It's A Grand Old Flag

Dear Son,

As you’ll quickly learn, and perhaps have started learning already, you are a Dees supporter. That’s right, a diehard fan of the Melbourne Football Club.

Your father is one. Your grandfather is one. And even your great grandfather is one. Not to mention your aunts and the likes of your great uncle. Even your mother whose a recent convert. She even knows ‘It’s a Grand Old Flag’ to the word and sometimes sings it out after a few drinks. I married well.

So the mighty Dees it is for you then, especially as I’ve already signed you up as a member. Of the Little Devils supporter group. Now, I won’t say it is easy being a Dees supporter. Their last premiership was in 1964 and your father has endured all sorts of pain in his lifetime as a result.

Yes, I am still waiting for that elusive first premiership in my lifetime. A lifetime that began while growing up during the dreaded 1980’s when we had our fair share of long winters and wooden spoons. I was always outnumbered in the playground as a result so lucky I had a thick skin and could always look down on the odd St Kilda or Fitzroy supporter nearby.

In contrast, your grandfather grew up during the golden age of the late 50’s and early 60’s when the Dees won 5 premierships over a 9-year period and played in 11 consecutive finals series. So I heard plenty about those years and wondered from time to time whether it was a case of child abuse on the part of your grandfather to make me support them. Alas, you need to experience the lows to appreciate the highs. A metaphor for life I guess.

Two lows stand out the most though – the 1987 Preliminary Final and 1988 Grand Final losses. Both to Hawthorn, whose fickle supporters really give you the shites. They won again in 2008 and acted like it was hugely deserved because they’d had to wait since 1991. 17 years does not compare to 47!

Anyway, I’d just moved to Brisbane with your grandmother and aunts so perhaps the tyranny of distance made the 1987/88 finals series so hard and that’s why they stand out so much for me.

So in 1987, we hadn’t made the finals in nearly 20 years and had only one last chance for our hero at the time, Robbie Flower, to experience finals footy. After winning five or six in a row to get us into a position to contest the finals, we took on Footscray (now Western Bulldogs) in the final round and just managed to scrap in after a memorable last quarter fight back. We also had to thank Hawthorn who managed to beat Geelong in a thriller to allow us to go through. The irony.

With my excitement at fever pitch back in Queensland and soaking up any kind of information about the Dees and about footy I could get, the Dees then demolished North Melbourne in the First Elimination Final by 118 points. An unbelievable result considering our young side and lack of any finals experience. The next week, the Sydney Swans by 75 points. It was like it was all coming together. And so it was, Hawthorn in the Preliminary Final to see who’d take Carlton on in the Grand Final a week later.

In a dogged clash, the Dees led throughout the game but in the last quarter Hawthorn just kept on getting closer and closer as the minutes ticked by. Not helped by 3-4 easy goal opportunities that we missed. It finally came down to the last minute and after another easy chance went astray, the Hawks had a kick-out from fullback while trailing to us by 4 points.

Straight down the middle they went. Hawthorn mark. Hawthorn kick. Hawthorn mark. Hawthorn kick. Then another Hawthorn mark taken by Gary Buckenara about 60m out. He went back to take his kick and as he started his run-in the siren sounded so he stopped.

But then, a very young and inexperienced Dees player from Ireland, Jimmy Stynes (future President and now hero of the Club), ran across the mark meaning a 15m penalty was awarded by the umpire. Buckenara then moved up to 45m to within kicking distance of goal and then slotted it through to give Hawthorn a win by two points after the siren.



"If looks could kill" - Jim Stynes and coach John Northey after the 87 Prelim loss

Shattered. Gutted. Devastated. I went outside and sat on the driveway and cried. Any Dees supporter that remembers that day well will have a similar story. And they’ll probably get a tear in the eye and shake their heads as they tell it.

The 88 Grand Final? Well, there’s not too much to talk about there except for the fact I was actually at the G, the hallowed turf, to witness it.

