The EELiminator
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Mediocrity rules-I'm going on a Tiger hunt
By Christian Nicolussi
Daily Telegraph Friday October 7 2005
The sooner Wests Tigers bandwagon rolls out of town the better.
Slap a big fine on the wagon when it double parks in one of Balmain or Leichhardt's tight one way streets. Or roll the wagon down the M5, dump it in a creek bed and torch it.
Round the pathetic lot up with their black and orange streamers and make them watch re-runs of the 1989 grand final, when Balmain were belted by Canberra in extra time. That same year the mighty Western Suburbs Magpies started contemplating expanding their junior base to Johannesburg after finishing at the wrong end of the ladder yet again.
Sydney has sadly embraced the Tigers in a whirlwind week that smacked of mediocrity.
Maybe sports fans were in need of a pick-me-up after Ricky Ponting's men failed to return with the Ashes. Maybe Sydneysiders wanted to keep the party going after the Swannies took out the AFL title a week earlier.
Once the real Grand Final contenders, Parramatta and St George-Illawarra, bowed out of the race, footy fans were desperate. A state of confusion swept across the Harbor City. How were people going to spend their Sunday night watching a grand final with two teams nobody liked? What happened to the Eels and Dragons? Should we or shouldn't we have a barbecue? Should we tune into Australian Idol?
Enter Benji Marshall, Scott Prince, Brett Hodgson and the rest of the Tigers players nobody will remember this time next year. Their win captured the imagination. Sports journalists described the Grand Final victory as a "fairytale ending". "The Unlikely Premiers". A better headline would have been "Never Again" or "Thank God We Didn't Play Parra".
They spoke about a ticker-tape parade. Then came the special-edition postage stamps. All this for a side that finished fourth at the end of the season. The same side that beat a team in the Grand Final that finished even worse on the ladder. The same side that was backed at an outrageous 150-1 midway through the year. The same side that gave me nightmares at the back end of the season when they kept winning and, as a result, ruined my chances of winning the office tipping competition. I'm now stuck with a set of golf clubs I bought with the money I thought I'd eventually pocket when at one stage six games clear with four rounds to go.
For the sake of the argument, I'm a Parramatta fan. I've been waiting for a premiership since 1986. I'm sick of the Tigers. I'm sick of the blow-ins.
Will a Tigers victory do wonders for the NRL? No. Will the Tigers defend their title next year? No. They say a leopard never changes its spots. If only the same applied to Tigers supporters. Get lost.
By Christian Nicolussi
Daily Telegraph Friday October 7 2005
The sooner Wests Tigers bandwagon rolls out of town the better.
Slap a big fine on the wagon when it double parks in one of Balmain or Leichhardt's tight one way streets. Or roll the wagon down the M5, dump it in a creek bed and torch it.
Round the pathetic lot up with their black and orange streamers and make them watch re-runs of the 1989 grand final, when Balmain were belted by Canberra in extra time. That same year the mighty Western Suburbs Magpies started contemplating expanding their junior base to Johannesburg after finishing at the wrong end of the ladder yet again.
Sydney has sadly embraced the Tigers in a whirlwind week that smacked of mediocrity.
Maybe sports fans were in need of a pick-me-up after Ricky Ponting's men failed to return with the Ashes. Maybe Sydneysiders wanted to keep the party going after the Swannies took out the AFL title a week earlier.
Once the real Grand Final contenders, Parramatta and St George-Illawarra, bowed out of the race, footy fans were desperate. A state of confusion swept across the Harbor City. How were people going to spend their Sunday night watching a grand final with two teams nobody liked? What happened to the Eels and Dragons? Should we or shouldn't we have a barbecue? Should we tune into Australian Idol?
Enter Benji Marshall, Scott Prince, Brett Hodgson and the rest of the Tigers players nobody will remember this time next year. Their win captured the imagination. Sports journalists described the Grand Final victory as a "fairytale ending". "The Unlikely Premiers". A better headline would have been "Never Again" or "Thank God We Didn't Play Parra".
They spoke about a ticker-tape parade. Then came the special-edition postage stamps. All this for a side that finished fourth at the end of the season. The same side that beat a team in the Grand Final that finished even worse on the ladder. The same side that was backed at an outrageous 150-1 midway through the year. The same side that gave me nightmares at the back end of the season when they kept winning and, as a result, ruined my chances of winning the office tipping competition. I'm now stuck with a set of golf clubs I bought with the money I thought I'd eventually pocket when at one stage six games clear with four rounds to go.
For the sake of the argument, I'm a Parramatta fan. I've been waiting for a premiership since 1986. I'm sick of the Tigers. I'm sick of the blow-ins.
Will a Tigers victory do wonders for the NRL? No. Will the Tigers defend their title next year? No. They say a leopard never changes its spots. If only the same applied to Tigers supporters. Get lost.
