around him (after Sassy elegantly kicked over a glass coke bottle that smashed everywhere), Kiki told him that this wasn’t gunna be a normal interview, he replied with (whilst looking slighty nervous) “I can see that”. Pretty AND observant, what’s not to love? Billy didn’t even seem bothered by Butch’s question of how he keeps his skin so radiant. His answer? GENETICS!! However, we did get the goss on who in the Melby (gag) team moisturizes. Cooper Cronk? OF COURSE he does. When one is a fierce bitch like Cooper Cronk, one must look after one’s skin, non?
Also, we are 99% sure that Watmough recognised us from the Manly fan days and shit like that were we have met him…. It may have also been that time when Butch walked past his car and he had ‘DAMN WHO’S A SEXY BITCH’ blaring (don’t even pretend that wasn’t aimed at me Watmough, you sly dog -B). Or, it could have just been in our heads. We have active imaginations, WHAT OF IT?
So while we waited for the Mozzies, we relaxed on the lounges. Apparently we’re relaxed interns (meaning we do nothing). Butch demonstrated how relaxed we were by reclining on the lounge in a slightly provocative manner. That magic moment was caught on tape by some lucky sport channel. Youtube it bitches!
Meanwhile, B.Moz cares not for being top point scorer of the Errol Wildcats, or the top try scoreer for the NRL, bitch just wanted to be captain of the Wildcats!
LOOK HOW UPSET HE IS! It seemed to us that J.Moz was kinda put off that B.Moz knew all about Errol but he didn’t. They also seemed quite please by the fact that they were nominated for the best legs in league, but slightly affronted that Uncy Wayne wasn’t nominated for Sexiest Coach.
In conclusion, footy we love you! We also kinda, maybe, probably, defssss love the people that play footy. Oh and Kiki and Sassy, we’ll intern for you anytime and we promise actual communication to the players next time, not just nervous giggles.
***********************
The girls were hilarious and adorable and we will have them intern with us again any time. We love you kittens! Sassy and I will be writing our own post on the day, including VIDEO INTERVIEWS. Real ones! I know, I can’t believe they let us that close to the players either.
Is this the longest Errol post ever? Possibly. It should shut up you whingers that have been blog-begging for the past month anyway.
PS – MASSIVE thanks to the amazing David Taylor for hooking us up on Kangamaroooooos Day. DT, you are our new favourite person!
PPS -The Errol Awards are coming I swear to God. We decided this year to leave them until after the season ended so we could stretch out the footy goodness as long as possible.
(photos from GettyImages)
Filed under: billy slater, footy observations, melbourne storm, nathan hindmarsh, parramatta eels, robbie farah | Tags: Posted by Sassy
Darlings we have been so busy! Have you been reading us on She Knows the Rules and 2DayFM? I hope so. And in the meantime all of a sudden it’s Grand Final time. We are overjoyed/heartbroken. As in … what do we do when it’s over? I’m already completely baffled about what to do this Saturday night with no Super Saturday on tv. Is this when you’re meant to go out? Like … with the young people? Cause God knows I refuse to start watching soccer. THAT WOULD JUST BE MASOCHISTIC. If that’s the alternative then I’m seriously considering taking up cross-stitch or a valium addiction or something equally thrilling and productive instead.
Sup Papua! (Pic. via News Limited / the Daily Telegraph)
So in the interest of delaying the end of footy season a lil bit longer, let’s talk about the Prime Ministers XIII. Or as Kiki keeps accidentally calling them, the PM’S XI. She cares not for the wingers! 11 players only!
We were all over this business the second it was announced, because apparently we have EXACTLY THE SAME TASTE as K.Rudd. Every time he picks this team he ends up putting in some of our fave boys who we could’ve sworn no one but us had noticed. It’s … serendipity, or something. We are totally psychically connected. Call me Kevin! We can shop together!
