The Holy Grails of Australian Sport.

G'day Tragics,

I don't know about you, but I'm still coming down from the excitement of Cadel Evans' stunning, gutsy, courageous and awe-inspiring victory in the Tour de France.  It has to be one of the greatest moments in Australian sport.  You have to admire Cadel's unwavering determination following a string of disappointments to ultimately achieve his lifelong goal.

To finally see an Aussie on top of the podium in Paris is amazing and without a doubt has crossed off one of the holy grails of Australian Sport.  This leaves us with the burning question:  What's next?

Here are some of the things that I think are almost impossible dreams for us Sports Tragics:

An Australian winning the US Masters at Augusta.

It's part of Australian golfing folklore, Greg Norman going so close on numerous occasions.  Horrible luck and a gigantic choke cost the Shark from claiming golf's Everest.  We all thought he would do it eventually, but his time has been and gone.  Allenby, Appleby, Scott, Ogilvy and co. have shown promise for years, but never produced when it mattered.

This year we looked like we had it in the bag with young gun, Jason Day playing out of his skin, Adam Scott getting his broomstick putter humming and Geoff Ogilvy back to his best.  With all three playing at a level Sunday hackers could only dream about, a tinny South African was pulling putts out of his backside to ruin it for everyone.

I've got no doubt that the Masters mountain will be scaled in my life-time and I think Jason Day will be the man to do it.  Australian golf is too strong to not take this title, it's surely just a matter of when.

An Australian World Heavyweight Boxing Champion

"Aussie" Joe Bugner, the Hungarian born, British Australian boxer was a legend and a gutsy competitor.  He went the distance with Muhammed Ali and Joe Frazier.  Joe captured one of the minor world titles, but never went all the way.  He retired and came back more times than John Farnham, but never really challenged for the WBC, WBO, IBF or WBA titles.

Samoan born Jimmy Thunder also captured a couple of minor belts and was an outstanding competitor, but never scaled the great heights of world domination. 

Australia has produced some great champions over the years in all divisions, but the elusive major heavyweight titles have always been out of reach.  With no-one on the horizon, it could be a while yet before we produce a legitimate "contender".

World Cup Soccer 

Since the beginning of Australia, we had an urge to perform on the world soccer stage.  We tried and tried and tried again, but didn't have the depth to qualify for the Cup.  As our multi-cultural identity matured and established itself, our soccer talent stocks have gradually soared.

Finally in 2007 John Aloisi buried the penalty that told the planet "we have arrived".  We were going to the World Cup!  In Germany our boys played their hearts out, cruelly being robbed in the round of 16 by a bullshit penalty (still burns).

The road to South Africa was easier, but a disastrous first game against the Germans put us behind the 8-ball.  By the end of the tournament we salvaged our pride and continued to shine.  Consistent top 20 rankings show we're on the rise.

Qualification was now not good enough for our hyper competitive nation.  We want to win the bloody thing!  Soccer popularity has since peaked and troughed.  Its development remains a roller coaster, but also a work in progress.  With a men's and women's national league we can be proud of, we are continuing to gradually head in the right direction.

I can't see us winning the trophy in my life time, but we saw what Cadel did this week...there's hope.

A special mention in this post must go to indigenous athlete, Patrick Johnson.  He became the first Australian to break 10sec for the 100m sprint.  This was a huge achievement for Johnson, but unfortunately his form faded and he was unable to qualify for the following Olympic 100m.  It has not been achieved since by an Aussie and remains a great moment.

Cadel's performance this week serves as a potent reminder that Australian's can achieve big on the world stage.  With the work ethic and support, we are capable of scaling heights we never dreamed of.

I'm not going to go out and buy a Malvern Star, but Cadel has inspired me to try that little bit harder at my passions.  I won't be conquering the world anytime soon, but he's made me want to strive to get the best out of myself.  I'm sure other Australian's have felt that hunger...even if it only lasts a day....Tragic.

Back on the Horse.

It was a momentary lapse in concentration and a slip of the circular saw that changed my golf game forever...or so I thought.  A few seconds passed between the initial flash of pain and the realisation that I had severed my left index finger.  During moments like these, a million things flash through your short-circuiting mind and strangely at the top of my list was golf.                           

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t exclusively golf.  While trying to stop the bleeding with a bag of frozen peas and battling to remain conscious, I was secretly hoping that this was an extreme enough situation for me to be able to cry like a 12 year old girl without getting teased by my mates.  Somewhere between my blubbering sobs and the arrival of the “meat wagon”, my better half had managed to find my hacked off digit hidden amongst her prize winning lily pillies.  

