2017 WRAP: Cath takes the Granny, Brenton fondles the Tigers Cup, Drunk Prize-night and more (but not much)

 Just over a week ago I ventured with a select handful of fellow Drunks into Tigerland and watched the carnage unfold. In the bar, on the field, on the streets, in the gutters. Underdogs prevailed, tenacity was saluted and I'm sure lessons were learnt. I've forgotten what they were.

In the midst of the uproar I watched Brenton watch his team do what no-one ever really thought they would, or could.
At the same time somewhere in another part of town, Cath 'Bob Brookmeyer' Delabosca Stewart Onassis won the PD Grand Final.
I just kept drinking buckets of 'free' Furphy thinking it was having no effect. Til I got home.

Congrats Cath, Congrats Tigers all: Brenna, Dirk, Dickwad, Coxy, Juzzy G.
Commiserations to Ian, our token Crow, who seems to have had his cards marked "Close but no cigar" this year. Second in the Drunk, his team second on the Big Day.
I dream of being second. In pretty much anything really.

For the annals here's what unfolded:

And here's how we got here:

PunchDrunk Prize Night

Folks may have been wandering through the back-streets of Fitzroy on the Thursday evening preceding the Game and wondered at the Red Carpet rolling up to the door of the Union Club Hotel. Well, I can assure you it had nothing to do with the 2017 PunkDrunk Prize Night. 

A die-hard but devilishly attractive band of Drunks turned up to cheer on our prize-winners: Brenton, Phil and Ian, partake in heartfelt camaraderie and talk a fair bit of uninformed footy nonsense. No life-lessons were learnt but no lives were lost so I call that a nil-all draw. Happy with that.

Here's the proof (thanks as always to Bernie):

 Brenna wins The Cup and dares to Dream Big

 Phil popped down from Sin City to say Hi and collect a brown envelope of cash

 Drunks up and about in the Tiger Room. Roar.

Brave Drunks inspecting the parcel of Demons exotica Brenton kindly donated to my pool room. Except the Demons AFL Priceline cologne, I'm wearing that. 

And the Grand Old Flag alarm clock/money bank which the Demon Child has nicked.

This year's lucky Barrel Girl. So called because Bernie pulls her out of a barrel.

Although this practice was fine in the 70's some find it a questionable tradition today. Fear not, the rules have recently been dragged into the early 20th century and Brenton no longer gets to keep her.

New PunchDrunk Cup

Anyway it turns out that Brenton went to some function at Benny Gale's house and took along the PunchDrunk Cup to show it off. When he got home he realised he'd picked up and left with the wrong cup (below), so it looks like we'll have to have it re-engraved with all our historical details if anyone can remember them (I'm pretty sure I won in '95, '98, '99, '01, '04 and '06?).

I asked Brenna how the new cup compares to the old one. He said "Nicer, Shinier, Bigger". It does look nice.

Drunk diaspora

Taffa missed Trobby so he used a little radar love to track him down in Berlin and tell him who'd won the flag, who won PD, who won The Bachelor, who won the last elections and to watch out 'cos a madman has taken over the world. Trobby knows all this already because he is on FaceBook. 

Anyway they had a big cuddle, a couple of bottles of wine, posed for a couple of selfies and opened the Berlin branch of PunchDrunk.

This is a still from their forthcoming movie 'The Erudite Author and the Loveable Rogue drink wine in Berlin."

I reckon that's it for the year. Thanks for coming see you next year.

Finals W3

Suddenly in a season where everything's been too close to call, results are turning into a succession of blow-outs. Go figure.

THIS WEEK'S DRUNKS:
Brenton and Sammy get to tip in their teams' games.

Phil's been thereabouts all year and may yet take home a finals pay packet.

Cath, fresh from beating her husband is now attempting to do it Doggie style, coming from seventh and sweeping her way into a GF victory.

To the future and beyond!:

Finals Week 2

One week down, two Drunks down.

A week of footy that swung from the sublime to the sublimely ridiculous. Clearly my remaining brain cells are struggling to keep in touch with the heady mix of slaughter, surprise and burglary.

Brenna and Sammy both went Crows, but both underestimated the Giant soft-belly. Sammy underestimated less, so he heads straight to the Prelim. Brenna gets to go again this week.

Garth and Bob (Cath) were unanimous in selecting Swans over Dons. Garth's loyalty to the red and the black has cost him.  He's GONE for the year.

Neither Ian nor Phil had any idea the Tiges would do what they did. They weren't Robinson Crusoe there, though no doubt Brenna coulda told them. Ian Phil came out on top in the battle of the Adelaide boys. See ya next year Phil. Luckily Ian gets to don the boots again this week.

In a lovely domestic twist the happily married Ian and Bob (Vote YES) get to tussle out this week's game leaving only one man standing in their household.

And Tassy and Lee were also swept up in the universal ignorance around the Power v Eagles game. Tassy bit the dust harder than Lee. Go home Tassy.

I kinda stuffed up a little last week with this little diagram of what to do with the rest of your life.

All fixed now, until next week at least.

Finals Week 1

Here's the shape of the Drunk Finals:

Tiger Burns Bright! Brenton is 2017 PunchDrunk World Champion.

I don't want to surprise anyone, but we have a winner.

Brenton lead this year's Drunk from game 4, Round 1 and never looked like losing his grip on our beloved bit of banged-up bling, that tarnished tin-foiled tumbler, our pock-marked PunchDrunk Prize Cup. Congrats B.

