I have called the Raiders many things this year. This is what happens when you have a very loosely edited blog serving as a dumping-ground for your unconscious. You liken your team, often unfavourably, to a great variety of… things. It’s okay though. I love them.
They make me foam at the eyes. They make my face turn an unhealthy shade of puce. They make me snap phrases such as “do I look like I had a good weekend?” Basically, they are a team that throws up regular challenges to one’s faith, endurance and sanity. I love them for this*. As such, and in the interests of my emotional equilibrium, we share an understanding and open relationship that allows a free-flow of opinion and emotion. It’s a bit one-sided, our dialogue, but that’s okay too. They’re busy. Busy doing whatever the hell it is anyone does there in that capitalist wasteland Canberra. Busy BEING AWESOME.
Some of the things I have likened the Canberra Raiders to / called the Canberra Raiders this year:
A Russian novelA country songA broke down busted fairgroundThe foolish interlopers who while looking for gas or directions are set upon by marauding hillbillies and raped every which way in one of those seventies exploitation moviesUnsuccessful contestants in a game of Catch The Oily PigRefugees from a Dickens novelPerpetrators of my regular and alarmingly violent tension headachesA third-world country with third world hygiene standardsBoil-ridden degenerates (see above)1980s WarsawCourtney Love at her messiestOld men sucking Werthers OriginalsClam chowderA busted arseThe best team to follow in the comp bar none
I miss them already.
*It’s like Seinfeld’s ya gotta see the bayyybee woman says while changing her ugly baby’s shitty nappy. “But because it comes out of your baby it smells good!”