Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 17 vs Port Adelaide - VOTE HERE
3 - Martin
2 - Riewoldt
1 - Miles
3 - Martin
2 - Riewoldt
1 - Miles
-
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The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - THE AWARDS
- Thread starter Panthera tigris FC
- Start date
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 17 vs Port Adelaide - VOTE HERE
3. Jack
2. Rance
1. Lids
Thought Maric had a great game. Used his body to great effect in the ruck allowing our boys to win the clearances. We won the game with our contested ball wins, bookended by great performances both forward and back.
3. Jack
2. Rance
1. Lids
Thought Maric had a great game. Used his body to great effect in the ruck allowing our boys to win the clearances. We won the game with our contested ball wins, bookended by great performances both forward and back.
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 17 vs Port Adelaide - VOTE HERE
3-Rance
2-Miles
1-JR
3-Rance
2-Miles
1-JR
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 17 vs Port Adelaide - VOTE HERE
Voting is now CLOSED.
Voting is now CLOSED.
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 17 vs Port Adelaide - RESULTS
2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award
Voting Results for Round 17 vs Port Adelaide
RICHMOND 4.2 11.6 14.7 19.12 (126)
PORT ADELAIDE 3.3 8.4 12.6 16.10 (106)
GOALS
Richmond: Lloyd 3, Riewoldt 3, Petterd 2, Chaplin 2, Vickery 2, Vlastuin, Deledio, Cotchin, Jackson, Martin, Edwards, Houli
Port Adelaide: R.Gray 4, Broadbent 2, White 2, Schulz 2, Wines, Boak, S Gray, Wingard, Hartlett, Polec
Total Voters=51
MATCH REPORT
by spook
At least twice this season I have sworn I am done with Richmond 2014, and yet, like a (tiger) moth to a flame(ing wreck), like Michael Corleone in another abortion of a sequel, “every time I think I’m out they pull me back in”.
This time it’s thanks to an email from the club, inviting me to experience the 3121 pre-game function, complete with bar and great seats. I thought I’d have a look.
The email promised a ‘briefing’ from an assistant coach or player, but what we got was a casual chat between Flea Weightman and Aaron Edwards. Pretty underwhelming, but Azza’s assertion that the Tiges fancied the look of Port’s backline helped me back my hunch and bet on us to win (as does our sponsor Sportsbet’s generous offer of money back if your side goes down by 20 points or less).
Settling into the premo seats, it’s obvious many Tiger fans are stronger than me and have stayed away. Port has a large contingent behind the Lockett goals and both pre-game and in the early going, they seem to make more noise than the rest of us. We’re anxious, quiet, on edge.
The first disposal of the match comes from a free kick to Matt White, and the boos for the umpire’s decision get a double bounce when the crowd learns the recipient. His kick finds Jay Schulz and the eyes of Tiger minds envision everyone laughing at us on Monday. Sarge steals about three metres inside the line on which he should be kicking, but possibly confused by all the yellow and black around him, sprays it out on the full.
It’s a scrappy beginning, with plenty of ball-ups and not much clean ball to either side. Vickery runs under a sitter, but Lids gathers the loose and spears Jack, only for him to miss everything too.
Port draws first blood when Robbie Gray posts up like he’s Tim Duncan, and not for the last time in the match, Morris is completely unable to perform what should have been routine – in this case belt the ball into the 12th row.
Our effort is definitely there but Port’s system looks clearly better. They know where they’re going with every kick and everyone moves before it happens. It doesn’t look like we have much system, other than to scrap hard and get the ball forward. Our intensity and pressure are good and we’re forcing turnovers, but we bomb it long into the 50, where Port has a spare man, and it’s not until the 12-minute mark that we score, when Jasper Pittard, who could have earned Jack Dyer votes by the end of the day, goes for a mark when he should have spoiled and Jack hands off to Flossy for a sausage.
(A note on the young man with the big orange head: it was said when we drafted him that it would take a few years to build his running capacity to AFL level, and I notice on several occasions throughout the day that his man is often the one running free into space for Port to transition from defence, with Tigga 30 metres behind. A small concern, but my only one with him as I love everything else he does.)
A magnificent Lids bomb from outside 50 near the boundary gives us the lead for the first time, and he nearly repeats the dose a few minutes later after a strong mark. Ricky Petterd is throwing himself into everything and Jack is working up the ground to get involved, but Houli and Ellis burn chances to extend the lead and when Morro goofs up it’s a one-point ball game. Then it’s Matty White’s (boo!) turn to get confused by the colours and he wastes two chances in a minute. Port by a point.
