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What They're Saying - The Bulldogs Media Thread - Part 4
- Thread starter ExRoyboy
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- May 23, 2019
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I wasn’t aware we were stuck with some of Hunter’s salary
Just read on AFL article about buying picks and it mentioned we were.
i thought that trade period documentary said we’d negotiated his contract wih the Dees and weren’t paying any of it
- Apr 4, 2006
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Rather pay some of his salary than cover his betting tab!
NBates
Brownlow Medallist
Tragic comment on Caaarrrlllton
(Not) singing the Blues
Sometimes I think the old suburban rivalries have long since disappeared, their intensity diluted by the corporatisation of football and the loss of those tribal home grounds which each had their own identity, feel and (at the Western Oval at least) smell. Maybe those hatreds have become meaningless in the modern era of The Truly National Competition.
But then I hear the Carlton theme song. And I instantly know that isn't the case at all.
We were a couple of blocks away from arriving at the blandly anonymous Marvel stadium when we heard it. Those familiar, triumphant opening chords blared out from a vehicle close by. We looked around apprehensively, expecting to see plumes of cigar smoke and a cavalcade of Rolls Royces carrying captains of industry. But it was a humble pedicab containing four or five Blues fans, adopting a novel way to get to the ground.
They looked ordinary enough. I could have smiled and regarded it as harmless and quirky. But after decades of antipathy towards the Olde Dark Navy Blues and everything they stood for I've lost my sense of humour where they are concerned.
And then ... the swarm of Bluebagger fans around us began to join in with the song.
For God's sake, we weren't even inside the stadium!
I was bewildered at how their chutzpah survives even their recent unsuccessful years. I mean, weren't they this very week on the ropes, under the pump, getting the blow-torch applied to them? (and a few other footy cliches) after their underwhelming start to the year thrust them into the spotlight.
I couldn't make sense of it. Here they were, as brazen and bumptious as ever; I couldn't imagine the Tragician family making a similar grand entrance to the ground. It was surprising too because in other ways there has been a shift in Carlton's usual boastfulness. This week, when their poor performances were being constantly discussed, the Blues' top brass had reacted, not with fire and brimstone and thundering declarations that at Carlton they only existed to win premierships. There were no ominous hints of axes were being sharpened, no dark threats they would soon be ruthlessly deployed.
No, their response was Un-Carlton Like. Meek. Almost humble.
It wouldn't be a disaster or a season wasted if the Blues didn't make the finals, they said. They only just stopped short of cliches about valuable learning opportunities. I could almost hear a snarl of 'Pigs Arse' from one of their former presidents, uttered behind a wreath of cigarette smoke, if he'd been around to hear such arrant nonsense.
Despite this apparent new-found warm and cuddly persona I couldn't escape a visceral dislike. If I wondered why, I had my answer when their team broke through the banner and their song blared out again. In my youth I'd mis-heard the lyrics and thought they were openly bragging about their ability to buy premierships:
With all the champions! We like to spend up! To keep our end up.
My scowl intensified.
The barrage of criticism, and the fact their own supporters had booed them the previous week, didn't spur the Bluebaggers into a ferocious attack in the first minutes. (Maybe they were reassured to know finals aren't everything). Our Boys asserted an early control over the game while the Carlton team looked - has such a concept ever been associated with this club? - down on confidence. They missed gettable shots, they gifted us goals with miskicks. And there appeared to be more evidence that Carlton were comfortable with their new, more self-effacing reality; when they finally scored their first goal, well into the second quarter, the scoreboard flashed up what I thought was a message of encouragement: 'We're on the board!"
However, when pictures of a charcuterie board and an advertisement for a brand of ham instantly followed, I felt weirdly comforted that at their core, they remained the same.
At half time the Blues had kicked just one goal. It brought back memories of a gloriously soggy, windswept afternoon at the Western Oval in the 1990s, when we almost kept the high flying Carlton team goal-less for the entire match. Such were our thrills, our version of premiership success, back in the day, alongside the celebrated occasion in 2000 when we inflicted on the Bombres their only defeat for the year. I grudgingly concede, however, fans of these two clubs are likely to be busier dwelling on their abundance of premierships, rather than still fretting over losses to the lowly Dogs.
It was now the start of what previous generations of Blues' fans used to call the premiership quarter. Usually this featured an avalanche of goals from the likes of The Dominator, Sticks, Buzz and The Flying Doormat (these were players, not professional wrestlers, should there happen to be any younger readers of this blog). So I was alert and - as always - significantly alarmed. But our team initially built on our lead. We looked as though the match was in our keeping, as though we would actually pull further away.
