Demon Dynasty

Received your please explain from the MBA yet Gonzo?

Round 20, 2023 MCG - Tigers vs Demons Let's all get on board the P-Train!! Can't recall the last time i saw a full time forward in the top 5 rated players. Mad Max strikes again! Some amazing results from many with the bottom 6 players also outperforming the bottom 6 season average. The Team Rating only 6% off the season average. Massive improvement on last week's -18%. Great result against quality opposition in good form. Our best efficiency up forward since the Kangas in Rnd 7. Clarry back soon? Imagine if the majority of this team all click together and Clarry starts hitting his straps... that would be something very special me thinks. Demons Scoring Efficiency Disposals Per Goal 18.15 % In50s Goal 27.40 Conversion % 66.70 Tigers Scoring Efficiency Disposals Per Goal 22.27 % In50s Goal 33.30 Conversion % 65.20 Player Rating Rank Season Rating to Prior Rnd % Change vs Season Rating Max Gawn 6.000 1 3.402 76.37 C Petracca 5.950 2 4.644 28.12 J Viney 4.975 3 3.632 36.98 T Rivers 4.400 4 3.665 20.05 H Petty 4.150 5 2.571 61.42 S May 3.675 6 3.169 15.97 Jake Lever 3.425 7 3.031 13.00 J Bowey 3.425 7 2.875 19.13 A Brayshaw 3.350 9 3.822 -12.35 L Hunter 2.875 10 2.918 -1.47 Ed Langdon 2.750 11 3.204 -14.17 J V Rooyen 2.625 12 2.143 22.49 J Harmes 2.625 12 2.804 -6.38 J McVee 2.300 14 2.246 2.40 A N-Bullen 2.100 15 2.499 -15.97 J Melksham 2.075 16 1.407 47.48 C Salem 2.050 17 3.139 -34.69 K Pickett 2.000 18 2.281 -12.32 J Jordon 1.675 19 3.569 -53.07 K Chandler 1.600 20 2.451 -34.72 J Smith > 40% 1.200 21 1.798 -33.26 T Woewodin 1.025 22 1.533 -33.14 A Tomlinson < 60% 0.325 23 3.029 -89.27 Team Rating 66.25 70.65 -6.23 Top 6 29.15 26.13 11.57 Bottom 6 9.55 9.21 3.73 < Subbed out / TOG % > Subbed in / TOG % Stats courtesy of footwire.com & wheeloratings.com

Watched one of his 2007 matches against us at the G from behind the goals at the Ponsford end. Was like watching a Gazelle light footing it across the turf that day. The wing span, the balance and the class was apparent even that early. During 2007 there was a dad of one of the boys in my son's soccer team who never stopped ranting about landing Judd and that he was a monty in 2008 and that it would be the catalyst for their next flag. I said to him "there's a young recruit with the Hawks called Buddy that may do that for them.... you might wanna check him out". I doubt he even heard a word i said as he was so obsessed about Judd. And he wasn't even a paid up member lol. Amazing career from one of the all time greats. Hopefully he isn't lost to the game from here a la Gary Ablett Snr.

There's a bit of water to go under the bridge before we can say for certain but what more evidence do we need that he has what it takes. I've been big on Petty forward for some time and was more keen on it once i saw the form of Tomo at Casey as the year progressed there plus the form of Disco. Of course circumstances have seen Disco's season curtailed for now. This wasn't a recent view either as per my post at the end of last season below. Although at that point i didn't know the Weid was about to move on. Sydee also big on Petty going forward as were a number of other Landers. This is a possibility but would still like to see a relief ruck option here. If we want Petty forward in 2023 and i believe we should see this from here, then the Weid is your man. Yes most of my opinions are biased due to my "DO NOT GET GRUNDY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" outlook. But there it is!

The 12" Vinyl version of that was phenomenal. I ended up selling that online and the interest was through the roof. And that was a find from a stoner's house with the edges of the cover all crisped and melted from a minor house fire. I suspect he fell asleep on the choof. However that just added to the whole 'trans/house' mystique that was KLM. The vinyl itself was in amazing condition. The train sound effect at the beginning was insane and was a heavy hitter on my hi fi set up for the short time i had it prior to selling.

I understand thanks Jnr. I did mention pre the official team announcement that Goody & the SC would probably go with Petty forward for the defensive role on Bolta. Bolta the No.1 intercept marking defender prior to this match.