A great gather and hand-off by Jack to Petterd results in a mark and goal to Slammin’ Sammy Lloyd and from the resulting bounce the Slammer returns the favour, releasing Ricky Bobby, aka Jimmy Recard, for another with less than a minute on the clock. Its Richmond though, and it’s Steve Morris, who is caught flat-footed and ball-watching and lets White (BOOO!) rove and snap truly.
Quarter time and it feels like we’ve been on top, but our reward for effort ratio is well down on theirs. Miles is continuing his high production and the Chimp is working into a blue-collar performance.
Port hit the front straight after the resumption with a goal to Boak, who has brought his own footy but must be a prick because none of our blokes want to play with him.
Our pressure reaps rewards, causing a turnover on our attacking 50, and Jack finds Vickery in the goal square to put us back in front. Jack then beats two to mark and goal and we lead by 11. Our quiet, nervous crowd uses every unfavourable umpiring decision to try to find its voice, and the umps help out by taking a clear mark off Jack a few minutes later. Lids is causing all sorts across half-forward and comes within a few inches of nailing another long bomb but hits the post.
We’re playing far more attacking footy than we’ve become accustomed to seeing this year, attacking the corridor, and it reaps reward when the Slammer shoves Vickery and an opponent out of the way and sends a heat-seeking missile 55 metres, straight over Chelsea’s hat.
Port get one back almost immediately but we continue to win the clearances and give their attacking half-backs a real hurry-up with our pressure. More corridor work from Sheds and Bachar set up our 5’11 full forward Slammin’ Sammy, but he sprays an easy one.
We’re all over them though, like Dyer’ere on a stripper at 3am. The key is sticking our tackles to stop their fast breaks, and Rance and Bashar cutting off everything they kick forward of centre, while Batchelor makes his presence felt with some aggressive shepherding. Our mindset to switch to defensive transition when they get the ball is the best it’s been.
We’re winning the contested ball, running hard and using the ball aggressively, and goals to the Chimp, Jacko and Petterd after another forward-centre turnover (is that what they’re called, Dimma?) and we’re five goals up. Jack, TV and Lloyd are all dangerous targets.
It is Richmond though, so of course Port kicks two in the last two minutes and we have a nervous 20-point lead at the half. I have Morris down for five goal assists – for Port.
When we were kids, my old man would describe the grumpy sluggishness following an afternoon nap as a case of the A-A-S-S (After Afternoon Sleep Slump). Anyone who’s sat through a soporific ‘Dimma’s Dissection’ would not be surprised if the players nodded off during his half time recitation of centre-forward-frontal-lobotomy stats. Certainly they have a habit of coming out after half time sluggish, and true to form, we concede two goals in the first three minutes.
That makes it four in five minutes of game time and ‘here we go again’ murmurings can be heard above the edgy silence. We get a couple of steadiers though, with quick hands from Chimp and Sheds setting up Miles to hit Jack on the tit, and a great tackle from Newy on White (boo!) resulting in the Bull finding the Slammer in space for his third.
Port responds with a couple of quick ones, exposing us for pace on the outside and flooding our forward line, which we play into by bombing to where Westhoff is lurking. If Wines and Pittard had kicked sitters they would have been in front, but both missed, and a couple of beautiful kicks by the Bull (one long, one short) set up Sheds. Conca is knocked out and after an early flurry of goals, only one point (another uncharacteristic miss by Sarge) is scored in the last 12 minutes of the quarter. We go into the last change 13 up.
(I’m going to go on a tangent at this point to comment on Port’s playing style. They have everyone raving about their attacking style, but in actuality they are playing eight in defence. No one leads up at the man with the ball, instead turning tail and running away as the kick goes over his head. It is kick-and-chase, footraceball, and, in my humble, encourages cheating (see Polec, Wines, Wingard, Hartlett). It’s fast break footy with high hurt factor and their goals seem much easier than ours, but I can’t see it working against top-quality teams playing at finals intensity.)
During the break an eavesdropping 3121 member or two might have heard me lay off a little of my bet in case Port overruns us, which they threatened to do in the third – and we all know how well they run out games.