But the Blues crept, rather than stormed, back into the match. They were painstaking rather than dazzling. The match had been low-scoring. Now, they made fewer mistakes. They were within two goals at the last break, and a rumbling roar took over the stadium. They were 'coming' as their immodest slogan bragged one season not too long ago.
An infamous Bulldogs collapse was on the cards.
'I feel sick,' moaned Libba Two.
'I have a headache,' I whined.
At times like these I can simultaneously realise how ridiculous it is to be a footy fan whilst being unable to be anything but.
I expected the Dogs to lose, of course. A lowlight reel, of days of thrashings at Princes Park flashed before my eyes. I could anticipate the noise of the Blues' fans, their jubilation, as their team swept over the top of us. I could see the headlines, anticipate the questions, feel the irrational emotions of shame and embarrassment that come from losing a game where you've been more than five goals up and comfortably in control.
There were an important few minutes to start the last quarter; we knuckled down and fought gallantly to stop their momentum. We were hoping, of course, for Bont, our saviour so often, to produce some magic. But we couldn't seem to score. Carlton grabbed the lead, for the first time in the match, with just ten minutes to go. The stadium rocked. Blues' players began thumping their chests and pointing to their jumpers. I was unclear whether, this being Carlton, this was an expression of emotion, or a preplanned marketing tactic to highlight one of their sponsors.
Most of all I was just steeling myself for That Song. Preparing my most stoic expression. It's been well-practised over the years.
Libba (the player, not one of the Sisters), quick of mind, conjured up a goal against the odds. Yet the Blues replied, far too quickly. I thought we were out of ideas. I wasn't confident if this group had the fanatical zeal and desperation to rally again.
The ones who rallied weren't just the old reliables, Bont, Libba, Macrae. Bailey Smith, the last quarter specialist, was gut-running when all around were fatigued. Our re-fashioned defensive group - I've begun to call them the Mean Boys - kept repelling the Blues. And there was a brilliant cameo from everyone's favourite player at the moment (sorry Bont) the irrepressible Arty Jones.
I'm convinced crowds have particular noises, for particular players. A murmur of appreciation when Bont glides into the frame. A theatrical gasp when Naughton launches. And now a buzz of excitement...ARTY!!...as he put us back in front.
We somehow blasted out four goals to win in a matter of minutes. Strangely enough it could have been more; two absolute sitters were missed.
We sang the song, our song. Unsurprisingly headaches and nausea had disappeared.
The Blues' fans had long since filed home. Astonishingly, many gave up the ghost after LIbba's goal. I wondered, afterwards, do they feel any sense of heightened rivalry or bitterness towards us, or is it just a one-way street? Are we insignificant and inoffensive still in their minds compared to their long-standing identity as a superpower? Do they save their venom for the Pies and the Bombres, even though those two teams have been, on the whole, less successful than us over the past two or three decades?
Once, long ago, one of those nondescript, battling Footscray teams pulled off an upset against the highly fancied Blues. A footy writer at the time reported that Carlton fans afterwards said they didn't mind losing to us occasionally. It was good for the game, good for the competition, they said magnanimously. 'What would be better for the game and the competition,' said the journo very wisely, ' was if they hated being beaten by those Dogs because it happened all the bloody time.'
Last quarter heroes.
They're all under 23 years old!
(Not) singing the Blues
Sometimes I think the old suburban rivalries have long since disappeared, their intensity diluted by the corporatisation of football and the loss of those tribal home grounds which each had their own identity, feel and (at the Western Oval at least) smell. Maybe those hatreds have become meaningless in the modern era of The Truly National Competition.
But then I hear the Carlton theme song. And I instantly know that isn't the case at all.
We were a couple of blocks away from arriving at the blandly anonymous Marvel stadium when we heard it. Those familiar, triumphant opening chords blared out from a vehicle close by. We looked around apprehensively, expecting to see plumes of cigar smoke and a cavalcade of Rolls Royces carrying captains of industry. But it was a humble pedicab containing four or five Blues fans, adopting a novel way to get to the ground.
They looked ordinary enough. I could have smiled and regarded it as harmless and quirky. But after decades of antipathy towards the Olde Dark Navy Blues and everything they stood for I've lost my sense of humour where they are concerned.
And then ... the swarm of Bluebagger fans around us began to join in with the song.
For God's sake, we weren't even inside the stadium!