This year he picked out Terry ‘T.Camps’ Campese, beloved by everyone at the Errol office, especially after that time he threw a ball at Dean Young’s head. He also picked the frontrunner for Oh Errol’s Neatest Man in League award 2009: Robbie Farah.
HI ROBBIE! So neat! So efficient! So focussed! He’s like some kind of … Robbiebot. A Robbiebot in a Kangaroos training shirt. A Robbiebot … with visible nipples? Evidently they’re using the latex manufacturer to make the Robbiebot as they used to make the Batman outfits back when George Clooney played Batman.
HOLY PLASTIC NIPPLES BATMAN!
And the boys were too good for the Kumuls. They took out the game 42-18, which, to be honest, I’d be pretty damn happy with. The PNG boys are kinda badass. Apparently they’re also a bit prone to a spear tackle, and I can only assume they’re glad they didn’t injure anyone cause we Errol girls can be terrifying when someone messes with one of our Errol boyz.
Luckily, Dimples Dugan came home with his dimples in tact.
Just one teeny tiny problem. Um …. so while the game was going on, they kind of … well, this is awkward. How do you say this, exactly? PNG lost some prisoners. Happens all the time right? A few wardens go on strike, 54 inmates cut a hole in the fence, and all of a sudden they get away because the police are busy guarding a footy match. Whatever. COULD HAPPEN TO ANYONE. Prisoners really wanted to go to the game too, kk?
Everyone in this picture loves footy.
And after captaining the team last year, the awesome that is Nathan Hindmarsh was left out of the PM’s squad. Mainly, this is probably because he has to, you know, play a Grand Final. But something tells me he’s pretty happy to stay in Sydney and chill with his boys. Hindy be pimpinnn.
And yes, by ‘his boys’, I mean Matt Keating and Feleti Mateo. NO, NOT YOU LUKE BURT! YOU STAY OVER THERE IN THE CORNER ALONE. I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE A BOO BOO.
Plus it means Hindy gets to enjoy the rampant Parra fever that’s gripped Sydney at the moment.
THE HAYNE TRAIN WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS.
Pic. Justin Lloyd.
Don’t people love a bandwagon? If I was a little bit kinder, I might describe it the way the Herald Sun did:
Astounded by the rush of support from previously latent fans, Parramatta officials are still devising a plan to accommodate an expected throng of 20,000 partygoers should they complete a fairytale premiership.
CEO Paul Osborne is hoping to present the team to the faithful at Parramatta Stadium, which has seating for 22,000 and is capable of hosting thousands more on-field.
PREVIOUSLY LATENT FANS. What a great phrase for all those incredibly annoying people on facebook who haven’t uttered a WORD about footy all year now littering my feed with 85 updates on how they are sooooo happy Parra are in the finals. I’m glad you’re supporting league and all but YOUR STATUS UPDATES ARE ANNOYING. STOP IT IMMEDIATELY.
Pic. Gary Graham
Obviously this doesn’t apply if you are this guy, from the Daily Telegraph website, who has turned his Holden Commodore into a Parra Eels tribute. That is fucking amazing and he can do whatever he likes, even if that involves multiple annoying status updates.
Meanwhile down in Melbourne – as far as I can tell – the Storm threw an open training session so that Melbourne fans from far and wide could come and meet Billy Slater. That’s all that happened, right?
He’s like …. the people’s princess. He’s totally the Princess Di of footy. They love him! Even I have a weird fondness for Billy Slater and we all know that I hate everyone. What can I say? He won me over a) with his lovely skin and b) when everyone hated him for that brief period back in 2008. I am contrary like that.
Father Bob baptises Billy with holy water in a Gatorade bottle. Even God loves Billy Slater!
I can’t wait till Billy starts opening hospital cancer wards and arriving at Gala events in show-stopping one shouldered blue gowns.
Then, of course, there’s the other reason Hindy needed to stay in town: Grand Final breakfast. Also known as A Great Day for Sassy. I’ve already discussed how much I love seeing a footy player in a suit. I’ve said it before but it’s mesmerising. There’s something delightful about seeing someone look so uncomfortable … you know?