The first few minutes of the last are arm-wrestle footy, until great hands by sub Foley releases the Chimp for his patented-but-too-infrequently-seen sidestep, ending with the Bull intelligently screwing the ball back to Chappy, who had gone forward in the third to man up the Hoff.
Chappy converts and tugs his jumper like he’s Matty White (boooo!) playing his first game for Port. We ride the emotion and have chances to end the contest with a quick kill. Jacko breaks a seven-man tackle but sprays the shot, and Jack misses a set shot from 50 straight in front, bread-and-butter for a gun like him.
He’s playing a hell of a game though Jack, spoiling Lobbe in a marking contest just prior to his miss, which would otherwise have seen Port go the length of the field from a kick-in. We’re pressing hard, and the ball lives in our forward 50 for a good five minutes, before a Port over-the-back special releases lesbian 400m runner Kane Mitchell, who finds Sarge, who finds his kicking boot.
We charge forward again from the bounce but Slammin’ Sammy misses and Port almost goes coast to coast again, but for a relieving Houli mark. We move the ball back quickly down the opposite wing via Ellis, Petterd, Vickery and Martin, who shanks one inside 50. Impey takes possession but great pressure from Jacko to tackle and Miles to smother the handball sees it fall to Chappy, who hooks a goal on his right boot and releases our nervous energy into an eruption of noise.
The noise level goes up again when Lids bombs his centre bounce free kick into the 50 and Vickery soars across the pack like he’s Royce Hart. The much-maligned Prancing Dilettante has presented all game and nails the kick to make the lead 27 halfway through the last.
We all know we’re well capable of losing from here though, so bums are still on the edges of seats. We press forward again but another Port fast break from deep in defence results in a Sarge mark next to the point post. However, Jay has clearly caught up with his old mate Silent Bob for some snootchie bootchies before the game, and once again he sprays it.
A good team would have buried these lazy, forward of the ball cheats by now, but we ain’t good, and Jay finally converts one, before White (boooo!) runs 120 metres to kick goal of the year. It’s so good no one even notices he only bounced the ball three times. (Rules? Meh. Guidelines.)
It’s back to 14 points and our edgy silence has been replaced by angry noise. Chimp wins the next clearance, Jack marks it and slots the steadier. Another horrible Port turnover coming out of defence finds Bachar amid three Port players and he slams home the sealer. Robbie Gray kicks a late one milliseconds before Grimey – not for the first time – showcases his serious wheels and knocks him out.
We win by 20. Our intensity was fantastic and we thoroughly outplayed them. Can’t help feeling a good team would have won by 50. They exposed our lack of pace all day, but missing their two key defenders, we took umpteen marks inside 50.
The bookends, Jack and Rance, in their 150th and 100th games respectively, are fantastic, as are Miles, Houli, Lids, Chimp and the Bull, but the man symbolic of the win was the one who plays every game likes it’s his last, the terrier Ricky Petterd. Well may we say, “if we played like that every week we’d be in the finals” – if all our players approached the game like Ricky, we would play like that every week.
For two decades my brothers and I referred to Ricky Ponting as ‘Ricky the P’. I don’t know why, we just liked the way it sounded. They’re not fans of Petterd (although they’re coming around) but I’m going to petition them to pass the nickname on to Ricky Bobby, aka Jimmy Recard.
Raise your glass. Any win’s a good win.
[youtube]ki6YTXyITaQ&hd=1[/youtube]
EDITORIAL
by Panthera tigris FC
Well, spook's comprehensive report was certainly worth the wait. As was the Tiger's first upset victory of the season. I think more than anything else that is what has driven the crowds down; a lack of success coupled with zero drama. The Tigers finally managed to add a little spice to the season and drag us all back in.
In the voting, Rance's purple patch continues, racking up the most votes for the second week in a row. He was outstanding and it is really only his absence through injury during the early part of the season that are keeping him out of All Australian discussions. His shut down work, marshalling of the backline, intercept marking and decision making (!!) were elite against Port and achieved while playing on the leader in the Coleman race. Jack's match was superb as well and he was only shaded by Rance for the victory this week. He is such a joy to watch when he is on and how anyone could ever think he was excess to requirements, or needs a change of scenery, needs their head checked. Finally, Petterd had an outstanding match, with his attack on the footy a real noticeable aspect to his game. I really liked his game this week and his contested ball work and run off of half back were no small part of the Tiger's victory.
