Cheshire Cat
Cancelled
- May 31, 2007
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I know (pretty sure) this link has been posted somewhere on this Board (or perhaps the Freo Board) but those who haven't seen it, have a read of this from dockerland.....it will take your breath away....
THEY DON'T LIKE IT UP EM
written by Shane Richmond
Fremantle may have lost the game by 74 points but it was Geelong who shocked the nation by putting in one of the most embarrassing performances since Trent Croad's one man performance of Hair at the Princess May Theatre. It was the top team playing the equal bottom team but the reigning premiers carried on like Russell Crowe trying to order a carafe of Knappstein Reserve in a country pub. They whinged, they sooked, they threw their fists about and they fell over in disbelief as Fremantle dared to play them tightly and dried up what the locals expected to be an early flood of goals. But hard work and dedication can only match ability for so long as the Dockers struggled to find their feet on the Cats home ground. The third quarter sealed Freo's fate as the score blew out for Fremantle biggest loss of the season.
Last time Fremantle met Geelong, the world almost stood still. The Dockers were one point from bringing this whole AFL competition down on its own head, shattering the status quo, destroying reputations and earning local punters enough cash to put down a down payment on pad in the West Fremantle Retirement Home development. And were it not for a hundred years of lead paint build up on the goal post, they might have done it.
Geelong tried to fob it off as them having a bad day, the travel taking its toll and all the other clichés from the Victorian book of excuses but anyone who was there on Anzac day knew that when the Cats ran out onto Skilled Stadium they were wearing the dark navy shorts for a good reason. They were packing themselves
Top of the ladder, barley defeated and with the Premiership flag flying high above their home ground, the pride of Geelong, the envy of Victoria and yet still so insecure. Mark Thompson had spent the week slandering Fremantle players in the local media, still sour that the Dockers defied popular belief and actually tried to stop Geelong players from getting the ball. Turning the game into a circus and whipping his supporters into an even bigger frenzy than usual in the process.
When the game got underway, though, it was obvious that fifty years of carrying handbags doesn't go away just because you stack your side with Father\Son loopholes. Gary Ablett’s kid was hearing footsteps, fumbling the ball and sweating like a Frenchman despite the temperature forcing most of the Fremantle players to opt for the rarely used football anoraks. Matthew Scarlett had refused to stand near Matthew Pavlich was doing his best to try and get himself lined up against a 19 year old small forward in his 11th game. Steve Johnson was on the brink of tears as the umpires refused to pay him free kicks for falling over; and every Geelong player was so desperate to hide their fear that they'd put their dukes up any time someone looked at them sideways.
Fremantle on the other hand looked anything but fazed by the daunting scenario in front of them. They'd travelled across the country, then they'd hopped on a bus, ignored all the travel warnings and gone to Geelong anyway. Struggling through freezing temperatures, they made their way to the home of one of the greatest teams the AFL has seen, crammed all their injured players into the coaches box and sent what was left out to try and turn their two season victories into three.
It was a tasked that didn't look beyond them either. With the Cats rattled, Fremantle knew they needed to make the most of their opportunities and put a score on the board early. It took them a couple of attempts but eventually Pavlich ran down a fleeing Andrew Mackie, earned a free kick and dobbed the opening goal of the match.
The Geelong fans were turning feral..er. They'd shown up expecting to see a glorified training run and Fremantle were turning it into a game of football.
The Geelong players weren't happy either. After just the tiniest bit of niggle their team discipline had gone the way of the Ablett family's hair. Steve Johnson was carrying on as if he'd had a couple of beers too many with his lunch (or a couple too few), as he and his team mates nearly completed the Bingo card for every type of free kick given away in the book.
Just as Brian Cook got on the phone to order a special rail to stop his players falling over in the forward line, Chapman actually stayed on his feet long enough to take a mark, kick a goal and get the Cats into the game.
Buoyed by the promise of competition, Fremantle bounced back with a well received goal from Chris Mayne to put the Dockers back in front.
Things were about to turn though. When Dean Solomon slipped a bump high on Cameron Ling and forced him to leave the ground (no one wants to have to watch a ranga cry), the umpires turned on the Dockers and started protecting the man in front ... of the man wearing a purple jumper.
