Of players and pirouettes
Monday, August 15, 2005
Tony Jones
OPINION | By Tony Jones
National Nine News sports presenter
It was an 18-hour journey of cultural contradictions. A period where my two worlds came crashing together.
Boundary duties for Channel Nine had me at Subiaco Oval in Perth on Friday night, Dad duties had me back in Melbourne the next day attending the Russian ballet.
Now, it's fair to say I'm more at ease dealing with players than I am pirouettes.
It's also fair to suggest Her Majesty's Theatre is no Subiaco Oval, but sitting there among Melbourne's artistic A-list watching the enchanting story of The Nutcracker had me thinking. The similarities between ballet and football are remarkable. Sort of like The Nutcracker vs the squirrel grip.
For those, unlike myself, not familiar with The Nutcracker story, here's a quick spin on it.
A group of rich folk, including men wearing wigs and tight pants, have gathered at this big German house, celebrating Christmas, when a gatecrasher lobs bearing gifts. One of these gifts is a doll (the nutcracker) which is then beaten up by a gang of mice. As everyone heads to another room in search of food, a young girl (Maria) takes pity on the broken nutcracker and starts dancing with him. As you do!
Having been sent to bed by Mum and Dad (with the wigs it's hard to work out who is whom, but the pants are a dead giveaway), Maria returns to the party room to give her new friend one final goodnight kiss.
But, wouldn't you know it, the bloody mice have re-appeared and are getting stuck into the poor old nutcracker again. This time the rodents have brought in the boss, the king of the mice. Another fracas develops and Maria steps in to single-handedly send the mice packing.
At that moment the nutcracker turns into a prince and the two dance the night away. All is going incredibly well until — surprise, surprise — dawn breaks and Maria wakes up from her dream. Don't you hate that?!
So, there you have it. The Nutcracker in a nutshell.
Of course, back in 1891, Tchaikovsky padded the storyline out a bit, and believe me the padding was quite evident as I struggled to keep my eyes open throughout the performance.
It was during half-time (that was a bonus!) that I realised that the Eagles coach John Worsfold and Russian composer Piotr Tchaikovsky are as one when it comes to wowing their audiences.
Tchaikovsky's hard work is left in the hands of Usmanov, Chaliapina and Romanov. Similarly, Worsfold has the likes of Cousins, Judd and Kerr to rely on.
The Eagles clearly have a dream of their own and while there are many willing to stand in their way (men, not mice) it's a battle they can win.
If those who strutted their stuff on the stage of Her Majesty's had the audience yelling for more, so too the 40,000 plus crowd at Subiaco on Friday night were charmed by the sheer grace of West Coast.
A Maxim Romanov solo can leave a theatre spellbound. But let's get fair dinkum, it's nothing compared to an Ashley Sampi snap from the pocket.
Like Tchaikovsky more than a century ago, Worsfold is orchestrating something special. But there is still much to do before the ultimate standing ovation on that last Saturday in September.
And taking a leaf out of the Russian Ballet's book, the Eagles will continue to keep the competition on its toes right up until the final curtain call.
― chrisso (chrisso), Tuesday, 16 August 2005 01:31 (twenty years ago)
Although this would have to be the winner fir worst article of the year:
Something fishy about Premiership Cup
26 April 2005 Herald Sun
ONLY a lucky few get to feast from the premiership cup.
For those of us who never got the opportunity, we can only wonder what culinary delights must be on offer once the lid is lifted off football's holy chalice.
In my days as a player, I always envisaged it as the ultimate seafood banquet, overflowing with the finest and freshest fare from the ocean.
A seat at the premiers' dining table on Grand Final night is the most coveted position in football.
To get a booking you need to be able to pay for the privilege. Payment comes in the form of talent, commitment, perseverance, sacrifice and discipline. And hunger.
The bountiful spoils of a premiership will not truly be sought without the most ravenous of appetites.
And there is growing evidence in the early stages of this season that some of the pre-season premiership favourites may have their bellies full, and the crayfish, prawns, Moreton Bay bugs, oysters and scallops may not have the appeal they once did.
The Brisbane Lions have, rightfully, eaten like kings for three of the past four years.
