h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It seems only right that i engage in a complete clearing of the deck re what has occured sportswise in this neck of the woods prior to takng up my role as the official Post olympic correspondent (but what happened to the press pass ???)

So...

The raging hot favorites won both the ARL and AFL premierships this year in two of the most boring grand finals in living memory.

In Rugby League (ARL) the Brisbane Broncos defeated the Sydney City Roosters in a game that struggled to reach a level that could at best be described as dour. This is not to say that the Broncos were not deserved winners as they were clearly the best team all year. Congratulations must be passed on to their accountant for managing to pay so many Australian representative players within the confines of the salary cap...

In the Aussie Rules (AFL) Essendon wrote their names in the history books as the most succesful team in the history of the game, having lost only one match all year and winning the grand final in a cakewalk against a totally outclassed Melbourne Demons outfit.

Rugby wise, the focus was on the tri-nations cup between Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. This was eventually won by Australia but not before some of the greatest (first test between NZ and Aust) and hardest fought (every other match) games it has been the privlige of this scribe to witness. In the end it came down to two penalty kicks seconds before the full time whistle to secure matches against both New Zealand and South Africa to enable Australia to clinch their first Tri-nations trophy, and lay claim to being one of the greatest teams of all times, being current holders of the World cup, the Bledisloe cup (vs NZ), the Mandela cup(vs SA) and the Cook cup (vs England) ie just about every trophy worth having in world rugby.

In local rugby, due to the contracted season brought about by the olympics, Eastern Suburbs, who were celebrating their centenary this year, found themselves undefeated during the normal rounds only to lose one game and not even make the grand final, which was eventually won by perenial finalists Randwick on the bell against Sydney University.

All of the above achievements pale into insignificance next to those of the might Petersham 'Shammies'. Playing in the third division Sydney Suburban Rugby Union competition, they managed to not only have all four grades in the grand final, but win 1st, 2nd and 3rd grades and be named Sydney club of the year in the process.

As for why the Posts official correspondaent would be writing this during the opening ceremony for the Sydney Olympic games, there is a simple explanation: the sport does not start until tomorrow.

Opening ceremonies, like pre match entertainment are there for the express purpose of entertaining those who have no real interest in the main sporting event but go anyway just for the the sake of it (usually in corporate boxes) and deprive the true fans of a seat

Stay tuned for weekly Olympic updates...

Linus... who in the interests of propiety should mention that he is not totally unbiased re the above mentioned Shammies, and is still sore (and hungover !!!) some 3 weeks after the grand final...must be getting old

AMERICANS LAY INTO AUSTRALIA'S EXTRAVAGANZA
If there were Olympic medals for withering commentary on opening ceremonies, America would sweep the pool. While Ric Birch's extravaganza won almost unanimous praise at home, commentators in the United States were stinging in their criticism, declaring it all too much, too confusing and too long.
"The Sydney organising committee took it upon itself to rewrite the Olympic motto: Swifter, Higher, Stronger . . . . Longer," wrote Washington Post columnist Sally Jenkins...

Upon reading this - the full article went on for ever and quoted other American media losers - I thought I would explain to readers a little of what actually happened at the Olympic Opening Ceremony. This world-embracing event, obviously, went over the self-centred North American media's heads or was too immense for their pea-sized brains to cope with.

The Games have begun! The coverage I watched effectively started with New Zealand TV's One News. "Cliff," said April, "is the cynicism in Sydney over yet?" "April," replied Cliff, "I think you're right." Ye gods, not seven hours of this! But there wasn't: we were passed into the faithful hands of commentator Keith Quinn and all was well.

Behind him the centrefield of Stadium Australia seemed carpeted in an octopus skin. Quinn told us this was to represent the outback. Eight o'clock - on the dot - let the opening begin! It did, for three seconds, then we lost reception. When all was restored some clever horses were making the Olympic ring shapes, while the already famous "G'day" banner was unfurled.