Basically, a very young Dees team had another good run through the finals series but exhausted and decimated by injuries, they came up against an experienced and hard-nosed Hawks outfit that was playing in its sixth straight GF. It was all over at quarter time and ended up being the biggest losing margin in a GF at that time. Absolutely horrible.

But truth be told, those two incidents have only worked to strengthen my resolve to support the Dees. The oldest footy club in the land and tradition aplenty. Not many out-and-out stars over the years but plenty of good players with ability to punch above their weight and work as a team.

We’re hoping for some out-and-out stars soon though. And I’m sure you’ll hear plenty of the likes of Scully, Trengove, Grimes and Watts. Perhaps even wear one of their numbers on your back like I did when I was a boy. No. 2 by the way – Robbie Flower.

And while the highs versus lows ledger is rather unbalanced in my time anyway, what’s the point in going through life taking the easy option all the time? By supporting the likes of a Hawthorn or a Manchester United or a New York Yankees. Without feeling the full depths of emotion. Without feeling the pain as well as the joy.

Yes, you need something to believe in to feel alive and when the time comes for the Dees to finally taste that elusive next premiership, well, it’ll all be worth it and probably a whole lot more as well.

I just hope we can enjoy that moment together, my son. That truly will be a special day. But hopefully earlier rather than later. There’s only so many years left in this life.

Your Dad (EDM). 

Can Do, But Should He?

Well, the big news in Queensland over the last few days has been the appointment of the Brisbane Lord Mayor, self-appointed ‘Can Do’ Campbell Newman, as Leader of the Parliamentary LNP, or Leader of the Queensland Opposition.

Thing is, he isn’t even in Parliament. He hasn’t been elected as a Member of Parliament representing an Electorate. Or as Leader of the Opposition by the LNP members in the House for that matter. As Robert Menzies once said, ‘Queensland is different’. But in this case, it’s downright weird.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, Queensland politics was looking pretty mundane and boring at the end of last year. The Bligh Labour Government was in for an absolute shellacking and it was largely assumed nothing could save them. But then along came the floods and Cyclone Yasi. Natural disasters of biblical proportions that changed everything. Bligh handled herself extremely well and led the State through one of its darkest times. Comeback Anna was back in the game.

This development obviously spooked the LNP and caused all sorts of second-guessing amongst them. They had thought they’d just have to cruise to the next election and win it in a canter due to the level of anger toward Anna and Labour.

Alas, the first set of meaningful polls that came out after the natural disasters showed the LNP and former Leader Langbroek could struggle the win the next election and it would no longer be able to rest on its laurels. Panic stations it was. The small target approach would not be enough now. It had to do something. Anything.

And so we now have Newman anointed the Leader of the Opposition Outside the House (whatever that means) while also holding his other job as Lord Mayor of Brisbane. One of the strangest things I’ve ever heard of and quite the political risk as well.

For first of all he needs to be preselected by local LNP members for his designated seat of Ashgrove. Then he needs to win that seat from a current Minister, the popular and up and coming Kate Jones. Then he has to convince the Queensland electorate that he’s decision is not merely an ego trip and that’s he’s taken this course to actually help and promote the State. And then he must hope that the LNP win the election so that he can become Premier. And only then will he give up the Lord Mayoral ceremonial robes.

Yep, a massive risk because I must say it’s hard to not see it as a massive ego trip and a cynical farce that undermines our parliamentary democracy. I admire the taking of the risk though, as there’s a hell of a lot to lose for both Newman and the LNP but a hell of lot to gain as well. I also like the fact that it’s another complete game changer for Queensland politics and we’re in for quite a ride over the next 12 months before an election must be called.

Some of the media interviews have been pretty grating though. Last night, I watched Newman on the ABC trying to promote his whole-of-State credentials by talking up visits and holidays to places like Charleville, Cairns and Gladstone.