I was bewildered at how their chutzpah survives even their recent unsuccessful years. I mean, weren't they this very week on the ropes, under the pump, getting the blow-torch applied to them? (and a few other footy cliches) after their underwhelming start to the year thrust them into the spotlight.
I couldn't make sense of it. Here they were, as brazen and bumptious as ever; I couldn't imagine the Tragician family making a similar grand entrance to the ground. It was surprising too because in other ways there has been a shift in Carlton's usual boastfulness. This week, when their poor performances were being constantly discussed, the Blues' top brass had reacted, not with fire and brimstone and thundering declarations that at Carlton they only existed to win premierships. There were no ominous hints of axes were being sharpened, no dark threats they would soon be ruthlessly deployed.
No, their response was Un-Carlton Like. Meek. Almost humble.
It wouldn't be a disaster or a season wasted if the Blues didn't make the finals, they said. They only just stopped short of cliches about valuable learning opportunities. I could almost hear a snarl of 'Pigs Arse' from one of their former presidents, uttered behind a wreath of cigarette smoke, if he'd been around to hear such arrant nonsense.
Despite this apparent new-found warm and cuddly persona I couldn't escape a visceral dislike. If I wondered why, I had my answer when their team broke through the banner and their song blared out again. In my youth I'd mis-heard the lyrics and thought they were openly bragging about their ability to buy premierships:
With all the champions! We like to spend up! To keep our end up.
My scowl intensified.
The barrage of criticism, and the fact their own supporters had booed them the previous week, didn't spur the Bluebaggers into a ferocious attack in the first minutes. (Maybe they were reassured to know finals aren't everything). Our Boys asserted an early control over the game while the Carlton team looked - has such a concept ever been associated with this club? - down on confidence. They missed gettable shots, they gifted us goals with miskicks. And there appeared to be more evidence that Carlton were comfortable with their new, more self-effacing reality; when they finally scored their first goal, well into the second quarter, the scoreboard flashed up what I thought was a message of encouragement: 'We're on the board!"
However, when pictures of a charcuterie board and an advertisement for a brand of ham instantly followed, I felt weirdly comforted that at their core, they remained the same.
At half time the Blues had kicked just one goal. It brought back memories of a gloriously soggy, windswept afternoon at the Western Oval in the 1990s, when we almost kept the high flying Carlton team goal-less for the entire match. Such were our thrills, our version of premiership success, back in the day, alongside the celebrated occasion in 2000 when we inflicted on the Bombres their only defeat for the year. I grudgingly concede, however, fans of these two clubs are likely to be busier dwelling on their abundance of premierships, rather than still fretting over losses to the lowly Dogs.
It was now the start of what previous generations of Blues' fans used to call the premiership quarter. Usually this featured an avalanche of goals from the likes of The Dominator, Sticks, Buzz and The Flying Doormat (these were players, not professional wrestlers, should there happen to be any younger readers of this blog). So I was alert and - as always - significantly alarmed. But our team initially built on our lead. We looked as though the match was in our keeping, as though we would actually pull further away.
But the Blues crept, rather than stormed, back into the match. They were painstaking rather than dazzling. The match had been low-scoring. Now, they made fewer mistakes. They were within two goals at the last break, and a rumbling roar took over the stadium. They were 'coming' as their immodest slogan bragged one season not too long ago.
An infamous Bulldogs collapse was on the cards.
'I feel sick,' moaned Libba Two.
'I have a headache,' I whined.
At times like these I can simultaneously realise how ridiculous it is to be a footy fan whilst being unable to be anything but.
I expected the Dogs to lose, of course. A lowlight reel, of days of thrashings at Princes Park flashed before my eyes. I could anticipate the noise of the Blues' fans, their jubilation, as their team swept over the top of us. I could see the headlines, anticipate the questions, feel the irrational emotions of shame and embarrassment that come from losing a game where you've been more than five goals up and comfortably in control.
There were an important few minutes to start the last quarter; we knuckled down and fought gallantly to stop their momentum. We were hoping, of course, for Bont, our saviour so often, to produce some magic. But we couldn't seem to score. Carlton grabbed the lead, for the first time in the match, with just ten minutes to go. The stadium rocked. Blues' players began thumping their chests and pointing to their jumpers. I was unclear whether, this being Carlton, this was an expression of emotion, or a preplanned marketing tactic to highlight one of their sponsors.
Most of all I was just steeling myself for That Song. Preparing my most stoic expression. It's been well-practised over the years.
