A tale of two Harry’s.
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Tiger Harry gets to play first grade each week, lead the Dally Ms and is a white hot chance to play rep footy this year. He is revered and beloved by fans all over the game and has millions of dollars of endorsements waiting for him. A career in the media follows, set for the rest of his life. Club legend, future coach, will never walk alone.
Our players have adopted him like a brother. Madge has lifted his game to the highest level possible.
Most importantly, he’s having the effing time of his life.
No player in the game has better prospects than Tigers Harry.
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The storm Harry has to wait on bended knee for Sir Galahad and his next boring and grubby 400 games in a city that hates rugby league. Lives in obscurity, even the gear steward thinks he’s a fan whose got lost and is in the wrong place. Barely gets to put a boot on. Traded like a zoo animal. Unnoticed, a chumpster piece of writhing rotting meat for Bellamy ( yesterday’s coach) to teach how to wrestle, so Sir effing Galahad can win yet another medal of honour.
Do your one year on the dank grimy purple merkin virus infested bench next year Harry and ffs come HOME my son. This Footy Frankenstein Melbourne experiment won’t last forever. Running out of players. Don’t become a self loathing tosser to be dissed and ridiculed for the rest of your life a la the turd and the slimy cat.
We don’t forget Harry and wed rather die before we forgive. Just the way we’re built.
Another proud message brought to you by.....
Destination Tigers.
NRL club of the year.
It’s great to be West Tiger Harry. Believe.