Grand Final

Preliminaries: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly and the Really Ugly.

Local fisticuffs and foreign border skirmishes... there are two showdowns left before the ultimate gunfight. This week 2 more teams depart, 2 more Drunks buried at Boot Hill. 

Sadly a couple of weeks back Spencer P Jones, the force behind this wonderful ditty, lost his showdown and preceded them to meet the maker. RIP SPJ.

Here we are: a couple more cross-border contretemps pitting Lloydy against Lee, and Phil against Trobby. No coincidence we have the best 4 teams playing and the top 4 Drunks. 

Week 2: Where there's life there's hope. But sorry, no seats left.

Just going to leave this here, do with it what you will. 

Ins and outs this week: 

Sadly, Leah was killed-off in a cat fight with demons this week and Coxy had his Swan song.
Lloydy and Phil get breakfast in bed all week and pretty much whatever else they want.
Trobby, Lee and Tassy all saw their teams go down on the weekend and yet they bob up again this weekend.

Week 1: Finals bound.

Finals in Melbourne...
I grew up "high on the hill looking over the bridge to the MCG". In those days you could sweep up autumn leaves and burn 'em in the gutter. You could build a jump for your Dragstar out of timber off-cuts and leave it on the footpath for days. The milkman delivered by horse and cart and the Dees were never gonna make the finals.
On footy Saturdays, Dad's business partner Jeff would swing by in his green '67 Chevy Impala and pick Dad and me up and we'd all drive to G. Around the corner, down Punt Rd hill, checking the temp on the Nylex clock high on the silos as we went. They'd disappear into the Smokers Stand, I'd sit in the stands with a pie and the Dees would lose. I'd find them after the game and be drunk-driven home. These were happy days.
Later on I'd walk to the G on my pat but I've never yet walked past the silos on my to watching a Demons final. I was 26 when they first made the finals and, of course, I was bumming around Europe that year, long moved out of home and gone north-side.
But I'll tell you this, if the Dees ever make the Granny again I'm gonna start the day standing on top of that hill and make a pilgrimage past those silo's, before they turn 'em into penthouses.

FINALS WEEK 1

Here's who's doing who in Week One of the finals. Those Drunks below who are still alive please note your game and whether you need to give an odd or even tip.

And this here is the overall lay of the land for the whole finals.

2018: A long way to the top. Lloydy makes it look easy.

This maybe the worst best clip you'll ever see. It's all that used to be right and now isn't.

St Albans Town Hall, '76. I know what you're thinking. How fark'n good was St Albans in '76?
If you weren't there you just weren't there. And I wasn't. But I was at the Music Bowl four months later when Bon demanded the gates be flung open and the people were allowed to flood in. Spilling in scratching and fighting like rats. Sharpie rats. 14th best night of my life.

Enough self-indulgence. I'm a loser and we have ourselves a Winner! 

Momentarily it looked like we may have ended up with something of a fight to the death when Lloydy chose Port over his own Bombers and Lee picked the Dons. This unwise and unseemly act of treachery by Andy had Lee a tantalising one point behind our long-time leader. But there was to be a deliciously ironic twist in the tale as Lee was undone the very next day by his unwavering support for his Swannies as they lowered their flag if not their trousers to those perpetual bully-boys, the Poos and Wees. The circle of fate continued as staunch Hawk Trobby pick against his both boys and against Lloydy's. As the Dalai is always saying; "Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice and I clearly don't know what I'm doing. Could you call me a taxi please?"

So Congratubloodylations Andy "Lloydy" Lloyd, Bombers man, drug-lord and All-Powerful PunchDrunk World Champion 2018.

He's been close before. My God he's been close. And I'll go and look up just how close in a bit, but right now I need to go home...

... OK, in 2013 Lloydy basically led all year and had Jim Richo draw level early in the final round, then pass him in the second last game of the season... the next year he finished 4th. That's a couple of close calls. Other than that he's pretty much finished mid-field, so not as impressive as I'd thought. Bit sad that.

Phil and Lee always seem to be thereabouts too. Nothing else to do in Sydney apparently but run the numbers on footy outcomes.