Grimes one of the biggest floppers in the game for many years. May have backed it off a little since the press got hold of him and made a fuss

It's fine to doubt JD. I think if we're being honest, most (icluding myself), would say we were not entirely convinced up till yesterday. The doubting and the doubters....that's part of footy until someone shows something to say otherwise. A normal part of sport and the game if you like. And sure, one swallow does not a summer make. Plenty of work ahead. But we now know what he's capable of. And against a solid opposition defence too. It's the ones that said he will NEVER EVER be a forward and should only be played as a defender that are under scrutiny here. Let's not confuse the two pls. That is also part of sport...no one is perfect and we alll get calls wrong at times. But they are also allowed to be called out for it... there's no rule that says "Leave the critics alone!"

Nighty night big Shazza, Queen of the Richmond ferrals!! It's only appropriate that we re-visit this classic post from the legendary Biffinator of Big Footy here in memory of Queen Shazza... Biffinator Premiership Player Jun 22, 2011 #1 “At the heart of every Richmond supporter there lies a streak of self-loathing – that is why they turn on each other like wild animals.” This ex-cathedra maxim was ringing in my ears as I logged off from PuntRoadEnd.com, where I am an agent provocateur (and this is true). One of life’s simple pleasures is pretending to be a (rabid) Richmond supporter, the aim being to throw petrol onto the fire and then stand back in awe to behold the conflagration. Anyway, I was feeling rather pleased with myself when an SMS came through from Deestroy. “Biff, stop being so bloody smug! Your challenge this week, should you chose to accept it, is to infiltrate the Richmond Grog Squad – the mob who congregate behind the Punt Road goals and sing various dirges as the Tigers (sic) take it up the [censored] on the field. Your mission: create havoc. Bonus points if you shag Big Shazza, the Queen of the Richmond ferals.” I accepted the mission on the spot. That left six days of preparation. I bought an old duffel coat from the Opp Shop. Soon afterwards, I purchased a number ‘8’ from Spotlight which I half-stitched onto its back. There was some junk mail in the letterbox that featured a pest control company. I cut out the word ‘Cockroach’, sticky-taped it to the back of the duffel coat and then (lightly) scribbled out the first four letters. Once done, I let the mutt sleep on it for the remainder of the week. I stopped having showers. Eschewing toothpaste, I brushed my teeth in coca-cola. I became a stranger to dunny paper, underpants and razors. It was out with the Mozart and in with the hard rockin’ pub songs and the High Art of Jimmy Barnes. Much to my wife’s anguish, I staged a few domestics which necessitated a visit from the Cop Shop. Come Saturday morning, I was ready. My own self-loathing was in floodtide. Come on the Tiges! Now Richmond were playing the Dees. My first stop was the Cricketer’s Arms on Punt Road. It was midday. I barged through the front door and shouted hoarsely, “Who thinks Dusty Brownlow Martin is a ****ing deadset legend, eh?” I was immediately befriended by five bona fide members of the Richmond Grog Squad: Shane from Scoresby; Wayne from Wantirna; Mike from Moe; Rob from Rowville and Karen from Cardinia. Collectively, they held down one part-time job between them. Rob was an inveterate scratcher: he warranted a flea-bomb. Mike, who had a squint, had travelled all the way from the West Moe Caravan Park to support the ‘Mighty Tigers’ – a Pilgrim’s Progress indeed. Shane & Wayne looked as if they were born to play the roles of Banquo’s killers in Macbeth: “I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. . . . . And I another, So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my lie on any chance, To mend it, or be rid on't.” The less said about Karen the better, lest cycling metaphors be invoked. Now the quintet was thoroughly intoxicated; the cans of UDLs that were strewn at their feet bore testimony to their liquor of choice. We were all in agreement: whoever barracked for the Dees was a NTTAWWTta and Jacky Watts was a trans at best. The remaining hour or so was spent betting on the Warragul dogs or baiting other Richmond supporters at the bar. Twice I had to avert a cat-fight between Karen and another Richmond slag. It was [censored]-on-[censored] action in every sense. Come 1.30, it was time to lurch over to the ‘G. With the assistance of some healthcare cards – thoroughly fake - we trooped through the gates with little damage to our pockets. Karen had stashed a few cans of UDLs down her blouse; given the aesthetics, they were safer than the gold in Fort Knox. Once inside, we spotted one of the Bay’s most prominent Richmond supporters, Buddha Bing, primly making his way towards the Amway Superbox. He was a sallow looking guy. Hair-gel was trickling down his forehead like sweat. He was also wearing one of his famous Roger David reversible suits with an elastic tie. Sure, he barracked for the Tigers, but to the quintet he was an ideological enemy in a cheap pair of shoes. In no uncertain terms, Mike informed him that he was a ****ing goose – Richmond or no Richmond, only toffs sat in a superbox. And Buddha Bing had better stop trying to foist the Amway soap-powder on his old dear back in West Moe, no less. It took us ten minutes or so to hobble our way over to the Punt Road end of the ground. In doing so, we profusely abused the opposition supporters that came our way – any buccaneer on the Spanish Main would have been shocked by their language but it was par for the course here. Additionally the spittle was a’flyin’. Ditties proclaiming the heroism of Richo or Dusty Martin were coined on the spot. To evade detection, I breathed incessantly through my mouth, made strange animal noises and