Tom Lonergan was given a goal to stop the locals from jumping the fence (the fact that most of them were wearing sheepskin footware was what was actually keeping them back) and kicked a second one when Grover was pinned down too close to the members for an umpire to dare making another decision against the Cats.
Fremantle were happy to take a 7 point deficit into the first break, after all they were playing a pretty good side, but they weren't happy when an umpire plucked out a fifty metre penalty against Matthew Pavlich, the man on standby for the Pope if for some reason he can't fulfil his World Youth Day duties), conspicuously on the wing near the Reg Hickey Stand. Enright kicked a goal after the siren and Fremantle went into the break 13 points down.
At quarter time, the Geelong doctors rushed straight to Gary Ablett. Having seen him flinching his way through the first quarter, they were certain he was having some sort of epileptic fit. When they arrived and realised what had happened, they gave him a testosterone injection and gift voucher for Antoni Grover's favourite strip club and walked off in disgust.
Mark Harvey wasn't happy either. Like everyone else in the country, he'd enjoyed seeing Cameron Ling get smashed in the head, but he wasn't happy that the Dockers had been sucked in to Geelong's thuggery. He told them to keep it clean, focus on the football and try and kick a few bloody goals.
Some of it worked when they returned to the ground. Freo got the ball out of the middle and down to the forward line where Chris Tarrant took another strong mark. Unfortunately he marked it deep in the pocket and the Chico Roll and bourbon breathe of the 5,000 Geelong supporters behind him pushed the ball across the face of goals. Ibbotson had a similar problem when the Dim sim and VB breathed crowd behind the goals saw his kick fall short.
Up the ground it was hard work for both teams. Geelong didn't have much space for their freewheeling uncontested football and Fremantle didn't have much space for their kick off the side of your boot and handball into the grass game plan they'd decided to trial.
Neither team was prepared to concede an inch to the opposition as the Cats bizarre anger towards Fremantle grew and the Dockers professionalism held strong. It took something a bit special to break the drought of goals and a snap from fifty saw Travis Varcoe kick the first goal of the quarter 15 minutes into the quarter.
In a more fair world, Fremantle would have then replied with a goal that matched their work ethic and hardness at the ball but, instead, Gary Ablett's kid jagged one from the pocket to give the scoreboard a very unattractive look.
Fremantle looked less and less like scoring as the quarter kicked on. Cameron Schwab was hanging around the boundary trying to offer Tom Harley a contract to play in Fremantle's forward line, as Dockers midfielders kept picking him out with unprecedented precision.
Another late goal got the Cats out to a 33 point lead at half time, with Fremantle failing to kick a goal for the quarter and in much need of a rest, a drink and a gobful from their coach.
Despite the margin blowing out the second quarter, Fremantle weren't going to shy away from the contest. Pav had yet to fire, Rhys Palmer was bound to get some protection from the umpire at some point and Gary Ablett's kid was off the ground with a broken nail. They just needed to keep up their work rate and add a bit of polish to their disposal skills and the goals would start to come.
At least that was the theory. No one had realised Brad Ottens was playing and, in the opening few minutes of the quarter, he was out on his own so much he'd taken to writing an Into the Wilderness style diary. Before he did though, he put through two quick goals and the cats were out to a 46 point lead.
Cameron Mooney had been less sighted than Ottens and pushed the margin past fifty with his first goal. Fremantle were thinking of digging up a local bushranger when Tom Lonergan kicked another one to make the difference 10 goals.
Chris Tarrant was the first Docker to score since the first quarter, putting through a couple and helping Peake get one amongst a couple more Geelong goals, to finish the quarter 51 points behind.
For the first time in living memory, Fremantle were going into the last quarter without sitting on the cusp of victory. Geelong had broken the game open and no one was expecting Fremantle to kick nearly twice as much in the last quarter as they had in the first three. There was no pressure. Nothing to lose, They had thirty minutes to write themselves into folklore.
Coincidentally, thirty minutes it's also the amount of time it takes to push a thrashing out into a complete pantsing. The Cats kept up the premiership form and Fremantle stood back and took notes as they prepared for next season. 5 more goals went Geelong's way with Chris Tarrant Fremantle's only bright light in the forward line. The final margin settled on 74 and Fremantle headed in for their cold showers.