Five set-pieces encapsulated Australia's 40,000-year history. The first was Deep Sea Dreaming. A girl in a pink dress lies down on the beach, goes to sleep and, Quinn tells us, "dreams of the largest aerial display ever staged". Hey! The sleeping girl has suddenly soared into the sky - how did they do that? Below her is a sea of immense glowing fish. Floating hopefully among them, a worm on a hook; hi-tech spliced with humour - which became the leitmotif of the night. The scene changes: corroboree time. Hundreds of Aborigines - ghostly in ceremonial flour - are leading the little pink girl to their song-singer. And as they sang I realised for the first time how immensely sophisticated are the tunes of the indigenous Aussies. Three hundred and fifty Aboriginal women arrive. "Some of them have walked for five days to be here", says commentator John McBeth. Would it have hurt the IOC to have sent a bus? Five hundred Aboriginals suddenly clap once; a willy-nilly of flour rises from the stadium. From somewhere a painting of a head floats upwards. "Thirty two metres in diameter," yaps McBeth. But it's a powerful moment.

Part two - Nature. Dozens of fire-eaters belch undigested flames into the sky, creating a standard Aussie conflagration. Then regeneration begins in a glorious upsurge of greenness and colour as flower-people build them- selves into the complex shapes of well-known blooms. "There's massive use of wire, overhead,' says Quinn, entranced. Then Captain Cook pedals into Botany Bay on a Heath Robinson see-through sailing ship, followed by a wave of rumbustious settlers who let off fireworks as metaphors for the fireworks they're about to create. To Irish music and a two-storey horse monster representing mad technology, we watch the destruction of the Aboriginal world. Merry jigs ensue, while everyone seems to turn into Ned Kelly; "He represented larrikinism," says Quinn.

And so on - unvaryingly spectacular - up till the present day. Although there's a case for saying that once every Aussie had become a larrikin we'd reached the present. Two thousand bandsmen then played a tune about one solitary little swagman, then the teams arrived. "Don't look for Australia under 'A'," says McBeth. Bahrain has sent women - and they're not even in those Muslim masks. Belarus - happily waving their little national flags for the last time before defecting. Colombia - I had no idea so many Colombians hadn't been shot. Ecuador - no women; they're all at Miss Universe. If McBeth tells me one more time 3.7 billion people are watching, I'm gonna switch off and mess up his figures.

The Japanese in many-coloured ponchos. Are they sponsored by Smarties? Then the first lump to the throat is created by the uni-flagged Koreans. Ireland - only team to have a singles competitor in the synchronised swimming - just kidding. "Bill Clinton . . . Gates is here," says Quinn. Olivia Newton-John and John Farnham sing a song about Tel Aviv - no, Dare to Dream. Olympic president Samaranch begins his speech with "G'day Sydney" and suddenly seems human. The only dreadful moment: "I declare open the Games" says the Australian Governor General. Probably drunk, he then applauds himself and implodes the microphone. The oath is taken by an Aussie girl who appeared nude, recently, in a magazine. She is clothed but it's rumoured she's naked underneath.

Herb Elliott brings the flame to the stadium door. Gives it to wheelchaired Betty Cuthbert, who is pushed by Raylene Boyle. - the Aus female Olympic stars of yesteryear have been selected to celebrate 100 years of female participation in the Olympics. They pass the flame to Dawn Fraser, she to Shirley Strickland, to Shane Gould, to Debbie Flintoff and finally to ... Cathy Freeman. Freeman lopes up the steps and into the middle of a pond. She dips the flame into the water; a ring of fire surrounds her. Australia's hottest medal hope is about to be incinerated! Out of the water rises a spaceship which bears the fire safely over her head. Superb.

"...only boxing and wrestling are not contested by women," Quinn is saying.

Love your work Loony,

I'll bet not many people had any idea about the cardboard boxes that were supposed to represent sheep - i'm still working on that one myself, the lawnmowers and the corrugated iron thing...but overall not as cringe inducing as i had feared.

The best bits for me were the aboriginal dreaming part and the flame lighting, both of which would have pissed our Prime Minister off immensely

Linus, the lawnmowers and giant jelly fish were definite highlights. The less said about the sheep the better I feel. A couple of Aussies and I are having a bit of fun discussing the Games at http://www.h2g2.com/F20045?thread=18301&post=596907

Great work guys! I will be including both these reports in the Post!
As far as I'm concerned, the more fun you two have with this the better
shazzPRME... slightly hampered by the lack of a working mouse atm!