And congrats also to Paul, yet another Syndeysyder, who knocked off the last remaining jackpot. That's $20 in his pocket.

Stay tuned for the finals games and arrangements. As usual if you finished top 8 and you want in, it's a $20 outlay for a chance to win $110, $50 for runner up.

A small note: I did NOT tip Brisbane over West Coast despite what the results say. Anyway, I guess that saves me losing another $20.

R23: Death or glory and fighting demons

The engraver's whirring diamond-tipped nib hovers poised and ready. He's been practicing his "L" all month. Which is a good thing as it looks like he'll soon be needing two of them in immediate succession and that can be a tricky manoeuvre on tarnished, tin-coated plastic.

Mais attendez! Who are those 3 shady figures lurking conspiratorially just off-stage? 

Bugger me, it's Trobby, Phil and, suddenly, Lee, sweaty after a fast-finishing uphill bike ride.

Each are 2 games adrift of Lloydy with 3 legitimately 50/50(ish) games this week and at least one other 'you never know' game. Death or Glory! It can be done, but who can do it?

Cometh the hour...

Speaking of Trobby, speaking of Demons (weren't we? Oh)... suck on this little beauty.

I was speaking with a time-worn Drunk a few weeks back who, I was surprised to discover, didn't realise that our very own Trobby is honest-to-god Metal Royalty. 

You want proof? Glad you asked:

So there is a Demon after all... 

Yes, 12 years finals-less is a hell of a long time, but nowhere near as long as 54 years flagless. Slim Pickens in anyone's language. But as the Dalai said to me via Skype after the Big Win on Sunday eve "Oh, sorry Dick, I thought I was calling my local Thai".

There we are, still 4 potential winners if you drive your imagination to the top of the Dandenongs point it downhill and take the handbrake off. Lloydy's had it in hand since about round 10. Phil got a finger on it for a bit, but unless it spills from his hand when he hits the ground you'd think it's his.
Good night, good luck and god bless.

R22: It's time to give it up or get rocksteady.

Unfortunately time is up for the brave and tenacious Alex Johnson. 6 years coming back from multiple knee injuries, a meagre 1 game and 20-odd minutes of footy and he's out with his 6th ACL.  I was there, it was a small bit devastating. I could have played 'Loser' here instead but that seems a tad ungracious.

Johnson may be the one person who's had a worse footy fortnight than me. Once again the writing is on the wall for both my tipping year and my Demons. I've called the graffiti removalists, they said there's nothing they can do.

But the bad news doesn't stop there, here's someone else who's given up all things footy, and everything else. This is my favourite bit of Aretha. Thank you Your Majesty.

The Drunk ladder looks exactly the same as before but it's really totally different.

Lloydy still leads next-comer Phil by 2 with 2 rounds to go. But Trobby's come from the clouds like a good Melbourne Cup stayer, he's also just 2 off the lead having made up 5 games on Lloydy in the past fortnight.

Lee's made a charge too and sits 3 games adrift is possibly close enough if good enough.

Coxy Catfish has also made a belated rush, but you'd have to think it's too little too late.

I've plummeted like a greased stone, having lost 7 games by less than a goal in the past 2 weeks, just when I was about to take the lead, so I'm in a deep sulk.

Good luck to all for the homeward journey and may the second best Drunk win. That Jackpot is still sitting there 

Round 19: Pressure mounts. Rides away.

It's all too much. Make it end. The fear of failure, yet again, has killed any notion of joy. Hate trumps love. Trump hates love. 

It's been a week of chit chat about ball chucking and rule changes. Yada yada. If the goal post wasn't there Higgin's kick is just a bicycle kick, just like Luke Parker's from 2 months back. Jeez media people talk shit.
Rule changes? All the recent rules... deliberate rushed, deliberate o.o.b., 50m from players running through the exclusion zone, ruck nominations... are the rules that are causing problems, the ones too open to interpretation, the ones the umps get wrong time after time. Let's add some more.

