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.