Mum has arrived for a quick visit, following a trip to Shepparton to see Shannon and Neil and all the grandkids.
In a sign of her mellowing or grace, she wished me/Geelong good luck for the footy on Saturday. I asked if she wanted to come to the game but as she has recently been diagnosed with high blood pressure, it is probably not wise for her to do so. Mum gets stressed watching footy replays when she already knows the result, let alone a preliminary final live at the MCG! I reassured her that it would all be over by quarter time anyway!
WARNING: This post contains disturbing images and content.
I had a very unpleasant occurrence during my shift yesterday afternoon.
I was driving bus 103 I think, doing a #51 in-bound and had just pulled up at Moorabool St at about 3.45pm
There was a commotion next to the bus and I looked around to see a young man and young woman arguing loudly.
This suddenly erupted into a fight with fists flying and a great deal of swearing and abuse. There were at least a dozen passengers waiting in the interchange including old people, children and teenagers.
The fight was escalating and I immediately got out of the bus and approached the combatants.
Afraid that serious physical harm was about to happen I stepped between them and said "Cut it out, calm down, that's enough".(or words to that effect)
Being a big bloke I felt confident that they would separate and cease if I got between them and called for some sort of calm.
To my suprise and alarm, the young man, approx 19-20 I guessed, immediately turned his anger upon me and yelled "Who the #%$* are you &@#! ?
In the next instant he punched me right in the face. Hard.
He continued to yell and swear at me and in light of this I backed away.
He turned his attention back to the girl and they headed south up Moorabool St, continuing the conflict. He proceeded to hit her again and then to knock her down on the roadway at Little Malop St.
Meanwhile I had a blood nose which bled profusely from both nostrils and in fact continued to bleed for the next hour or so. I also sustained two fat lips and cuts to my upper and lower lips.
A couple of people approached me and asked if I was OK. A girl from the bakery brought me out some serviettes to help stem the bleeding.
I asked one of the kids standing there if there had been any security guards around and he said "No, they hadn't been there at all today".
This whole incident took about a minute.
I was shaken and in pain and trying to stop the bleeding.I was concerned that the bloke was going to cause further harm but by then I was running late and had passengers waiting on my bus so I continued with my run, doing a 55 out.
I used my phone to call 000 and asked for the police to attend the scene. I don't know if they came to Moorabool St or not.
I gave them descriptions and details on the phone and indicated that I wanted to press charges for assault.
On my return to the city half an hour later I did not see any police at the interchange or in the mall, however, the young man and woman were both part of a group of young people in the mall. He looked at my bus and seemed to recognise me and to yell what sounded like abuse or threats in my direction.
I was concerned that he was going to cross the street and continue his threatening behaviour toward me but thankfully that did not occur.
I managed to take several pictures of him with my digital camera and one of these in particular gives a clear image of him.
There being no-one in despatch on a Sunday I did not report the incident to anyone else and did not want to broadcast the details on the radio and have other drivers become involved.
My mouth and nose are quite sore still, my nose is possibly broken. Fortunately today was a day off so I had some time to recuperate and the swelling to go down before I go back to work.
I don't know if the bus's security camera captured any of the incident as it happened outside the bus.
I know that people will say I should have stayed out of it and not gotten involved but I believe a reasonable person would have acted along similar lines. I could not stand by and watch a girl be beaten up by a violent thug. I acted instinctively and according to my morals and beliefs. I was shocked at the immediacy and ferocity of his response. I suspect that he was under the influence of some sort of substance as his behaviour was particularly aggressive and unpredictable.
Needless to say it was not the relaxing and pleasant Sunday afternoon I'd been hoping for.
Those who know me well know that A./ I love football and B./ I like to ring talkback radio and talk about it.
Gerard Whately is my favourite commentator and during the "Sunday Inquisition" on ABC Grandstand he was taking calls about the dramatic sacking of Mark Harvey and appointment of Ross Lyon at Fremantle.
I rang in but when my turn came to speak the line went dead. Rats! I rang back and was lucky enough to get through a second time, and was in fact the last caller they took before the end of the program.
Later in the afternoon there was a fantastic documentary on the "death" of Fitzroy and their merger with the Brisbane Bears in 1996. I sms'd a few mates to see if they were listening to it, one of whom was Birchy.