And here we are: Lloydy’s still lording it over one and all. Phil’s made up some ground on him, so at least we may yet have a finish, while the rest of us have had our dreams shattered yet again.

R17: Trouble's on the way

Here it is again folks. That sinking feeling of inevitable failure. That 'maybe next-year' sensation, all the while watching other people go home with the chocolates, the silverware and a few pilfered rolls of toilet paper. This time you'd better check the Valiant's still parked in your driveway too, cos the whole thing's getting that Tiges v Pies vibe and you know what happens when the Those People come to your parties. Like that party 'round '83 when a pissed Sacred Cowboy drove home in someone else's car, cleaning up half the cars in the street. Good times.

Closer to home can anyone catch Lloydy? He's 3 clear of Phil, 4 clear of the next band. Maybe next year.
This fortnight's biggest winner Jim Richo up 8 from the depths. Biggest Loser Frankie M sliding 10 spots.
Sorry for a few absences of late, simple maths really:
School Hols + Thursday games = Too hard.

PunchDrink 2 coming on fast

Hope you can come along for a catch up NEXT THURDSDAY NIGHT.

Venue yet to be confirmed but put the date in your Filofax.

R15: The End of the World Cup as we know it

It's about this time each 4 years you realise Australia is not REALLY a part of the World.
Lets face they don't want us around and we're really not much chop anyway.
As the Dalai once said to me "You know Dick, there's wanting to be a Mermaid and then there's actually BEING a Mermaid. Just saying".

I'm glad the Socceroos are leaving the soccer countries to lap at their Cup. I'm also glad AFL is apparently not the only code that can't handle video reviews. I was flipping between AFL,  Soccer and Rugby (father-in law over) for a while on Thursday night and all 3 games in each of the codes were marred by comical VARs or whatever.
Closer to home I'm glad the byes are bygone, but the footy week starting on a Thursday night still takes a bit of getting my head around.
I'm not glad the Dons are winning, and totally pissed off the Roos and Pies are doing likewise.

Hats off, however, to Lloydy who was one of the few to back his Bombers in W.A. and has thusly jumped Phil and grabbed back the lead. Otherwise not a  huge amount of movement over the past fortnight.
Last year's champ Brenna is the biggest climber, up 6 and the biggest slider is Franco SKN, down 7.

Prepare yourself for the mid-yearish catch-up. 3 weeks off and no idea where at this stage.

R13: Halfway Hotel, I could use a beer or two.

Yep the Dees lost to the Pies, but now you can share the pain. Halfway Hotel.

Halfway through the season and a good time for a breather.
After last week's hoopla and Ice Caspades this is one of those boring, not particularly chatty weeks.
I've just popped back from a Demons planning camp where they've started grafting Neville Jetta's torso onto Sam Frost's shoulders in hopeful anticipation of playing finals and meeting 7 foot 100 inch Mason Cox again. He should be banned.
Otherwise did anything else happen last weekend, can't remember cos apparently this weekend started last night and everything's gone blank.

Phil Smith has jumped Lloydy to take a decisive lead in the Drunk. Last week's best was Coxy, up 10 with a perfect score, 6 outa 6 and zero points margin. Biggest Loser was Garth, slip-sliding away, down 12.

R12: Rance auditions for World Cup, Queen's Birthday Party and lots and lots of ice.

Queen's Birthday (Party)*, Shivery ice-slide. A stretch maybe, but if you'd thought this was any more than a self-indulgent, self-serving playlist of favourites you're kidding yourself.

* Yes, I know...  I saw Boys Next Door doing this at Macy's in Toorak Rd, Feb 3 1980. Had a TABLE at the front of a room the size of my bedroom, about 80 people there... Hang on, what are all these people doing in my room. (Thanks Frank).

A smorgasbord of footy this past and up-coming week. Champion divers, Brownlow favourites rubbed out, a round of lop-sided games, a couple of interesting results. A week coming of Queen's Birthdays, AFL on Ice and season-defining games.
Beanies off to Neale Daniher. Grand man at my club.
Screen goes wobbly... I'm back in 1998 at the Demon's season launch lunch. Stavros and I were doing the Demons membership stuff and Jamie Shanahan had just joined. Saints Stav and Frankie Materia made a bee-line for Shana's to give him a small piece of their minds (it was all they had). Quick as a flash ND read the play beautifully and laid a lovely shepherd.  I would have shirt-fronted the both of them personally.

