We all know real Christmas is tomorrow, so...
Unofficial preview from Peter Bell:
'Twas the night before Draft Day, when all through the league,
Not a supporter could remember, a coach named David Teague
;
The footy boots were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Wallsy soon would be there;
The recruiters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of premierships danced in their heads;
And JLo in his 'kerchief, and I in my feathered cap,
Had just settled down for a long nervous nap;
When out at Cockburn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bench to see what was the matter.
Away to the ground I flew like a flash,
But still have no regrets about not getting Lachie Ash.
The moon on the breast of the new-mowed turf,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects on earth,
When, I saw with my wondering eyes it would seem,
But Walls and McMullin and the whole drafting team.
An overweight driver, so full of balls,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Walls.
More rapid than drug cheats his draft picks they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, ERASMUS! now, GOATER! now, JVR and AMISS!
And surely some sliders that others will miss!
To the top of the league! You must win the ball!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
He sprang to his phone, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY DRAFT DAY TO FREO, WE WILL KILL ON DRAFT-NIGHT!
Unofficial preview from Peter Bell:
'Twas the night before Draft Day, when all through the league,
Not a supporter could remember, a coach named David Teague
PLAYERCARDSTART
David Teague
- Age
- 42
- Ht
- 186cm
- Wt
- 90kg
- Pos.
- Def
Career
Season
Last 5
- D
- 9.6
- 2star
- K
- 6.2
- 2star
- HB
- 3.4
- 3star
- M
- 3.1
- 3star
- T
- 2.4
- 4star
No current season stats available
- D
- 5.0
- 1star
- K
- 3.2
- 2star
- HB
- 1.8
- 2star
- M
- 2.2
- 3star
- T
- 1.0
- 3star
PLAYERCARDEND
The footy boots were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Wallsy soon would be there;
The recruiters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of premierships danced in their heads;
And JLo in his 'kerchief, and I in my feathered cap,
Had just settled down for a long nervous nap;
When out at Cockburn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bench to see what was the matter.
Away to the ground I flew like a flash,
But still have no regrets about not getting Lachie Ash.
The moon on the breast of the new-mowed turf,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects on earth,
When, I saw with my wondering eyes it would seem,
But Walls and McMullin and the whole drafting team.
An overweight driver, so full of balls,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Walls.
More rapid than drug cheats his draft picks they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, ERASMUS! now, GOATER! now, JVR and AMISS!
And surely some sliders that others will miss!
To the top of the league! You must win the ball!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
He sprang to his phone, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY DRAFT DAY TO FREO, WE WILL KILL ON DRAFT-NIGHT!