walked with a limp. Our destination was at hand: the Richmond Grog Squad. The quintet introduced me to their peers. I was promptly accepted as one of their own, particularly when I screeched out: “Scully and Trengove ain’t worth a bum hair on Dusty’s ring!” Much like the Black Hole that lies at the heart of our own Milky Way, I could sense the presence of Big Shazza, but for the moment, a phalanx of uber-bogans stood between the two of us. The game started not long afterwards. True to form, Richmond started to take it up the [censored]. The on-field debacle did not bother the Grog Squad who sang on regardless. It was time to initiate my mission. As it so happens, I am no mean ventriloquist. I targeted a particularly virulent section of the Grog Squad and let fly with the following “Dustin Martin’s tatts are fake. He got ‘em from Cornflakes packet. His mummy rubbed a ‘em on with a twenty cent piece.” A brawl erupted spontaneously. Haymakers were legion. A few unfortunates were kicked as they lay on the ground. The police soon waded in and nabbed the participants, much to the delight of the remaining members of the Grog Squad who sang the usual refrain. Good but not great I thought to myself. I turned to another section and pitched: “Chris Newman is more of a Western Star job than Joel Bowden. He’s as useless as a condom on a dog.” Another brawl erupted, It was more vicious than the first. Minutes later, the main antagonists were hauled away by the constabulary. Stretchers were used to carry off the worst of the casualties. The ranks of the Grog Squad had thinned, but not to the point where I could readily approach Queen Shazza at the epicentre. It was time, therefore, to drop the P-bomb, however untrue it was: “There won’t be any father-sons from Richo – he’s too busy hanging around the dunnies at the Robert Peel Hotel. ‘Fleet’s in, time to sin’ is his motto!” Another fight erupted. The Colosseum itself never viewed brutality of this kind. Not even Leigh Matthews would countenance the king-hits from behind that were being dished out like lolly water. Tannin-stained teeth clattered to the ground. The mist of brain matter saturated the air. Some of the Richmond wenches disappeared into the affray, only to emerge seconds later with big clumps of pubic hair in their hands. The Fight Club re-enactment lasted some five minutes or so, leaving the Grog Squad decimated but undaunted. Accordingly, I pushed my way towards the centre. And there, enthroned in her bogan glory, sat Queen Shazza on a bean bag. In the universe, matter is counter-balanced by anti-matter. As I beheld this anti-regal figure, I realised that she too, in a feral sort of way, was the antithesis to Queen Elizabeth I as portrayed in the famous Armada Portrait. Each one of her monstrous thighs could have been sponsored by Samboy Chips. There was no bra in existence that had the tensile strength to uphold her gigantic mammary glands – nay, bovine udders. Nicotine patches had been attached to her nipples for whatever mad reason. Her skin was covered in blotches, acme and self inflicted scratch marks. Intrepid though I was, I dared not look below her navel to the Valley of the Werewolf. Verily, Queen Shazza was regnant over all that she surveyed. She did not need to see the game itself – she was randomly screeching out imprecations at the opposition as she sipped away on a UDL. “Queen Shazza – so we meet at last. The circle is now complete. The Self-Loathing is with You!” She flicked a toxic glance at me. “What do youse want? I aint gonna suck your dick if that’s what youse wants. I aints no slag!” I looked at her more deeply. It was not hard to foresee that one day she would drown on her own vomit or be smothered to death by one of her own [censored]. Even so, the image of the Oracle from the Matrix flashed into my mind. Perhaps there was an affinity to be explored. “Shazza, will the Tigers ever come good?” She looked darkly into her can of UDL. The wellspring was dry. She threw it away and started to spit on herself, Richmond-style. “The Toiges are always gonna be s**t. s**t – s**t – s**t!” I then realised that the second of Deestroy’s challenges was a ‘Bridge too Far.’ Assuming my hydraulics were sound – an advocate of fat sex I ain’t – I had neglected to bring along a miner’s lamp, rope, and grappling hooks, the second assumption being that the target-area could be safely identified. Failure was mine. It was time to flee from her august presence. Like one of her courtiers, I spat on the ground, adjust my crotch and croaked out: “See’s ya down at the pokies, Big Girl.” Stupefied by the grog, she vomited all over herself and gave me a thumps up. I rejoined the mob. Sylvia, who loves to play against the Yellow and Black, was running amok. Towards the end of the match, sadness overcame me. Standing with the Richmond Grog Squad would make anyone rethink their position on eugenics. Each of its members – indubitably - is a downpipe for DNA of the most degraded kind. Erroneous or otherwise, there is a belief that Man was created in the image and likeness of God. As I encompassed the mob around me – Come on the Mighty Tiges – this viewpoint was entirely redundant. It was the Triumph not of the Will, but of the Swineherd. The match came to a dreary end. Much to everyone’s relief, the siren sounded. Wretches one and all, the Richmond players hobbled off. Sure they wore the same jumpers as players such as Captain Blood, Royce Hart and Hungry, but the comparison went no deeper. This was no Gotterdammerung – the Twilight of the Gods, it resembled, rather, a Requiem for the Pullets. Befittingly, the Grog Squad sang a dirge. Other than a surreptitious vomit on the Moe-bound V-Liner, there was nothing to look forward to. I quietly slipped away. Once home. I washed the Richmond excrement off my personage, apologised to my wife and regained my humanity. The World will hold its breath. Dees by 10 points. Biffinator.