The week in Drunk... largely stasis.
Hero: Dickwad. Zeros: Kurts and BobCatter.

R10: We salute Sheeds. Player, coach, actor. Legend.

Hats off to the AFL's mad genius. And let's bring back the lace-up jumper.

Umpire, strike back.

My 7 y.o. lives on a diet of Star Wars and Scooby Doo. Both wise choices, they teach a lot about how the world really works.

Scooby Doo shows invariably end with the line "...and I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for you meddling kids". Star Wars, as we know, prepares us for a world ruled by Evil Empires.

Meddling. Evil. This of course brings me to the AFL and their relationship with their goal umpires.

Why do the evil AFL emperors always feel the need to meddle in what works naturally as a near-perfect organism? How can you review a goal that's been called a goal, watch the review, see that it IS in fact a goal and call it a point? And why are they constantly threatening our galaxy with twilight Grand Finals?

The Dalai told me once over a few Coopers', "Dick, a train is a train and a plane isn't. If you want a plane go to the airport". I'm not sure what he meant by that, we were both a bit shickered by then.

If you want to meddle AFL, take Carlton's 4 snore-fest Friday night games off them and give them to teams who want to, and can play. In case you were wondering, the Dees have had a total of about 3 Friday night games over the past 4 years.

And us Drunks? We have our 3rd leader in 3 weeks now. Lloydy, buoyed by his Dons' resurgence, has stealthed his way to the top this week and we're starting to see some worrying separation between the leaders and the rest of us.
B.O.G. this week were Franco SKN and BobCatter Sam, both up 8, and this week's witches hat was Blue Bolter Rob, down 8.

Slow train coming

Anyone who read the electric newspapers or stumbled onto Fox Footy on Monday (any hour, any show) could be excused for thinking the Demons not only have their name already scratched into this year's Premiership Cup, but are also the best team that has ever played the game.

Overblown and confusing? Absolutely. Last week they soundly beat a team of witches hats and hadn’t done enough to convince people they’d make the finals. This week they beat another team of ‘better’ witches hats and they’re the second coming. Total exaggeration of course but there are some nice stats here and there. 

True, if you watch replays of either game (and I’ve watched each about 17 times) they're basically 120 minute Demons highlight reels, but on about the eighth viewing my eyes drifted from the action to the inaction. The ‘opposition’.

Everyone knows the Crows are down on personnel, which is why last week’s game means kinda nothing, but the personnel who were present were half-arsed, half-paced or half-baked by the Alice sun. Really, it was enough to leave a coach speechless. Here's proof:

Thankfully by Wednesday evening, the drinks had worn off, the erections subsided and a little more common sense seemed to be settling on the wordy wise. Gravity back in place, the season can now roll-on, back on track ‘til the Dees either meet a ‘real’ team, or more likely, get badly beaten by one who isn’t. Cue the Dogs this week.

Anyway, there’s a train going somewhere. I’m not sure where, and like most trains I catch it’ll be late or re-routed somewhere else, but climb on board if you’ve got nothing better to do. I'm sure one of the newly converted media experts will give you their seat, they'll be getting off soon.

R9: Me and my big mouth

Bigmouth strikes again... I guess that was always going to happen. Honestly Bombers I was only joking when I said shit floats. I meant to say cream.

It's all my fault. The Bombers were always going to win after last week's 'editorial'.
The Dalai always used to tell me "Dick, If you've nothing nice to say about someone don't say anything. Mainly 'cos they'll come and fucking hit you".
Well I didn't listen did I? And they came and hit me. Never underestimate the Bombers' Powers of Evil.
And good luck to them. No, really.
And while we're down there thanks to the Lions for doing everyone a favour this week too. All in all things are starting to look up.

