21 March 2010

Cockies v Cats at Giralang last Sunday; you shoulda been there. 

Twas a game of boom and bust; bubbles and pricks (only figuratively of course) and the odd dead cat bounce.  Well, Treasurer Swanny and sidekick Ken Henry at least shoulda been there, if only to get a few lessons in how not to level—as in restore to balance, not do a Bomber Harris on Dresden—a playing field.

The Cats started like they were made of money, with the midfield of Kyro, Deebs, Curto, RobE, Cuzzo and newby Justin in the ruck dolling it out to the hungry forwards Aba, aka Mr Temperate Months, Dave, big Matt, Leeso, little Dawso and Manny who all looked like they were working hard and keeping their diaries well up to date.  Mutual obligation indeed (sharing is caring).  The Cats defence was similarly productive, trousering plenty of revenue from its protectionist zone at the half back line.  In an ominous nod to the false promises of industry policy the winners to half time (or 60 per cent to be properly accurate) were easy to pick: Al Merritt (who did a Milt Friedman and ditched the profligate Keynesian Cats at the break and went all neoclassical on our arses), Jezza, Dale, Petey T, Phil and Roge.  Cats by how far at the break.

But the freetradering Cockies had kept themselves in the game, mainly through the efforts of Skute, Hoef, Pearl, new bloke Ben and Pengy, who gave only an inking of the junk bond carnage to come.  Michael Milken eat your heart out.  But with some courageous monetary and fiscal measures, the regulators changed the rules and quite outrageously removed the constraints on hard running, clean skills and goals.  The fact that many of the Cats’ best and most mobile players/apostates turned neocon may or may not have something to do with the great crash.

Bowie went ballistic (this year is serious, mum), Hoef remained so (quite awesome in the ruck. Obviously it’s all those very few, languidly savoured raisins.  The ones he’s pulled from his 20kg pack after a dawn hike up some mountain or other.), Pearl cut up just like bloody turncoat Kyro, Skute watched it all unfold and thought he could do better and did, and Pengy went on a rampage, kicking four and using the confines of the goal square like a magician.  Probably owes Skute a 440 or two, but. 

In a depressing end to the game, the Cats kicked a point or two, while the Cockies slammed home five or so to win easy peasy China.

All in all, an object lesson in the benefits and pitfalls of market adjustments.  Still, coulda been worse. Coulda been downsizing the lawn or somesuch.