Norwood fans face prospect of searching out pubs in North Adelaide

 

 

The pre-game prospects look grim for Norwood supporters travelling to Sunday’s SANFL encounter with North Adelaide. And that’s purely because the clash is in Prospect. Usually part of the whole experience of any sporting occasion is pre-event banter and post-result commiserations or euphoria. Even after a horse racing meeting you can celebrate your winnings or bemoan your ill luck at the hands of the bookies. And what better venue for discussion and debate than the inner sanctum of a nearby public house. This is where the problem arises for visiting Redlegs fans in Prospect. Where are the pubs? Unlike the rest of the city, Main North Road seems bereft of hostelries. It’s a barren, endless thoroughfare of fast moving traffic hurtling past car yards and mega-fast food outlets. A real road to nowhere. Well, no, it can take you to the Barossa Valley. And you will probably need a wine or two after that trek. The problem persists with Prospect. The only imbibing options appear to be the Windmill Hotel or the Northern Tavern. This minor social hurdle has been handled before and it will be resolved again. So the revamped Windmill Hotel looks to be the answer. But why is there this hassle to begin with? I was told that the reason extends way back to about 80 years ago and a local council dispute about building pubs in the vicinity. Someone else mentioned that it was a Methodist plot from another past era. If this is so, history needs to be overturned for the poor denizens who have to live in Prospect, never mind parched Norwood supporters. Pubs should be the heart and soul of a living, breathing community… not put on the banned list. With this is mind, I must also issue a pre-game apology to Preston North End followers back in Blighty arriving ahead of Saturday’s derby against Blackburn Rovers at Ewood Park. This fixture hasn’t been on the League agenda for 15 years because Rovers have held loftier status during that period. But it’s time for the old Lancashire rivals to sort things out again after Rovers won the Deepdale encounter 2-1 earlier in the season. PNE diehards are not the same breed as the claret and blue hillbillies from Burnley and the Yorkshire corridor beyond, so unlike those heathens, they have not had their ticket allocation limited. That means 7000 of them will them will be travelling along the A59 and A677 or by train for the first time in yonks. It’s a 12.30pm kick-off so there won’t be much time for beers. But a word of warning: Blackburn town centre and the Ewood environs are not what they were. In other words, there are no pubs. Well, not literally, but there are numerous boarded-up remnants of many which is harsh evidence of better, more prosperous times gone by. I thank my lucky stars I was a teenager of the 1970s when Blackburn was abuzz with hostelries and the craic in general. So to my old Daily Telegraph chum Pete Bainbridge and any of his Preston pals heading there, it might be best to do some pub homework beforehand. Before this all becomes too depressing, a step in the other direction means salutations for Greenock in the Barossa Valley. No such prohibition-type trials and tribulations there. An Easter break to visit Gabby Patching’s old mate Cathy McMillan in her new cottage meant a hearty and genuine country welcome from all and sundry including those at the Greenock Creek Tavern, the Kallensky winery and, last but not least, Chris and Lisa Higgins at the Greenock Beers Brewery. The hospitality in all these venues positively overflows. Nowhere better than the Brewery, which as an unexpected bonus was even open for samplings on Good Friday, a traditionally awful day for atheist lovers of alcohol. As Chris said to Macca about the decision to open: “Where else are you gonna get a drink on Good Friday?” On the tasting menu are Victorville Pale Ale, Bunawunda Blonde and Greenock Dark Ale. At $5 per pop, each brewed next door, it’s great value. They each slide down well but the Dark was my particular fave. A case is currently being saved, after purchase, for winter days. The Brewery is hoping to expand its outlets but in the meantime the fruits of their labours can also be bought over the bar down the hill at the tavern. So raise a glass to Greenock — thirsty Norwood and Preston North End fans would love to.

 

