Mr Eagle
Bird-brain
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2001
- Posts
- 31,667
- Reaction score
- 19,962
- Location
- Melbourne
- AFL Club
- West Coast
- Other Teams
- GWS
I have long enjoyed the fame that comes with being an East Side Hawk. People stopped me in the street for an autograph. Every barista would trade endless cappucinos for a chance to be known as my cafe of choice. I was welcomed with open appendages in every pub, club and brothel around Waverley. Kids wanted to be me, their mums wanted to snog me, and their dads didn't mind if they were being cheated on so long as it was with a guy of my standing.
Life was good.
But then... that day came.
Now, I think it fair to say that I have never sought power. I am a team player, always have been. My vice-captaincy of the side was always about providing guidance to the youngsters around me and providing a steady hand on the wheel as we navigated into the unknown. Nothing so shallow as it being a stepping stone to immense power and control ever crossed my mind.
When Karnezis_13 stood down as captain, my worries were only for the team. How would the squad respond? What could the leadership group do to help keep spirits high in the off-season? What was the best way forward for a club on the cusp of re-establishing itself as a worthy adversary in the SFA?
And then...someone said it:
"What about Mr Eagle and Tarkyn_24 as co-captains?"
I should have said no.
I should have made my excuses, walked out of that fateful meeting at the Waverley Palace of Exotic Pleasures and Sandwich Bar, left and never returned. But I didn't. I mean...what sort of team spirit would that show? Abandoning the ship as it turned towards an iceberg? Unacceptable. Mr Eagle does not do that. Mr Eagle is a team man.
So I said yes.
Even then, I could feel the change coming. The responsibility settling heavy upon my shoulders. The sun darkened just a little at that moment. The whole universe shifted almost imperceptibly on its axis. Starting to revolve around...me? Oh I think it was.
Tarks said yes, too. But when I looked into those huge puppydog eyes of his as we shook hands, I could tell that he was unaffected. He didn't feel it. Perhaps he is to be the calm yin to the rage of my yang? (Perhaps he will also make a useful scapegoat.)
Days later, after the endless bloody paperwork was completed, and as the white smoke rose over Waverley Park and the fans cheered that their new leaders had been chosen, I knew that I had been forever changed. I had a singular new purpose.
Since my ascension to (co-)captaincy, I have had an epiphany. After much contemplation, I have come to realise just what it will take to ensure premiership glory for the Hawks: complete and utter supervillain-grade ruthless bastardry.
If you want to win the SFA premiership, you must be willing to be ruthless. Nice guys don't finish last - they fail to finish after getting run over, shot, bludgeoned, stabbed and/or poisoned by a more committed competitor. What you can't go around, you must go through. And, so, this is how things are going to be.
My first act as co-captain after getting my corporate credit card was to have the northern grandstand extended to accommodate my personal base of operations. Tarks has an office, naturally, but the nuclear missile bunker (with laser death ray annex) is entirely my responsibility. And as I sit here in the penthouse, looking out over the majesty of Waverley Park, I plan. I scheme. I prepare.
I commit solemnly to the East Side Hawks that there is nothing I will not attempt as co-captain in the years ahead, until such time as we have another premiership trophy brought home to Waverley Park.*
*Players should note that this may lead to:
- me yelling at them very loudly;
- me trying to replace underperformers with robots and/or engineered clones;
- mandatory drug testing (to ensure required minimums are maintained);
- the introduction of shark tanks at Waverley Park (please let the club doctor know if you have a seafood allergy);
- you being used as a decoy, test subject and/or sacrificial lamb;
- you being conscripted into a private army of some kind;
Other than the above, I think things will largely be the same as last season.
Regards
Mr E.
Life was good.
But then... that day came.
Now, I think it fair to say that I have never sought power. I am a team player, always have been. My vice-captaincy of the side was always about providing guidance to the youngsters around me and providing a steady hand on the wheel as we navigated into the unknown. Nothing so shallow as it being a stepping stone to immense power and control ever crossed my mind.
When Karnezis_13 stood down as captain, my worries were only for the team. How would the squad respond? What could the leadership group do to help keep spirits high in the off-season? What was the best way forward for a club on the cusp of re-establishing itself as a worthy adversary in the SFA?
And then...someone said it:
"What about Mr Eagle and Tarkyn_24 as co-captains?"
I should have said no.
I should have made my excuses, walked out of that fateful meeting at the Waverley Palace of Exotic Pleasures and Sandwich Bar, left and never returned. But I didn't. I mean...what sort of team spirit would that show? Abandoning the ship as it turned towards an iceberg? Unacceptable. Mr Eagle does not do that. Mr Eagle is a team man.
So I said yes.
Even then, I could feel the change coming. The responsibility settling heavy upon my shoulders. The sun darkened just a little at that moment. The whole universe shifted almost imperceptibly on its axis. Starting to revolve around...me? Oh I think it was.
Tarks said yes, too. But when I looked into those huge puppydog eyes of his as we shook hands, I could tell that he was unaffected. He didn't feel it. Perhaps he is to be the calm yin to the rage of my yang? (Perhaps he will also make a useful scapegoat.)
Days later, after the endless bloody paperwork was completed, and as the white smoke rose over Waverley Park and the fans cheered that their new leaders had been chosen, I knew that I had been forever changed. I had a singular new purpose.
It has been said that power corrupts.
They were right.
They were right.
East Side will have its premiership glory once more.
Our enemies will fall before us.
The weak will be swept aside and the strong shall be brought low by our might.
I will stop at nothing.
(And it will make me look very, very good.)
Our enemies will fall before us.
The weak will be swept aside and the strong shall be brought low by our might.
I will stop at nothing.
(And it will make me look very, very good.)
Since my ascension to (co-)captaincy, I have had an epiphany. After much contemplation, I have come to realise just what it will take to ensure premiership glory for the Hawks: complete and utter supervillain-grade ruthless bastardry.
If you want to win the SFA premiership, you must be willing to be ruthless. Nice guys don't finish last - they fail to finish after getting run over, shot, bludgeoned, stabbed and/or poisoned by a more committed competitor. What you can't go around, you must go through. And, so, this is how things are going to be.
My first act as co-captain after getting my corporate credit card was to have the northern grandstand extended to accommodate my personal base of operations. Tarks has an office, naturally, but the nuclear missile bunker (with laser death ray annex) is entirely my responsibility. And as I sit here in the penthouse, looking out over the majesty of Waverley Park, I plan. I scheme. I prepare.
I commit solemnly to the East Side Hawks that there is nothing I will not attempt as co-captain in the years ahead, until such time as we have another premiership trophy brought home to Waverley Park.*
*Players should note that this may lead to:
- me yelling at them very loudly;
- me trying to replace underperformers with robots and/or engineered clones;
- mandatory drug testing (to ensure required minimums are maintained);
- the introduction of shark tanks at Waverley Park (please let the club doctor know if you have a seafood allergy);
- you being used as a decoy, test subject and/or sacrificial lamb;
- you being conscripted into a private army of some kind;
Other than the above, I think things will largely be the same as last season.
Regards
Mr E.
