Wazza Ryan had been going off his nut about pisspot poofta bimbo sports
journos sinking the slipper into players for perceived bad form on the paddock.
Far be it for the Bash to defend the aforesaid pisspot, poofta bimbo
sports journos. But Ryan through his venom has unwittingly joined the ranks
of politicians, the No. 1 card holders of wankers when it comes to media
bashing.
Wazza showed a typical pollie's shameless gall to take advantage of a part
of the media which he had previously shat upon - the Footy Show - to shit
upon other sections of the media.
Using the Fatty, er.... I mean Footy Show for his latest spray about his
fellow commontattas in the media was a tad hypocritical.
Last year, Wazza was on ABC Radio telling anyone stupid enough to listen
that he never watched the Footy Show. It was a parade of cross-dressing
cretins who very rarely, if ever, talked about rugby league, sprayed Wazza
to literally dozens of Grandstand listeners.
Now, I 've got nothing against Wazza personally. His emphasis on defence
has had a positive effect on the game in preventing it from degenerating
into touch footie.
But all this aggro has got me a tad concerned for his health. Especially
with the report that he might have engaged in a little bit of toe to toe
knuckle with that doyen of league writers Roy Masters. I've visualised that
fight over and over just for the pleasure of it; and I can see Roy's glasses
flying off his ugly melon as hundreds of those metropolitan daily sports
sub-editors who have had to tidy up his copy over the years cheer their
encouragement for Wazza's pugilistic skills.
But, heck, my admiration for Wazza can just as easily be translated into
concern. What if Roy somehow got in a lucky punch. If that prick Wazza ever
fell from his high horse, the ground's so far away he'd break his fucking
neck!
So wake up, Wazza! The game and its personalities are not worth getting
your knickers in a knot over.
Modern league is just another multi-million dollar entertainment business
these days so don't take any of it to heart. Take a deep, deep breath and
smell the bullshit. In the modern-era, money does grow on trees and bullshit's
as good a fertiliser as any!
Glitz, glamour PR and hype.
Besides, me statistician mate, Blue, tells me that the last game of rugby
league was played on June 6, 1985. Ever since, it's been glitz, glamour
PR and hype.
Wazza, do you think that anybody in Australia apart from yourself takes
Ray Hadley seriously? We were lucky, true league fans, that Wazza in his
spray the other day was not adverse to naming names of the media mongrels
he finds so offensive.
Otherwise, we would never have known that one of the incidents he was talking
about was Hadley's savaging of St George/Illawarra/Blackbutt's Nathan Brown.
Dead set, Wazza – Masters and now Hadley? Do you always react to people
who simply don't count? If Hadley told a room full of people his arse was
on fire, you wouldn't even get a Balmain supporter reaching for a fire extinguisher.
Well, maybe one, as long as he could insert it sideways.
That's probably a bad example because everyone knows that Ray Hadley wouldn't
have a fucking clue if his arse was on fire.
He is there to say anything he thinks might mildly entertain us in the brand
new world of professional sports entertainment.
You see, Wazza, it's now a sideshow and you're the only one who's forgotten
to don your clown's suit.
It's just PR bullshit.
For example, if The Bash wrote that Blocker Roach at least tries to turn
the conversation to footy on the misnamed Footy Show, you, dear Wazza, and
the rest of my loyal readership would go ho hum. If I said Blocker was brighter
than he looks, you'd start to nod off and I'd be arrested for stating the
bleeding obvious.
But if I wrote that Roach's entire life has been a neck-and-neck race between
his footie boot size and his IQ, we might garner a bit of interest and higher
ratings. By the way, Roach did have his IQ tested once and it was way above
the average in the group. Sadly for Blocker, the test was conducted in the
Balmain dressing room at halftime.
The point I'm making, Wazza, is that while Blocker would take such talk
on the chin, mainly while he tried to understand what it was all about.
Besides, as far as I'm concerned, footy players are fair game.
One of the reasons players get a squillion dollars these days is because
they are in the public eye.
If most cocaine-addled Hollywood nancy boys can follow the rules of public
exposure – you gotta take the shit with the champagne – so can
rugby league players, coaches and orange boys. Cop the bullshit sweet.
Journos are like referees: they're always getting in your way, but you just
learn to get around them. Of course, I sympathise with Tricky Trindall when
he told the refereee that penalising the Rabittohs for a head-high tackle
was fucking up South's game plan. But that's what referees are: fuckers!
Roosters are plucked
Roosters fans are feeling pretty damned cocky at the moment.
They may be feeling like birds of paradise, but they should remember that
like most birds of paradise, they are an endangered species. The Roosters
will plummet right back into the shrubbery to be easy pickings for predators
before too long. They'll have been dished up as a last supper come early
September.
Their defence is more suss than a NATO pilot's eyesight.
This was obvious in their skinny win against a depleted North Sydney. And
no more obvious when Norths scored from a Jamie Goddard grubber kick.
Rooster David Barnhill was the closest to the ball as it trickled over the
goal line.
Barnhill must have been thinking about a henhouse full of fowls because
he did not move a centimetre towards it. Under normal circumstances he would
have copped a severe roast from coach Phil Gould in the rooms afterwards.
Luckily, Barnhill hastily plucked from his back kick a note from his mum.
It said: "Dear Mr Coach. David is sometimes feeling a bit off tri-colour
these days. He has my permission not to run around with the other boys if
he doesn't feel like it".
Sydney City are brilliant in attack with some top finishers supporting two
of the best playmakers in the game – Lam and Fittler.
But, sorry to say, old birds. Defence wins grand finals and September will
find the Roosters well and truly plucked.
Cop-u-lata,
The BASH
