Things that seem funnier ...

... when you’ve had a beer.

For all those footy tragics, and by which in this week in Melbourne I mean Collingwood supporters, I offer the following. This occurred to me as I sat quietly enjoying a beer or two after the AFL Grand Final ended in a draw after the Magpies appeared to have the game in the bag – a ‘cake walk’, if you will.

Here’s your problem as I see it. It starts at the selection table. You had too many players with names that are also rudey bits.

Sidebottom, Johnson, Thomas, Ball, Reid, Jolly.

The solution; either get rid of them OR embrace the concept completely and include the following listed players in the squad for the Grand Final Replay this Saturday.

Wood, Rounds, Barham, Dick (obviously) and, of course, Goldsack.





And when the November draft comes around see if you can sign up Johncock, Tippett, Adcock, Bellchambers, Ruffles, Shammer, Cockie, Cox and Spangher.



... and Fevola. He’s the biggest dick of all.






Cheers,
Prof Pilsner

Beer Blokes NRL Grand Final review

Melbourne Storm (4th) vs Parramatta Eels (8th)
Clear blue skies, top temperature of around 17c, light winds.

3 Trial games, 26 Home & Away games, 2 Finals Matches and it all comes down to this one day. Eighty minutes of determination, concentration and, for the winners, a lifetime of jubilation.

Pre-game preparation and the warm-up.

They say that the key to a good finish is good preparation and this is no more evident than in the case of a Grand Final. You need to be focussed on your goal and committed to doing whatever it takes. Don’t change a preparation that has worked for you up till now and most importantly, “Don’t leave anything in the tank when the final siren sounds”.

So I went with a James Squire Pilsner. Tried and true, a great example of the style and locally brewed. The original James Squire had a hotel and brewery in Parramatta so I figured his would be an appropriate nod to history.

First Half.

Another James Squire Pilsner. If it’s working for you, don’t change the game plan. At the five minute mark Melbourne break the line to put first points on the board. I celebrate with restraint – it’s early – and go with a Matilda Bay Fat Yak as I had planned.

24 minute mark and Cooper Cronk throws a terrific dummy to break the line and put Adam Blair away for Melbourne’s second try. Professor Pilsner opens the fridge for his second Fat Yak. The Storm look like they may make the Prof pay for his pre-game promise to toast each try with a fresh beer.

Half time.

The Storm waste a few scoring opportunities and Parramatta’s lack of big stage experience and Melbourne’s pressure sees the Storm go to the half time break 10 -0 up. The Prof breathes a sigh of relief and enjoys a Bridge Road Pale Ale.

Second Half.

45th minute. Parra get themselves on the scoreboard with a try to Eric Goethe Jnr to make the difference just 4 points. No beer there. 4 minutes later and Greg Inglis takes a high bomb uncontested and strolls under the dot to score. To celebrate such a no-fuss, consistent and pack-leading team effort, a Mountain Goat Pale Ale makes its first appearance. 16-6.

6 minutes later ... Billy Slater latches onto a perfectly executed Adam Blair offload to score the Storms’ fourth try and with a reputation for taking a big lead and then going right on with the business, The Prof is starting to worry that he won’t see the end of this contest. 22-6.

70th minute, ten minutes to go ... Parramatta score twice in consecutive sets to put the frighteners up both the Storm and the Prof and narrow the gap to just 6 points with five minutes to play.

76th minute. Another Mountain Goat Pale fills the glass as Greg Inglis slots a wobbly field goal to take the score to 23-16 to secure the clubs’ third premiership in just a twelve year history. As Channel Nong shows a total lack of common sense and respect for its viewers and cuts to the news as the siren sounds, I am forced to crack a celebratory Little Creatures Pale Ale, close my eyes and imagine seeing the trophy being handed to Melbourne captain, Cam Smith.

The empties are removed from The Stadium and The Prof retires, happy, proud and just a little bit wobbly but looking forward to next season already. Well done Melbourne. Premiers 2009.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

Plenty of US vs THEM

Here I am, sitting at home, beer in hand waiting for 5.30 and the NRL Grand Final to begin. My Melbourne Storm has achieved the rare feat of contesting their fourth decider in as many years and I will have to watch it all from a thousand k’s away.

