What is it, Digs and Bluebelles, which makes you thinkbad ideas are good ideas at the time that you think them? As your cerebralcorrespondent strode sprightly into Optus Dome on Friday night – you could tellthe great man was heading for a fall.
He had a skin full of Dan Murphy’s finest under hisbelt, the Harry Lime theme on his lips and hubris about a hat trick of DarkNavy victories etched in his heart when the penny dropped that he was onceagain daring the fates to pries open Pandora’s wondrous box. Pretty soon, hefigured, the big boxing glove would spring out and punch him on the nose. Itwould REALLY HURT in the cold night air and Carlton may get a Fathers Day of a hiding.
But, like Pandora he couldn’t resist opening theforbidden box containing all the delusions of mankind. “We had won two in arow, why not three?” he asked himself rhetorically?
But your first thought, is very rarely your bestthought. In the 1950s, I thought Beatniks playing bongo drums were cool. In the1960s I fell instantly in love with Postmodernist thought and the New Wave ofFrench cinema. Then, I woke up and realised it was all crap. Like Pandora, Iwas releasing all the evils of mankind – greed, vanity, slander, envy, pining –leaving only hope inside once she had closed it again.
If the truth be known, it was my love for Carlton – and inparticular the 1987 premiership team – that made me open the box and dream theimpossible dream. Carltonis my mistress. She has long used her feminine wiles and come-hither sexualityto manipulate my actions and drive my life.
As Gloria Grahame said in the film noir classic Ina Lonely Place: “I was born when you kissed me. I died when you left me. Ilived a few weeks while you loved me.”
In Repetition, Kierkegaard's literary characterYoung Man laments: “How did I get into the world? Why was I not askedabout it, why was I not informed of the rules and regulations but just thrustinto the ranks as if I had been bought by a peddling shanghaier of humanbeings? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Whyshould I be involved? Isn't it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to beinvolved, where is the manager –I have something to say about this. Is there nomanager? To whom shall I make my complaint?”
The gold yamulka goes to Keyser Soze and Carraz getsit for the previous week. I will rest now and dream of my love for Carlton and hope that shekisses me to life against Freo. My medication is the 1987 Premiership. I loveyou Carlton.
– Terry Maher
Please Note: the viewsexpressed in the above article are solely the opinion of the author and do notreflect the opinions of the Carlton Football Club or those employees of theClub. The Carlton Football Club would like to acknowledge the tireless work ofthose supporters who contribute to carltonfc.com.au
