Interview: The Baby Drought
Industrial: Lies, AWAs and Statistics
Workplace: The Invisible Parents
History: Bruce’s Big Blunder
Politics: All God's Children
Economics: Spun Out
International: Shakey Trials
Legal: Civil Distrubance
Review: Crash Course In Racism
Poetry: You're Fired
The Locker Room
An Act of Faith
Remembering Workers In Cairns
Fair Go For Injured Workers
A Question Of Choice
Galahs Up The Cross
The Locker Room
Ashes to Dust
There is something wonderful, astonishing and doomed about the Newtown Jets remarkable run in both the Premier League and the Jim Beam Cup.
They've strung a few wins together, snapping at the heels of the frontrunners, with the occasional brain explosion; but by and large an entertaining brand of football capped off with the odd thumping of the opposition here and there.
This has all been done on the back of an added advantage of the fact that they are taking this winter wonderland to exotic places like Erina, The Entrance and Windsor.
The Entrance has, for this column, been a mystical memory of Christmas' past.; a sun drenched recollection of salt, surf, sand and caravans.
Now its come down with prosperity and a suburb has sprung up where once there was saltbush and mudcrabs.
It may not be long before the Umina Bunnies are knocking at the door of the Jim Beam Cup. They'd follow the Woy Woy Roosters and the better part of half a dozen other Central Coast clubs into the competition.
The club that gave Mark Geyer a home plays in what remains of the old Central Coast Division - the rest having headed off to the Jim Beam Cup. Their Home Ground is behind the sand dunes, in the teeth of the offshore hurricanes that like to drift in off Broken Bay.
Unfortunately the Bowling Club on the Woy Woy side of the oval, the nearest watering hole, is an AWA ambassador for the Office of the Employment Advocate.
And so it comes to pass that even 'Club Umina', as the Bowling Club likes to be eponymously known, is sucked into a dark vortex of evil.
Mind you, there's something to be said for footy that still has a sausage sizzle going on by the change rooms and beer is drunk from a can.
The best sight this column has seen in some time came at a recent Jim Beam Cup match when, at the final hooter, two guys in their twenties jumped the fence and ran full pelt for the corner flag; the winner raising a cheer from the crowd with a diving tackling around the flag's bootlaces.
I forgot people used to do that at the footy.
This year marks a return of that other great winter sport, The Ashes.
Luckily the Poms have scheduled the matches at night and SBS will be screening them, until three or so in the morning.
Many, many otherwise normal people are rubbing the hands with glee at the thought of the better part of six weeks of sleep deprivation and test cricket.
The cocky Poms are threatening to make the simulcasted ABC Radio coverage a rather tantalising proposition. I can't wait to see what washed up county hacks with good school breeding the BBC have in store for us.
It shall be dramatic, mirthful, eccentric and tangential - and that's just during the rain delays.
The rest will play like an epic.
All that is left is to fire up the percolator or preferred choice of stimulant, tune in on the lounge and sit back while productivity levels plummet and history is made.
Phil Doyle - Going four wide as they swing into the straight.
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