Tuesday, February 22, 2011
#254: Mr Self Destruct
*Now before any tiny brained moron out there throws the classic insult, “Yeah, but your club has just as many dickheads at it as ours, if not more,” don’t bother. I knew that already. The club I support has had more than it’s fair share of peanuts, from the full forward who had a tendency to urinate in public, either into gutters or against the legs of pianos, to the high draft pick who turned out to be a drug addled kleptomaniac through to the future club champion who tried to pick a fight with me one evening down at the Newmarket. Why did he do that? Because I happened to glance in his direction. The club captain of the time came over to talk to me and tell me to settle down, upon which I advised him to get the skinny little prick out of the club and not bring him back until he could handle his booze. I started nothing but I’d be damned if I was going to sit there and let some thin teenager try to bait me because he finally saw some hair growing on his sack. The captain thought this over for a second and agreed with me, after which he went back to the table and told his player to settle down or go home. All was sorted. I did panic a bit though as they did have the then club ‘hardman’ present and he was a big bastard indeed.
So, yes, as bad as some clubs are, others are worse. To my knowledge none of the players who were present in our only two grand final appearances ever raped anyone, which is more than a few clubs can say.
Good ole Thommo. He never lets you down.