Libba (the player, not one of the Sisters), quick of mind, conjured up a goal against the odds. Yet the Blues replied, far too quickly. I thought we were out of ideas. I wasn't confident if this group had the fanatical zeal and desperation to rally again.
The ones who rallied weren't just the old reliables, Bont, Libba, Macrae. Bailey Smith, the last quarter specialist, was gut-running when all around were fatigued. Our re-fashioned defensive group - I've begun to call them the Mean Boys - kept repelling the Blues. And there was a brilliant cameo from everyone's favourite player at the moment (sorry Bont) the irrepressible Arty Jones.
I'm convinced crowds have particular noises, for particular players. A murmur of appreciation when Bont glides into the frame. A theatrical gasp when Naughton launches. And now a buzz of excitement...ARTY!!...as he put us back in front.
We somehow blasted out four goals to win in a matter of minutes. Strangely enough it could have been more; two absolute sitters were missed.
We sang the song, our song. Unsurprisingly headaches and nausea had disappeared.
The Blues' fans had long since filed home. Astonishingly, many gave up the ghost after LIbba's goal. I wondered, afterwards, do they feel any sense of heightened rivalry or bitterness towards us, or is it just a one-way street? Are we insignificant and inoffensive still in their minds compared to their long-standing identity as a superpower? Do they save their venom for the Pies and the Bombres, even though those two teams have been, on the whole, less successful than us over the past two or three decades?
Once, long ago, one of those nondescript, battling Footscray teams pulled off an upset against the highly fancied Blues. A footy writer at the time reported that Carlton fans afterwards said they didn't mind losing to us occasionally. It was good for the game, good for the competition, they said magnanimously. 'What would be better for the game and the competition,' said the journo very wisely, ' was if they hated being beaten by those Dogs because it happened all the bloody time.'
Last quarter heroes.
They're all under 23 years old!
Dogs_R_Us
Space Traveller
NBates
Brownlow Medallist
I was there!
Bob called the defenders The Men’s Department.
I was at my cousin's wedding, but between the church and reception when we heard the score my sister and I raced to the WO... only to get there and see Carlton kick their first goal!!!
One example of why I'm still so superstitious and believe that the fact I left the game early Sat ensured our win.
Inside The Kennel
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Doug Hawkins, Inside The Kennel Podcast, has his say: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LNALvGIEnc
- Apr 26, 2013
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Not a bad line of followers....
ossie_21
Premium Platinum
Bytel robbed
- Mar 24, 2018
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Adam Saad is so good. One of the few opponents I can say I actually ‘like’. So explosive on the ball. Never gives away the footy. Always wins his one-on-ones…even though he can’t jump. Just a super player.
- Sep 7, 2015
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Oh man I forgot about Bytel. What a gun. Better than Libba!
- Aug 18, 2015
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So you just play six half back flankers and 16 in the midfieldWho would've thought that playing blokes in their best position helps them play their best football? Absolute masterstroke from Bevo
Who would have thought sometimes in an AFL side you don’t get to play your favoured position but you play where the team needs you
- Aug 18, 2015
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Or Artie? Who we basically got for Lipinski
RG16
Team Captain
What do you mean? I can't see Artie leaving for more opportunities considering he's played consistent footy since his debut
Congratulations. That's quite possibly the stupidest post I've ever read on BigFooty.
- Aug 18, 2015
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I was referencing the fact we got Artie for Lipnski
- Aug 18, 2015
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You clearly didnt read your own
NBates
Brownlow Medallist
Early Tackle: Glenn McFarlane’s likes and dislikes from Round 10 of the AFL season
After five wins in a row, will Western Bulldogs get the credit they deserve? Glenn McFarlane asks the question in this week’s Early Tackle. Plus, Macca’s view on the North Melbourne disaster.Glenn McFarlane
May 20, 2023 - 6:13PM
Marcus Bontempelli and Oskar Baker celebrate a goal.
Jason Johannisen’s injury was the only sore point for the Bulldogs.
DOGS GET THE JOB DONE, BUT LOSE JJ
Is it about time we started to give more credit to what Luke Beveridge and the Western Bulldogs are doing right now?
Too right it is.
It wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing way to beat up on an opponent and the 11.19 scoreline would have been a little too wayward for Bevo’s liking, but the reality is that the Dogs are just getting the job done at the moment with a minimum of fuss and farewell.
Having started the season with a pair of troubling losses, the Bulldogs have hit back strongly and their winning streak now stretches out to five in a row.
There was mixed news on the injury front. The bad was reborn defender Jason Johannisen’s hamstring injury which looks a bad one. The good news was that Marcus Bontempelli told Fox Footy after the game that his sore knee was OK and he would be right for next week.
