Celebrate the small things: Goodbye Des and Hello Valiant Man

This should have happened earlier in the year when it was plain the once-were-mighty Bulldogs were playing an outdated and ineffective style of footy which would see them among the 2017 NRL season also-rans. During the week, the Bulldogs announced they and coach Des Hasler had decided to part ways. In other words, he was sacked. Better late than never, right?

I am celebrating Hasler's achievements - we made the finals in all but one of his seasons as head coach, including two grand final appearances. No premierships though, and no progression, especially in this past highly lamentable season of 2017. Goodbye Des. Thanks for your work with us, but I am not sorry to see you go.

And now for something completely different...and unrelated.

On Monday night I finished a facilitators course which I did with a group of great people: serious Christians with big hearts. This course was in preparation for me being a facilitator for the Valiant Man course which commences next month. I did this course last year and it was life changing.

I am very excited at the prospect of being able to help other men discover a new vision for manhood, including taking steps to regain control of their God given sexuality. Sexual problems destroy men, women and families. I am grateful for God's forgiveness and for his strength. I am also thankful to have the opportunity to help other men out of the darkness and shame of sexual sin, and in to the light of God's truth and his grace.

Celebrate the small things: jersey day

Dry July, Blue September, Mo-vember, National Safe Work Month, Women's Health Week, Adult Learner's Week, NAIDOC Week, Diabetes Awareness Week, Big Red Ride, White Balloon Day, National Pyjama Day and Stress Down Day are just some of the many fund and awareness raising campaigns occurring through the year in Australia. The full list can be found on the National Calendar.

Friday September 1 is Jersey Day. Jersey Day is a campaign which seeks to promote awareness of organ donation. On this day, people are encouraged to wear the jersey of their favourite sporting team to work or school in order to support the cause and promote conversations about organ donation. 

Back in the day, people were given the option of nominating themselves as organ donors on their driver's licences. Now, if you want to be an organ donor, you have to visit the website and register. This change resulted in a drop in the number of registered donors. Hence, the advent of Jersey Day which was inspired by the story of Nathan Gremmo who tragically died in an accident in 2015. Nathan's family chose to give the gift of life to others to honour the legacy of Nathan's generous personality.

My favourite team is the Bulldogs, who as you may know if you follow Square Pegs have had a terrible year. However, it was with great pride that I wore my jersey to work on Friday and had a number of conversations with people about organ donation as a result.

Today, I am celebrating and giving thanks for the gift of life. God may breath life into our lungs, but through the miracle of organ donation we too can give the gift of life.

Not a registered donor? Sign up today. register in Australia

The Race for the Spoon

Fortunately I missed the Bulldogs last game. It was another Thursday night game, but I was enjoying dinner with my mum and fiance while my team was once more demonstrating how they have 'packed it in' for NRL season 2017.

This week, against fellow also-rans, the Rabbitohs we managed a goal to end the abysmal  6 week sequence of scoreless first halves. Incidentally, just three years ago the Bulldogs and the Rabbitohs contested the Grand Final. As I said, the mighty have fallen.

Bulldogs coach, Des Hasler, who must shoulder much of the blame for this forgettable season, described the team's performance against the Rabbitohs as 'flat'. 'Flat' seems a woefully inadequate word. We can't score points or stop points- in fact we can't even hold on to the ball, and we haven't won a game since we just beat the last placed Knights by 2 points in round 18, 6 weeks ago. Pathetic seems like a more accurate descriptor.

With three rounds to go until the play-offs, and the teams below us on the table, playing well and actually winning some games, the once-were-mighty Bulldogs could be headed for the ignominy of the Wooden Spoon. 

The Sad Bulldog

My team, my beloved Bulldogs have been in the feature Thursday night football game for two consecutive weeks. This inevitably leads disgruntled and disappointed fans like myself, to donning our jerseys and settling down to cheer for our team, knowing that we will, in all likelihood, lose the match despite our most insane hopes. Everyone else watching knows it too. 

It also means suffering through the pre-amble, the pre-match panel discussion which these days is just a tragic reminder of our inadequacies as a rugby league team. Even the commentators know we will lose, and don't pretend to 'talk up' their chances.

Among the usual things said about how we are limited in attack ( a kind way of saying that we suck) and therefore would probably lose, this alarming statistic was shared with viewers around the country: The 2017 Bulldogs have the worst attacking record of any Bulldogs team since 1968. That's 49 years. The same number of years I have been visiting this planet. Back then we weren't even called the Bulldogs. We were known as the Canterbury-Bankstown Berries and with a sissy name like 'Berries', it's a wonder we won any games at all.

We played the Panthers last Thursday night and competed well in the first half. In the second, it was anybody's game, but winning would require a change of gears: a lifting of intensity. The Panthers shifted gears and began to overpower us. In response we maintained maximum effort without changing gears. The final score was 8-16, but it may as well have been 8-36 or worse. 