Exhibit A: buttons don’t usually go there, right?
Pic. Phil Hillyard
And this year Hindy made the whole thing even more enjoyable with the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. (He’s available for birthdays/functions/corporate retreats if you’re wondering. Deposit non-refundable).
Pic. Phil Hillyard
According to Hindy:
“I think Haynesy wrote in Cosmopolitan magazine that his body is a blessing,” said Hindmarsh at the NRL grand final breakfast on Thursday.
“That is enough motivation for me to try harder on the field.”
And doesn’t Ben Smith love it? He’s an easy laugh, like us. Heart.
Meanwhile Dan Dan Mortimer was apparently writing during the brekkie, and now thanks to Friday’s Daily Telegraph, we know that it is. (Hint: it’s not, as I suspected, a note reading DO YOU WANT TO SKIP DOUBLE P.E. THIS AFTERNOON? with two little ticky-boxes marked ‘yes’ and ’no … cause I’M A LOSER’.
But the Eels of 2009 looked as though they were headed for a Sunday afternoon barbecue as players joked and giggled their way through yesterday’s Grand Final Breakfast at Darling Harbour’s Convention Centre.
Nathan Hindmarsh pulled faces at the 650-strong audience and laughed about his loose shorts, Jarryd Hayne made gags about Hindmarsh, Fuifui Moimoi smiled as he hid from Fox Sports’ cameras, while Daniel Mortimer wrote a note, which Hindmarsh stole and gave to coach Daniel Anderson.
“Yes, you can have some water, Daniel,” Anderson said.
Don’t you love it? I love it.
In fact, the only person I can think of who loves GF breakfast more than I do is Fui Fui Moi Moi. Just look at him, so full of love!
Pic. Phil Hillyard
Apparently also not really able to tie a tie, but conveniently there’s no tie in a footy uniform, is there? Also BET FELETI TOTALLY LOVES DOING IT. Makes him feel needed.
Pic. Phil Hillyard
Which brings us to tips. You already know who we want to win (or you should know if you’ve been reading She Knows the Rules).
But we mean actual tips. Shit we’d put money on.
Kiki says the Storm. She says they’ve got too much finals experience, they’re soming off the motivation of a stinging lost in last year’s GF, and also, they are pure evil. Her reasoning is that you don’t get a happy ending two years in a row.
I say Parra. And I say this with full disclosure that I’m tipping with my heart, not my head. Parra are – like us – delightfully inconsistent. But like us, sometimes the battlers come out on top. I think that Parramatta are motivated and feeling blessed enough by the Gods and the NRL judiciary to go into the game with enough confidence to throw the ball around and really freak Melbourne out. And with a style of attack that’s only a few weeks old, I think Melbourne might crack.
Lozzy refuses to put in a tip and explanation because she just started a swishy new job yesterday and is “so compeltely fucking exhausted” from being nice to strangers/trying to find the bathroom/getting public transport/dealing with IT that she cannot even talk.
In the meantime, email me with enquiries for the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. I take a 10% commission. Hindy’s totally cool with it.
Filed under: billy slater, cameron smith, footy, queensland, state of origin | Tags: Posted by Sassy
So it has come to my attention that some people who read this blog are …. what’s the word? Queenslanders. Oh, yes. I remember it well from my two trips to Queensland in the last few weeks. Apparently every single ad on tv in the entire state has to mention that word about EIGHT TIMES. Queenslanders … looking after Queensland. The insurance to deal with what Queensland throws at you. The Queensland bank you can trust.
KILL ME NOW.
I’m starting to wonder if they do it for the same reason they invented the infamous State of Origin ‘Queenslander’ chant: so they can remember where the hell they’re from. Those three syllable words can be tricky. OH YES, I SAID IT. I’m a petty NSW girl and making cheap jokes about Queensland is all I have left.
What was my point?
