Here are nine things that are easier to understand.
The attraction of these people is easier to understand than Brexit
1. The laws of cricket. Or simply, cricket.
2. The justification of anti-vaxxers (actually no, Brexit is easier to understand than these dangerous morons).
3. Donald Trump.
4. This: “Make use of the relation sec x cos x = 1 to find the first four nonzero terms of the Maclaurin expansion of sec x.”
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5. The plot of the movie Inception.
6. The meaning of the song Blinded by the Light. “Madman drummers bummers…” WTAF?
7. Explaining The Canterbury Tales to someone (no, it’s not about rugby or rugby league).
8. This: Do neutrinos have mass? (Hint: neutrinos are not a breakfast cereal)
9. Why anyone would watch a Kardashian doing anything.
Australian rugby league fans have a passion that can’t be dismissed.
It’s a game we played, grew up with, watched on the telly and listened to on the radio.
We still do. It’s our game.
Here are a few random memories from when I was a kid growing up in Sydney.
The greatest team in the history of sport
*Getting splinters in your arse from those wooden seats at Cumberland Oval.
The exuberant Eels fans that torched it after the 1981 premiership win did us all a favour.
*Running onto the ground as the fulltime siren sounded to try and grab the black and white striped cardboard corner post. I was successful a few times.
*Listening to the great Frank Hyde on 2SM. When people still listened to 2SM.
*The halftime entertainment malfunctions that have plagued Grand Finals — the busted TV allegedly to promote Optus Vision (which was actually quite prophetic), John Williamson serenading an inflatable rubber tree with “Rip Rip Woodchip” after loggers had threatened a blockade of the SCG, the cast of “42nd Street” standing forlornly in the centre of the ground waiting in vain for their music to start, and more recently, Billy Idol’s hovercraft cutting the power, which was a good thing.
*The sensational prizes bestowed on guests of TV’s “Controversy Corner” — including a Pelaco shirt, vouchers for a Viking Sauna and Kevin Junee’s Run For Your Life sports store and the piece of resistance — a bottle of Patra orange juice.
*“The Theme From Shaft” used over the closing credits of Channel Seven’s Sunday night footy coverage with Rex Mossop. Not sure what a “blaxploitation” film had to do with footy, but there’s probably a parallel. “Chips and eggs” was the standard Sunday night fare in the Williams household. Many divorce petitions are filed in US courts every year, but the major reason cialis canada online for this is being noted as unsatisfactory sex life caused by the impotence in their health, they are not able to make satisfied your lady love with all sorts of process. These items have cialis cheapest price no discriminative foundation on which to illustrate how their strong guarantees work. It is one among the commonly prescribed discount viagra cures for health risks like infertility. Erection problem occurs when not enough blood order cheap levitra http://respitecaresa.org/about-respite-care/dsc_7906/ supply to the bones.
*The Chook Army (diehard supporters of Eastern Suburbs) singing “We hate Ray Price and we hate Ray Price / We hate Ray Price and we hate Ray Price / We hate Ray Price and we hate Ray Price / we are the Ray Price haters”. One actually threw a grapefruit at him while he was in his petrified praying mantis pose — he didn’t budge.
*The “sand boy” running on with a small bucket of sand to for the ball to sit on before conversions and penalty shots at goal.
*Scanlen’s footy cards — that sweet smell of the thin pink strip of bubble gum lingering on the cards… and still lingers with me. Some bastard kid knocking the cards out of another kids’ hands in the school playground yelling “Scramble!!!” which meant a mad free-for-all.
*Having a birthday party with a few mates when I was about ten at Lidcombe Oval for the Chooks v the Magpies, we were sitting behind the try line and were captured in mid-try celebration mode in a photo on the back page of the next day’s Daily Mirror.
*The trainer scurrying on to the field with his “magic sponge” dunked in a bucket of water, mopping up a horrific head gash, then redunking it in the same bucket, primed for the next injury.
*One of my most prized possessions — the autographs of the entire victorious Roosters 1975 side (on an Easts Leagues Club wine list — thanks Uncle Pete).
For all its faults — and there are a few, it’s a bloody good game. It’s our game.