There was a game earlier in the year against the defending premiers which was likewise in the balance. Ours for the taking, if we were good enough. We weren't. We aren't. Woe are Bulldogs fans. Woe. Woe. Woe.

Maybe we should start calling ourselves the Berries again because we play football as well as fruit does.

Bulldogs Blasted

At the conclusion of the match I tore off my jersey and threw it on the floor - I am prone to melodrama. The funny thing is, we scored first. We actually led 6-0, until we remembered that we don't know how to play. What can you say when your team negatively exceeds your low expectations? What can you say when the tiny flicker of hope is rudely and dramatically snuffed out by reality?

To be fair, we had very little possession...what? Wait a minute! The reason we had very little possession is because we either

1. kept dropping the ball
2. kept giving away stupid penalties
3. missed so many tackles that the Broncos either scored, or were able to force drop outs and have repeat attacking sets

The truth is we were appalling as usual. The try we conceded right before half time epitomized how far we have fallen. I'm pretty sure, I could score a try against the Bulldogs at the moment - I mean, by myself.

This game against the Broncos was really our last throw of the dice. We simply had to win to have any hope of making the play-offs (or so they kept saying-as I laughed until my sides ached) and not only did we not win, we did not even come close to winning, and the opposition, The Broncos, were not THAT good.

Final score:     Broncos 42.   Bulldogs 12.

Only deeply ingrained thrift and sentimentality prevented me from tearing my Bulldogs jersey and throwing it away. (They are not cheap and this one was a gift from my children.) It is also true to say that even if we never win another game of rugby league, I will remain loyal to my team even if it kills me to do so.

Trying to Lose

Sixty percent possession and at least three or four real scoring opportunities ought to guarantee that you take a comfortable lead into half time. Likewise, playing at your spiritual home ground, in front of a full house of loyal fans in a match designated as send off/thank you for one of your most popular players: a player who epitomizes the team and everything they stand for - and yet one who the management of the club has decided to let go to another club - should ensure success.

Playing against a team of mainly rookies who are coming last in the competition and are also rated last in defense, should also guarantee not just a comfortable half time lead, but also a comfortable win and a much needed two competition points.

Perhaps if we were talking about any other club, this post would be redundant because what should have logically happened, would have actually happened. However, I am talking about my beloved Bulldogs who suck, and who furthermore in the dying stages of the game, looked like they were trying to lose.

Check out the highlights if you are interested, but here's what happened in a nutshell. By half time, the Doggies 8-0 lead had been reduced to 8-6, and was ,over the course of most of the second half, turned into a 18-8 deficit. We are ranked 4th in defense, so how, one may well ask, did the last placed team score three tries against us?

The Bulldogs hit back with two tries in five minutes, the last of which was converted with roughly ten seconds to go in the match. Score: Bulldogs 20. Knights 18. While the players were celebrating victory on the sideline, the opposition was rushing for one last kick off and a hail Mary play at the death. The short kick off resulted in the Knights being awarded a penalty with regular time expired.

The penalty was justified. The very same player mentioned earlier, the most popular Bulldog, the heart and soul of the team, committed a deliberate, and completely unnecessary foul to concede the penalty. A successful penalty kick would have locked the scores at 20-20 and forced the game into golden point extra time.

The Knights kicker made an embarrassingly bad attempt at kicking the goal and the Bulldogs won the match.

Was I happy about the win? Not really. It was an ugly win, and saying that a win is a win regardless of by how much you win or how you play, is fine when you are a premiership, or at least a play-offs contender. When you are neither, when you are a monumental disappointment to your fans...such a win feels hollow.

Bulldogs V Knights Round 18 match highlights

Oh the humanity!

I apologize for the hyperbole, but when you hear my sad story, you will understand and forgive me.

In 1979, the Canterbury-Bankstown Bulldogs played the St.George Dragons in the rugby league Grand Final. I was at a relatives house surrounded mostly by Dragons fans. I was 11 years old and it was on this day that my love affair with the Bulldogs began in earnest. I would have gone to live games before with Dad, who was also a Doggies fan, and I would have watched many games on TV, but the Grand Final of 1979 was the moment I first remember being emotionally effected by the performance of a sporting team.

At half time of the aformentioned game the Dogs were behind 17-0, and I, unable to bear it, left the house to spend the second half doing what boys do in backyards. The final score was 17-14. I missed the exciting second half comeback which despite not giving us victory, did help set the platform for a premiership win the following year against the Roosters. (see below) and provide a seminal moment in my life.


That 1980 title win was the first of four for the Bulldogs in that decade. ('84, '85 and '88) We won again in 1995 and once more in 2004. More recently we qualified for the Grand Final in 2012 and 2014 - unfortunately losing on both occasions.