After the week off the Tigers head West for the match against the Eagles tonight. It is an intriguing match up, with both sides having disappointing seasons. Can the Tigers extend their current run of victories to 4, or will the Eagles prevail on their home ground? I know what I'd prefer.
Carn' the Tiges!
2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award
Voting Results for Round 17 vs Port Adelaide
RICHMOND 4.2 11.6 14.7 19.12 (126)
PORT ADELAIDE 3.3 8.4 12.6 16.10 (106)
GOALS
Richmond: Lloyd 3, Riewoldt 3, Petterd 2, Chaplin 2, Vickery 2, Vlastuin, Deledio, Cotchin, Jackson, Martin, Edwards, Houli
Port Adelaide: R.Gray 4, Broadbent 2, White 2, Schulz 2, Wines, Boak, S Gray, Wingard, Hartlett, Polec
| Rank | Change | Player | 3 VOTES | 2 VOTES | 1 VOTE | RD TOTAL | TOTAL | VOTES | AVG |
| 1 | - | Trent Cotchin | 1 | 1 | 1 | 6 | 618 | 3 | 38.6 |
| 2 | - | Dustin Martin | 6 | 2 | 5 | 27 | 606 | 13 | 37.9 |
| 3 | - | Jack Riewoldt | 13 | 17 | 9 | 82 | 453 | 39 | 28.3 |
| 4 | - | Alex Rance | 16 | 15 | 6 | 84 | 447 | 37 | 40.6 |
| 5 | - | Brandon Ellis | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 338 | 0 | 21.1 |
| 6 | - | David Astbury | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 268 | 0 | 33.5 |
| 7 | ↑2 | Anthony Miles | 4 | 8 | 14 | 42 | 239 | 26 | 39.8 |
| 8 | ↓1 | Matt Thomas | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 235 | 0 | 23.5 |
| 9 | ↓1 | Daniel Jackson | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 223 | 0 | 22.3 |
| 10 | - | Reece Conca | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 175 | 0 | 12.5 |
| 11 | - | Brett Deledio | 1 | 0 | 2 | 5 | 159 | 3 | 13.3 |
| 12 | - | Sam Lloyd | 0 | 0 | 1 | 1 | 141 | 1 | 23.5 |
| 13 | ↑2 | Ricky Petterd | 10 | 5 | 7 | 47 | 120 | 22 | 10.9 |
| 14 | ↓1 | Ben Griffiths | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 95 | 0 | 9.5 |
| 15 | ↓1 | Shane Edwards | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 85 | 0 | 5.3 |
| 16 | - | Matt Dea | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 60 | 0 | 8.6 |
| 17 | - | Nathan Foley | 0 | 1 | 0 | 2 | 58 | 1 | 5.3 |
| 18 | - | Nick Vlastuin | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 51 | 0 | 3.9 |
| 19 | - | Shaun Hampson | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 47 | 0 | 4.3 |
| 20 | ↑2 | Bachar Houli | 0 | 2 | 3 | 7 | 40 | 5 | 2.5 |
| 21 | ↓1 | Troy Chaplin | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 38 | 0 | 2.4 |
| 22 | ↓1 | Tyrone Vickery | 0 | 0 | 2 | 2 | 37 | 2 | 3.4 |
| 23 | - | Shaun Grigg | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 18 | 0 | 1.8 |
| 24 | - | Matthew McDonough | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 16 | 0 | 2.3 |
| 25 | - | Ben Lennon | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 12 | 0 | 2.4 |
| 26 | - | Dylan Grimes | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 11 | 0 | 0.9 |
| =27 | - | Nathan Gordon | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 10 | 0 | 2.0 |
| =27 | ↑1 | Ivan Maric | 0 | 0 | 1 | 1 | 10 | 1 | 1.4 |
| 29 | - | Steven Morris | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 5 | 0 | 0.3 |
| 30 | - | Matthew Arnot | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 4 | 0 | 1.0 |
| =31 | - | Jake Batchelor | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 3 | 0 | 0.5 |
| =31 | - | Chris Newman | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 3 | 0 | 0.3 |
| =33 | - | Orren Stephenson | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1 | 0 | 1.0 |
| =33 | - | Jake King | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1 | 0 | 0.5 |
MATCH REPORT
by spook
At least twice this season I have sworn I am done with Richmond 2014, and yet, like a (tiger) moth to a flame(ing wreck), like Michael Corleone in another abortion of a sequel, “every time I think I’m out they pull me back in”.
