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my source is Miss Iva Nun if it makes you feel betterI don't but I think I'm the only one
Can still be handy to find out why guys like Reece McKenzie was overlooked by almost everyone. I think I remember hearing it was some attitude issues. Have you heard anything?I know a couple of recruiters at various clubs but to be honest I only really get info from them after the draft/trading period which is still very interesting (eg who they rate/ who they like/who they dont rate/ why they didnt draft X etc) but is always info after the event.
Coincidence that you came up with that example?To put it explicitly: If I started a rumour thread on this open forum "I go to the same barber as <pick a player> and the barber told me ...", think about the consequences of that!
Generally because professional recruiters have real information about prospective draftees, as opposed to the " draft experts" on here who watch 3 minutes of video and declare a player a potential super star or pot the professional recruiter's for " failing their club by not taking him" or worse questioning their credentials as a recruiter.Can still be handy to find out why guys like Reece McKenzie was overlooked by almost everyone. I think I remember hearing it was some attitude issues. Have you heard anything?
Spot on 76.IMHO it's quite ridiculous to expect people to reveal their sources on an open forum. If somebody has a genuine source, are they really going to reveal it here? To put it explicitly: If I started a rumour thread on this open forum "I go to the same barber as <pick a player> and the barber told me ...", think about the consequences of that!
Coincidence that you came up with that example?

As far as I am concerned, rumours are exactly that. Some never come to fruition but doesn't mean that the info as it was passed on wasn't considered legit at the time. Just don't shoot the messenger. After a while you know who has creds and who hasn't.
It is hard when it is really controversial. Some scrutiny has to be applied but you don't want to hold people back either. Maybe just put it on with an alt account and then forget about it.Yes. I don't fly down to Melbourne to get my hair cut [emoji14]
Completely agree.
A real life example ...
I once heard a rumour that a certain senior coach was hated and despised by most of his playing group, and that he was probably going to get the boot. I believed my source was credible, but I struggled to know what to make of it at the time because that particular club were doing quite well on the field. Anyway, six months later, the rumour turned out to be correct - that coach got sacked.
Imagine if I had wanted to post that rumour on BigFooty at the time I heard it ...
... I would have gotten hammered with cries of "Source???" and "Bulldust!!!" ...
... And if I had posted who that source was (a colleague knows somebody who ...) I would have been scoffed at ...
... So what would have been the point of me posting it?
It is hard when it is really controversial. Some scrutiny has to be applied ...
... but you don't want to hold people back either. Maybe just put it on with an alt account and then forget about it.

Why?
I could post "I flew to Mars for breakfast this morning" ... It's up to individuals whether they want to believe me or not. And if they don't believe me, well, what of it?
Ah yes, because folks give a lot of credence to alt accounts![]()

So what is wrong with asking how sure are you that you went to Mars. Maybe you went on a bender with Buddy and thought you went to Mars. Question the message, not the messenger.Why?
I could post "I flew to Mars for breakfast this morning" ... It's up to individuals whether they want to believe me or not. And if they don't believe me, well, what of it?
Ah yes, because folks give a lot of credence to alt accounts [emoji14]
Why?
I could post "I flew to Mars for breakfast this morning" ... It's up to individuals whether they want to believe me or not. And if they don't believe me, well, what of it?
Ah yes, because folks give a lot of credence to alt accounts![]()
I like reading posts from "I've got a source" posters but I really take very little away from these until I see confirmation from the clubs or the AFL. Things change and whilst that may have been the case at the time, when you read through threads later they can unintentionally make people appear misleading.
It also wouldn't surprise me if some sources are not as privy to information as they may make out. Human nature to some degree is to chest puff and some, not all, but some I imagine would add a little gravy to what they hear with Chinese whispers slowly snowballing into something completely unrelated.
We need to be careful how we post this information and also how we interpret. There are a lot of good posters on here, well respected posters but this can change quickly as information changes with the internet at times being very unforgiving. Like email, interpretation is in the mind of the reader and although you've written something that sounds completely legit in your mind, often it can create problems in others.
That said - I love the fact people do have sources, I love the fact that at times posters can share this information but I also respect that many need to protect where their information comes from.
Do we really need MORE alt accounts?It is hard when it is really controversial. Some scrutiny has to be applied but you don't want to hold people back either. Maybe just put it on with an alt account and then forget about it.
Rather we didn't but if that means we can get info and the OP doesn't get his head bitten off, i am all for it. If there is a new way, I'll be the first in line but it better work this time.Do we really need MORE alt accounts?
So what's happening with Scharenberg and Freeman?
I realised pretty quick that this thread was doomed to fail. But hey, the banter has been good!![]()
Can still be handy to find out why guys like Reece McKenzie was overlooked by almost everyone. I think I remember hearing it was some attitude issues. Have you heard anything?
There's a doozy...he's agreed to our contract offer and you will all jizz your pants.
If this doesn't come through I'm going to find out where you work, and I'll get a job there. I'll work there for years, slowly gaining your trust and friendship; we'll go for drinks after work and talk about our lives, our problems and our successes. Eventually I will let it drop that I barrack for that other club and we'll bond over that. At the birth of my first child I will name you godfather, and I will name my child after you. My child will call you 'unca' and then 'uncle'. I'll be there for you when things fall apart.
One night you'll come home from work and there will be a note on the kitchen table. 'Turn around', you'll read. You turn around to empty space. Confused, you wonder if your wife has put it there as a joke, but as the thought of your wife enters your head you realise how deathly quiet the house is. Her car keys are gone... Trying to allay a rising dread that is strangling your throat from the inside you move towards your bedroom, walking at first but the panic has gripped you now and you break into a run. You open the door, sure you are simply overreacting... The room is empty. Sure, there is a bed, a wardrobe, and the usual furniture, but any trace of your wife has vanished. You run through the house now realising it is just that, a house. It was a home but now it is void of any feeling let alone love; it is a motel, bereft of humanness and life. Your wife is gone.
Little did you know that I had been sneaking into your home, into your bed, into your wife's heart and vagina. I had been stealing her from you since the day you invited me in to watch our club beat the Dogs in the 2018 preliminary final. We were close that day, we really were. I wondered if I should relent, if I should let it go. After all, it had been over three years since you built up the hopes of literally dozens of internet strangers with your lies. But I couldn't let it go.
You run out of your house, an uncanny simulacra of what you once saw as the one place you could be yourself, to relax and breathe. It is raining hard and the rain could hide your tears if your face was not screwed up in anguish. You break down and fall to your knees, and you let your face fall into the mud.
It is at that moment I sneak up behind you, whip down your pants and shove one of my homegrown zucchinis that had, that very day, won first prize at the Royal Show, right up your arse. I disappear into the night as you extricate the produce from your rectum, almost glad there is a physical pain great enough to momentarily distract you from your mental sorrows. On the side of the Zucchini, you read a word carved into the green flesh. Doozy, it says.