Yeah mate, you’re a real man of the people out west and up north. Watch him put on the RMs and the Akubra and chew on a piece of straw while bemoaning those city slickers in Brisbane. Those same city slickers that elected him as Boss Man City Slicker in the last two council elections.

There was another piece of the interview that went straight to the hypocrisy involved. Again, in trying to ingratiate himself with electors outside of Brisbane, he was criticising the Bligh Govt for being too south east Queensland centric and for ignoring regional and rural centres.

Thing is, he’s been arguing for the last seven years as the Brisbane Lord Mayor that the Bligh Government should be doing more for south east Queensland and diverting funding to the major population centres such as Brisbane. I just shook my head at the blatant double-standard. The duplicity of politics hey?

That’s not too say the Bligh Government doesn’t have their own credibility issues. Asset sales, Queensland Health payroll, cost of living pressures just to name a few. Not to mention plenty of baggage from all white elephant water infrastructure left over from the rush to beat the drought.

Which brings us to the next election. I’m sure the strategists in the Labour Party are working overtime at the moment as they try and work out whether to go early or go late in response to this latest development. The Premier has always said she’ll serve a full term but just yesterday that had changed to ‘I can’t rule anything in or out at this stage’.

I’m thinking she might go early as she’ll have plenty of ammunition to fire at Newman – he’s running away from the people of Brisbane in their time of need after the devastating floods; its all about his ego in presuming he’ll win a seat and then win over the people of Queensland; the LNP is so dysfunctional that it had to resort to appointing a Leader from outside its parliamentary ranks.

She can also counter the argument about serving a full term by saying the natural disasters have changed everything and the government of the day needs a mandate to get on with the recovery job and rebuild Queensland.

Then again, strategically, I reckon she should hold off from calling the election. The longer the farce of having a Leader Outside the House goes on the stranger it looks and feels. Waiting 8-12 months will also highlight the absurdity of Newman not relinquishing his Lord Mayor position and cause quite a bit of angst for the LNP in terms of what to do there with its upcoming election.

But hey, I’m no political operative tasked with ensuring the re-election of the Labour Party. So I’d put my money on an early poll as the arguments and messages above will probably prove too tempting. Not all bad news for me though if they do go early. I could really do with a good caretaker mode at the moment.

Now, where’s my boarding pass?

EDM.

AFL Season Preview

2011, the Year of the Demon. It certainly has a nice ring to it.

As much as I would love that to occur, I am realistic about the Dees chances this year and just want to see ‘progress’ rather than a Premiership. We’re still the youngest team in the comp so we can’t expect domination and we’ll definitely see some inconsistency again with some great wins followed by some disappointing defeats. As such, I’m expecting the Dees to finish in the 8^th-10^th range with 10-12 wins, although a first finals appearance since 2005 would be very welcome news.

Anyway, the season is nearly upon us and I for one can’t wait. I’ve been looking forward to it since the second GF last year with a heightened state of excitement growing ever since the Ashes were lost. While it’s not exactly cold and wet here in Queensland signalling the winter months and the footy season, there’s definitely something in the air about a new beginning for the Lions and of course the Suns and the next six months revolving around what happens to each team each weekend.

Yes, I can smell it in the air – sweet leather on a new Sherrin, nostrils burning from too much Deep Heat, hot pies at the kiosk. I can feel it as well - hairs on your neck just before first bounce, knotted up insides as an opposition player lines up for goal, cold beer tipping down your leg as you celebrate him missing. Hhhhmmm, you reckon I’m excited?

As is customary at this junction of the season ahead, it’s time for the crystal ball and all manner of predictions. Now I don’t expect to get any of these right come the end of the year because the season is a long one and there’s just no way of knowing what’s to come. That’s what I love about it.

But hey, you’ve got to have a go and it’ll be good to revisit these predications in the middle of the season and then again at the end. Especially as I might be in the market for a new crystal ball by then. So here goes.