I was very pleased to receive this email from him later that night when I got home from work, and with his permission I reprint it here.
Got your text but only later that night, but in reply to your question yes i was listening.
I was in my shed doing some welding, a Saturday afternoon in my shed with footy/grandstand on the radio (my idea of heaven), when i hear Gerard Whately say let’s take some calls. I hear he has “Marcus in Geelong”, and I think surely this has to be the one and only, the unofficial Mayor of the seaside town, the voice of the buses from the Bellarine peninsula, and I wait expectedly for his wisdom, his insight, his vast knowledge of all things football, but then silence.
Then Gerard tries again, “Marcus in Geelong”- silence, then a 3rd time “Marcus in Geelong”- nothing but the sounds of silence. Gerard informs me that we having some problems with the line and he moves on to the next caller. NO! My hopes dashed, but anticipation stolen from me like a child robbed of his lollipop, and I return to the work in the shed disappointed and feeling somewhat let down.
But wait! Minutes later I hear Gerard say we have “Marcus in Geelong” and I’m put out of my pain as I hear that familiar voice and become elated to hear him refer to mates from the West. I yell out to the timber and metal in my shed, that’s me he he's talking about, and my beloved yet frustrating Dockers he refers to. And I continue on with my welding, my Sat afternoon just got all that much better thanks to the magic of radio, and country wide broadcasts, because I was briefly united once again with a mate.
I've been on a massive high all day as a result of Geelong's fantastic win over Hawthorn in the first round of the finals last night. Sport Boy and I went to the game with a mate from Perth, Warren. Great seats, great company, great game and a great result. The Cats were brilliant and now proceed straight to the preliminary final with a week off. Our most likely opponents will be the old foe, the West Coast Eagles. I can't wait.
There was also a small gathering of CFFL coaches celebrating the Cat's Whiskers premiership win last week over Letchy's Redbacks. L-R Cat's Whiskers, Reigning Poms, Bayswater Breeze.
Tracey and Mrs HP holding her birthday present.
This afternoon Mrs Holt Press and I went up to Melbourne for the joint birthday celebration of her best friend from school, Tracey and her husband Neil. He is an artist and she works in artist development and promotion so there house is like a little gallery.
I loved it. Neil's artwork is fantastic and they have an eclectic collection of other paintings, sculptures, furniture and glassware as well. Despite not having lived in Victoria for 25 years, Tracey and Mrs HP are very close and are enjoying being able to see more of one another, along with Tracey's sister Belinda.
This portrait by Neil earned a placed in the final 30 for the Archibald Prize, Australia's best known portrait competition.
Most impressive of all is that Neil is entirely self taught!
I was driving the #55 the other night when a guy went to get on the bus.
"Sorry mate, you can't bring the beer on the bus"
He turned and placed the open bottle on the seat of the bus shelter then boarded the bus.
On the way into town I noticed him talking quite animatedly but couldn't work out who to.
I thought perhaps he was on the phone via an ear piece.
He was waving his arms around and carrying on a conversation with someone but the only passenger near him clearly wasn't involved.
He got off in town and the other passenger got off a couple of stops later. As she alighted I asked her if the guy had been talking to her or on the phone?
"No, I think he might have been schizophrenic or something cause he was talking to himself or to God or someone but it wasn't me"
An hour later as I came back through town I picked him up on the return trip.
This time he was quiet, and carrying a pizza.
When we got to his bus stop he got off the bus, walked straight over and picked up his beer and headed off into the night!
I pulled up at Deakin where I was due to have a 20 minute lay-over before the return journey to the city.
An anxious looking teacher in charge of a large group of school kids approached me and asked if I had a phone as their bus hadn't arrived to pick them up.
I asked where they were supposed to be going.
"To the ______ college junior campus"
You mean the one just over the bridge?
How about I just take you?
"Could you? That would be great!"
The kids were ushered on board and all thanked me with a definite sense of relief in their voices.
As we neared the destination the grateful teacher called upon the kids to thank me again with three rousing cheers! Needless to say, the first time I've had three cheers for driving a bus!
