Ahead of the Adelaide game of a couple of weeks ago, I bumped into Jim. We got talking footy, and he got wise about Adelaide. He said: 'Adelaide. I call the place Madelaide. Something in the water. Always has been. Strange things happen there. Do you know the Dalai Lama visited Adelaide once? At the end of his visit, before he was even on the plane, he reportedly said to his confidants that he should never return to Adelaide as it is a place where some strange eternal madness resides. Place is full of it. Look at the murders and what not. Heard of Snowtown? Strange murders aplenty in Madelaide. And then they go and name their footy team 'The Crows'.
A group of crows is called a murder of crows. Don't you think that is odd? Mad. My advice for Richmond this week? Don't go there. Forfeit. You'll probably lose anyway, and all that will happen is that you'll come home with some curse. You mark my words. You'll be cursed. Have a good day.' Jim, indeed, is a wise man.
First, there was the Madelaide game itself. In the first term, we played like premiership bound heroes and threatened to murder the crows. But then that strange eternal madness that worries both Jim and the Dalia Lama took its hold. The curse began. And like any of the wicked thrill kills the Adelaide hills have witnessed over the years, Madelaide got maximum enjoyment out of its eventual murder of us by first taunting us with hope. Even though we continued to outplay the Crows for the majority of the match, the curse made fun of us. We'd attack the goals - and miss. We'd attempt tackles - and slip. We'd clear the ball - and kick it straight to a Madelaide guernsey. As the game drew to a close and it was clear we and our first term massive lead were well and truly done for, the Crows players and fans celebrated with an increasingly deranged frenzy. They laughed at us as the last few moments of consciousness melted away. Mad, murdering crows.
The curse followed us home. Players dropping like flies to injuries, suspensions, and - Buddha help us - MISBEHAVIOUR. We fronted up to the Demons and entered 2 and a bit hours of Helbourne. Well, yes, it could have been worse - we could have lost. But forgive me for saying that I think it was 2 and a bit hours of the most gut-wrenchingly awful football I have ever had the displeasure of watching. Apart from the fact that the Demons hovered around us far too close for comfort all the way until the last 10 mins (anxiety readings off the scale), we couldn't kick straight to save ourselves (which is exactly how the curse wanted it to be). One does not usually see so many ugly behinds in 2 and a bit hours unless one is watching the Sydney Mardi Gras parade. For these were behinds of the ugly kind - rushed kicks, blind kicks, 'who gives a toss' kicks. We won but in a bewildered way.
What Jim said about curses coming home with us came horribly true in Helbourne.
Then, with no immediate interest in releasing us from hell, the curse struck at our hearts by striking down one of our angels. When the news broke about Nathan Foley's achilles, for the first time in a long time I was moved to 'almost tears' by the plight of a well-paid sportsman. No one but no one deserves greater respect and more reward than Nathan Foley. He started setting the now-mandatory player standards for hard work when the Talking Suntan was coach and recommending we merely talk ourselves into premiership contention. Nathan had been an engine of wisdom and experience in the middle for us this year. We were already missing him. Bloody curses!
And now, for our sins, the curse has sent us to Cairns to play a team from the Gold Coast. Both of these places are evil. You may not agree. But one of them - Cairns - lulls visitors into a false sense of paradise-like security then fleeces them for all they are worth to hire a snorkel. And the other one lulls residents into a false sense of paradise-like security then unleashes the Gold Coast Football Club upon them. We will also recall that last year it Cazaly's Stadium was the scene of one of our more despicable losses in recent years. Up there friggin Cazaly!
So I am nervous. I'm not sure how Cairns will go for us. We've caught this damn curse but we've got to shake it sometime. I hope it is this weekend. Kel Moore's back and here's hoping he is our side's good witch and can conjure up a few counter-curses of his own.
Eat em alive Tigers, eat em alive.