But at least they’d hurt a ranga.
Particularly the bits in bold.
Just wow, funniest thing I've read in a long time, seriously.
THEY DON'T LIKE IT UP EM
written by Shane Richmond
Fremantle may have lost the game by 74 points but it was Geelong who shocked the nation by putting in one of the most embarrassing performances since Trent Croad's one man performance of Hair at the Princess May Theatre. It was the top team playing the equal bottom team but the reigning premiers carried on like Russell Crowe trying to order a carafe of Knappstein Reserve in a country pub. They whinged, they sooked, they threw their fists about and they fell over in disbelief as Fremantle dared to play them tightly and dried up what the locals expected to be an early flood of goals. But hard work and dedication can only match ability for so long as the Dockers struggled to find their feet on the Cats home ground. The third quarter sealed Freo's fate as the score blew out for Fremantle biggest loss of the season.
Last time Fremantle met Geelong, the world almost stood still. The Dockers were one point from bringing this whole AFL competition down on its own head, shattering the status quo, destroying reputations and earning local punters enough cash to put down a down payment on pad in the West Fremantle Retirement Home development. And were it not for a hundred years of lead paint build up on the goal post, they might have done it.
Geelong tried to fob it off as them having a bad day, the travel taking its toll and all the other clichés from the Victorian book of excuses but anyone who was there on Anzac day knew that when the Cats ran out onto Skilled Stadium they were wearing the dark navy shorts for a good reason. They were packing themselves
Top of the ladder, barley defeated and with the Premiership flag flying high above their home ground, the pride of Geelong, the envy of Victoria and yet still so insecure. Mark Thompson had spent the week slandering Fremantle players in the local media, still sour that the Dockers defied popular belief and actually tried to stop Geelong players from getting the ball. Turning the game into a circus and whipping his supporters into an even bigger frenzy than usual in the process.
When the game got underway, though, it was obvious that fifty years of carrying handbags doesn't go away just because you stack your side with Father\Son loopholes. Gary Ablett’s kid was hearing footsteps, fumbling the ball and sweating like a Frenchman despite the temperature forcing most of the Fremantle players to opt for the rarely used football anoraks. Matthew Scarlett had refused to stand near Matthew Pavlich was doing his best to try and get himself lined up against a 19 year old small forward in his 11th game. Steve Johnson was on the brink of tears as the umpires refused to pay him free kicks for falling over; and every Geelong player was so desperate to hide their fear that they'd put their dukes up any time someone looked at them sideways.
Fremantle on the other hand looked anything but fazed by the daunting scenario in front of them. They'd travelled across the country, then they'd hopped on a bus, ignored all the travel warnings and gone to Geelong anyway. Struggling through freezing temperatures, they made their way to the home of one of the greatest teams the AFL has seen, crammed all their injured players into the coaches box and sent what was left out to try and turn their two season victories into three.
It was a tasked that didn't look beyond them either. With the Cats rattled, Fremantle knew they needed to make the most of their opportunities and put a score on the board early. It took them a couple of attempts but eventually Pavlich ran down a fleeing Andrew Mackie, earned a free kick and dobbed the opening goal of the match.
The Geelong fans were turning feral..er. They'd shown up expecting to see a glorified training run and Fremantle were turning it into a game of football.
The Geelong players weren't happy either. After just the tiniest bit of niggle their team discipline had gone the way of the Ablett family's hair. Steve Johnson was carrying on as if he'd had a couple of beers too many with his lunch (or a couple too few), as he and his team mates nearly completed the Bingo card for every type of free kick given away in the book.
Just as Brian Cook got on the phone to order a special rail to stop his players falling over in the forward line, Chapman actually stayed on his feet long enough to take a mark, kick a goal and get the Cats into the game.
Buoyed by the promise of competition, Fremantle bounced back with a well received goal from Chris Mayne to put the Dockers back in front.
Things were about to turn though. When Dean Solomon slipped a bump high on Cameron Ling and forced him to leave the ground (no one wants to have to watch a ranga cry), the umpires turned on the Dockers and started protecting the man in front ... of the man wearing a purple jumper.
Tom Lonergan was given a goal to stop the locals from jumping the fence (the fact that most of them were wearing sheepskin footware was what was actually keeping them back) and kicked a second one when Grover was pinned down too close to the members for an umpire to dare making another decision against the Cats.
