Friday, 16 May 2014
Rugby League sell out to the bloody gambling companies.
When I was just a girl a winter weekend was often spent sitting on the hill at Kougari Oval at Wynnum watching my local team The Wynnum Manly Seagulls play against all comers. This was the birth place of legendary Wally Lewis. I did love it! The red and green colours waving in the westerly winds and a great deal of yelling and cheering and more than the odd bit of ref bashing, well banter it was called then, but times have changed.
There were little kids running around generally being a bloody nuisance and if I was lucky enough to have a boyfriend, there was the chance of a bit of a snog behind the Chook Pen, at half time. Locals fell out of the club house after far too many beers and the players were treated like heroes after the game especially if they had pulled a win. They certainly didn't have any trouble pulling the birds. This too was legendary.
As a child bride, I married a local fella and so our passion for the local side was shared. When I was pregnant I had a special maternity dress in red and green that I wore to the games and I think this might have been the year that the Seagulls won the pennant but I am not so sure that I would bet the house on it.
When Bell was a young girl, if cash permitted, we'd head off in our woollies and scream ourselves hoarse (horse) for our Broncos who originated from mostly Seagulls players, when Brisbane first put up a team into the national comp. My sister and I were well known for yelling obscenities at any player who had managed to take too many liberties with female fans during the week. We'd yell, 'Benny's a Rapist!' or similar and I can tell you that definitely shut up the yobbo blokes around us.
It was a wonderful season. It was a wonderful game.
It still is a great game if all the bullshit gambling crap doesn't give you the utter irrits.
I can't bear to watch it on the tellie any more because I spend too much time yelling obscenities at the wankers encouraging folk to phone or internet gamble and it's not even just a bet for a win. Ah no, now it has to be so complicated that you need a master's degree to sort it and sadly the folk betting are mostly a qualification short.
All this gambling shit has just really taken the edge off it for me.
I rarely pine for the old days, but there is just no contest between the Wynnum Oval and a TV screen plastered with all sorts of shitful odds.