This time it’s thanks to an email from the club, inviting me to experience the 3121 pre-game function, complete with bar and great seats. I thought I’d have a look.
The email promised a ‘briefing’ from an assistant coach or player, but what we got was a casual chat between Flea Weightman and Aaron Edwards. Pretty underwhelming, but Azza’s assertion that the Tiges fancied the look of Port’s backline helped me back my hunch and bet on us to win (as does our sponsor Sportsbet’s generous offer of money back if your side goes down by 20 points or less).
Settling into the premo seats, it’s obvious many Tiger fans are stronger than me and have stayed away. Port has a large contingent behind the Lockett goals and both pre-game and in the early going, they seem to make more noise than the rest of us. We’re anxious, quiet, on edge.
The first disposal of the match comes from a free kick to Matt White, and the boos for the umpire’s decision get a double bounce when the crowd learns the recipient. His kick finds Jay Schulz and the eyes of Tiger minds envision everyone laughing at us on Monday. Sarge steals about three metres inside the line on which he should be kicking, but possibly confused by all the yellow and black around him, sprays it out on the full.
It’s a scrappy beginning, with plenty of ball-ups and not much clean ball to either side. Vickery runs under a sitter, but Lids gathers the loose and spears Jack, only for him to miss everything too.
Port draws first blood when Robbie Gray posts up like he’s Tim Duncan, and not for the last time in the match, Morris is completely unable to perform what should have been routine – in this case belt the ball into the 12th row.
Our effort is definitely there but Port’s system looks clearly better. They know where they’re going with every kick and everyone moves before it happens. It doesn’t look like we have much system, other than to scrap hard and get the ball forward. Our intensity and pressure are good and we’re forcing turnovers, but we bomb it long into the 50, where Port has a spare man, and it’s not until the 12-minute mark that we score, when Jasper Pittard, who could have earned Jack Dyer votes by the end of the day, goes for a mark when he should have spoiled and Jack hands off to Flossy for a sausage.
(A note on the young man with the big orange head: it was said when we drafted him that it would take a few years to build his running capacity to AFL level, and I notice on several occasions throughout the day that his man is often the one running free into space for Port to transition from defence, with Tigga 30 metres behind. A small concern, but my only one with him as I love everything else he does.)
A magnificent Lids bomb from outside 50 near the boundary gives us the lead for the first time, and he nearly repeats the dose a few minutes later after a strong mark. Ricky Petterd is throwing himself into everything and Jack is working up the ground to get involved, but Houli and Ellis burn chances to extend the lead and when Morro goofs up it’s a one-point ball game. Then it’s Matty White’s (boo!) turn to get confused by the colours and he wastes two chances in a minute. Port by a point.
A great gather and hand-off by Jack to Petterd results in a mark and goal to Slammin’ Sammy Lloyd and from the resulting bounce the Slammer returns the favour, releasing Ricky Bobby, aka Jimmy Recard, for another with less than a minute on the clock. Its Richmond though, and it’s Steve Morris, who is caught flat-footed and ball-watching and lets White (BOOO!) rove and snap truly.
Quarter time and it feels like we’ve been on top, but our reward for effort ratio is well down on theirs. Miles is continuing his high production and the Chimp is working into a blue-collar performance.
Port hit the front straight after the resumption with a goal to Boak, who has brought his own footy but must be a prick because none of our blokes want to play with him.
Our pressure reaps rewards, causing a turnover on our attacking 50, and Jack finds Vickery in the goal square to put us back in front. Jack then beats two to mark and goal and we lead by 11. Our quiet, nervous crowd uses every unfavourable umpiring decision to try to find its voice, and the umps help out by taking a clear mark off Jack a few minutes later. Lids is causing all sorts across half-forward and comes within a few inches of nailing another long bomb but hits the post.
We’re playing far more attacking footy than we’ve become accustomed to seeing this year, attacking the corridor, and it reaps reward when the Slammer shoves Vickery and an opponent out of the way and sends a heat-seeking missile 55 metres, straight over Chelsea’s hat.
Port get one back almost immediately but we continue to win the clearances and give their attacking half-backs a real hurry-up with our pressure. More corridor work from Sheds and Bachar set up our 5’11 full forward Slammin’ Sammy, but he sprays an easy one.
