Blagger Leaping Larry
August 23, 2010 AND now a searing exclusive report from football's front lines. In order to protect journalistic integrity, no sources can be revealed, but a certain intrepid reporter not a million miles away from the guy typing this column found himself accidentally “embedded” with the Richmond football club on Saturday, during its match against St Kilda. To put it more plainly, he bought a reserved seat in an unaccustomed proximity to the fence at the Docklands, and found it to be “embedded” almost directly behind one corner of the peculiar, thick plastic shell that football authorities have presumably erected to protect innocent fans from the frank and robust language of coaching personnel, benched players and other track-suited club staff. In this case, as mentioned, it was occupied by Richmond. The following Sporting Life football exclusives can now be revealed.
TACTICS MULTIPLYING LIKE RABBITS
IT WAS no more than 10 minutes into the first quarter when the intricate tactical machinations of football's modern-day rotations policy were laid bare. A benched Shane Tuck must have received the tap on the shoulder, and after some brisk limbering up, was instructed, “Go, Tucky!” The obedient Tuck shot off like a rocket and was halfway to the centre in Olympic and Commonwealth qualifying time when the cry came from the bench, “No, Tucky!” The Richmond mid-fielder stopped as if shot, turned around, froze in momentarily puzzlement, and immediately sprinted back towards the bullet-proof plastic structure. He was within metres of reaching the boundary line when, no doubt as a result of late but deep-thinking calculations, the shriek once again rang out of “Go, Tucky!” The ever-obliging number 21 swivelled around in mid-motion and headed back into the fray, this time unimpeded by any further orders. Precisely what delicate shifts in the balance of the game had resulted in three different, and contradictory, instructions to Shane Tuck within roughly five seconds could not be readily determined. However, spectators in the immediate area nonetheless expressed their great appreciation of the intricate tactics involved with a considerable volley of belly laughter.
HANGING ON THE TELEPHONE
RICHMOND captain Chris Newman was another player “rotated” later in the first quarter. Some aspect of his performance clearly merited closer analysis, and he was handed the talking section of a telephone by someone apparently entrusted with the sacred duty of holding in his lap the remainder of the communications unit, and who might be referred to as the telephone monitor. (Hard to know why. Perhaps there have been instances in the past of lesser-paid players attempting to make off with these expensive field communications devices, clear the fence and bolt to the nearest pawnbroker's.) Newman conversed at a certain length, and listened with considerable concentration to the instrument. What made this curious, at least on the surface of things, was that Newman's coach was sitting less than two metres away on the bench, surrounded by assistants. He didn't need a phone to talk to any of them. So the vexing question remained as to with exactly whom Newman might have been conversing. For example, it would have been a hell of an annoying time to receive a call from your stockbroker.
http://www.theage.com.au/sport/blagger-20100822-13aus.html
