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PLAYING TO THE WHISTLE

Phil Doyle takes a look at the man in the middle, and
he doesn't like what he sees.

"There's always been more money in Sydney. Not just
for sport, but for cultural things too, like organised
crime."
Barry Dickens, 'League of a Nation', 1996.

The haircut with a whistle, Bill Harrigan, was dropped
the other week for robbing Parramatta of not only a
win, but also their dignity. God knows; one thing
Parramatta needs is Dignity.
I remember when they burnt down the old wooden
grandstand at Cumberland Oval after they finally
managed to win a Grand Final, and even that was over
Newtown. Where's the dignity in beating Newtown?

They still have the best moniker - the Eels. It always
raises a chuckle when those bozos at the NRL Marketing
try to produce a savage looking eel. It ends up
looking like some kind of snarling bicycle tube.
Of course they had that wonderful monogram of the
bloke in the canoe spearing eels in the Parramatta
stormwater drain, but they couldn't very well call
their team the 'Blackfellas'; the marketing people
wouldn't hear of it, which is a shame.

So from the days Darcy Lawler (who was as straight as
a coathanger) through to Hollywood Hartley and onwards
they've always been cruelled by the refs.
The referee is a strange kind of fish; a sort of
professional unpopular bloke. Professional is the
operative word as these guys are paid a bit more than
your average nurse or schoolteacher.

When I was growing up a lot of them were cops, which
made sense, as cops are unpopular anywhere.
The best I've ever seen was the Grasshopper, Barry
Gommersall. What a champion; he was there to referee
the Rugby League, so he let the fights continue on in
the background, and the kiddies love that kind of
thing.

You could tell he was a member of the ALP.
Even in the Australian game the white maggots have
been having a bit of a sook because people have been
threatening to come around and burn their houses down
and that sort of thing.

Idle threats are as part and parcel of footy as warm
beer, cold pies and the smell of Dencorub.
Maybe they could recruit people like serial pest David
Hoare. They'd love the attention of the few hundred or
so souls that actually make it out to the games these
days, and everyone would be happy.

On the subject of crowds, there was a doozie of a
report from a recent Melbourne Storm game where a
spectator watched one of the attendants as she spent
some time swiping a ticket over and over again at the
turnstile. The witness asked the attendant if she was
trying to break the ground record single-handedly,
only to be met with a smile by way of reply.

Have we ever had a more loathsome champion than
Llittle Lleyton. To think that other kids his age are
working part time while trying to finish school while
this little turd carries on like some three-year-old
on steroids - it makes a body want to vomit.
Footy is the answer for these brats. Richmond's
Richardson was sent back to Coburg after his little
dummy spit. He should have been sent further - Coburg
deserves better.

Speaking of Richmond, if the meek shall inherit the
earth then their entire backline may well end up being
property developers.

Phil Doyle - squeezing out a handball in the forward
pocket.

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Phil Doyle IS Deportivo P/L
For when you need the write stuff
http://www.froggy.com.au/phildoyle
0415 463 585
(02) 4782 5164
(International +61 2 4782 5164)
phildoyle2000@yahoo.com.au

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