POBT
Brownlow Medallist
AFL Premiership Round 9
Adelaide V Brisbane Lions
--------- V ---------
________________________________________________________
Sunday May 23
AAMI Stadium 12:40 PM (Local Time) 1:10 PM (EST Time)
Adelaide Forecast Adelaide Radar
V ADELAIDE
TV
LIVE AROUND AUSTRALIA
SA (1/2 Hour Delay), Qld (Live)
RADIO
Vic: ABC, SEN.
Qld: MMM, NIRS, ABC.
SA: MMM, 5AA, ABC.
WA: NIRS, ABC.
NSW: NIL
ACT: NIL.
Tas: ABC.
NT: ABC, NIRS.
Ladder:
Season Win/Loss
Adelaide V Brisbane Lions
________________________________________________________
Sunday May 23
AAMI Stadium 12:40 PM (Local Time) 1:10 PM (EST Time)
Adelaide Forecast Adelaide Radar
V ADELAIDE
TV
RADIO
Vic: ABC, SEN.
Qld: MMM, NIRS, ABC.
SA: MMM, 5AA, ABC.
WA: NIRS, ABC.
NSW: NIL
ACT: NIL.
Tas: ABC.
NT: ABC, NIRS.
Ladder:
Season Win/Loss
The Brisbane Lions Perspective:
The Flying Belgian said:With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe...
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered drunk and teary,
Over many a pussy-whipped Lion fresh from night-time war,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some troll,' I muttered, `posting on my forum floor -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I recall it was at very tail-end of fall,
And each failing key position tall wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost #4 -
For the hairy vagrant unshaven whom some wags named #4 -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the defenders looked uncertain choked by the purple curtain
Then the felines left us hurting – as they have many times before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is we were crappy, slayed by Byrnes and Chappy,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Bradshaw'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Bradshaw'
Merely this and nothing more.
For now without Josh Drummond, all our courage we need summoned,
Soon again I heard a drumming somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the trolls and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a shabby raven unlike the days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above the Gabba floor -
Perched upon a bust of Vossy just above my Gabba floor -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven battered from the round before -
Tell me when we should wave in another premiership or four?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the awesome bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
For as he flailed and flutter, with that one word he did utter
My heart did turn to butter where pre-season it had soared -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
For although our stars are aging and upon us I’ll keep waging
The hind of my brain was raging with thoughts not thought before
Could we proceed through the year victorious only four
And winners nevermore?
Then, methought, the team’s grown denser, the games become tired and tenser
As we struggle for rhyme and reason on the feted Gabba floor
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Bradshaw!
Hail the manchild Fev, and forget this lost Bradshaw!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Does thou see that Brown is spent, and that Power still is sore?
For if we cannot beat thee, play zone defence so sweetly
And maybe cheat discreetly, we will never make top four.
Will our meek and mild beat thee? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back unto the churches and make haste or hear our roar!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
For your forward line’s still broken! – despite the burst in quarter four!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and cast thy eye upon the score!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
But the raven, one time flitting, left bricks that it was shitting
Underneath the bust of Vossy and all over my Gabba floor;
And Voss’ eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is scheming,
On how to save the season that is slipping through cracks in the floor;
And my spirits that were shattered like a fighter’s glassy jaw
Shall be lifted – Lions by twenty-four.