Welcome to this 2012th edition of PunchDrunk, no doubt best by far.
25 years in the baking. Burnt on the outside, but still raw in the middle, that's how we like it at PunchDrunk. A bit crusty, a bit moist.
Seems every PunchDrunk season is a difficult birth and this year is no different. Please accept my sorries for not welcoming you earlier, I'm at sixes and sixandahalfs. Chasing tail.
I left the country thursday last, landing, appropriately enough, in South Island NZ, home of volcanic interruption. Hey it looks nice here, but today, I was mournfully streaming live from St Paul's, wearing the only Dees scarf in Queenstown. These people have no respect.
And so I missed the dubious start to round 1. The stand-alone blockbuster, Sydney v GWS. Wake us when it's over. Now is the time. Lets storm the barricades and take back our game. Surely Greece needs you back Mr Demetriou. We sure don't.
In sincerity welcome. I declare an upward trajectory from here. As a Dees supporter, it's tempting draw a line under this season already and recommence next year... Jimmy, Machetes and Scully. A tearful and disconcerting start to what, 3 or 4 weeks ago appeared a green-fresh flowering of hope.
But soldier-on we shall. This year we have 37 Drunks. And that's a whole bunch, if not the record.
We have some rosy-cheeked new-kids to introduce: Roger Lindeback, who I've known for 31 years and is surely the only likeable Bombers supporter I've ever met. Dave Price, who lived in my street for several years before I discovered he was a Pies supporter. I moved out. Ben Williams. Internationally famous. If you have to ask, you can't afford him.
EDIT: I've just been reminded Rog, having moved into the cold heart of Sydney years back, eventually sided with the locals and became betrothed to the Swannies. Could explain everything.
Welcome new and old, one and all. If the gloves didn't come off last week they really should this week.
