I had so little invested in yesterday's game that my primary motivation for supporting a particular team was so that I could see the man who plots to install a monopoly on the game I call mine (with a view towards a tyranny of the country I call mine) in tears.
That might seem a little spiteful, and I would scarely deny it: I'm full of spite for Mr Edward J. McGuire. What is rotting deep down inside our culture, he seems to have a mission to exult and extol. That he chooses the agonised status of the national game in our hearts as his playground and stepping-stone to broader political power is symbolic and terrifying. That he has our commercial televisual media by the balls... it's like giving a psychopath the keys to a fucking tank.
There is one thing I hope to see in my lifetime, and that is Australia become an independent republic. The conservatives are sandcastles against the tide; they can't stop it, merely forestall it. The only way we could mess it up is to put the wrong people in charge of the cause. I have nightmares about McGuire (who certainly has the machinery and the will) corrupting this irrepressible patriotic movement to the advancement of his own megalomania.
Is it excessively suspicious to wonder whether he had some arrangement with Channel Ten yesterday? In games that the Magpies are winning, the Ten cameras pan to him after every goal. But yesterday, there was one fleeting shot of him during the game, and only a short choked statement from him hours after the game was lost. (Can you say "accyulades"?) I wanted to see the precise moment when the bastard's cold stony heart was shattered -- when Sir Richard Hadley snapped that goal over his head mid-way through the second quarter. Was that so much to ask Channel Ten, was that so much? How much did he pay you?
But at least I have the photo above. I've zoomed in so that you can see up close the trembling of his lower lip, the eyelids poised to blink back the next welling of tears.
Joseph | 28 Sep 2003