Oh yes, Queenslanders have trotters State of Origin is just days away. So the boys we don’t go for have put on their hideous maroon training gear and are busy getting ready for Origin II. How are they doing this, you ask? Well not, as you would guess, by living in huts they crafted from paperbark and training with footballs they have sewn themselves. Although I’m sure they’re still keepin it real.
Oh no, instead Mal and the crew took them back to the facility to be tuned up and detailed, all shiny and ready to go for the next match.
I KNEW IT. Ever since guest-blogger Bec told me, I knew it! They is robotsssss. Robots with human covers. And greatest athlete Billy Slater is their leader. That’s the only possible way to explain how good he is. He’s a super-human! Can’t you just imagine the day he was born? Bursting forth from his pod like Neo in the Matrix.
IT’S A BOY!
Cam Smith has the new Captaincy learning program installed (Lockyer’s gonna be out of service eventually).
Folds away for easy storage.
Crocker after his yearly buff-n-wax. So shiny!
… the Steve Price even comes with mix-n-match accessories.
Extra aggression apps for JT.
Word on the street is that Mal is also a little bit nervous about Joel ‘Big Red’ Monaghan being added to the NSW team after Michael Jennings was ruled out with injury.
Jennings packs his things and leaves the State of Origin house immediately. He thinks Cassi the bogan will win.
Pic. Brett Costello
“… big Joel, he’s got experience, he’s been there before, he’s a really rock solid player and very good in the air obviously and a good talker.”
NO ARGUMENT THERE, MAL. Monas never shuts up. He especially never shuts up when he’s taking the piss out of me. When I asked him the other night at Magenta Shores if he and Jarrod Croker share a hairdresser with the Aussie cricket team he came back with “… like you and Andrew Symonds?’
DAMMIT. I GOT BURNED BY MONAS AND MARIO FENECH IN ONE DAY. My life sucks.
Like the blues, burned three times by the maroons. FOURTH TIME’S THE CHARM. Till next time, kittens.
Filed under: billy slater, footy, footy observations, melbourne storm, parramatta eels, steve price, wests tigers | Tags: Posted by Sassy
So apparently this week, rugby league is brought to you by The West Wing. Shit is getting political out Parramatta way. The Parra club board elections are coming up and the 3P rebel squad are running for election. Except apparently CEO Denis Fitzgerald has been busy sitting in his office chair and stroking his fluffy cat and devising an evil and ingenious way to ensure that doesn’t happen. ELECTORAL FRAUUUUUD.
If you’re wondering, the Board is supposed to be securing victory by mailing out $30 vouchers for the Parra Leagues Chinese restaurant to any member who sounds vaguely Asian, valid for the night of the election, to try and lure them into the club and get them to vote. Who knew that Chinese people were such fans of Denis Fitzgerald? Not I.
May not be actual Parramatta CEO
First of all, what kind of hack is the person who came up with this? *cough Denis*cough* Couldn’t they at least have come up with something original? At least two Fijian coups, one US impeachment and the Bolshevik revolution were made possible by the mass distribution of Chicken Chow Mein. Plus this is quite clearly identical to the plot George W. Bush ran in Florida to shonkily defeat Al Gore in 2000. You know it’s true.
Anyway, if I was a 3P supporter, instead of getting riled up, I’d just rest easy. Sif the plan is going to work. When have you ever seen an Chinese person eating Chinese food at a leagues club? I’ve been to many a leagues club in my time, and never have I ever seen an Asian person of any kind putting down their laminated menu and ordering the Sweet and Sour Pork. Those places are straight up for whities.
I kinda love them though, so if anyone who doesn’t enjoy Leagues Club Sang Choi Bow got one of those babies in the mail, or there are any lurking around Parra, feel free to send it on to Errol HQ. The boys love an outing. Plus better they come to us than end up with the players. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. STOP GIVING JARRYD HAYNE FOOD VOUCHERS.