We’re all over them though, like Dyer’ere on a stripper at 3am. The key is sticking our tackles to stop their fast breaks, and Rance and Bashar cutting off everything they kick forward of centre, while Batchelor makes his presence felt with some aggressive shepherding. Our mindset to switch to defensive transition when they get the ball is the best it’s been.
We’re winning the contested ball, running hard and using the ball aggressively, and goals to the Chimp, Jacko and Petterd after another forward-centre turnover (is that what they’re called, Dimma?) and we’re five goals up. Jack, TV and Lloyd are all dangerous targets.
It is Richmond though, so of course Port kicks two in the last two minutes and we have a nervous 20-point lead at the half. I have Morris down for five goal assists – for Port.
When we were kids, my old man would describe the grumpy sluggishness following an afternoon nap as a case of the A-A-S-S (After Afternoon Sleep Slump). Anyone who’s sat through a soporific ‘Dimma’s Dissection’ would not be surprised if the players nodded off during his half time recitation of centre-forward-frontal-lobotomy stats. Certainly they have a habit of coming out after half time sluggish, and true to form, we concede two goals in the first three minutes.
That makes it four in five minutes of game time and ‘here we go again’ murmurings can be heard above the edgy silence. We get a couple of steadiers though, with quick hands from Chimp and Sheds setting up Miles to hit Jack on the tit, and a great tackle from Newy on White (boo!) resulting in the Bull finding the Slammer in space for his third.
Port responds with a couple of quick ones, exposing us for pace on the outside and flooding our forward line, which we play into by bombing to where Westhoff is lurking. If Wines and Pittard had kicked sitters they would have been in front, but both missed, and a couple of beautiful kicks by the Bull (one long, one short) set up Sheds. Conca is knocked out and after an early flurry of goals, only one point (another uncharacteristic miss by Sarge) is scored in the last 12 minutes of the quarter. We go into the last change 13 up.
(I’m going to go on a tangent at this point to comment on Port’s playing style. They have everyone raving about their attacking style, but in actuality they are playing eight in defence. No one leads up at the man with the ball, instead turning tail and running away as the kick goes over his head. It is kick-and-chase, footraceball, and, in my humble, encourages cheating (see Polec, Wines, Wingard, Hartlett). It’s fast break footy with high hurt factor and their goals seem much easier than ours, but I can’t see it working against top-quality teams playing at finals intensity.)
During the break an eavesdropping 3121 member or two might have heard me lay off a little of my bet in case Port overruns us, which they threatened to do in the third – and we all know how well they run out games.
The first few minutes of the last are arm-wrestle footy, until great hands by sub Foley releases the Chimp for his patented-but-too-infrequently-seen sidestep, ending with the Bull intelligently screwing the ball back to Chappy, who had gone forward in the third to man up the Hoff.
Chappy converts and tugs his jumper like he’s Matty White (boooo!) playing his first game for Port. We ride the emotion and have chances to end the contest with a quick kill. Jacko breaks a seven-man tackle but sprays the shot, and Jack misses a set shot from 50 straight in front, bread-and-butter for a gun like him.
He’s playing a hell of a game though Jack, spoiling Lobbe in a marking contest just prior to his miss, which would otherwise have seen Port go the length of the field from a kick-in. We’re pressing hard, and the ball lives in our forward 50 for a good five minutes, before a Port over-the-back special releases lesbian 400m runner Kane Mitchell, who finds Sarge, who finds his kicking boot.
We charge forward again from the bounce but Slammin’ Sammy misses and Port almost goes coast to coast again, but for a relieving Houli mark. We move the ball back quickly down the opposite wing via Ellis, Petterd, Vickery and Martin, who shanks one inside 50. Impey takes possession but great pressure from Jacko to tackle and Miles to smother the handball sees it fall to Chappy, who hooks a goal on his right boot and releases our nervous energy into an eruption of noise.
The noise level goes up again when Lids bombs his centre bounce free kick into the 50 and Vickery soars across the pack like he’s Royce Hart. The much-maligned Prancing Dilettante has presented all game and nails the kick to make the lead 27 halfway through the last.
We all know we’re well capable of losing from here though, so bums are still on the edges of seats. We press forward again but another Port fast break from deep in defence results in a Sarge mark next to the point post. However, Jay has clearly caught up with his old mate Silent Bob for some snootchie bootchies before the game, and once again he sprays it.
