Jimmy Stynes - R.I.P

G'day Tragics,

What a sad day for not only sport, but Australia and Ireland in general.  One the great gentlemen, Jim Stynes, succumbed to cancer after long and very public battle with the brutal disease.

I'm sure all sports fans are feeling for "Dublin Jim's" family, friends and colleagues - the world has been left a much poorer place for his loss.

From a personal point of view:  I was just a lad when the Melbourne Demons took a punt on the big Irishman.  At the time, the Irish experiment had it's doubters, but Melbourne's shamrock connection of Stynes and the mustachioed Sean Wight proved them all wrong.  Jim also played with his brother Brian at Melbourne for a short time, but Brian didn't take to the game quite like Jim.

What Stynes lacked in skill, he made up for in determination.  You would often see him fighting for the ball with a rover at the bottom of a pack.  He went a long way to revolutionising the ruck position.  Ruckmen today are so much more than just a beanpole in the middle.  They are everywhere men that are required to do everything.  Jimmy was ahead of his time.

What I best remember about Jimmy, was his consecutive games record....200 plus.  On the footy show they would joke about Stynes having a leg cut off during the week, but still being able to play...classic!  I can picture him wearing giant "mattresses" on his thighs as he bravely masked injury.  So much like his final days.

I loved Jim's temperament on the field.  He played with passion, but dripped sportsmanship.  He was dominant, yet humble...the perfect role mode.  I can remember when he ran across the mark in the 1987 pre-final vs the Hawks, gifting Gary Buckenara a goal and a spot in the Grand Final.  My heart bled for him and I'm sure he used it as fuel to fire the rest of his career.

It was truly amazing for him to come from another code and another land, work his backside off and win our top honour, the Brownlow medal.  It's the ultimate fairytale and a true inspiration to anyone who has a seemingly impossible dream.

Without doing any research, it is well known that Stynes always put others first.  He tireless charity work and care for battlers is as legendary as his on field heroics.  So many lives were improved directly from the work and care of the shy kid from Ireland.

Whenever you saw him speak, you knew it was heart felt and genuine.  You could sense his pride every time he presented a gurnsey to a junior Demon.  He loved the Melbourne football club and it loved him.  I'm sure the D's will turn their grief into something positive and do their former champion proud.

Jim is in a better place now, looking down on those that he touched in his short time.  He can be proud of what he achieved and the difference he made.  Thanks for the memories Jimmy, you were truly an all round hero......Tragic.

A Football Club is Not a Toy!

G'day Tragics,

Unless you have been living under a rock, it has been impossible to escape the ludicrous antics of mining billionaire, Clive Palmer.  Single-handedly the big fella has ripped the heart out the Gold Coast United Football Club, by ignorantly thinking that his huge fortune has gifted him brains to go with his helicopter........wrong!

Time and time again we see high rolling saviours swan in and flash their cash around a footy club, but rather than being a supporter and silent force in the background, they let their mammoth egos run wild and try to take over the joint.....wrong again.

Palmer is a miner and a very good one, but this doesn't make him an authority on running a football club.  Right from the word go, the Gold Coast was set to fail.  They over charged fans to attend early friendlies at a time when they had the opportunity to win over public support and enthusiam.

Palmer treated the club like a business, which it was, but it was a business that would only thrive with the support and love of it's fans.  The club had fans....all 5000 of them.  Nowhere near enough for a national team.  The clubs marketing was pathetic, you'd struggle to know they existed.  The interaction in the community was dwarfed by the Suns and the Titans.  Ironically on the pitch the team was successful in the early days, but the damage was already done.

For an outsider like myself, Clive Palmer looked like a bloke that wanted to say "Look everybody I've got my own football team.....isn't that cool!"  Look at your football team now Clive....they go bye bye.

Sometimes rich blokes can bring success and hope to a team.  Rusty Crowe and Nathan Tinkler (so far), are good examples.  Both enjoy a hands on roll in their organisations, but both also know their football limitations.  I'm sure Crowe could play a convincing coach in a rugby league blockbuster, but in real life he let's the football people handle the football. 

