Made it to thirty-two hours before a 75' powernap, then up again watching the Tiges.
On the go from 7am this morning. Halfway through the third quarter of the twos got a shocking cheap shot in a marking contest, forearm vs nose and forearm won, blood coming out like a tap was turned on. By the time I hit the ground it was all over my face, hands, wrists, jumper and shorts. This is what happens when you expose the old, fat, slow, *smile* and useless. Straight off the ground, bleeding slowed enough to stick two cotton wool balls up the nose and apply a wraparound bandage a la David Bourke at Football Park (Round 9,1999). Took almost a quarter to accomplish that but then straight back on the ground. Not giving the bastard the satsfaction :wavey but unfortunately we lost by six goals.
In the ones, left it too late and lost by three points when storming home. Opposition coach Peter Bedford (yes, the 1970 Brownlow Medallist) locked his players in the rooms and abused them for not thrashing us! Some of these people need to realise that Centrals are finally on the march again.
Moral victory today (plus a broken nose -- lucky I was no oil painting to start with).