Big Trouble in Trobby-town this week. He and his Hawks both went down, he's vacated top spot for Phil, falling 6 spots after a faultless start to the season. I blame Luke Hodge.
Phil had a big weekend, he climbed into the hot-seat and his Dees did what the Dees never do, and went and crushed another team. But let's not get too excited, I went to that game and the blues were out there giving witches hats a bad name.
Lloydy's laughing too, he's a bomber and he's close behind Phil. And Tas is back in town, sitting third. Don't trust him. He's trying to win.
B.O.G was Dave, up 7. Biggest loser Sean catfish Cox. Down 7.

R8: Pain and confusion

Football of confusion: Saints in strife, Dons down, Roos up. What gives?

Pain and confusion out there in supporter-land at the mo and it makes for some interesting analysis.
Paging Dr Schadenfreude...

No one who doesn't follow Essadun will ever shed a tear for them and their followers. They've floated by on a raft of jumped-up arrogance, or more recently persecution-complex, and to their eternally damned credit it's worked for them on field. 

Until now. Karma tickets spent perhaps.

Their media cheer-leaders had them playing off for the flag, but there they are down there wallowing in a trough-full of serves-you-right pig-shit. Why do they deserve it? Can't quite put my finger on it but we all know they do.

Are their supporters better or worse-off than their opposite numbers at the Saints?

Both teams had high expectations of heading deep into September, clearly neither will.

Surely Saints fans must have built some serious resilience over the decades, whereas this experience will be terrifyingly new to all but the oldest Dons fans. My footy fandom carries 90% DNA similarity to those of a Saints persuasion, and I'm sure the pain, agony and heart-wrench of a steady build to possibly Something, to then discover absolutely Nothing, again, is the far crueller of the two options.

Let the Dons discover some resilience and find maybe, they're not born-to-rule after all. A bit like Carlton.

Lets not discuss the Roos. I hates them.

But I loves us, and here we are. Top 3 undisturbed from last week. Paul joins Phil to be the second Sydney-sider in the top 4 after a stella week. Rob has ridden on the back of his Blue boys to be knocking on the door of the eight after jumping 10 spots (up 5 last week too) to be BOG this week.

Franco's down 8, will play in the Magoos this week.

R7: Just one touch ump... jeez.

Surprisingly a round with few surprises results-wise, so the surprises came in the form of not one, but two unusual suspensions.
The Tom Hawkins incident unfolded on friday night under the watchful commentating, nay cheer-leading, of Fat Eddie. The Pies boss loudly leading the calls for action to be taken. The Pies that is of course who are playing the Cats this weekend. Coincidence, I'm sure.
Then Nick Nat, the largest man in the universe, squashed some, now unrecognisable, geezer into the turf almost snapping his neck in two. Dangerous? Of course. More-so than the sling tackle that saw Jack Trengove rubbed out for 4 weeks as the inaugural sling-tackler (before there was such an offence). Subsequent and pre-warned slingers were thereafter rubbed out for 1 or 2 weeks only of course. Scapegoat found, message sent.
Not much going on in the Drunk ladder. Heylow the biggest loser, down 10. Dickwad B.O.G up 6.

R6: Sex & drugs, missed sausage-rolls

Bad behaviour off-field, bad footy on field. Goals missed, laughable turnovers and ugly rolling mauls. That's the shape of footy this week. But that's pretty much footy as I've known it for about 5 decades.

Ross Lyon being allegedly genderly inappropriate, Dane Swan's non-sex-tape, Bomber getting allegedly sprung doing what allegedly everyone knew he's allegedly been doing for years.
I mean in terms of recent non-surprises I reckon the Big Three would have to be, in no particular order, Bomber, Kevin Spacey and Harvey Weinstein.
And footy: well I didn't see much last weekend, but apparently it was universally bad enough for foetal positions to be taken, heads to be cradled in hands and cries of "we've got a problem" to be cried.
As a Melbourne supporter I thought that's how footy's meant to played.