In 2006 we were very unlucky to lose the big one to the Brisbane Broncos, the following year we gave the ‘Silvertails’ from Manly a good ol’ Victorian hiding only to follow up last year with a forgettable effort against he same team. In those three years we received an element of support from Sydneysiders who hated Brisbane and detested Manly and Sydney wasn’t too bad a place to hang out for the weekend. This year is very, very different.

The Parramatta Eels represent the western suburbs of Sydney, a Rugby League heartland and home to more Rugby League shops per square kilometre than anywhere else on earth. It is where we usually stay when we go north for the Grand Final and it is one of the few places I have found in Sydney that embraces the week leading up to the games’ showpiece. It’s the only place outside the stadium itself that flies team flags, hangs team posters in shop windows and hangs team scarves from its’ cars windows. Even when Parra are not playing. But this year, they are.

And all of a sudden everything is all about us versus them. Sydney has finally shown some spirit and some interest in a game that they claim to be their own. 74,000 fans turned out to see the Eels fight for a spot in the GF against traditional Sydney rivals, the Bulldogs, which made all Victorian sport supporters wonder – where were you all every other game of every other year for the past ten? Crowds of six, seven and as many as 11,000 would regularly trudge through the turnstiles at traditional suburban venues and state-of-the-art modern stadia alike, but if the weather was a bit iffy, the team lost the previous week or there was something decent on the telly, it was not unusual to see that crowd figure halved. Fair weather friends are no help to the team.

So now, Sydney has a team to support – and another to hate. Radio, net forums, newspapers and bars across Sydney and suburbs are abuzz with vitriolic talk of ‘those bastard Mexicans’ these infiltrators from the South who have had the bare-faced cheek to pinch two of our trophies in the short history of their club and who have the audacity to seek to pinch another this afternoon. Insults have been traded, word games played by players and officials of Parramatta and commentators and past greats of the game have had their say.

But, as any Victorian sport fan knows, there are only two places for talk. One is on the field of battle when the whistle blows and all arguments are settled. The other is on the podium after the final siren when you hold the trophy aloft, congratulate your team and commiserate the losers. And then, maybe a third – over a shared beer late in the day. And into Monday. And maybe some more on Tuesday. And a quiet one on Wednesday. And then ....

Good Luck Stormers. I will ride every bump, hit every gap, share every hit-up and celebrate every try with you from my couch. And I’ll do my best to go beer-for-beer with you as well.

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

Beer for drowning disappointment

As you probably remember I spent the weekend in Sydney for the NRL Grand Final to see my Melbourne Storm take on the Manly Sea Eagles for the 2008 premiership.

It’s fair to say that, while we went in as underdogs with most of the critics (particularly the Sydney media) and the bookies, it was still hoped that this GF would be the closest and toughest for some time.

It’s fair to say that despite the loss to suspension of our captain and key playmaker, Cam Smith, and injury to representative back rower, Ryan Hoffman, the Storm were still confident of bettering the team that they had smashed 34 – 8 in last year’s decider and had beaten twice in the regular season since then.

It is fair to say that the Rugby League folk in New South Wales have had fun putting the Storm down all week as a result of the club’s criticism of the League’s weak and backward thinking administration and that their were plenty of people north of the Murray hoping to see the Storm fall.

It’s fair to say that Sunday’s effort what not our best work.

In fact saying that it was not our best work is an understatement akin to saying that beer is an ‘OK drink’ or that Paris Hilton is a talentless slapper or that a dozen beautiful girls wanting to show me their boobies ‘would be kinda nice, I guess’. We did not play well.

40 – 0. That’s forty points to blot. Duck egg. Donut. Failed to fire a shot. Eight tries to ‘Didn’t Even Get Close’. Saved our worst for last. All credit to Manly for plotting and executing a plan that ran us off our feet, sapped our energy and kept us scoreless all at the same time. We stayed with them for the first half and even at 18 – 0 after an hour were a chance but their last twenty minutes was all party tricks and flick passes and blew the scoreline and the Storm off the park.

So, if last year’s beers tasted all the sweeter for being shared with the victors, what does a losing beer taste like? Well, the first thing that I have to point out is that we had a lot of beer. Sadly it was thrown at us and not sipped quietly as planned so we had to leave the stadium after the final siren. If we thought that Manly supporters were poor losers after last year’s efforts, we were unpleasantly surprised to find that they were even worse as winners. I can promise you all that last year as winners, the crowd as one applauded our team and clapped as the vanquished were presented with their runners-up medals and commiserated with the very few Manly folk who bothered to stay past the ten minute mark of the second half. This year they all stayed and showed a feral grasp of the concept of supporting your team and being gracious in triumph.