Premiers – Collingwood Magpies

Grand Finalists – Hawthorn Hawks

Wooden Spooners – Gold Coast Suns

Team on the up – Melbourne Demons

Team on the down – St Kilda Saints

Brownlow Medallist – Scott Pendlebury, Collingwood

Coleman Medallist – Lance Franklin, Hawthorn

Rising Star – David Swallow, Gold Coast

Goal of the year – Liam Jurrah, Melbourne

Mark of the year – Liam Jurrah, Melbourne

Biggest story of the year – impacts of new substitution rule

Coach most likely to be sacked – Brett Ratten, Carlton

Yes, there it is. The crystal ball has spoketh. And deliverth it has. So lock them in I say (with a hint of sarcasm).

EDM.

The Post That Never Was

I wrote up a new post yesterday with every intention of posting it last night. Something was nagging away at me though and some doubts started to creep in.

I put it to the wife and she agreed that perhaps it wouldn't be for the best to share it with the world. Or the eight people who make up this blog's world anyway. The decision was then made to not publish. To let it slide.

The whole saga has then led me down a path of questioning a few things about this blog and evaluating the beast that is self-censorship. For when I started this blog, I certainly had every intention of not holding back and letting be said what I wanted to say.

But really, that was pretty naive and unrealistic. For starters, the majority of my readers are friends and family so of course you temper your words to fit the crowd. There's already been plenty of occasions where I've changed a certain phrase or decided a word is too strong. Or even scratched a post topic or two to ensure I don't write anything that may offend or disturb at the time some of the people I love and respect.

So yes, the beast of self-censorship is alive and well here at Nah Seriously and this latest event has made me realise this. And its a good thing too.

Because you can't just say what you want to say when you want to say it (despite what reality TV contestants think). A civilised society only works when people take others into consideration and respect the consequences of their own actions on those other people. Of course, no one lives up to this ideal all of the time. But as long as the majority do for the majority of the time.

And its the same with blogging. Especially when you have a partner and a family. As surely they deserve some level of privacy in relation to their daily goings-on and will sometimes not want certain information entering the public domain.

So what was the post that never was? Sorry folks, I know its been a massive tease saying all this and not revealing the thing that prompted these rambled musings.

Well, it wasn't anything controversial or scandalous I can assure you. Just some stuff going on that felt good to write about at the time. But in the end, no-one else really needs to know about it. At this point in time anyway.

Apologies then but that's the way it is I'm afraid. You can call me a post-tease if you like. I deserve it.

EDM.

Where Men Win Glory

As you can see to the left of this page, I’ve been reading the Jon Krakauer book, Where Men Win Glory.

I’ve read a couple of Krakauer’s other books and thoroughly enjoyed them. Into Thin Air is a great story of a failed Mt Everest attempt with deadly consequences while Into The Wild has been turned into a movie by Sean Penn about a young man who gives up the trappings of modern life and goes into the wilderness to find himself.

Where Men Win Glory is the story of Pat Tillman, a star NFL gridiron player on a multi-million contract who gave it all away to join the US Army in the aftermath of the September 11 attacks. He eventually joined the elite Rangers regiment and served in the Invasion of Iraq before being killed while on a patrol mission in Afghanistan just a few kilometres from the Pakistan border.

While the book celebrates Tillman’s life and his rare display of sacrifice and commitment, it also delves into the controversy surrounding his death and the politics that were at play at the time. You see, Tillman wasn’t killed by Taliban forces in an ambush as reported by the US Government at the time. He was actually shot by a fellow Ranger in an inconceivable case of fratricide, or in simple terms, friendly fire. A truth that the Bush Administration did not want to get out and who actively deceived Tillman’s family and the public to make sure it did not.

I found myself absolutely seething at some of the narrative in the book about the actions of the military and White House officials. References to PR people in the Bush Administration purposely interfering in the investigation into Tillman’s death and then promoting a lie all in the name of curtailing a nosedive in Bush’s approval ratings certainly made my blood boil. And apparently these people were fully aware that one day the truth would get out, but they didn’t care as it was all about controlling the news cycle at the time and making sure the President eventually got re-elected.