Meanwhile know what we’re gonna talk about next? Not the Roosters. Come on down … Tigers! I kind of enjoy seeing the Storm get beaten. I like to pretend that it’s really Queensland, and they’re being beaten by the Blues. Siiiiigh. The crowd at Leichhardt was going crazy, and at the very last moment ‘the colt from Campbelltown’ Chris Lawrence ran in a truly surprising try.
Benji Marshall does what we all want to.
Pic. Steve Christo
You see Billy Slater is apparently the world’s fastest man, strongest man, best man at driving hatchbacks, best fry cook and possibly Jesus. TV told me so. And I accepted this because I adore TV and don’t believe it would ever lie to me, but apparently … TV WAS WRONG. There is something faster than Billy the Kid and that something is Chris Lawrence.
Chris adopts the downward dog pose to express his joy
Pic. Steve Christo
Even Robbie Farah lifted after his struggles of an effort in Round 5 and gave us an amazing score for our fantasy team.
Do I get to stay in the Wildcats now?
I hope the boys keep up their winning streak too. If nothing else so that Tim Sheens can keep his coaching job.
Meanwhile, Tigers coach Tim Sheens said while his team had suffered two disappointing losses after a reasonable start to the season it was “not at wrist-cutting situation or anything like that”.
Is that a technical footy term, Tim? This is a man who does not have a future in counselling and psychology.
I do have future careers picked out for a few of the boys thought. Craig Fitzgibbon is already Frank-Paul Nuuausala’s recipe-advisor and organic food guru … if he can get Frank-Paul slimmed down, I will be all over the Fitzy’s Cooking range of books and dvds. Just like Paula Deen! But bald!
I also can’t wait till Steve Price quits footy and hits the road as a deadpan, self-deprecating, Stephen wright-esque comedian:
When captain Steve Price pointed to the posts for Kemp’s penalty, he thought they had done enough. “Then we went in a huddle [for full-time], and I realised it was 16-16,” he said. “Maybe not enough oxygen getting to the brain. It’s funny … but it’s not really funny.”
Oh, Steve.
Meanwhile the other day we announced on Twitter that Michael Gordon is totally in the running for a nomination as Hottest Bitch in League, 2009. And like, actually in the running, not just alive and breathing, which seems to be the only requirement for being in the NSW State of Origin squad.
… we think that counts as a seconding of that nomination. Thanks Joshie Morris.
Screencap from the lovely Art1e.
Filed under: billy slater, brisbane broncos, footy, melbourne storm | Tags: Posted by Bec
A special treat for your Sunday night: our Errol bestie (and master tipper) Bec has agreed to guest blog the dirty Broncos playing the dirty, dirty Storm. FYI: this will be less pervy than we just made it sound. Enjoy!
Hi kids! I am Bec, sometimes (always) known as Lesbian Bec around these here parts. I have been asked by Kiki, Sassy and Lozzy to step in and perform a guest blog-octomy. So welcome to a very special edition of Friday nights football wrap-up. That’s right, don’t adjust your television set– FRIDAY’S game. The game involving both the Melbourne Storm AND the Brisbane Broncos. These teams are almost never mentioned positively here at Oh Errol, and probably have never been mentioned on this blog when playing each other.
Essentially for the Oh Errol girls this game is the equivalent of having to decide whom they would want to win in a cage match between Ted Bundy and Charles Manson. I suspect they would choose Manson, because that man rocked some crazy facial hair.
So there are several obvious reasons as to why this blog will be different to the usual fare you enjoy:
1. I am neither Kiki, Sassy or Lozzy, nor do I have their skillz
2. I am a lesbian, so the chances of discussing the hot manz-iness of the players is somewhat (completely) diminished
3. I am a filthy Queenslander
4. I am a filthy Queensland who supports the Broncos. And yet, somehow we all still get along. Give peace a chance.
In fact, the Oh Errol girls are my pseudo-girlfriends, because my actual girlfriend can’t stand football. In fact, to portray the extent of her dislike – while I am watching the game, she is in the spare room putting away washing and doing some filing. She dislikes football as much as Melbourne likes complaining about referees. That = A Lot.