This year we suck! After 17 rounds we are down the bottom of the table with the also-rans who have no hope of making the play-offs this year. I am appalled by how bad we are, so to comfort myself I am going to dedicate Tuesdays for the rest of the season to lamenting and lambasting my beloved Bulldogs.

To close on a positive note, here is a glorious moment from the past. One of the most famous of all Grand Final tries. This is from the 1980 when we were known as The Entertainers of rugby league.

Bewildering Bulldogs

The Canterbury Bulldogs are a team in the National Rugby League competition here in Australia. I have been a mad Bulldogs fan all of my life: ridden the highs and lows, the eight premierships (most recently 2004) the wooden spoons, the heartbreaks of losing grand finals (two of those in the last three years) and the gut wrenching calamity of the 2002 salary cap breach. I am very tense watching the Bulldogs play whether I am there at the ground or watching on television. They are a consistently good team, most years mentioned in pre season talk as at least certain finalists, and can be extremely good. The problem is we often win ugly.

Some teams perform like the well oiled machines that professional teams should be, and they do it week in and week out. You know what you are going to get. They will win more than they lose and even when they lose it will not be by much. The Bulldogs, on the other hand, are a little bit ‘rocks and diamonds’. They sometimes play as though they would rather be doing something else, and this results in them getting their pants pulled down, as in the infamous loss to the Titans late last season. They sometimes play as if this is the last game they will ever play. Fans are never quite sure which Bulldogs team will run on to the park.

It’s frustrating to watch, really maddening. True fans, like myself, spend a lot of time yelling at them to wake up to themselves. Most of us have never played what is arguably the physically toughest team sport in the world. Nevertheless, we expect our team to smash lowly ranked opponents and to win by any means against highly fancied teams. I want to watch us win pretty. Comfortably. Complete domination. As exciting as last round’s 'come from behind' win in extra time was to watch, I would much prefer the excitement of watching the boys run in seven or eight tries to nothing. Too much to ask? Perhaps, but that’s why I follow the Bulldogs. Victory and glory.

Who’s your favourite team? Do they drive you mad?

Heartstopper

Does it matter where or how people get their thrills? Are some thrills more acceptable than others? Are thrills even important? Is it okay to live for the buzz, to chase the thrills? Or is it better to just enjoy them when they come along? Are thrills the reason for our existence, or do they just exist for a reason? Am I going to stop asking questions and provide some answers? Which is more important: questions or answers?

Last night, I travelled into the Big Smoke, with some family members, to attend a rugby league match. Played at Allianz Stadium which is probably the best rugby league stadium in New South Wales, the game was a sudden death semi final featuring my team, the Canterbury Bulldogs.

I'm pretty passionate about the Bulldogs. I've been seriously following them for about 36 years. My dad is a bulldogs fan, and so is my son, and my daughter, though she's not quite a 'mental' as us boys. Whether it is on TV or live at the ground, I yell and talk a lot when I watch the Bulldogs play. I can become pretty emotionally disturbed. In close, tense games, my mouth goes dry and I have heart palpitations. I become totally lost in the contest as though my life depended on the result of the game. A loss can flatten me, a win can make me float for days. This is one of my great thrills: watching my team play and cheering for them. I love it.

The result of the sudden death semi final was decided in extra time when the scores were locked 17-17 at full time. I felt that the second half totally belonged to the opposition and as they came back from a 0-16 deficit, I believed they would run over us and win the game. The crowd of nearly 30 000 was going insane, the noise in the stadium was deafening, as both teams ripped into each other in the desperate battle to win the game, and the right to progress through to the next game. It was so enthralling, I'm sure I must have stopped breathing on several occasions.

When full time sounded and the teams took a quick on field drinks break before commencing sudden death extra time-what we call Golden Point- I sat there beaming. I realized that even if the Bulldogs lost, I would still always treasure that night. The thrill of the contest. The heart stopping excitement. The nail biting tension. It was so much fun. I'm so glad I was there. I'm smiling now as I think of it.

Oh, you may be wondering about the result. Four minutes into the first period of extra time, Bulldogs half back, Trent Hodkinson, kicked the winning field goal. Final score? Bulldogs 18, Eagles 17.

As for the philosophy of thrills...who cares? I'm just glad we won and I had a great night. Go the Bulldogs!! How do you get your thrills?

I like winning

It's Monday morning and after a victorious weekend, I am feeling good and ready for action. My soccer team won our semi final on Saturday. The Bulldogs won their elimination final yesterday, and I finished two more assignments and submitted them just under three hours before the deadline. I take a lot of satisfaction from these inspirational victories, (not that I had anything to do with the Bulldogs win besides yelling at the television as I watched them), and I feel positive.

Hmmm...I wonder how much my positive thinking influenced these outcomes?

Hopefully, I can advance my WIP this week. That's the plan.