Fremantle were happy to take a 7 point deficit into the first break, after all they were playing a pretty good side, but they weren't happy when an umpire plucked out a fifty metre penalty against Matthew Pavlich, the man on standby for the Pope if for some reason he can't fulfil his World Youth Day duties), conspicuously on the wing near the Reg Hickey Stand. Enright kicked a goal after the siren and Fremantle went into the break 13 points down.
At quarter time, the Geelong doctors rushed straight to Gary Ablett. Having seen him flinching his way through the first quarter, they were certain he was having some sort of epileptic fit. When they arrived and realised what had happened, they gave him a testosterone injection and gift voucher for Antoni Grover's favourite strip club and walked off in disgust.
Mark Harvey wasn't happy either. Like everyone else in the country, he'd enjoyed seeing Cameron Ling get smashed in the head, but he wasn't happy that the Dockers had been sucked in to Geelong's thuggery. He told them to keep it clean, focus on the football and try and kick a few bloody goals.
Some of it worked when they returned to the ground. Freo got the ball out of the middle and down to the forward line where Chris Tarrant took another strong mark. Unfortunately he marked it deep in the pocket and the Chico Roll and bourbon breathe of the 5,000 Geelong supporters behind him pushed the ball across the face of goals. Ibbotson had a similar problem when the Dim sim and VB breathed crowd behind the goals saw his kick fall short.
Up the ground it was hard work for both teams. Geelong didn't have much space for their freewheeling uncontested football and Fremantle didn't have much space for their kick off the side of your boot and handball into the grass game plan they'd decided to trial.
Neither team was prepared to concede an inch to the opposition as the Cats bizarre anger towards Fremantle grew and the Dockers professionalism held strong. It took something a bit special to break the drought of goals and a snap from fifty saw Travis Varcoe kick the first goal of the quarter 15 minutes into the quarter.
In a more fair world, Fremantle would have then replied with a goal that matched their work ethic and hardness at the ball but, instead, Gary Ablett's kid jagged one from the pocket to give the scoreboard a very unattractive look.
Fremantle looked less and less like scoring as the quarter kicked on. Cameron Schwab was hanging around the boundary trying to offer Tom Harley a contract to play in Fremantle's forward line, as Dockers midfielders kept picking him out with unprecedented precision.
Another late goal got the Cats out to a 33 point lead at half time, with Fremantle failing to kick a goal for the quarter and in much need of a rest, a drink and a gobful from their coach.
Despite the margin blowing out the second quarter, Fremantle weren't going to shy away from the contest. Pav had yet to fire, Rhys Palmer was bound to get some protection from the umpire at some point and Gary Ablett's kid was off the ground with a broken nail. They just needed to keep up their work rate and add a bit of polish to their disposal skills and the goals would start to come.
At least that was the theory. No one had realised Brad Ottens was playing and, in the opening few minutes of the quarter, he was out on his own so much he'd taken to writing an Into the Wilderness style diary. Before he did though, he put through two quick goals and the cats were out to a 46 point lead.
Cameron Mooney had been less sighted than Ottens and pushed the margin past fifty with his first goal. Fremantle were thinking of digging up a local bushranger when Tom Lonergan kicked another one to make the difference 10 goals.
Chris Tarrant was the first Docker to score since the first quarter, putting through a couple and helping Peake get one amongst a couple more Geelong goals, to finish the quarter 51 points behind.
For the first time in living memory, Fremantle were going into the last quarter without sitting on the cusp of victory. Geelong had broken the game open and no one was expecting Fremantle to kick nearly twice as much in the last quarter as they had in the first three. There was no pressure. Nothing to lose, They had thirty minutes to write themselves into folklore.
Coincidentally, thirty minutes it's also the amount of time it takes to push a thrashing out into a complete pantsing. The Cats kept up the premiership form and Fremantle stood back and took notes as they prepared for next season. 5 more goals went Geelong's way with Chris Tarrant Fremantle's only bright light in the forward line. The final margin settled on 74 and Fremantle headed in for their cold showers.
But at least they’d hurt a ranga.
Particularly the bits in bold.Just wow, funniest thing I've read in a long time, seriously.