So to the Drunk ladder. The only thing of import this week is that I've dropped out of the 8. Trobby and Phil are still poncing around on top, in fact look to be edging away from the field a little.
B.O.G. this week is Garth, up 11 spots and smashing his way back into the 8.
Biggest loser is Taffa, a.k.a. Panther, doing about as poorly as his Blueboys. Down 14.

R5: The Bump is back, and it makes disturbing viewing

A few bad bumps, counter bumps and a lot of confusion this week. Here are 3 of the more sickening. A word of warning: once you've seen these they cannot be unseen.

And if you thought that was bad you may not want to watch this one: 

But this is surely the most stomach-churning of them all:

Oh god, you just know they're swingers... 

How did these people ever become a dance troupe?

ANZAC Round: Almost my last post.

That was a long, long week of footy and thank god it's over. I only watched one game in its entirety this week and I didn't enjoy it one little bit. Was sorely tempted to walk away and keep walking.
Thankfully footy is bigger than footy. It's also the Drunk, and there were a few Drunk encounters this week - at the G on a stirring ANZAC Eve (stirring pre-game at least) and at PunchDrink 1 at The Corner last Thursday. Some very familiar and very old faces, a damn good night and here are some snaps to prove it.

The Ladder: Trobby and Phil are still hanging at the top of the tree, a little movement up and down in the ranks. Taffa the big slider, Titto the biggest riser. Franco, who it was great to see at the Drink has well and truly thrown himself into the mix with his 7.

R4: The Grand Old White Flag

When the going got tough this week half the teams in the league called a cab and went home. None more abruptly than The Demons. It was like it was their shout and they suddenly realised they'd left their wallets at home.
I could go on... in fact I will. More self indulgent rant here.

A bunch of badness...

A disturbance in the footy universe this week, unsettling results and a very disturbing thought: What if the Tigers can actually achieve two impossibilities in successive years? Not only winning a flag last year, but also NOT following through with the promised hang-over this year.

Here's what went wrong this week: The Pies won, Bombers won, North won. That's a pretty heinous start to anyone's week right there. And did I mention the Hawks/Dees match?

There's good news however, this week sees the annual Dons v Pies Anzac Day clash where, lest we forget, it's our national duty as Australians to heartily barrack for casualties by the end of the battle.

That brings us to The Drunk ladder which is slowly taking some sort of shape:

Drum Major Trobby is leading the troops this week, jumping three spots and pushing the Panther out of the tree. Phil Smith's hot on his tail and Lloydy's judgement is slightly better than mine to snare third. Taffa, Tassy, Ian and Frankie round out the top 8.

The big winner this week, however, is BobCatter Sammy, jumping 12 spots to be well within striking distance.

Biggest Loser this week was Franco SKN, down 9 after what you would have thought was a reasonable 5 correct tips.

Tara looks set for a good stayer's race, otherwise the field is pretty-well bunched a long way from the straight.

R4: If you don't mind, vampire!

So, there I was playing footy and I saw this bloke's neck and thought... "what the hey, looks tasty. Why not?" A mere three weeks for big Mac's not-so-happy meal thanks.  Is Don. Is Bad. 

The first PunchDrunk catch up is happening NEXT THURSDAY EVENING for those who can make it and are keen for some serious and intelligent footy talk. Or a load of flippant and ignorant rubbish, depending on what floats your boat.
The aim is to make it an easy get for as many as possible (transport hubs, fairly central) Richmond came out a nose ahead of the CBD so let's put the democratic process to bed and head to the Corner Hotel Rooftop again, anytime after about 5.30 (earlier the better, help me grab a table). Hope to see you there.

Hooroo Roo Hoodoo

Intergenerational weakness is endlessly fascinating. Especially on a team or club level.

How do the Roos, who have been no world-beaters for yonks, manage to beat the Demons for 16 straight games? Likewise, the Saints, while unarguably better than the Dees for the last decade, I'd argue not to the extent borne out but their 18 game winning streak.

Maybe blame a lop-sided tally of games played at the Docklands Terror-dome (another Demon hoodoo/weakness - not a single game won there in 24 attempts over an 8 year losing streak) and in wind-blown Tassy.