Crowe and Tinkler also share a deep personal passion for their teams.  Crowe shamelessly flies the Rabbitohs flag whenever he can and although it hasn't created a premiership, it's cemented South Sydney as an exciting and established piece in the NRL Puzzle.

Tinkler has delivered Wayne Bennett to Newcastle in the league and has made the A-league Jets a team of the future.  His aim is to create a buzz around Newcastle through sport.  He has dropped ticket prices for families and as a result, the Knights are packing the stands like they did when Johns, Chief and co. ruled the roost.  This is good, very good.

Overseas soccer teams are riddled with Russian billionaires, Texan oil magnates and 15 year old Arabian Sheiks - buying up soccer clubs, spending shitloads on players and then driving their century year old institutions into debt.  Fans are left devastated and angry, while these rich pricks skip off to their next big splurge.....maybe a small country?

Who could forget Geoffrey Eddleston, the nutty doctor that purchased the Sydney Swans in the '80's.  It was an explosion of fanfare in the form of helicopters, pink cars, the Swanettes and Warrick Capper's testicles dangling out of his shorts.  It gave the team attention, which is fine, but that attention later became embarrassment - totally unnecessary.

In this day and age, sporting clubs need outside dollars to survive and remain competitive, but they don't need overpaid nut bags hooking them up to their limos and dragging their good names through a giant paddock of cow dung.  When will they learn?  Football teams are not toys!.....Tragic.

Base Camp Morzine

G'day Tragics,

In life there are some people that are dreamers and some that are doers.  My brother Joe and his wife Amelia are both...they dream it, then they do it!

Joe is a multi-tasker to the extreme, his abilites range from teaching, electrical work, house renovation, massage and beer tasting just to name a few. 

His better half, Amelia is an elite tri-athlete, originally at Olympic distance, but more recently at the torturous Ironman.  She has gained national selection and has a 2nd and 3rd at the prestigious Port Macquarie race - this only touches on her achievments.

Both are very successful in their chosen endevours and after years of hard work in every aspect of their lives, they have decided to take a year off and combine two of their favourite elements...triathlon and adventure.

Having already travelled extensively, Joe and Meals have been to some breathtaking locations...but none captured their imagination quite like Morzine, a small skiing village nestled at the base of the Rhone Alps in Eastern France. 

Located adjacent to Switzerland, the mountainous Morzine district is a cyclists playground. The scenery packed, soul destroying climbs will make pedal pushers giggle like a hacker teeing off at Augusta.

 The town boasts its very own stage of the Tour de France.  It is a leg that is best remembered for drug cheat, Floyd Landis' super human performance in the 2006 race.  His brilliant climb, set up his victory, but also led to his ultimate undoing.  He tested positive and was stripped of his crown.

Anyway, back to Joe and Meals.  The food, the location and the culture planted a seed in the minds of the dynamic duo a few years back.  This seed has been watered, fertilized - Joe drowned it in beer a few times, but eventually it began to sprout.  It grew branches, leaves and in a few months time will bear the juiciest fruit in France.

Joe and Amelia wanted to share the thrill of free-wheeling down one of Morzines death defying (slight exaggeration) slopes, they wanted to share a glass of red while absorbing one of the worlds great panoramic vistas and they wanted to share the joy of simply biking, swimming and running with a bunch of people that love it as much as they do.

Base Camp Morzine is that idea.  Joe and Amelia have hired a 5 bedroom chalet in Morzine for June and July.  They are inviting anyone and everyone to come and stay with them.  As hosts, they will pick you up from Geneva, cook you brekky and give you as much or as little advice about triathlon as you desire.  Joe will massage your tired legs, Amelia will pace you on a leisurely run around the village.....they will both do what it takes to ensure an experience of a life time!

This isn't a sales pitch, it's more of a pat on the back to my bro and sis in law.  You can only be jealous.....not of the amazing adventure they are about to tackle, but the fact that they are brave enough to do it.  It takes a special type of person to make dreams reality and Joe and Meals are leaders in their field.

There is still plenty of room at base camp Morzine, I suggest you get your act together and get on board http://www.basecampmorzine.blogspot.com.au/...it will be bloody sensational.  If you can't make it this trip, then maybe it's a good opportunity to plant a seed of your own....Tragic.