All go at the Alma as another tipping season looms

The Australian Rules season is just around the corner. This means I will be taking my usual pro-Sydney Swans stance from afar of AFL proceedings and watching Norwood’s progress from a view on Cooper’s Hill at the Parade. And also from wherever suitable on numerous suburban away grounds. It’s a sport which can keep everybody interested, whether they are a tactical strategist or just a semi-interested onlooker, through the medium of tipping competitions. Since my arrival in Adelaide in 2005, I have dabbled in doing my best at the tipping competitions in the Norwood hostelries of the Robin Hood and then the Colonist. One year I finished a dizzying second out of thirty-odd tipsters in the Colonist competition to claim a $200 prize and kid myself I genuinely knew something about the ins and outs of the game. I’ll never be an Aussie Rules equivalent to Jose Mourinho but it is good to keep up with teams’ fortunes and try to work out what will happen next. It is a sport which lends itself to the tipping concept, because there are so few draws. As an outsider looking in, the AFL model does have its flaws. No team plays each other twice, which is downright unfair. And there is no threat of the dreaded ‘r’ word — relegation — which adds spice to otherwise meaningless end-of-season games. Yes, I know there is a scramble for finals places but there are still too many ‘dead’ games. And who cares which team finishes last — it just doesn’t matter despite draft picks. Anyway, there is a glorious unpredictability in the games long since missing say, for instance, in the English Premier League on the football front. Plenty of weeks seem to offer potential nine out of nine correct tips only for a complete boilover to arrive out of nowhere. When a visit to the pub to put on the next week’s tips reveals many other punters have correctly forecast such an outcome, it can leave the rest of us baffled. With the Robin Hood and Colonist tipping competitions long gone, I’ve transferred my efforts to the Alma set-up on Magill Road. It’s very well organised. Only $25 to enter and you get a free schooner every week when you put on your tips. Then if you ‘beat the boss’ it’s another free bevvy. A 9/9 outcome means a $20 Alma pizza voucher. This is not a plug. I reckon it’s tremendous value. Alas, so far I have never got close to disturbing the leaders on the ladder but there is the added spice of trying to outdo Gabs Patching and Phil Spence. Phil does not like to see an Englishman beating him at his preferred sport — and rightly so. Last year I had a healthy lead but was overtaken by Phil in the final round of games. A tight finish. And there are also high-profile celebrity tipsters to try and outflank such as the pub’s joint owner and former Crows’ legend Mark Ricciuto. On Friday evenings Mark is sometimes on hand as co-host for the pub’s bingo and free sausage sizzle session. Helping him out on occasions are current playing pair Tex Waker and Rory Sloane, who also have interests in the Alma. Last season they also had Patrick Dangerfield in their ranks but he has flown the Crows’ coop to join Geelong. Many Crows fans, such as Gabs, are mightily upset by this turn of events. But time heals and anyway, things might not work out quite as ‘Danger’ hopes. I recall the most devastating sporting exit of my existence when Alan Shearer left Blackburn Rovers for Newcastle United in the close season of 1996 — just one full year after we had been crowned Premier League champions. It seems like ancient history now, but the desperation among Rovers followers was acute. As in Dangerfield’s case, Shearer was moving to his hometown club so there could be some kind of logical explanation. But what happened after would not have been in Shearer’s thoughts. Even though he scored a heap of goals over plentiful seasons in Geordieland, Shearer ended his career with just one honour — the 94-95 title with Rovers. What if ‘Danger’ never wins an AFL flag with Geelong? And worse, what if the Crows get there first sometime in the coming years? I’m just an interested observer in all this but it will be one of the unfolding factors to ponder as I start filling out my AFL tips over the coming months.

 

Python veterans Eric Idle and John Cleese show they still have what it takes

Comedy royalty put in an appearance in Adelaide this week and were given a reception of deserved reverence by the audience at the Entertainment Centre. That is apart from some drunken oaf (there’s always one!) who seemed to think that his boorish but inaudible yells from the stalls would somehow be funnier than what was happening on stage. The loudmouth was expertly put in his place by the combined cutting repartee of John Cleese and Eric Idle. Two of the founding members of the Monty Python phenomenon were in the city as part of their Australian tour, remembering old times with wit and whimsy and proving that it’s still possible to be a funny man way past middle age. It was a case of wry smiles rather than out and out belly laughs as images on the big screen vied with the pair recounting anecdotes while lounging around in two enormous red armchairs beneath the spotlights. Odd to think that these two Septuagenarians had started out with fellow comedic collaborators — Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, Michael Palin and Graham Chapman — all those years ago as an oddball late night crew on a haphazard sketch show on the BBC. Now decades later, the word Python has a meaning all of its own. The tale of how they all got together via connections including David Frost, Marty Feldman, Bill Oddie, Tim Brooke-Taylor, the cast of Do Not Adjust Your Set and more is such well-trodden ground that I know the tale as if it was my own. And after all, it seems only a few months back when similar rememberings were recounted by Palin in his own post-Python one-man travelling show. Back in my schooldays, even though I was hooked on Python, I was never one of the many who could recite the Dead Parrot sketch off by heart or belt out the Lumberjack Song word for word. I left that to such Clitheroe sixth-form Python nuts as Adrian ‘Flec’ Fletcher, Keith Mitchell and the rest. Back then who would have thought a bunch of underground mirth-makers would roll on through Hollywood, branch out into their own separate entities and productions then come together again for road shows all over the planet. There were all age groups there the other night too. Just like wrinkly rock groups seem to expand their audiences via kids listening to mum and dad’s old music, a similar theme seems to have happened with the aura of Python. It was not such much the laughter or applause which struck but the warmth and goodwill that the collective onlookers exuded towards the still barmy Brits. It was a slick show. Following on from the banter and ballyhoo of the first set, the pair ‘did their own thing’ when they reappeared after the interlude. For Cleese, that meant the chance to veer off into non-Politically Correct racist jokes while Idle strummed some of his risque musical compositions on his guitar — notably the singalong encore of Always Look on the Bright Side of Life as featured in the crucifixion scene in The Life of Brian. It is testament to the enduring and embracing influence of Python that as this ditti brought the house down, other comedic eyes were enjoying the spectacle. Mrs Brown’s Boys comes from the other side of the comedy cosmos to the surreal eccentricity of Python. The Irish slapstick family-based hokum follows Cleese and Idle to the Entertainment Centre with Adelaide weekend dates. But all these artists, though different in style, are in their chosen profession for laughs and there, a few seats from us, were the Mrs Brown’s Boys creator Brendan O’Carroll and his wife, Jennifer Gibney, who also features in his madcap, throwback chaos. It was as if they were there to pay homage to a pair of legends. There were many others who shared those sentiments as the Python veterans delivered with real panache. And to top things off, Cleese and Idle seemed to enjoy themselves almost as much as the audience. If the Python pair visit your parish, be sure to catch them. As Idle himself repeatedly hinted in a Python sketch of long ago: “Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more…”