The next three weeks won’t be easy with big games against Gold Coast, Geelong and Port Adelaide, but if Bevo’s boys can keep winning, we can add another team into the premiership mix.
- Sep 7, 2015
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If we win the next 3 then the lid will be starting to loosen
- Sep 7, 2015
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The scary thing about this year is that we could finish with 16 wins and still miss the 4
Nah, bugga waiting that long. I’ve already cancelled my September holidays.
GetDimmaBack
BigFooty Librarian
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NBates
Brownlow Medallist
AFL: Western Bulldogs recruit James O’Donnell’s transformation stimulates interest in cricketers
Clubs are thinking harder about which cricketers they could poach after James O’Donnell’s code switch. Sam Landsberger investigates the candidates to could change sports.Sam Landsberger
May 22, 2023 - 6:00AM
James O’Donnell’s 35-day transformation from Essendon District fast bowler to AFL debutant has stimulated interest in recruiting cricketers – but three Victorian young guns have dismissed approaches … for now.
Wil Parker, Will Sutherland and Zak Evans have had multiple clubs make recent inquiries and while phone calls for Evans and Sutherland in particular have been an annual event, the O’Donnell factor has clubs thinking harder about cricketers they could poach.
Western Bulldogs signed O’Donnell as a Category B rookie on April 6 and he made his debut last Saturday night after playing just three VFL games.
Coach Luke Beveridge said the 197cm forward had some “really good moments” against Carlton and also featured in the clash against Adelaide on Saturday.
James O'Donnell. Picture: Getty Images
Sutherland was touted as a top-10 draft pick in 2017 before committing to cricket, and about 5-10 AFL clubs have repeatedly attempted to lure him back ever since.
But Sutherland, 23, is viewed as Victorian captain Peter Handscomb’s likely successor and a future Test all-rounder.
He was last season’s leading Sheffield Shield wicket-taker, captained the Vics to four wins and won the Bill Lawry medal as their best player.
Evans, 23, and Parker, 20, have also told AFL clubs recently that they are all-in on their cricketing dreams but their careers are less certain.
After finding O’Donnell it’s understood the Dogs were one of several clubs who asked about Parker, who is the nephew of Port Adelaide’s recruiting manager Geoff Parker.
Clubs reference the tough half back’s 2019 NAB League grand final performance when assessing his talent.
Wil Parker. Picture: Nikki Davis-Jones
Parker was Eastern’s best player in a big defeat on the day Matthew Rowell cemented himself as the No. 1 pick with 44 disposals, 12 clearances, nine tackles, two goals and 244 ranking points.
Parker collected a team-high 27 disposals, 10 intercepts and 112 ranking points and was tracking towards being a strong draft chance in 2020.
But Parker became Victoria’s fourth-youngest first-class debutant in a Sheffield Shield match at the SCG that summer and then Covid hit, making it an easy decision to pursue cricket because he already had a contract and the footy season was cancelled.
Parker has a Victorian contract for next summer and after the departures of Jon Holland and Tom O’Connell he has the chance to crack the Sheffield Shield team alongside No. 1 spinner Todd Murphy.
Parker was overlooked for Victoria’s Second XI at stages last season and the pressure will be on after Cricket Victoria delisted youngsters Mackenzie Harvey, Brody Couch and planned on downgrading Jake Fraser-McGurk to a rookie before South Australia swooped.
Evans, 23, also lost his Victorian contract but is heading to Essex next week to play club cricket and is still hopeful of getting Sheffield Shield games.
The fast bowler didn’t play until February last season, which was wrecked by a pectoral injury.
Evans was contracted to Cricket Victoria as a schoolboy but it allowed him to play for Xavier, where the halfback was seen as being draftable in the 30-40 range before he stopped playing football.
While Sutherland is unlikely to ever answer an AFL club’s call there could be a change of heart for Parker and Evans if their cricketing careers don’t kick on next year.
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Great to see Libba starting to get some acknowledgement for his brilliance.
David King on First Crack stated that he had Libba in the mix as the most influential player in the game, and later rated him as the #2 best player in the game right now (Bont at #5).
Hopefully such recognition continues and he gets a long overdue AA birth this year
David King on First Crack stated that he had Libba in the mix as the most influential player in the game, and later rated him as the #2 best player in the game right now (Bont at #5).
Hopefully such recognition continues and he gets a long overdue AA birth this year
- Apr 4, 2006
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