So the Bush Administration pushed the line that a heroic All-American patriot had been killed in action by the Taliban during an ambush on his patrol. A hero who’d given up fame and fortune playing in the NFL to give back to his country and make the ultimate sacrifice for its people.

It was all a crock of shite though as the ultimate sacrifice he made was actually at the hands of his fellow soldiers in a bizarre and almost criminal display of negligence where his killers shot manically into the hills around them despite the fact they knew there were friendly forces in them. His commanders had let Tillman down badly as well by not providing logistical and air support to his platoon during its patrol and by demanding that it follow a strict timetable set down by some desk bureaucrat in Washington who had no idea of the local terrain and conditions.

Tillman was also vehemently opposed to the Bush Administration in its pursuit of the Iraq War and was openly sceptical of its foreign policies. He was no brain-dead sports jock and had studied political science and economics at College so was able to critique and question some of that policy despite the fact he was serving as one of its instruments. As a soldier, he could also see the realities on the ground in both Iraq and Afghanistan and the lies being told to the American public about both conflicts.

None of that mattered though to the politicians and to those who are tasked with keeping them employed as politicians. The truth is the first casualty of war as the saying goes, but the actions of so many in the case of Pat Tillman were reprehensible and showed a complete lack of compassion and humanity for both the man and his family.

Anyway, this post isn’t going to be all ranting and raving. As with all wars, its not the politicians who start them that end up carrying the greatest burden. It’s the simple men and women of a nation that do that. Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers and sisters.

I'm not one for honky flag-waving patriotism, particular in the American style, but I defintely recommend that you take a look at this video as you'll get that sense, that it's simple men and women and their families that carry the burden the hardest.

There just must have been an onion or something lying around when I watched it.

EDM.

Mind's Eye - Lunchtime Run

The sun bears down on me as I push my left foot back and give that calf muscle a stretch. I’m sweating already and curse the fact I haven’t even started on my run yet.

The stretch of the muscle feels good given its still a little sore after my last run and I look down to see my running shoe stretched out in unison. Counting to thirty in my head, I then switch feet and feel the same stretching sensation but this time in my right calf.

A shadow all of a sudden flashes just above my head and I duck quickly to avoid whatever it is. A little wince of pain then goes through my foot as it moves into a strange angle. Ahhh, it was just a bird flying metres away with no apparent danger. The power of the illusion of a shadow.

After some further stretches and a walk down toward the bikeway, I recognise my usual starting spot of a large pylon holding up the Riverside Expressway and push off. The Brisbane River on my left and a bland government building on my right. The river is still a heavy brown colour from the recent floods but it’s at a more tamer regular level. Debris high up in a barrier fence tells a story of what happened here just a few weeks ago though.

The first impact down on the concrete pavement is uncomfortable as the pressure bearing down on my left Achilles comes as a shock. My other leg quickly follows though and it’s into an easy rhythm quite quickly. Looking ahead, I can see workmen in flouro vests standing around watching a bobcat dig and lift. Their heads follow the movement of the bucket but no other part of their body moves at all. They look like laughing clowns at a sideshow alley. And just as colourful.

A sign above the workmen says “North Quay 1”, getting bigger and bigger as I approach. The tarmac underneath then changes as a result of new concrete having been poured. It causes me to stumble slightly and I have to look down to rearrange my feet and my stride.

It gets dark all of a sudden as the path leads into a tunnel-like area underneath the expressway and the Victoria Bridge. Its eerily quiet as the sights and sounds of the city above can’t be heard and I’m able to hear my laboured breathing and the sound of shoe hitting pavement. There’s light coming through up ahead though which enables me to see another runner coming towards me. It causes me to move across to the left a little to allow him to pass as my wrist drops to my hip to avoid the nearby wall.

My eyes narrow all of a sudden as brilliant sunshine takes over and I’m led up an embankment by the path over and above the river. The extreme noise of the traffic from the expressway returns and I look up to my right to see the traffic and the Kurilpa Bridge sitting high above it.