And of course the Demons were particularly shit for a decade, but even Hawks (13-game streak) and the Cats (11-game streak) didn't embarrass us as much and they were actually good.

Weakness of mind, spirit, culture and heart. The chinless-elite factor. Lack of belief from top to bottom of the club (that'd be me).


Anyhoo, Roo hoodoo busted this week thank Jehovah, the Saints one in R1 last year.
So now there's only finals (11 year absence) and a Premiership (54 year drought) to take care of.

Enough of them, here's us, and nothing between anyone pretty much. Panther (Taffa) has clawed his way to the lead based on some good margin calls, but the first 7 are equal on 18 wins. We've got 17s and 16s all the way down to 23rd.

Tassy's back from Greece full of steam and storming into the 8. And you know Coxy Catfish left the country before last round, cos he's just shot up 15 places to be seriously in contention. Last time he was disconnected from the footy-teat for most of the season he won the Cup.

R3: Dead dogs, cold pies, dud tips.

Are these the real Dogs? How long can Eddie and Bucks survive if the Pies continue to go winless? What happened to my tips?

Weird start to a long-awaited season. Form teams totally out of form, sinking teams suddenly floating. It's gonna be a long stressy season.

Easter tipping: Getting hot & cross

Just when you thought you knew what's what...
AFL Equalisation is on track to put the Hawks back near top after just two seasons being only as good as everyone else. The Dogs are back down buried with their bones. The Saints momentarily fluttered Icarus-like, but look to have melted wings once more. The Demons still refuse to take their chances. Borderline at best.
A further slap in the face, the scragging shin-boners are levitating way above their rightful place. Balancing that, the Pies are doing as well as decent-thinking, clean-living, non-dentally-challenged humans would hope.
It's early days, you could still throw a blanket over everyone, but there's a definite sense of some teams being on, and others way off.
Which brings us to US. Nothing much to see yet, but some worrying signs.
Garth leads and he has form. He always seems to be thereabouts. Watch him. Frankie 'da Godfather' Materia is second. Multiple previous winner and not to be taken lightly.
Another former Drunk Champ Lex is third. Red light. A lax start saw her miss the first game of the season. No probs. She's caught up already. She's being nice to us. Trust her not.
Leah 'Champs' Champion rounds out our 12-point Drunks. Been close several times and need I point out her name. Watch your backs.

R2: The young (and the rest)

Round One saw the unveiling of some shiny new talent, some others who look to have taken the step to the next level and the recycling of some older, maybe damaged goods.
I watched new cat-dudes Ratagolea, Kelly and Fogarty all impress while Fristch provided the sole Demons highlight on a bleak day. Impressive starts too from Crow Darcy Fogarty, Saint Hunter Clark and #1 pick Cam Rayner. All kicked at least one goal and get a gold star.
Charlie Curnow, Christian Petracca and Riley Bonner all look to have made the next step.
And some recycled players did alright too. Watts had his best game since 2016, Motlop, Stringer and Smith did enough. Charlie Cameron had a ripper for BrizVegas and Jarrod Garlett looks a handy pick-up for the Blues. Conversely Jake the Snake Lever was pretty much a liability for the the first half, but started to get a little bit in the second half.
In other news we saw a show-down between Buddy and T Mitchell for player of the round.

BANG! And we're off.

34 Drunks have fronted-up in '18. Two Alex's have returned from self-imposed exile but sadly it looks like we've carelessly left an Ando somewhere.

Three Drunks bounced out of the blocks with perfect 9s. Champs is on top with a near perfect score, missing by just one behind. Garth and Lloydy are hot on her heels each just a further 4 points behind. Then a cluster of 8s, a swathe of 7s, a smattering of 6s.
And a 4.

Catfish Coxy's off on one of his Continental jaunts again this year so will have  to do some bulk tipping before heading off (last time he did this he won). This round was pre-departure, so maybe he's just giving us a head-start.

34 Drunks means a Grand Prize of $1k, second prize of $500 and third prize of $250 per the past few years. That leaves a weekly Jackpot of $10 again, and maybe even $50 on the bar.

