It appears that with global warming we can expect a lot more flooding. Obviously under the bright lights of the Dome global warming is a few years ahead of schedule. How else to explain the Red Sea flood of goals on Saturday night? I swear I saw a few Egyptians floating past at the end of the second quarter.

It was a grand game (until that last bit of the final quarter) that took me back to the ‘72 Grand Final between the Bluebaggers and Richmond. I was there that day, standing in the outer with my dad and brothers, our heads moving as if we were watching a tennis match.

Goal to us, goal to us, goal to them. Goal to us, goal to us, goal to them – ahh the glorious days of childhood (mind you I’ve blotted ’73 out!). And so it was again Saturday night; an Aussie rules tennis match. In fact The Dome would make a great tennis venue and I’ll never do a Peter Allen and call it home – no matter how many games we play there.

Still it was a great game to watch. I sat with my son and his mate behind the goals listening to Barb and co scream their glorious Navy Blue hearts out. Why is it that when an opposition supporter goes all rabid and froths at the mouth I can see the ridiculousness in their support but when it’s a bluebagger I just see their passion for this great club?

I think it’s an Einstein thing, something to do with relativity, or perhaps it’s a Quantum Physics thing. One thing’s for sure, God might not play dice but Carlton and Brisbane sure as hell did on Saturday night. The result – the flood, the real flood, not the python constriction until no one can breathe, not the strangulation of this great game by a thousand players in the backline. No a flood of goals, an avalanche. A perennial waving of flags, in fact the goal umpire at our end became part of the game’s ebb and flow. We all began to copy the way he filled in his card – so often did we get to see it.

To tell the truth before the second quarter began I thought, I want ten goals this quarter. We kicked nine. Mind you I didn’t expect Brisbane to kick seven! It was a spectacle though, a fantastic game where our kids outshone their kids but their vets eventually overran ours – a game where the football Gods made sure they had their kicking boots so that they could stay with us. Honestly I was waiting for them to start kicking for goal with blindfolds on!

But let us turn our attention to this week’s game – a Friday night game no less. This worries me. Since I was a kid Friday night’s have always been for partying or for late night gambling with obscure card games where even when I won I lost because I’d have to walk home in the scary dark with a pocket full of coins that rattled more than the signage at the Heatley Stand end during a famous Bluebagger third quarter - are they now going to become the The Dome second quarter? Can the second quarter be a premiership quarter - or is that why we lost? We sprinted too early and ran out of puff? Give up the fags boys, give up the fags. The straight and narrow is the only way we’ll ever climb back to the top – at the very least, wait until the third before running rampant!

Will the Sad Sainter’s and Carlton play another belter this Friday? Will both sides gamble everything and play everyone forward of the ball, determined to kick fifty goals each in a game? Are we in for n Aussie Rules version of Russian roulette?

I cannot wait to find out. There is something about playing under lights, under a closing roof, that makes Australian Rules football akin to an atomic explosion. There seems to be no pacing, no slow progression, no build up to a crescendo. There is just a frenetic crash of bodies, boots and footballs.

I expect us to win this game in the middle. JR is playing better each week, Murph and Simmo and Tex and Carrots demand the ball and Cain is playing against his old club. He and my man Cloke will hammer the old man they call a ruckman.

We’ll win because we have Fev, and as maddening as he can be, a Fevola in our team is far better than a Gerhig runaway train wreck. Fev will make amends this week and kick six. Lance will play out the whole game as he gets match fitness back and will kick five and everyone else (including the cheer squad) will chip in for a single.

For the Sad Sainters, Revolting is their danger man. Harvey often carves us up but even he must succumb eventually to old man time. So Waitey to take care of the poor man’s Trevor Barker and Santy to make The G-train seem more like a g-string.

I hope Blackers comes in for Jacko (shame about the hand for the young kid) and if not Blackers then maybe Edwards will finally get a go. In fact he should. I dreamt on Monday that Edwards played a blinder for us this week. So Denis and Co, go with me on this.

I had a dream, a dream where all players were equal and… and young Edwards kicked six!

So come on lads, put the togs back on and get back in the water, I want to see another flood this week, but let’s make it a one-way flood. Lets kick all the goals and St. Kilda be dammed! Let’s face it – after the beltings they’ve given us over the past few years, and the arrogance of their whinging supporter base who carry on as if they own the world and are less than a speck of dust in the Football God’s eye, its time we reversed the trend.

I am sick and tired of that rabble of backstreet bleeders beating us!

So.

Carlton to win by seven goals in a game that’s over for the Dixie Band Sainters by half time.

Go Blueboys!