Before the game on Friday night we went to a bar called murmur which is hidden down a dodgy-looking alleyway and gives you a vague sense of accomplishment having managed to find it. The bar is beautiful inside, and packed full of people with the smug look of having discovered somewhere good. We had a couple of excellent but very expensive mojitos. We also asked for some nuts and after serving us our drinks, the barman said "I'll just grab your nuts", which had Big Red and I giggling like a pair of 14 years old girls. It would have been good to stay for longer but we had to get to The Dome.
I've decided that I don't really like The Telstra Dome. It's always so hot in there. Perhaps it's because I'm English and therefore associate attending live sports events with freezing my arse off in the cold and rain (painful memories, I try not to dwell on them). So I rock up to the Dome in my coat and scarf, neither of which I can wear because the roof is closed and the temperature is 21 degrees inside. Anyhoo, we had bought 'gold seats' this time, which did give us a great view from the second tier and the seats were padded. Woo!
Carlton started badly, which is what we always seem to do. A dangerous game plan. We looked slow at times and we were soon trailing by 20 points. Then thirty. We had no idea what to do about Fraser Gehrig (a very scary-looking man). Carlton did have a good third quarter, managing to close the gap to three points, but then let the Saints score a couple of quick, easy goals in succession. By the beginning of the fourth quarter it was obvious we were not going to win. Missing key players and lacking experience, we struggled, managing only sporadic moments of magic such as a fantastic Eddie Betts goal.
We left early to get our train.
Desperately trying to find a bright side:
We have a great forward line and Lance Whitnall had a good game.
I liked the white shirts.