But enough of the negatives.

What this blog has tried to convey over the years is that beer is not just a drink for which to get drunk with. I love my beer, but what I really like is that it can be a different brew in different circumstances. For many at events like the Grand Final it is all about volume and bravado. For others it is the social lubricant that makes cheering on your team a more communal and shared experience. Last year I was drinking Heineken that was not as cold as it could have been but the buzz in the winners rooms after the game made it all the more sweeter. A sense of oneness and that we were all their holding up the trophy and a real part of its winning as the players body surfed the crowd and members young and old high-fived and back slapped.

This year we felt it wise to leave the ground and the precinct fairly quickly and the train ride home was slower, longer and quieter. Dinner was pizzas on the bed at the hotel and the beer just didn’t taste the same. I thought to myself that it might be interesting to see if the same bad beer which tasted so sweet this time a year ago could taste the same this year. Or would it be better by some twist of the cosmic beer world? After all, it was still shared with friends gathered for a common cause? It didn’t. It was much worse. And I am a good loser!

After the flight back to Melbourne I had time to reflect on the year my team had and realised that, while losing the big one, we had still finished ahead of 14 other teams. We had claimed our third straight minor premiership and the cheque for $100,000 that comes with it. We had provided ten players for representative games during the year as well as a dozen or so for international teams and had travelled to a rainy and gloomy England in February to compete for the World Club Challenge. Not bad for a team many tipped to sink after losing a few big names in 2005.

So when I got back home and armed with these thoughts, I capped a Weihenstephaner Pilsner and took a long deep sniff ... could this beer make everything seem normal again? Yep! After a few sips the world was as it was. I was still upright and breathing and my team was still going to turn up next season to do it all again. Plus one. A soft drink or a spirit just wouldn’t do that. Isn’t beer a wonderful drink?

Cheers,

Prof. Pilsner

It’s going to be a big week

As I sit at here right now I am in that place where every sports fan dreams of being. It is Grand Final day – the Premiership, The Big Show, the place where legends are born, heroes are made and where ‘Winners are Grinners and a Shit Sandwich for second’ – the last day of the season in my hometown’s sport of choice, the AFL. And my Hawks are there, challenging for football’s ultimate prize. And that’s all for clichés and catch-phases, I promise. (Well, might sneak one more in later).

The Hawthorn football club is a proud and humble club, admitted to the Victorian Football League in 1925 and starved of success for nearly 40 years before unleashing an era of dominance which realised 9 Premierships between 1961 and 1991. They have failed to reach the big stage since that last flag. Until today.

A young squad boasting equal parts grit and flair, the young Hawks of 08 are poised to write their names in the history books along side those of the players who they watched as kids. Blokes who will play today were not out of nappies when the last champion Hawthorn teams were breaking records for consecutive Grand Final appearances, for record breaking winning margins and for breaking opposition hearts, spirits and bones in the Hawks golden heyday of the late 80’s.

I will watch the boys today and feel proud to be a supporter of the Brown and Gold and know that, win or lose, I can be pleased with the year that they have delivered to their loyal fans. I will watch the game and hope that they win, but not be disappointed if they give their best and fall short. I will still support them in defeat and will graciously give congratulations to the Geelong Cats if they are to walk away as winners.

But what I won’t do is have a beer. Or ten! Can you believe that shit!?! I am ‘on call’ this week for the State Emergency Service and, while on nearly any other week I could get someone to cover for me, Grand Final day is a different beast altogether. It is also a day where, sadly someone somewhere usually decides it’s OK to drive the car home after a skin full of Carlton Draught and wraps themselves around a tree or a pole and we have to cut them out. They are usually considerate enough not to do this during the game, so I hope to be able to watch from start to finish.

Must go, the pre game ‘entertainment’ is winding up and the boys will be running out shortly. With luck and skill the Hawks will prevail and on Monday night after ‘handover’ I can raid the fridge and crack a nice cold ‘something special’. Win, lose or draw.

Then, next week, I will do it all again as my NRL team, the Melbourne Storm last night booked themselves a spot in their third consecutive Grand Final decider in Sydney next Sunday. I will have more tales to tell and more beers to share with mates. Look out!

Cheers,
Prof. Pilsner

P.S I am just taking it one week at a time at the moment.