Hot on his heels was Ian 'Heylow' Stewart, one game behind. A bold showing making up 2 games in the final 2 rounds, but not quite bold enough. The game results were there, but sadly he channeled the Demons rather the Eagles (and picked the Demons and not picking the Eagles) and similarly bypassed a world of possible glory. Congrats on a fine year Ian.

Then came Phil of the Smith variety, who slipped into third on the back of the season's final game, at the precise moment his team slipped ignominiously out of the finals.

Then the rest...

Details forthcoming soon about finals composition and more importantly the PrizeGiving Gala, but pop Thursday 28th September in your calendar right now.

R23: Cometh the hour...

I feel we need a drumroll, where's Trobby when you need him?
Final round, final roll of the dice.

So, last round Ian knocked off one of the 3 games he needs to get Brenna. That leaves 2 more alt wins this week, but with a big points differential too. But to my eye there are 3 games that are fair dinkum 50/50's, and there's no question about my tipping prowess.
Unfortunately.

Anyway, Ian's sitting at home right now sticking pins in a Tommy Hafey doll, drawing specs and a moustache on a photo of Brenton and screaming "Game-on Tiger-boy!" It's really not a very dignified scene.

It's game-on at the bottom end of the 8 too this week, where art mirrors life. Yep, we're art, the AFL is only life. We have about 8 Drunks vying for the last 5 spots in the finals.

The last 3 weeks have been jackpot-arama, Last round Leah 'Champs' and Dave 'Devo' were the big winners, spitting the big bucks. That's a fiver each to you, and this round Bernie Phelan, fresh from the huge pay-off of being last year's Champion has added anther $10 to his career prize-money.

Round 20: The Final Count Down

Three... Two... One...
What does Lethal say? Catching up a goal a minute is do-able? A match per round?
Brenna's STILL ahead, Ian Heylow Stewart is still trailing in his wake by 2 points. Sam BobCatter is lurking one game further back.

Round 20 was supposed to be difficult, sort the goats from the chaff.
Well it wasn't and it didn't. In fact it was so damn easy the jackpot went off with a bang, so we don't even have that left to look forward to. So that's $140, I think, split between Tassy and Juzzy. Enjoy it fellas. No, really.

So, if anyone else wants to win this thing, they'd better do something pretty quick.

Round 16: Mind the gap!

Sorry folks, I think I nodded off for a few minutes there...

Now where was I? Oh yes, as I was saying Brenna's still leading, been doing so from Round 1.
No-one's ever lead in every round and taken out The Battered Tin Cup before? Can he do it?

When I say leading, he has been caught, but not yet passed, by Garth (R4) and currently Ian 'Heylow' Stewart.

Heylow, second on points diff only, and Bob Brookmeyer, currently sitting 3rd, are our intrepid husband-and-wife team, both of whom have been snapping at Brenna's heels from the get-go (a little like Pongo and Perdita from 101 Dalmations, bravely tracking down what they hold dearest. Except in this case it's a cup coated with cheap alloy not their off-sprung covered in dotty fur).

Apologies for not getting between you and your mellow enjoyment of the 'Ball for the past few weeks, but it's been too interesting to interrupt with my overblown shite.

I do, however, miss you guys big time and reckon it's probably time to have a delayed pre-season PunchDrunk Love-In? Are you with me? Let's get these pesky school hols outa the way then I reckon we've got a whole heapa shit to talk.

How's this sound:

A PunchDrink either next Thursday 20th, or the following Thursday 27th. Let me know if either suits more.
We've had requests from the Deep South to look at a Richmond, or more central venue option. So let me know your thoughts, we've had a suggestion of The Corner. Maybe there's a CBD pub-type option though I can't think of one off the top of my head.

Round 4. A little ditty 'bout Garth and Brenton

In the beginning came Brenton.
He was First and he was alone.
Then God took one of Brenton's ribs and made Garth.
You know the rest.*

Brenna's in the box seat. Garth takes the first Jackpot. $40.

*Spoiler alert: it all goes to shit and they end up getting kicked out of paradise.

And we're back

We may be half back rather than full back, but back nonetheless. Welcome to yet another year of PunchDrunkeness. Most have have bobbed up for more, though it looks like we may have had a few retirements/delistings in the off-season.

In an attempt to conserve energy levels, mine and yours, there will be absolutely no unnecessary added extras this year. We're getting back to basics. No more over-use of the pill. No more lairising. No more champagne. Those migraine-inducing ladders have gone the way of Celebrity Head, GrandSunBall and all the rest of the crap that has landed uninvited in your brainbox. 

Likewise the League of Drunks fantasy league has succumbed to an overdose of Bruce Macavaneyesque Cyril-loving star-fucker syndrome that seems to have overtaken all things AFL. Personality-football crisis I reckon.

Personally I'm sick of the same old stars, the anointed new superstars, tired of the box-ticking templated media articles about Essadon, Hawthorn et al, give me some blue-collar battlers for a year or so. I don't reckon I can even hack any magical stories about Bob Murphy, thanks all the same. Give me some grit, some decent analysis and keep your la-de-da romance stories for the wedding pages.

In other good news, the rules are the same this year. While the main prizes are the same, a reduced number of Drunks means reduced Jackpot money, so back to $10 a week. Which brings me to some important and long overdue social housekeeping. Thanks truly to those many of you who threw extra money into the Save Dick's Arse bucket that Brenton very kindly passed around in the days following the Prize-Giving evening last year. I very much appreciate it, I was a tad stressed and more than a little bewildered and your response led to a far more relaxed Grand Final weekend than it would otherwise have been. Thank you.

That's it for speeches, I'll let the ball do the talking. Enjoy the year, though I reckon it's about my turn to win this thing, so you may be wasting your time.