Big Weekend of Sport

Hi, guys.

Feelin kind of, low today. The downfall of the Bogan Empire over in the motherland really has given me the grumps. It's eating into me, like moths ate into my favourite jumper, last winter, the one I left, lying, on the floor.

Couldn't help but think of something I, once heard. The great philosopher, grade cricketer, and good mate Stumpy Johnson once said after we lost the 1998/99 C3 Northside Warehouse Cricket Final: "Cricket - c'est la morte" (Johnson, 1999).

Guess this isn't the place to take bites at the team, that's for some other blogger or poet or someone to do, commentator maybe, but gosh, man - what has been going on over there? The way we fell over the other night, it just got me so darn tickled. I don't blame The Skip (I know Rick, good guy, big fan of YourASP), but there was just something about the whole tour that didn't smell all that good. Something smelt off - you could see it on Rick's face, he was just smelling something the whole time, something not quite right. It wasn't 'till today that he worked out what that smell was. Whole time, the dude was smellin the whiff of defeat.

Anyway - enough about that. I'm too down to jatz on about the cricket today, too darn down, so I thought I'd post something from another sports highlight from the weekend. I was lucky enough to head out to Davies Park on Saturday afternoon and take in Brisbane's second division rugby league grand final, between Inala and St Brendan's. It was a cracker, just a, great, great game, really. I stood in the pigpen, on the hill, with my dear friend Berry Turkitt, and while I was standing on that hill, I was struck by a little bit of inspiration.

Fight in the Pigpen

Flaccid
Irreversible
Girth-lacking
Hooligans.
Toy dolls

Ignited by
Narcissism.

Tender,
Hardly
Enigmatic.

Pray these
Ideological
Goannas,
Paradigm-shapers
Each,
Never die.

It's just a few thoughts, I guess.

Anyway - hope you are all well. Will be in touch soon.

Jatz,
JC