Slurpees are the bus driver's mortal enemy. When someone gets on with one I know with 95% certainty that not only will they not finish it or take it with them when they get off, but they will leave it on the floor and that the next time I drive round a corner it will tumble over, spilling its sickly sweet contents all over the floor. Said contents will then "slurp" their way down the aisle of the bus, leaving a human fly-trap of stickiness to ensnare unwitting passengers trying to get on or off the bus.
Last night a young family got on the bus, holding fast food bags and a slurpee. In the hands of a small child no less. Sure enough, just moments after taking off there was a familiar thud and looking around I saw the gooey pink mess splattered all over the floor.
I was pleasantly surprised by what followed though.
The Dad started scooping up as much of the icy debris as he could and then wiped up the rest with some sort of cloth furnished by his partner. It wasn't this bus-cleaning that impressed me so much as the cool calm and controlled way he talked to his son about what had happened. There was no yelling or scalding or vindictive reprimand. Instead he explained to his little boy what had caused the accident and what he needed to do next time to avoid it happening again.
"That's why you need to sit down straight away and hold on to your drink tightly" etc
Considering some of the things I hear parents say to their kids this was straight out of "Effective parenting 101".
I was intending to complement the Dad for the way he had handled the incident when they got off. I decided not to though when a couple of minutes later he called out "Hey Driver, slow the %#&* down, you nearly tipped the pram over!"
So much for setting a good example to his children!
(I was driving well within the speed limit at the time by the way.)
Ever since the shock loss to Sydney ended the Cats four year unbeaten run at KardiniaPark last week all and sundry have been declaring “Geelong are wobbly”, “The Cats are vulnerable” and“Hawthorn are now the biggest threat to Collingwood”. Funny how they seem to have forgotten that we’ve beaten Hawthorn twice this season and are the only team to have beaten the Magpies. Or that the Swans were playing with the extraordinary motivation around Jarrad McVeigh’s tragic loss. Oh well, low expectations = less pressure.
I seem to be the unofficial spokesman for the Cats at work; everyone directs their comments about Friday night’s big game to me. “Yes I’m going”, “No I’m not worried”, “Yes Collingwood are a good team”, “We’re in with a chance” etc etc. There are a sprinkling of other Geelong fans on the buses but I seem to be the only one who goes every week. I can’t understand why Cats fans wouldn’t go to the footy every week, especially when we win so often. After 30 years in WA I’m making up for lost time and loving it.
Expecting an 80,000+ crowd I wanted to get there early but the traffic put paid to that.
Favourite Daughter, Sport Boy and I headed up to Melbourne after work/school, with a detour to Footscray enroute to drop off a sign I’ve just sold on ebay. The detour earned me $40 and cost us an hour and a half in travelling time! As we crawled through the city I finally gave in to Sport Boy’s constant requests for food and drink. The kids got out at the corner of Elizabeth and Flinders streets to buy a Boost Juice while I continued my snail like progress in the car. They caught up to me by the time I reached St Paul’s.
We parked and headed for the ground and were pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t very full inside. We chose some good seats on the flank in the Great Southern Stand. Then the trouble started. Turns out our seats belonged to someone else. So did the next ones we sat in, and the ones after that!! Turns out in fact that our memberships didn’t get us a seat like they have for every other game this season and we were consigned to standing room on level one! Not impressed. I listen to SEN all day every day and I didn’t hear any mention about changed seating arrangements for this game! While all this was going on the game had started and Collingwood started kicking goals while Geelong decided to kick behinds!
Finally JPod crashed into a goal post but held the mark and kicked our first. Or so I thought! After finally finding a viewing spot I discovered that an interchange infringement had seen our only goal so far taken off us! Things were not looking good.
Then a miracle happened. Tom Hawkins flew high over the back of a pack in the goal square and pulled down a screamer. He confirmed the miracle by kicking the goal. Two late goals and we were back in the game despite our inaccuracy.
5 points down at quarter time.
Then the second miracle occurred. Geelong played a quarter born in heaven, The angel Menzel lead the charge. The Cats were slick and superb in attack, fierce and fanatical in defence. Goal followed goal and by the end of the term the Cats had slammed on ten and set up a 50 point lead. Chappy, Bundy, Wojo, Varcoe, everyone was on fire, the run through the middle was electric, the tackling was ferocious, the pressure was relentless and the Pies had no answers, they were fumbling and crumbling and left in the Cat’s wake.