This brings me to the game I’m meant to be discussing. After last season’s loss to Melbourne that knocked us out of the comp (I had to read about this to re-learn what happened, because I booked myself in for a lobotomy the day after), the scene was set for one hell of a game. I was excited to see how the Dave Taylor would perform after the recent birth of his baby, who I interpret to be crying because she is scared of being eaten by her giant father:
Hmmm…baby? Or Breakfast Burrito?
Of course, I was also vez excited to see what mean feats of gravity defying Israel could pull off, and I was NOT disappointed. If you haven’t seen it yet, let me show you a picture that pretty much sums up the try he scored:
Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, It’s MOR-MAN!
So with Israel bouncing around scoring tries, and the rest of the players doing their job, I set in for a comfortable, uneventful win for the boys. I should say here that whilst I dislike Melbourne as a group/conglomerate, and find them repugnant during most of the season, I never entirely hate them because they just have so many Queenslanders playing for them, and they are just so good when they are in maroon. This inner conflict causes an uncomfortable feeling inside me, much like what happens when I eat spicy food after midnight.
Anyway, Peter Wallace crossed for a try after the Melbourne players stopped because they thought there was a knock-on. Now, I may not be a footballer, but I would assume that it’s a good idea not to stop playing until the referee actually blows his whistle, bitch. Instead they looked like they were enjoying a game of Red Light, Green Light.
What fun.
Granted, the refs probably should have referred it to the video ref, but because it favoured the team I’m supporting, i’m absolutely fine with the decision. From this point the game became a bit more eventful, and the Broncos almost blew it again. At one point I was sobbing “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LET US WIN!!!”
Luckily Billy Slater couldn’t quite hang onto a catch near the try line in the dying minutes of the game, and the boys hung on to win for the first time against Melbourne at Suncorp since 2006.
On a side note, I’ve been watching Billy on Rexona’s Greatest Athlete, which pretty much consists of him being perfect in every sporting challenge that is thrown at him. Combined with his being the greatest player in league, as voted last year – I am convinced that he is in fact, a robot. I think he was built in the nineties, and the scientists obviously discovered that the neck is just holding the human race back.
Ties traditionally go around the neck. His must be a clip on.
You might be wondering that if Billy IS in fact a robot, how come he didn’t catch that ball?Well, can you imagine if it were revealed to the human race that robots were amongst us?
There were would be terror, and panic. Chaos in the streets. He has to fake a mistake every so often so that regular people don’t suspect.
SO the Broncos won! Hurrah. See, we don’t need you Uncle Wayne (much)! The Broncos won by one point in the first week, and two points in the second week – maybe by the end of the season we can win by a try.
And so that’s my wrap-up, and the final positive Broncos/Melbourne news for a verrrry long time here at Oh Errol headquarters. To those Queenslanders out there, feel free to re-read my post over and over again until then. Cheers.
Filed under: australia, benji marshall, billy slater, david williams, footy, queensland, rugby league world cup | Tags: Posted by Sassy
Pic: Steve Christo
The Rugby League World Cup is officially over. The final’s been decided. The boys are all back home either being lauded by the public or eating Easy Mac n Cheese to ease their disappointment. You can decide for yourselves who is doing what.
They’ve given out the trophy and all the participation certificates for the players’ mums to put on the fridge. Almost time to put on your Peter Wynn’s Rugby League pyjamas and go into footy hibernation for the summer. But first, one more r-l-w-c wrap-up. I warn you in advance that this one is going to be weird. I feel weird already. It’s not even the usual feeling funny in my pants, which is pretty much my default state and I’ve kinda gotten used to it.
For one thing: Australia Didn’t Win. The almost-unbackable favourites, the World Cup juggernauts, the team you love to hate … lost.
zomg I know! I can’t believe it either, eh!
