Hell the fire truck yeah, Drummy and Pollyanna,
First of all it shat me off when a Perth band wore wee and poo scarves while playing at the '13 Grannie.
Second of all, I've not been able to listen to that record without entering an unhealthy four or five minutes of swearing ever since. To smack it in yer face on a day like today, well, iced that cake with a turd-stained spatula, thank you very much.
Third of all, let's listen to god at his press conference, "emotion doesn't get it done. Men win footy games, not abstract thoughts and emotions." Yet the rest of the press conference was filled with motherhood statements, abstract thoughts and emotions about how continuing to pursue excellence should improve us as a football club. It's easy to see the goal, Ross. All of us can do that. What we want is some kind of indication that you have a hint of an idea of what to do, not to philosophise but actually do, to get the players to get there and take us with them.
Injuries or not, there were twelve blokes out there today that played in that Grannie less than three years ago. Today, if I'm being generous, maybe three of them didn't suck.
