DozzyWarwick Capper Deserves More Credit
September 10th 2008 23:21
Warwick Capper kicked 100 goals in a season.
Stop everything you’re doing for a moment and take the time to let that sink in.
Warwick. Capper. One. Hundred. Goals.
Ridiculous. There is just no logic to that sentence. My grammer-check has placed a green squiggle underneath, not sure if it’s a question or a statement. If you’re quiet enough you’ll be able to hear the sound of your common sense trying to phone a friend. But it happened, no doubt, it’s all there in black and white right alongside Fred Fanning’s day out and the Fitzroy Gorillas.
And what does this prove? Well firstly it shows that fact is almost always stranger than fiction. If Channel Nine want to get back on top of the ratings tree they’d be better off providing a live feed from Kings St on a Saturday night, sure to be a shitload more interesting than Midsomer Murders. Secondly, it shows how quickly the game and the players evolve. It’s understandable for today’s football fans with fuzzy memories of the eighties to find it incomprehensible that The Wiz hit the ton in a single season. If you looked at a few highlights of his glory days and had a chat with the man today you’d be convinced that the Swans just employed a thick male stripper to mount men in colourful tight shorts. Not such crazy talk when you consider a few of Spearmint Rhino’s finest would have a better right boot than Warwick.
But credit where credit is due, Capper existed in a different time for full forwards, when the frightening spectre of the mongrel full back was cast over the goal square like the Hindenburg. Would today’s gun full-forwards survive in a time before the tightening of the rules? SOS would probably have Fev in a figure-four leg lock. Mick Martyn would just grab him by the curls and punch him repeatedly in the face until specks of blood started to fill Fev’s eyes causing temporary blindness and allowing Mick to run off and deliver a mongrel punt straight down the throat of the opposition.
But Buddy…well Buddy is different. Watching Buddy tear apart a team is a glorious experience. Buddy’s the player Capper thought he was. And probably still thinks he is. Buddy is a cold beer on a hot day. Buddy is a potato salad at a barbecue. Buddy is Vienetta.
Just ask him.
There is something distinctly great about a player celebrating every goal like he hit a triple twenty down at the pub and it’s our shout. It’s been awesome to see the glamour full forward getting their mojo back and reminding the doomsayers that the death of the full forward was just a short-lived fad. Like Jim Stynes’ cap or Adrian McAdam.
Stop everything you’re doing for a moment and take the time to let that sink in.
Warwick. Capper. One. Hundred. Goals.
Ridiculous. There is just no logic to that sentence. My grammer-check has placed a green squiggle underneath, not sure if it’s a question or a statement. If you’re quiet enough you’ll be able to hear the sound of your common sense trying to phone a friend. But it happened, no doubt, it’s all there in black and white right alongside Fred Fanning’s day out and the Fitzroy Gorillas.
Warwick Capper is easily startled
Warwick: The Renaissance man
But credit where credit is due, Capper existed in a different time for full forwards, when the frightening spectre of the mongrel full back was cast over the goal square like the Hindenburg. Would today’s gun full-forwards survive in a time before the tightening of the rules? SOS would probably have Fev in a figure-four leg lock. Mick Martyn would just grab him by the curls and punch him repeatedly in the face until specks of blood started to fill Fev’s eyes causing temporary blindness and allowing Mick to run off and deliver a mongrel punt straight down the throat of the opposition.
But Buddy…well Buddy is different. Watching Buddy tear apart a team is a glorious experience. Buddy’s the player Capper thought he was. And probably still thinks he is. Buddy is a cold beer on a hot day. Buddy is a potato salad at a barbecue. Buddy is Vienetta.
Just ask him.
There is something distinctly great about a player celebrating every goal like he hit a triple twenty down at the pub and it’s our shout. It’s been awesome to see the glamour full forward getting their mojo back and reminding the doomsayers that the death of the full forward was just a short-lived fad. Like Jim Stynes’ cap or Adrian McAdam.
Buddy Franklin
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Comment by Lady Henrietta Muddling
Potter in a Harry
I think the picture of Buddy Franklin cracked me up most, but the whole article was a blast.
Keep on posting man.
Comment by Anonymous
Comment by Chris Champion
LettersToNorm
Vyoos
Zoomies
Bloggercises
The Blog of Lists
Great read.
Regards,
Chris