I actually enjoyed reading this, had a bit of a giggle, but it's actually quite accurate, apart from getting Jay Nash's number wrong.
http://www.heraldsun.news.com.au/footy/common/story_page/0,8033,15945924%5E19742,00.html
Great Dons win, but such a tease
16 July 2005 Herald Sun
Mark Stevens
FOR a moment, imagine you're an Essendon fan still reeling from being held captive for four months somewhere out the back of Broken Hill.
A day after bravely escaping your kidnappers and signing a deal with Harry M. Miller, Eddie McGuire invites you to join Deltra Goodrem on the head table at the president's dinner.
With no time to catch up on weeks of news and no cash to buy a AFL Record, you arrive just in time for the main meal and the main event at the MCG.
Within four minutes Matthew Lloyd has taken a contested grab in the goalsquare and coolly slotted it. Three minutes later, Lloydy hauls in a pack mark and kicks goal No. 2.
Dean Solomon's running straight lines in defence, Mark McVeigh's breaking tackles and Scotty Lucas is looking as dangerous as ever.
The ever reliable Damien Peverill just keeps getting it. That No. 28 Jay Nash must be a player . . . Kevin Sheedy's got enough faith to put him on Nathan Buckley.
You can't recognise a few of the other new kids. Oh, and where's James Hird and Adam McPhee? But as the Pies wilt, it's obvious not much has changed since your enforced break from the game.
Bring on the next three months. You can sniff another premiership.
Last time you saw Brent Stanton he was still a fair way off. Now the youngster in No. 24 is killing them.
How brave's that little fella Angus Monfries? You vaguely remember the Bombers picking up a kid called Kepler Bradley in the draft, but had no idea he would be this good.
Dean Rioli's actually out there playing. That's a positive in itself.
The Johnson boys, Jason and Mark, are controlling the midfield. Courtney Johns with the blonde dreadlocks looks great . . . he can't kick, but if he's a project player the Dons are going well enough to carry him.
You revel in the fact that Dustin Fletcher does another job on Chris Tarrant.
While you're at the bar getting another Crown Lager someone yells out that Lloydy's kicked his seventh. People are still talking about Lucas's fifth.
Buckley's suddenly become a forward. He's the only guy who can possibly take any gloss off this.
Poor old Simon Prestigiacomo's given another free away to Lloydy. Goal No. 8. Give him the Coleman now. The siren sounds. It's a 26-point win, but it should've been way more. When you're a hot flag chance, you can afford to take the foot off.
Finally, you get a chance for some small talk with Delta. You want the dirt on the music business, but all she wants to do is talk footy.
She's serious enough to still have a copy of the AFL Record in her right hand.
In search of final confirmation of just how well your boys are travelling, you ask Delta for a quick squiz at the middle pages.
Delta beats you to the punch. "Can't believe your team has only won six games," she says.
Your jaw drops. The Crownie slips from your hand in shock. Surely, she's joking.
Then you see the ladder for yourself. In search of consolation, you look at the goalkicking table. Even after a night of heroics, Lloydy's still seventh in the race for the Coleman Medal.
One of the most joyous nights you can remember turns into the biggest tease of your life.
Delta gets up and belts out an impromptu rendition of You're Just So Predictable.
As other Bomber fans try to explain what went wrong while you were gone, you're in no mood for singalong.
How could your mob be so unpredictable?
http://www.heraldsun.news.com.au/footy/common/story_page/0,8033,15945924%5E19742,00.html
Great Dons win, but such a tease
16 July 2005 Herald Sun
Mark Stevens
FOR a moment, imagine you're an Essendon fan still reeling from being held captive for four months somewhere out the back of Broken Hill.
A day after bravely escaping your kidnappers and signing a deal with Harry M. Miller, Eddie McGuire invites you to join Deltra Goodrem on the head table at the president's dinner.
With no time to catch up on weeks of news and no cash to buy a AFL Record, you arrive just in time for the main meal and the main event at the MCG.
Within four minutes Matthew Lloyd has taken a contested grab in the goalsquare and coolly slotted it. Three minutes later, Lloydy hauls in a pack mark and kicks goal No. 2.
Dean Solomon's running straight lines in defence, Mark McVeigh's breaking tackles and Scotty Lucas is looking as dangerous as ever.
The ever reliable Damien Peverill just keeps getting it. That No. 28 Jay Nash must be a player . . . Kevin Sheedy's got enough faith to put him on Nathan Buckley.
You can't recognise a few of the other new kids. Oh, and where's James Hird and Adam McPhee? But as the Pies wilt, it's obvious not much has changed since your enforced break from the game.
Bring on the next three months. You can sniff another premiership.
Last time you saw Brent Stanton he was still a fair way off. Now the youngster in No. 24 is killing them.
How brave's that little fella Angus Monfries? You vaguely remember the Bombers picking up a kid called Kepler Bradley in the draft, but had no idea he would be this good.
Dean Rioli's actually out there playing. That's a positive in itself.
The Johnson boys, Jason and Mark, are controlling the midfield. Courtney Johns with the blonde dreadlocks looks great . . . he can't kick, but if he's a project player the Dons are going well enough to carry him.
You revel in the fact that Dustin Fletcher does another job on Chris Tarrant.
While you're at the bar getting another Crown Lager someone yells out that Lloydy's kicked his seventh. People are still talking about Lucas's fifth.
Buckley's suddenly become a forward. He's the only guy who can possibly take any gloss off this.
Poor old Simon Prestigiacomo's given another free away to Lloydy. Goal No. 8. Give him the Coleman now. The siren sounds. It's a 26-point win, but it should've been way more. When you're a hot flag chance, you can afford to take the foot off.
Finally, you get a chance for some small talk with Delta. You want the dirt on the music business, but all she wants to do is talk footy.
She's serious enough to still have a copy of the AFL Record in her right hand.
In search of final confirmation of just how well your boys are travelling, you ask Delta for a quick squiz at the middle pages.
Delta beats you to the punch. "Can't believe your team has only won six games," she says.
Your jaw drops. The Crownie slips from your hand in shock. Surely, she's joking.
Then you see the ladder for yourself. In search of consolation, you look at the goalkicking table. Even after a night of heroics, Lloydy's still seventh in the race for the Coleman Medal.
One of the most joyous nights you can remember turns into the biggest tease of your life.
Delta gets up and belts out an impromptu rendition of You're Just So Predictable.
As other Bomber fans try to explain what went wrong while you were gone, you're in no mood for singalong.
How could your mob be so unpredictable?