Welcome back, good luck one and all. May the Drunkest win.

A chance to share some off-season war-stories.
Venue details to follow, but pop this date in your
electrical calendar thingie now.

R1: Kick it!

It's been too long, but the time is right. The future is now. Let's party. 

Send home the clowns

Off-season. It's called that cos it's... well, a bit off isn't it? Controversy, carnivals and camps (or not, depending on the cut of your gib).
My mum always said "Never trust a carnie, they're all a bit weird" (mind you she said the same about the Beatles) and AFLX - What a Zooper Joke (see image to left to see how low the bar was set). Pop-Footy for those with the concentration of a goldfish.
Oh... hang on the Dees won their first bit of (plastic) silver-ware since 1989? I love it!

More of The Good, the Bad, The Off-season

Back in town

The past few seasons my personal excitement, my keenitude, for footy, for tipping, had waned to such a degree I almost changed my name to Wayne.  I'm glad I didn't, it's a shit name. It tells a tale though that my Demonland nom-de-guerre is General Malaise. 

I'd gone cold. But today I'm red-hot, ready to reconnect my rabid footy-ball fervour. My typing digit assaults the keyboard with renewed vigour. PunchDrunk has been resuscitated for its 30th straight year. And when I say straight, I mean continuous. I'm talking non-stop discotheque dancin' party.

Welcome back all who give a good god-damn, who care enough to belly-up to bar again. Rest assured though, the bar is still set way low to accomodate.

The Hangover

It's been a long lonely off-season and we each approach the new season with varying degrees of expectation, trepidation, hope and dread. While each of us prepares in our own fashion I ask that you spare a thought for current Champ's unfortunate situation as we cast our minds back to last year.

It all began with Brenton as Dusty's date at the Brownlow.

It only got only got worse from there...

Little Richard v Ron Barassi
These Ron Barassi Specials were my first ever footy boots. I must have been 7 or 8 years old and they were about 15th-hand and on loan from school.
Everyone got a pair for the year, or as long as it took for your carbunkles to outgrow the previous kids' bunyons.
Leather stops nailed straight into your sole, perma-wet and wearing generations of deeply encrusted mud from school grounds all over Melbourne. They smelt of long-dead pig and the pain was intense.

More pain here

Send home the clowns.

Off-season is called that because it's... well, a bit off isn't it? Controversy, carnivals, camps (or not).
My Mum always said; "Never trust a carnie, they're all a bit weird". And AFLX - What a Zooper Joke (see image to left to gauge how low the bar was set). Pop-Footy for those with the concentration of a goldfish. Oh hang on... The Dees won their first bit of (plastic) silver-ware since 1989. I love it!
Then there's an AFLW comp that was one of the AFL's shining lights from last year basically torn down by them this year. What I saw was good tough honest footy.
Or the new Match Review Panel that's now a panel of one person...
The Jack Watts fire-sale (maybe good) then he goes and kicks 6, for the first time ever, at his new club (probably bad).
The best off-season news though: New clash strips - no white. Footy jumpers that look like footy jumpers. Mind you, I haven't seen the Hawks one yet, but the Dees are channeling Robbie Flower, Gerard Healy, Gary Baker and Jacko.
Now the circus is over, we can all stop dreaming about it and start losing again for real, and no-one's more excited about that than me.

Back in town

...and back in a BIG Way this year.

The past few seasons my personal excitement, my keenitude, for footy, for tipping, had waned to such a degree I almost changed my name to Wayne.  I'm glad I didn't, it's a shit name. It tells a tale though that on Demonland my nom-de-guerre is General Malaise. 

I'd gone cold, but today I'm red-hot baby, and ready to reconnect with the healthily rabid footy-ball fervour of old. My typing digit assails my keyboard with renewed vigour, PunchDrunk is resuscitated for its 30th straight year. And when I say straight, I mean continuous. I'm talking non-stop discotheque dancin' party.

Welcome back all who give a good god-damn, who care enough to belly-up to bar again. Rest assured though, the bar is still set way low to accomodate.