Considering the circumstances it was as good a quarter of football as I can remember and by the end of it I was exhilarated and breathless. This was the Collingwood machine we were dismantling, the flag favourites being belted from pillar to post. It was fantastic.
Going to the footy is a multi-media experience these days and I was swapping texts with excited Cats fans around the country.
Darlow, who loves Geelong but seldom gets to games because of touring commitments was enroute to a gig in Albury and loving the ABC call of the game.
We traded excited superlatives about various Cats players who were starring. Darlow is a glass half full man and has been spruiking a Geelong premiership since before the season started. He may be proved right.
The Heir warned me not to say anything because the game wasn’t live in WA and he didn’t want to know any scores. How hard was it to not text him in big bold capitals. “THE CATS ARE ON FIRE” at half time?
St Steve was in WA too but following it live on radio and sharing in my joy even though as the name suggests he’s a St Kilda fan. There’s something about the common hatred of Collingwood that unites us all at times like this.
Chris the self-confessed chardonnay sipper had taunted me earlier with a “Go Pies” text but we reached an amicable agreement that whether it was my Cats or her Eagles, anyone was a better choice for premier than Collingwood.
Broady had been in Melbourne during the week but stuffed up on booking a flight that would enable him to stay in town for the game and regretted not being there.
And Julie, the biggest Cat fan in Kojonup shared my joy.
I could have sent a message to Warren, a Perth based Magpie fan to rub it in a little but I try not to be too obnoxious in victory.
I was impressed with the brief text from another Magpie mate, Russell: “Oh dear!”
I replied “R U here?”
“Sadly, yes” came his melancholy reply.
Just as the Cats domination reached its crescendo the commentators and sceptics started making excuses for Collingwood. “They’ve got nothing to play for”, “They’ve put the (proverbial) cue in the rack”, “They’re not playing Collingwood football”, “They don’t care”, “It doesn’t matter” etc etc. OK, there may be some truth in some of that, but they were pretty interested in the first quarter when they kicked the first four goals and Pendlebury and Beams had 30 disposals between them. By late in the second quarter neither had added a touch to their tally and the Cats via Kelly and Bartel had completely shut them out of the contest.
In a week where another Kelly’s bones have been rediscovered, the under-rated Cat midfielder proved again that resurrection was possible in the post-Ablett era. Meanwhile, the “kittens” were running amok. By the end, Menzel had kicked a career high five goals, several as a result of strong contested marks, Mitch Duncan was having his best game of the season and little Bundy Christensen kicked three and left no doubt that in the battle for small forward spots, Stokes and Byrnes would be fighting for the scraps.
David Wojcinski is one of the oldest players at Geelong but still one of the fastest men in the AFL. At one stage in the second quarter blitz he burst through the centre and sold the perfect dummy to an on-coming Magpie before his handball at speed lead to another Geelong goal, it was audacious and breath-taking football. Varcoe was cutting swathes through the Pies in similar fashion.
By the time the mercy bell went at half time the Cats were 8 goals up with half the crowd celebrating and the other half scratching their heads in shock. Fleeting pictures of forlorn Joffa and fuming Eddie on the big screen were the icing on the cake for Geelong fans.
If there was any thought of a Collingwood fightback in the second half it was snuffed out by a Tom Hawkins goal in the first minute of the third term. Geelong kicked four for the quarter, Collingwood two but in the last the blitz continued six to one in Geelong’s favour.
By the last quarter the kids and I had evaded a zealous green-coat and found some seats in the midst of the already departing Collingwood members near the scoreboard at the city end.
Each Geelong goal triggered another wave of evacuations and by half way through the last term the ground was only half full. There were still plenty of fans in blue and white left to sing the song at the end. Wojo kicked our 22nd goal after the siren and “We are Geelong, the greatest team of all” echoed around the stands of footy’s great cathedral.
Sure nothing had changed on the ladder, or in the finals line-up next week, but something had definitely changed in the psyche of both teams. Losing by a record margin a week out from the finals is not the way Collingwood hoped to enter the September battle, no matter how much spin they try and put on it.