He does my head in.
Every game, every week trying to make out there's so much passion and meaning behind it. It's a joke.
I can understand when it actually IS a big game, but to make out like they are all the most important game since 1908 is way OTT.
"This Friday night two teams will reach into their long and deep histories, calling on every ounce of strength from those who’ve battled before them to lift them to levels they’ve never dreamed of attaining.
Each with a point to prove.
Each with a bunch of men ready to do whatever it takes to come away with the victory.
The Dragons.
Breathing fire with every breath.
Knowing this week they’ll need everything to go their way if they’re to come away with the points.
Points.
Two of them up for grabs.
Two to the team with the resolve to withstand anything the opposition has to offer.
Two points towards a finals berth.
Birth.
The moment which gives us all life.
The moment the world sits up and wonders what untold talents await from the new arrival.
New arrivals don’t come with more to prove than the coach and his son.
Both back from the NRL wilderness.
One banned from coaching.
One seemingly banned from playing first grade.
This is their time.
Shane, the father.
Kyle, the son.
Go by the name Flanagan.
Flanagan.
A name that traces back centuries to the early days of Ireland.
Days when the locals worked hard just to survive.
Days when the expression “the luck of the Irish” was first coined.
Coins.
Invented thousands of years ago as a means of bartering.
Thousands upon thousands of shapes, designs and value.
But all with one thing in common: they all have two sides.
On the other side of the coin on Friday night it’s the Tigers.
Themselves with a point to prove.
Daring to dream of playing deep into September after consecutive wooden spoons.
Wooden spoons.
Carefully crafted from the finest timber, fashioned painstakingly into the perfect tool for meticulously mixing ingredients from recipes passed down from generation to generation.
Each stir of the pot bringing us closer to experiencing the perfect meal.
A meal we’ll never forget.
The Tigers won’t forget the hurt of the past two season.
A hurt so deep it reaches right into the depths of their souls.
Souls.
Everyone has one.
The thing that defines us all.
The thing that we call upon in our hour of need.
When we need it the most.
When all seems lost.
When there’s no one there to help us.
Our soul is what keeps us going.
Helps us to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Feet.
Each with its own sole.
The underside.
The part we stand upon.
The part we walk upon.
A walk that can turn into a run.
A run that can turn into a sprint.
A race to the death, chasing the football like no man has chased before.
Footballs.
One hundred and fifteen years of evolution.
Each year subtle improvements made in their very fabric until we’re left with what we have today.
The perfect instrument for a game of rugby league.
The perfect blend of an oval shaped from synthetic leather and filled with air.
Air.
The thing we breathe.
The thing that gives life to everything we see.
Without it, we die.
Without it, we don’t get to watch the Dragons vs the Tigers.
You don’t want to miss this.
And we’ve got it all right here on Fox League."
I know everyone read it in Nables gangsta voice too. Well played mate