In the back of the ambulance, heavily sedated, my thoughts returned to my golf swing.  Like many retired footballers, I had turned to golf to fill a void.  Tiger was never going to be challenged, but my handicap had reached a respectable 15 and the noble game was fast becoming an addiction.  The anticipation of Saturday tee-off was the motivation that carried me though the weekly 9 to 5 grind.

There must have been four or five doctors curiously inspect my hand and finger while I sat dumbfounded in accident and emergency.  Intermittently they stopped bedside and stated the obvious, “it’s a clean cut alright,” then busily whizzed off on their rounds.  At this stage I held some hope that they might be able to stitch the little bugger back on.  The surgeon that mattered arrived stony faced; I held my breath while he expressionlessly delivered the verdict.        

A booming drive was my strength.  You can’t hit long ball with nine fingers.  Can you even hit a ball at all?  I wondered how much I’d get on E-Bay for my clubs.  Maybe I can trade them for a tennis racket?  So much negativity, I was angry with myself.  What about the legendary Jack Newton?  He has one arm and still hits a late draw.  That guy on “60 minutes”, no arms or legs and he still gets 18 holes in.  Snap out of it!  Build a bridge and get over it you gigantic sheila!      

“We won’t be re-attaching the finger,” said the doctor.  He went on to explain that it would be more trouble than it was worth to try without guarantee.  The best option was to take the finger down to the middle knuckle, tidy it up and send me home to get on with my life.  In no position to argue or negotiate I told the Doc to “do what you’ve got to do”.  With that I had mentally accepted my fate.  Now comes the hard part.

Two months later the scarring had finally healed.  I had a good range of movement and was coming to terms with simple tasks like: tying my shoes, using a knife and picking my nose.  Every day I would pick up a club and have a gentle swing in the back yard.  My early experimentation with grips proved fruitless; every swing was agony.  Patience is not my strong suit and this was going to take plenty.  Enough time had passed for my “mates” to start calling me Stumpy, 9.5 or Chopper; but I still wasn’t back out on the fairways.  The frustration was suffocating.

Another month had passed and the big day had arrived.  It was time to get back on the horse.  I hadn’t struck a ball in anger, but my back yard sessions were feeling good.  My grip was still in development stage, as was my confidence.  The adrenalin was pumping as I carefully positioned my ball on the tee.  I surveyed the open fairway ahead, wrapped my sweaty palms around the shaft of my beloved Taylor Made driver and began a slow, measured back-swing.  Tentatively I pulled the trigger.

The dimpled sphere soared down the middle, carrying about 250 metres with minimal pain.  The exhilaration was indescribable - I was back and loving it.  As the round progressed, the pain increased dramatically.  By hole five I was struggling to hold the club, let alone make solid contact.  It was obvious that I had wanted too much too soon.  Pig-headed, I played as many as I could before my partners convinced me to call it a day.  My mental state was torn between rags and riches.  When the dust had settled I had calmed enough to realise it was all just a matter of time.  Golf had to be abandoned for a period, so I could come back properly healed and ready.

Three months later I was ready.  I’d made some “MacGyver” like alterations to my glove, cutting out the index finger for my stump and wearing a rubber thimble on it.  Admittedly it looked ridiculous, but I was hoping it would protect me from any friction pain I had experienced the last round.  My new grip consisted of both thumbs pointing down the shaft and my stump well away from the action.  It was comfortable and practical.  This time I actually felt confident.

All good yarns should have a happy ending, and this is no exception.  That afternoon I completed eighteen pain-free holes.  For a good part of the day I had the boys “on toast”.  Unfortunately fatigue got the better of me and I was reeled in.  It mattered little because I’d found that spark again.  I was back in love with the game I was starting to loathe.  Time had healed all wounds and golf had once again proved that it was a sport that doesn’t discriminate.  There is even a place for me and my stump.  

                                                                                                           

The Magical Force of Inspiration.

G'day Tragics,

2011 has seen the state of Queensland go to hell.  You could say that once it got there, the floor collapsed and it toppled down another couple of levels.  Floods, cyclones, storms and politicians have pushed people way past breaking point.  Through the death, destruction and heart-ache, one thing has managed to flourish in the land of the giant pineapple and that thing is...sport.

Amidst the carnage, Queensland has had one of its most successful years in recent memory.  Who could forget the mighty Queensland's Roars heroics.  Their season was unbelievable and spectacularly iced by the stunning grand final win, which I rate as one of the great moments in Australian sport.