Fabulous DN.... how are they putting these together and so quickly i wonder? It's a great listen Like the nic they've come up with on MMM for Harry... "The P Train"

But he hadn't had a decent run at it prior to getting the injury BA. And in that match he was just looking likely and appeared to be settling in to it. A major change of role, even when there's been some serious training time put in, still takes a fair amount of actual live game time before the fruits of that labour start to show and the rewards follow. Fingers crossed Petty is on his way and we can now settle this forward line as it stands with Fritsch the only outstanding "In" if he can get back to full fitness. Macca a handy back up if he can also get back to full match fitness in the next four weeks.

Well that was some second half from the boys. Who said Petty will never ever be a forward!!?? Max's entire game was phenomenal including 100% game time in the last. Epic 2nd half. Salto with eyes only for Max on a number of occasions and not on the ball at all...charging straight at Max.... NO BLOODY FREE. At least one was a clear block and still no free yet Max puts an arm bar out with eyes on the pill and gets pinged for a block. Hilarious stuff and Nichols in charge of all that. Disgraceful umpiring against Max from him. Joel Smith a fab sub. Melksham superb once again. Big effort and best game from Roohey in his short career and just missed with the speckie attempt. Chandler was solid. Tracc was immense barring a few shonky disposals. Maysie & Lever played their part. Hunter's best match for the Demons so far?? Stoked with the win.... hopefully Clarry & Sparrow get back for next week. Carn' the mighty Demons!!

Like Barbie & Ken

Thank goodness i couldn't bare another Santa Claus reveal

Don't count on it i've heard he's a bit of a conner

Haha lets just juggle the ball in the air one handed two or three times then throw it away while my other arm's being held. Dont worry there won't be a free from the 4 umps watching!

Preposterous & on the left

With Rankine in the Crows look a notch above some of the challengers vying for the 8 just above them

Is Tex in good form or what

Butts a sore but?

Gran Tourismo... it's based on a true story

Hopefully King of our own destiny

Nah... they dont like travelling

Hoping the Swans & Peptides absolutely spiflicate each other