Believe me kittens, I was as shocked as you were. Shocked and overjoyed. Just like Benji Marshall. I said last week I didn’t know who to cheer for, but after seeing the victorious Kiwis leap around like overjoyed schoolchildren I realise I was totally TEAM KIWI the whole time.
Pic: Steve Christo
My head said it didn’t know, but my heart was painted black and white for this game. What can I say? I think some part of me just loves seeing an underdog succeed.
I also love that the Kiwis celebrate by drinking beer shirtless. THAT’S HOW I CELEBRATE TOO! It’s why they won’t let me have my birthday in public venues anymore.
Is it possible that I also just enjoy seeing Queenslanders look disappointed? WELL MAYBE. AND IS THAT SO WRONG? It probably is, but whatever.
Clearly it’s not completely abnormal to take pleasure from other people’s misery. If it was, the Germans wouldn’t have bothered to make up a word for it, would they? Hmmmmm?
And in case the whole 34-20 New Zealand win wasn’t surprising enough for you, I actually have stuff to say about FOOTBALL today. For serious. Not just about their hair (well maybe a little bit), or their uniforms, but stuff about what the boys do with the ball (heh, ball). Let’s get started before I sober up and change my mind.
FREE BILLY!
So I think we all know I’m not Billy Slater’s biggest cheerleader. I have said less than flattering things about him in the past for a variety of reasons, including but not limited to:
a) Accusing Flossy Nightingale of headbutting him;
b) Playing for the Storm (booo, hisssss);
and,
c) Being a dirty Queenslander.
Also, sometimes I just irrationally dislike public sporting figures. Obviously Billy, like Roger Federer and Karmichael Hunt, has never done anything to me personally. Everyone tells me he is the Loveliest Man Ever and they are probably right. Nonetheless, I Decided to dislike him for no particular reason. It’s my way.
But Billy is getting a bitch of a rap in the media at the moment, and I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT. Clearly my love of truth outweighs any silly Slater vendetta. I’m pretty much Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men.
Except, you know, without the stuff that came afterwards, like the booster shoes and the Scientology and the child-bride.
You see, according to the Herald, a “Billy Slater moment of madness” cost Australia the World Cup.
They mean, of course, that Slater threw a blind pass in from the sideline trying to run the ball back upfield, and it fell into the loving arms of Benji Marshall for a try. Benji’d been loitering around to Billy’s left instead of jumping back to defend against the oncoming Aussies … and I don’t know whether that makes Benji Marshall an excellent reader of the play, or just a bit out of shape and too tired to get back in defence, but either way it all ended badly.
And yes, it was a really stupid pass. If I had more energy I would have been frustrated to the point of heartbreak watching it, like I was when Jarryd ‘Baby’ Hayne did the same thing in Origin. NOOO BABY HAYNE, NOOOOO!
I totally just had a flashback then and bumped my head on the desk. That game was horrifying.
But you know what? That’s just Billy Slater doin what Billy Slater does, isn’t it?
…oh, he’s just bein’ Billy.*
Pic: Steve Christo
My theory is that if you want a safety-times conservatively-programmed early-days Darren Lockyer kinda fullback, you don’t pick Billy Slater.
Bitch is … a risk-taker. Some people might say ‘a showpony’, but that’s not really it. More like some fullbacks do predictable things … and Billy Slater doesn’t. He sets up ridiculous and amazing plays out of pretty much nothing. He likes it. And it seems like he likes dramatical individual plays more than anything.
Yes, he does things that might turn into massive fuck-ups, but most of the time they work. (This, of course, is also part of the reason I can’t stand him. Damn you Queenslanders for being so good!)
So basically most of the time the people (cept the Oh Errol kids) love him. For every other game in the tournament, it has been a full-on Billy Slater soggy sao love-in. BILLY THE KID! FASTEST GUN IN THE WEST! BEST FULLBACK IN THE WORLD!
Bitches couldn’t get enough of him. Maybe that imagery was a little bit crude. But whatever. You know what I mean. Everyone was all over Billy Slater and It was really fucking annoying.