The Roar women's team also claimed the chocolates, re-stamping themselves as the dominate force in Australian women's soccer.  Next up the Queensland Firebirds conquered all before them, marching to the Trans-Tasman netball final.  A herculean effort by the girls.

Who could forget Darren Lockyer's send-off in the thrilling Origin matches recently, that saw the cane toads notch up their sixth straight series win. 

Last but not least, the mighty Reds capped off a brilliant season by manufacturing a stirring performance against the Crusaders a few weeks back.  It was something Queenslanders will forever hold dear.

Have all the disasters up north this year inspired the local sports teams to new heights?  Have these teams and individuals been able to find another gear to lift the spirits of so many that have had it so tough?  The romantic side of me says an emphatic Yes!

When something catastrophic happens, all things seem to pale into insignificance...including sport.  It's impossible not to be affected by tragedy and witnessing severe suffering first hand puts the meaning of sport into its rawest perspective.

The pressure on teams and individuals is lifted and replaced by a form of exuberance...a child-like love of the game that may have been missing for a few years.  Combatants feel a responsibility to the people that are hurting and somehow slip into an auto-pilot mode.  The will to win becomes greater and success means so much more to the community than a shiny trophy.

Recent examples aside from the Queensland heroics are:  the New Orleans Saints Superbowl victory in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.  Who could forget the horrific scenes  in the Saints' home stadium, which was transformed into a refuge after the storm tore the city apart.  Rapes, muggings and bashings were taking place on a daily basis in the stadium.  It was hell on Earth for so many.

The Saints became a symbol of hope for the battered people of New Orleans and there's no doubt their win in the Superbowl accelerated the cities recovery and provided an instant shot in the arm of those that were wallowing at their lowest ebb.

Another is when Iraq won the Asian Soccer Cup a few years back.  Never mentioned in the same breath as the favourites, Australia and Japan.  The war ravaged nation went about their business quietly and efficiently, eventually going all the way to claim the title.  Their win brought great joy to the suffering nation and just for a brief moment allowed it to forget about the tragedy it was embroiled in.

I have no doubt that inspiration in its various forms is an extremely potent weapon, that can tap into an individual or teams abilities and give them a super-human boost.

On the flip-side, isn't it funny how seriously we take our sport.  How hard we take a loss by our team or nation.  How Monday can be all the more painful following a loss by our footy team on the weekend.

The scrutiny of the Australian cricket team is a classic example of how one entity can control the mood of a nation.  Our 20 year winning streak was a period of dominance that may never be repeated and during this time our cricketers were heroes...How times change.  Now we are in the midst of a rebuilding phase, which included another recent Ashes capitulation, the cricketers, selectors, board and anyone else associated with Cricket Australia are public enemy number one.

No matter how many times you hear "it's only a game,"  you must realise by now that this sentence is complete and utter bullshit.  Whether you're a sports tragic or not, it is impossible to not be caught up emotionally in a sporting victory, story, moment or incident at least once in your life.

There's no denying that sporting performances inspire and lift the spirits of people and more importantly people inspire and lift the performances of sports people.  Sport can make you believe that dreams are achievable, just like dreamers can teach athletes to throw off the shackles and take flight.

This is the reason why I am a sports tragic.  It's that little thing inside me that ignites when I talk, play or watch sport.  I don't know scientifically what it all means. I'm sure it's some sort of chemical reaction.

Sorry about all the heartfelt dribble this week, but what can I say....it's a passion...Tragic.

Kids...Parents...School...Stuff.

G'day Tragics,

I was playing golf with a mate the other day who is a P.E. teacher.  We got onto the subject of schools that have sporting excellence programs.  In Queensland there are quite a few of these, in which students can enrol in subjects such as AFL, rugby league and surfing just to name a few.  My first thought 20 years ago would have been "totally awesome dude," but nowadays I'm not so sure.

A fair portion of the kids that attend these schools, focus heavily on their sport, which more often than not leads to a loss of direction with their studies.  It's also fair to say in my humble opinion, that manners, respect and general social skills can also be a casualty in the quest for sporting super stardom.

I'm told that less than 1% of the children involved in these programs go on to become professionals in their chosen sport.  Once they fail, they are left poorly educated, lacking social etiquette and low on self-confidence.  They are virtually unemployable and most don't even care.  I'm sure I'm not the only one that has noticed the influx of smart arse teenagers simply "hanging around" these days.

Sport isn't completely to blame, so let's move on to Mum and Dad.  There are a few different types of parents when it comes to their kids and sport.  There's the "My little Johnny is the best thing since sliced bread and he's going to play for Australia" type, then you get the pushy parents that drive their youngsters into the ground through training and attempting to live out their own sporting dreams through their kids - think tennis parents and finally you get the encouraging, supportive folks, that don't over praise, point out mistakes when required and ensure their juniors get the sport/study balance just right.