The feast at the end of 2001 would have been the sweetest of all. But it became clear early the next year that the table was quickly cleared and the focus was on a return booking.
And they honoured that commitment, and the likes of Lynch, Voss, Lappin, Keating, Hart, McRae, Akermanis, Power, Pike, White and the Scott boys returned to sate their appetites, which had grown as the year unfolded.
Not too many teams in the history of the competition would be confident enough to push their seats back, leave the table, wander up to the maitre d' and casually slip $50 into the palm of his hand and say: "Keep the booking. We will see you same time next year."
But the Lions were, and they were not about to fork out the late cancellation fee. For the third year in a row, the crayfish population was ravaged by a pack of hungry Lions, whose appetite for success seems to know no bounds.
I don't care how much you may love your seafood, but after three massive helpings it doesn't quite hold the appeal it once did.
There has been only one team with the appetite and the ability to "pay" for four premiership feasts in a row and that was the Magpies in 1927, '28, '29 and '30.
The Lions won the right to play for their seats last year but a team that had never savoured the banquet on the last Saturday in September took the table. It was positively starving, and played like it.
The Lions were left to dine on a nice selection of steaks and kebabs, and some healthy salads. It was no seafood platter, but it may just have been enough to fill the hole.
Which brings us to this year.
Brisbane still has the capacity to pay for a place at the finest dining hall in football.
Lappin, Voss, Black, Brown, Akermanis, Michael, Johnson, Power, Leppitsch, Charman, Keating and the Scott boys will ensure that their credit card never gets knocked back.
But do they have the appetite to drive them there? Does the meal still look appealing or are they content to eat well enough to just keep the rumble away from their bellies. I don't think the crayfish has the same appeal to the Lions as it once did.
And what of the other contenders? Did Port Adelaide not quite clean up well enough after gorging themselves at last year's sitting?
Was the odd prawn head missed in the clean-up, and the stench only now finding its way to our nostrils?
I don't think so, although the loss of one of the hungriest of last year's premiership team, Josh Carr, has not helped. No, Port may just be suffering from a little indigestion at the moment, and feeling a little off colour. Take a Chad Cornes, Dean Brogan, Shaun Burgoyne, Roger James and a Byron Pickett with a glass of water and your appetite should return soon.
St Kilda appears to be salivating at the prospect of the big banquet.
Aaron Hamill plays like he hasn't eaten for five years, and won't until he gets to rip the head off some unsuspecting crayfish in September.
That's the sort of hunger the Lions once had.
Grant Thomas has a team that can pay the price of the bill as well. They are looking good.
The same goes with West Coast. I don't think there is any coincidence that the man who sits at the head of the Eagles table is the man who sat alongside Mick Malthouse at the head of the Eagles' most recent premiership buffet.
John Worsfold's American Express card is of the platinum variety, and his team looks greedy enough to go all the way.
You look at Dean Laidley and one of the first things you think is that he could do with a good feed. And his team plays exactly the same way.
It may be the hungriest team of the lot, and the fact it shares top spot on the ladder, undefeated after five rounds, is testament to that.
The only query is whether the bill may be too large at the end of the day. But then again, the Roos have exceeded most people's expectation up to now. Except, of course, their own. There would not be too many people who would begrudge the Roos the right to eat like kings.
The Demons and Cats can pay and they seem hungrier than they have been for a long time.
Respectively, it has been 1964 and 1963 since their last substantial meals, so they should be.
Sydney does not appear ready to take its place at the big table. Some are hungry but not talented enough; others are more than talented enough, but appear to be pretty happy with the offerings they can partake in at the moment.
The Crows are interesting. You get the feeling Neil Craig knows what's on the menu, and has made a good start in tantalising the taste buds of his group. But they are at the prawn cocktail stage. The crayfish is a little way off yet.
The others can only dream at this stage. There will be the occasional visit to the Flower Drum, as Hawthorn demonstrated with its magnificent victory against Brisbane 10 days ago, but even then its young tummies may not have been ready for the richness of the fare.
As long as the hunger for a spot at the ultimate dining table is there, then there is hope. Finding a way to pay is another thing altogether.
― chrisso (chrisso), Thursday, 18 August 2005 05:55 (twenty years ago)
ten months pass...