Before Sunday's game I had made a few mental predictions. It would rain, we would have the smallest crowd ever, the ground would be covered with rugby insignia, the surface would be rough and we would lose in a crap game. Well, the sun was shining - right in our eyes actually. Otherwise, a perfect tally - but one didn't need the skill of Nostradamus for this one, particularly as the Sunday Wail didn't even mention the game at all, thus reaching an all time low, which was some achievement.
The small band of the faithful gathered and few minutes were spent chatting to Forza Fred as has become a sort of tradition for the Marconi games. Remarkable how his Gold Coast holiday always coincides with the Stallion's visit up here. I wonder if that may be the last one?
I've said reported my opinion of the beer at Ballymore before and yesterday took thefirst step towards appreciating it more in the dubious future by the simple expedient of drinking what should have been highly appropriate for a warm spring Sunday afternoon at a rugger venue - chardonay. It might have been the sun, or the fact that after one tiny plastic cup of the stuff, I elected to go for schooners. Enough to say that by the end of the game I was in such a state of inebriation that I don't recall experiencing since the first flush of youth. Never again!
As to the game. We started quite well and were happy to thank David Hill for his letter of guarantee for the next season and entreated the present incumbent to honour it. After a great diagonal pass from Fernando to the left wing a quick cross saw Bulyan side foot it in - 1-0 to the STRIKERS, and we continued at least holding our own until half time.
Things are just a little vague after that, but I remember well a very soft penalty being awarded to Marconi - 1-1. Quite soon, it seemed, an equally dubious free kick was awarded to our visitors and the resulting speculator into the box lead to a bit of play that was more suitable to the home code of the ground and the loose maul ended up with some blue shirt scoring from close. We thought Marconi had twelve men and the rest of the half seemed to pass without further incident (at least I don't recall any) - perhaps someone more capable of close observation can contradict this) and the whistle ended a very ordinary season for the Brisbane STRIKERS.
I had promised my mate Jim an end of season scotch at home after the game, and was stupid enough to remain a man of my word. It's a long time since I've had 10 hours sleep or had such a fragile day as yeterday . Well, at least I won't forget our last match of the 2000-2001 season, if not our last ever, but for a very wrong reason.