It doesn't take rocket science to pick which type is straight out of parenting 101, but I'm sure real life is completely different to the perfect ideal.  I don't have kids yet, but I have an idea of how I will bring them up.  I want them to play and enjoy sport, but also gain a solid education so they have options.  I'm sure I'll brag about my kids, but only in a proud way, not a "my kids the best...chuck out the rest" manner.

Why do parents put their kids in these sports school and wait for a Brownlow medallist to be pumped out the other end?  Are they hoping their kids will be good at sport just in case it turns out they're not that bright?    What happened to the days of "no kicking the footy till you've finished your homework"? Apparently kicking the footy is homework now.  I was born in the wrong era!

There is definitely a place for elite sports programs in schools, but they need to be meshed with the necessities of reading, writing and arithmetic.  Parents need to ensure that their kids recognise these opportunities as privileges and not god given rights.

I'm sick of cheeky little buggers back-chatting me down the road, I'm sick kids not having any general knowledge other that what's on the TV or their iPhone and I'm sick of parents telling me how good their kid is, rather than how hard their kid tries and how much they enjoy themselves in their sports. 

I personally hate the way things are going and it sucks that your actually shocked when you meet a child that is great at sport, study and well mannered to boot.  This used to be the norm.  Sport has a vital role in developing our youth. If used correctly it can be an effective tool used to inject confidence, discipline and team/social ethics into the children. 

It's so easy to miss this point when the lure of wealth and fame is so potent in today's society.  It's up to parents to guide their kids in the right direction and hope that sports stars will go back to being clean cut, humble and educated role models.

I know what you're going to say...I'm dreaming...Tragic.

The Girls Are Alright.

G'day
Tragics,

This week I lay my feminine side on the line for all to see.  As you know by now, I'm not ashamed at what I post on this blog and this weeks entry will confirm just that.

Women's sport is pretty good to watch...in fact, I quite enjoy it!  Now before you super Aussie mega-blokes start calling me a big woolly woofta and telling me to go grow a beard, give me a chance to plead my case.

There was a time when women's sport was merely a token fixture..sorry ladies but it's true.  Girls sport was a politically correct centre piece on the table of world sport.   It was never taken seriously by anyone apart from the participants and generally failed to capture the imagination of the sports loving public.

I'm here to inform you that times have changed...the girls are here and they're making a statement!  Women's sport today is not only popular...but enjoyable.  The high standards set by the fairer sex, has made the world stand up and take notice.

The introduction of national girls leagues in cricket, soccer and netball has given the countries best athletes something to strive for.  Increased funding in these and already established sports such as basketball has allowed the stars of the game to become more professional.  If women are given the chance to pursue their chosen sports full-time, then they will be able to train more, improving their skills and ultimately elevating their sport to a higher level. 

Female tennis has become a hard hitting slug fest, with the muscle bound sheilas giving the fluffy gold sphere a pasting.  The serving is bigger, the rallies longer and the winners more breathtaking.  The shorter matches make women's tennis an exciting package to view on the box.  The only negative I can see is the ridiculous grunting....you can't have everything!

Netball is fast and rough as guts.  The stadiums are packed and the televised matches have great atmosphere.  Clever marketing by channel One, has seen the big streak, Luke Darcy of AFL fame injected into the coverage team.  They are trying to win over a few blokes and no doubt have done so with the slickly presented game.  Let's face it...chicks in short skirts bashing each other...sounds watchable!

Golf is another example I'll use.  Not only do you have the "Super Granny", Laura Davies, smacking the little white thing 300m, but there's a host a upcoming young Tigress's that are threatening to take the game by storm.  To be honest, there's bugger all difference between watching men's and women's golf.  I'd rather watch a bunch of 20 something year old ladies strutting around a course than a pack of middle aged men waddling their way round.  You getting my drift?

Now before you call up a bunch of dudes to come round, paint each others nails, have pillow fights and watch the ladies tennis, settle down.  The point I'm making is that the days of channel surfing, stumbling over the WNBL for example and then quickly moving on should well and truly be a thing of the past.  Women's sport has really come a long way. It showcases talent, aggression, grace, beauty, strength, excitement and a handbag full of brilliance.

I'm not going to say girls deserve equal prize money...that's another bowl of goldfish, but they have earned the right to equal air-time.  Women's sport is no longer the "chips with no dip".

If you don't believe me, see for yourself...tragic.