Strange Rumblings on Brunton Avenue
There is a long-term reader of this blog who I promised to make famous if we won on Friday night. Not famous enough to name him mind you - it was only Round 4 not a Grand Final. You know who you are, and you know that you took a sadistic glee in poking my Emo Maric style glass totally empty outlook on life throughout Friday by insisting that we would win - by text message, twice by phone, in person before the game and for most of the match itself until the 20 minute mark of the fourth quarter when...