From this angle, the Bridge looks like it’s all around me with its twisting masts and poles but I’m soon away from its sharp shadow and the heat of the sun is again felt on my forehead and exposed arms. I resolve to make this run shorter than usual as the summer midday heat is not conducive to this sort of activity. What’s that saying? Mad dogs and Englishmen…

I push on nonetheless and try and do the calculations in my head. To the Go-Between and back would be 5km. Is that enough? Should I try and go further? Up to the old Drift Restaurant perhaps? A large drip of sweat then falls from the end of my nose and I’m forced to remove more from my eyes by scrunching up my shirt to wipe them. That answers my question and the decision is made. 5km will be more than enough.

The river and the path then take a sharp turn left and I can see down to the William Jolly Bridge and the shadow it is creating on the path up ahead. My pace quickens unconsciously as a result, as the allure of a break from the unrelenting sun takes over. I can then almost feel the coolness of the shadow before looking over and seeing an older runner shuffling along in the opposite direction with her head down trying to protect her eyes, just as I was doing moments ago.

I’m feeling good now that I’m out of the glare and have forgotten about my enhanced pace. I'm quickly reminded though as the shadow recedes and a rise in the path presents itself alongside Coronation Drive. My quads and glutes are quickly labouring and my breathing is heavy as I attempt to negotiate what seems like a ‘mountain’.

Eventually getting to the top, the path winds its way paralell to the river and I have to duck a little to avoid an overhanging tree. Once passed it, I can see the Go-Between Bridge ahead with the kaleidoscope of its blue and green painted side striking me as strange. It’s a welcome sight nonetheless as it marks my turnaround point and a chance for a quick stretch and a breather before heading back.

Having done the stretch and checking my watch for the time, I twist away from the Bridge and take a first step. Like last time, the impact is felt through my entire body and the next few strides are uncomfortable and gangly. But I’m soon into a rhythm once again and my mind starts to wander.

The fatigue in my leg muscles dissipates and I find myself forgetting the sun and the concrete and the sweat and the noise. It’s taken a while but finally the endorphins have kicked in and my runner high is reaching its peak.

Alone with only my thoughts and imagination. And enjoying the pleasure of exertion after hours stuck behind a desk. There’s no better place to be right now and no better thing to be doing.

So I ponder whether that saying needs to be changed. It’s not just mad dogs and Englishmen...

EDM.

The Sun And The Sand

Sun, surf and swimming. The ingredients of the typical Australian summer holiday. And ingredients myself, the wife and son are enjoying immensely at the moment as we holiday up the coast.

Yes, the blogging hasn't been very regular over the last week or so as the inclination to sit down inside and type at a desk hasn't quite been there as the outside attractions have been far more persuasive. Particularly as the son runs and grabs his boardshorts almost as soon as he wakes up and hangs out at the door waiting to go to the beach, the pool, etc.

A great holiday being had therefore with the mornings taken up at the beach/pool before a middle of the day rest and read of the papers and books. Then a return to the beach/pool in the afternoon with nibbles being cracked open around 5pm with a few drinks for Mum and Dad and maybe an ice cream or choccy milk for the little fella.

Yes, could get very used to this lifestyle I must say and can happily admit there's been a few viewings of the local real estate windows as a result. Probably pie-in-the-sky but hey, you've got to have dreams.

This a very quick post then just to let my ardent fans know they haven't been forgotten. Its just holiday time for this correspondent and I plan on enjoying it while I can before the grind of everyday life returns next week and beyond. Not that this blog is a grind. Just all the other stuff that goes with work, homelife, commute and co.

So on that note, hope you are all well and can promise a return to normal programming soon. As I pop another piece of brie and cracker in my mouth and slice another lime for my Corona, and blissfully look out from our balcony at the sun and the sand below. Heaven right now. And loving it.

Yours from summer holiday land,

EDM.