But now as soon as he gives away a try he’s reckless Billy the Kid who can’t defend and doesn’t deserve to be in the team. I might believe y’all about that if he hadn’t just received the player of the tournament award. Clearly no one thought he was doing so badly in all the other games the Aussies played.
He also got unfairly labelled Billy the Choker who can’t step up in big games (cf the Storm losing the Grand Final). And I would believe y’all about this if he didn’t set up two tries in the first half. It takes a whole team to win/lose a gf, right?
Basically – I CALL BULLSHIT. Yeah he made one mistake, but bitch didn’t single-handedly lose the game. You can’t be all over him then change your mind all of a sudden. It’s only cute when I am irrational and change my mind and go from loving to hating a footy player in a matter of hours. Like the way I’m now defending Billy Slater. DON’T YOU MESS WITH HIM, OK? I GOTS HIS BACK.
And that’s all I have to say about that. I feel all queasy. I CAN’T BELIEVE I STUCK UP FOR BILLY SLATER. Someone get the Dettol bath ready cause I need one … stat.
THERE’S NO ‘BLAME THE RANGA’ IN ‘TEAM’
Since I’m already busting Billy Slater out of media jail today, I’ve decided I’m takin’ Joel Mongahan with me. WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS BLAME THE RANGA?
Pic: Steve Christo
Ok, um, what exactly did Monas do wrong? He got a bad bounce, decided to go the professional foul, and the Kiwis got a penalty try. As opposed to … Hohaia just scoring the try? Which, incidentally, it totally looks like he would have, at least if you ask me and the video ref.
Call me crazy but I don’t see the difference. Maybe he moved the conversion to the center for an easier shot at the extra 2 points but two points weren’t gonna save the Kangaroos. In the end I think it comes down to lackluster defence. Lackluster defence from the Australian team, who seemed that way from the start of the game. Just kind of … surprised by how the NZ team played and on the whole pretty unfocussed. And every try the Kiwis scored chipped away at that a bit more, not just the ones that Monaghan or Slater were ‘responsible’ for.
It also seems vaguely arrogant when people try and pin the loss on one individual Aussie, as though the Kiwi’s couldn’t have won it, the Aussies had to lose. The Kiwis had so much passion, those kids deserved it.
And didn’t those bitches have hustle? Right up the middle of the field where the Aussies weren’t expecting it. I like to think they foxed the first snorefest of a game against Australia just so they could build up to this. I believe Wayne Bennett would be that crafty.
But whatevs. I think I’ve ranted enough. Let’s just say for both sides there’s a reason they call it a team sport. Also, the New Zealanders gave 110%, and took it one play at a time, and the best side won on the day. Or something.
Let’s also say to Ricky Stuart and his conspiracy theories just no. Really, honey, no. Let it go. There is a chapter in my etiquette book about losing World Cup finals and it specifically recommends against suggesting that there was a conspiracy against you. For reals.
And to Billy and Joel: if you’re feelin down, call me. Let’s go to the pub and you two can drown your sorrows and get blind and wave your fruity cocktails in the air for emphasis as you slur ‘THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW ME. THOSHE BITCHES DON’T KNOWWW ME.’
… AND NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT HAIR
It’ll be quick. I promise. All I really have to say is that Dave Williams is taking this ‘Wolfman’ image really, really seriously. Like woah. As in, I suspect someone has been watching X-Men and grooming their mutton chops to look like Hugh Jackman’s. And all that volume in the back of the hair … so Wolvy. Get it? WOLVERINE? You know it’s true.
Camera one … are you getting this?
Don’t worry Dave. Secretly, sometimes, we all pretend we’re movie stars.
What, so I’m not on mark? A little to the right you say?
Like sometimes I prance around the house when no one’s home imagining I’m Dolly Parton in the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. True story.
And with that completely random confession, it’s goodbye World Cup. See ya in four years, bitches.
* Just by the way, if you were a Miley Cyrus fan you would find that HILARIOUS.