El Magic

I have just finished reading a biography of former NRL superstar, Hazem El Masri. It is called El Magic and was written by Bill Woods. The issue of our sports stars being role models for our children and for the wider community is a vexed one. I believe we expect too much from ordinary people who happen to have outstanding skills in a particular sport and are therefore famous. It is a long way to fall from lofty pedestals and many do plunge, dragged down by the heavy weight of responsibility. Unable to cope with the demands placed upon them, they crumble and leave us disappointed and disillusioned. Hazem El Masri is a shining light: as an ambassador for the National Rugby League and as a hero of the Muslim faith. His story is well worth reading.

Follow the link to read my review.

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/883862788?book_show_action=false

Which professional sportsperson is, or has been a wonderful role model?

A Dead Guinea Pig on the Tiles

My week began poorly when my team was knocked out of the play-offs. We were at the game to see the mighty Bulldogs, bark and growl for the first twenty minutes of the game without putting enough points on the board, before tucking their tails between their legs and whimpering and yelping to defeat. Season over.

We have been babysitting our neighbor's guinea pig, Blaster. It had been enjoying many weeks of luxurious holiday making in palatial accommodation next door to my daughter's equally pampered rabbit, Kiki. Then it croaked. Was it sick? Was it old? Did we do something wrong?These are the questions we were left to ponder in our grief.

My son graduated from high school during the week. It was a proud moment, a milestone. As a high school drop out, I appreciated the fact that he had not only showed no signs of dropping out but actually lifted his intensity and sharpened his focus this year. On the eve of the HSC exams, he has already begun applying to various universities. I'm sure he'll do well.

The downstairs living room floor has been adorned with bare concrete for many years. Ever since flooding ruined the carpet, we have battled to stem the flow of water during heavy rains and dreamed of re covering the floor. Yesterday, it happened. Big smiles all round. I've just got to put the skirting board back on.

                   

What do these events have in common? What deep insights have I gained as I reflect upon them? Nothing and none. It's just a slice of my life and I wanted to share it with you.

Photo source:
http://www.vegetablegardener.com/item/10145/question-guinea-pig-poop-as-garden-fertilizer

Riding Bulldogs

In 1999, after the war (the war between Newscorp and the Australian Rugby League)the South Sydney Rabbitohs were excluded from the premier Rugby League competition in the world by the new administrators of the game. I will never forget seeing the reaction of the fans to that monumental decision. It was as though a family member had been murdered. One image is indelibly printed on my mind: that of a Rabbitohs fan, dressed in full club colours and regalia, as though he had raided the supporters shop before being filmed, facing the camera and crying, blubbering over the demise of his beloved footy team. I could not believe all the snot and hot tears. This was a staggering manifestation of an illogical yet undeniable emotional attachment.

In 1979, aged 11, I fled the living room of a family member in horror and disgust as my team, the Canterbury Bulldogs, crashed to an insurmountable 17-0 deficit at half time of that year's Grand Final against the St.George Dragons. In the 1994 season decider, I spent more time in the toilet than in front of the television as the Bulldogs fumbled and bumbled their way to a shellacking at the hands of the Canberra Raiders. I have been nervous before matches and exhausted after them. I have paced the floor, groaned and complained, lambasted the opposition, the referees, and my own players. I have punched the air in triumph and punched pillows in anguish. I have experienced the thrill of victory, and the devastation of loss. For 32 years I have been riding the rollercoaster, following my team through the highs and the lows. From Premiership glory to the ignominy of the Wooden Spoon.

When I watch the Bulldogs play, I fall into another dimension. I escape the real world to live, albeit temporarily, in a fantasy universe where a sporting contest has eternal significance. The thrill is addictive, the tension is electric, the pain is real. I lose myself in the epic battle in which superb athletes brutally collide with each other as they struggle for supremacy.

This year, 2011, the Canterbury Bulldogs are embarrassing me with their onfield performances. Not only losing but playing poorly. They are a shadow of a football team, a spiritless gaggle of brightly uniformed geese. Nevertheless they will remain my team. I won't dump them, I won't walk way. I am committed. They are a habit I cannot break. As much a part of me as my job and my church, and all the other interests I have in life.

Having said that, you will never find me shedding tears over them. I will never plummet into a pit of depression because of what they do, or don't do. It took some time, but I have learned a little perspective. I love the joyride I get to take every footy season courtesy of my team. For eighty minutes, the suffering is contained and focused, the emotion is raw, there is only the battle. There are cheers and boos ans sometimes too personal abuse. There are winners and losers, and people get hurt, but no one dies, and when it's over...it's over but only until next week, or next season. Being a fan of a football team can be heartbreaking but that's life.I love it.

When you invest yourself in something, or someone, you should expect to suffer. To live and to love is to feel pain, and in a way that makes most of us just a little bit masochistic, doesn't it?