A good team would have buried these lazy, forward of the ball cheats by now, but we ain’t good, and Jay finally converts one, before White (boooo!) runs 120 metres to kick goal of the year. It’s so good no one even notices he only bounced the ball three times. (Rules? Meh. Guidelines.)
It’s back to 14 points and our edgy silence has been replaced by angry noise. Chimp wins the next clearance, Jack marks it and slots the steadier. Another horrible Port turnover coming out of defence finds Bachar amid three Port players and he slams home the sealer. Robbie Gray kicks a late one milliseconds before Grimey – not for the first time – showcases his serious wheels and knocks him out.
We win by 20. Our intensity was fantastic and we thoroughly outplayed them. Can’t help feeling a good team would have won by 50. They exposed our lack of pace all day, but missing their two key defenders, we took umpteen marks inside 50.
The bookends, Jack and Rance, in their 150th and 100th games respectively, are fantastic, as are Miles, Houli, Lids, Chimp and the Bull, but the man symbolic of the win was the one who plays every game likes it’s his last, the terrier Ricky Petterd. Well may we say, “if we played like that every week we’d be in the finals” – if all our players approached the game like Ricky, we would play like that every week.
For two decades my brothers and I referred to Ricky Ponting as ‘Ricky the P’. I don’t know why, we just liked the way it sounded. They’re not fans of Petterd (although they’re coming around) but I’m going to petition them to pass the nickname on to Ricky Bobby, aka Jimmy Recard.
Raise your glass. Any win’s a good win.
[youtube]ki6YTXyITaQ&hd=1[/youtube]
EDITORIAL
by Panthera tigris FC
Well, spook's comprehensive report was certainly worth the wait. As was the Tiger's first upset victory of the season. I think more than anything else that is what has driven the crowds down; a lack of success coupled with zero drama. The Tigers finally managed to add a little spice to the season and drag us all back in.
In the voting, Rance's purple patch continues, racking up the most votes for the second week in a row. He was outstanding and it is really only his absence through injury during the early part of the season that are keeping him out of All Australian discussions. His shut down work, marshalling of the backline, intercept marking and decision making (!!) were elite against Port and achieved while playing on the leader in the Coleman race. Jack's match was superb as well and he was only shaded by Rance for the victory this week. He is such a joy to watch when he is on and how anyone could ever think he was excess to requirements, or needs a change of scenery, needs their head checked. Finally, Petterd had an outstanding match, with his attack on the footy a real noticeable aspect to his game. I really liked his game this week and his contested ball work and run off of half back were no small part of the Tiger's victory.
After the week off the Tigers head West for the match against the Eagles tonight. It is an intriguing match up, with both sides having disappointing seasons. Can the Tigers extend their current run of victories to 4, or will the Eagles prevail on their home ground? I know what I'd prefer.
Carn' the Tiges!
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 17 vs Port Adelaide - RESULTS
Fantastic report Spook. Laughed at every Matty White (booooo!). And could identify with all the usual Tiger idiosyncrasies.
The AASS is particularly apt for the post half time Tiges.
Glad you won some money Spook...you deserved it.
Fantastic report Spook. Laughed at every Matty White (booooo!). And could identify with all the usual Tiger idiosyncrasies.
The AASS is particularly apt for the post half time Tiges.
Glad you won some money Spook...you deserved it.
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 18 vs West Coast - VOTE HERE
3. Deledio
2. Coichin
1. Chaplin
3. Deledio
2. Coichin
1. Chaplin
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 18 vs West Coast - VOTE HERE
3. Martin
2. Ellis
1. Miles
3. Martin
2. Ellis
1. Miles
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 18 vs West Coast - VOTE HERE
3 Deledio
2 Maric
1 Foley
3 Deledio
2 Maric
1 Foley
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 18 vs West Coast - VOTE HERE
3 Deledio
2 Ellis
1 Martin
3 Deledio
2 Ellis
1 Martin
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 18 vs West Coast - VOTE HERE
Tough night for votes.
3. Martin
2. Foley
1. Ellis
Tough night for votes.
3. Martin
2. Foley
1. Ellis
Re: The 2014 PREmier Fighting Tiger Award - Round 18 vs West Coast - VOTE HERE
3 Miles
2 Foley
1 Rance
3 Miles
2 Foley
1 Rance
