"INCONCEIVABLE!" (Port 90 - 107 Fitzroy)

The night Port has shot itself on the foot, stood up, seemed fine, but ended up rolling over and dying. It was INCONCEIVABLE ["liar!"], but it has happened anyway ["surprise!"]. Barracking for Port is to live on the edge of the "Cliffs of Insanity." What can one do, then, but to laugh before his own sad fate?

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It was still night at 5:20am when the alarm rang. I had gone to bed late after an evening rugby union practice [I am crossing the border every Tuesday and Thursday to practice at the Libres Athletic Club], but that wouldn’t stop me following Port.

It was refreshingly cold, after a week of hot weather. The only thing constant in South Rio Grande’s [my homestate] weather is its inconsistency. We the Gauchos are naturally pasteurized people. The most fitting outfit for this part of the world would be overcoat, speedos, umbrella, and sunglasses. I have no idea how anyone could have thought to be a good idea settling here; still, we the Gauchos inexplicably love these lands deeply and full-heartedly [many wars having been fought around here]. Go figure!

The rest of the house was sleeping. Not even the dogs wanted to wake up and seek attention so early in the morning. Thankfully, the only mad person in the family is me.

While I was preparing my breakfast, I put the game on SEN, which has become my favorite footy radio station. By the time I started eating and following the comments in BigFooty, we were already losing 3.1:19 to one. I was still eating when they scored another goal, leaving Port with a 24-point deficit in 12 minutes of play.

Melbourne had taken 14 minutes to be 18 points in front; Carlton, 20 minutes for a 12-point lead. So, nothing new; just worse. I am new at this whole footy business, but those slow starts do not seem healthy to me. I would firmly advise against digging ourselves a hole at the beginning of a match; let alone making it a habit. Nonetheless, that seems to be the strategy for this season.

It had worked in the previous games, so I humbly suspended judgment on this. On BigFooty, people were not as patient. Let's say that they were really close of suggesting shutting the club down, selling all the properties, and giving up footy for good.

I started heating water for a coffee, when the team decided it was time to give Brisbane some trouble. We scored a couple of goals, and we were open for business! Fitzroy scored another goal, but Rozee kicked the last goal of the quarter, telling the Lions that they should better be ready for Q2.

After half hour of not-football, we were only trailing by 12 points. “Footy is a really weird sport,” so I was thinking then, “this Rocky-Balboa strategy of hitting back only after letting your opponent beat the sh*t out of you, may be way more sound than it seems.” By then, I was convinced that our plan would once again work.

Second quarter started, and Port came with what looked like a variant of its gameplan. Instead of “not-football”, we were playing “half-football” – in which only one part of footy is played. It was seen before in this round. Both Demons and Bombers played “half-football” as well.

The difference was that, while Melbourne and Essendon played only the offensive half, we played only the defensive. Our offense remained doing “not-football” – which must be the reason why we strongly refused to score goals in that quarter. That is the only logical explanation for what we did.

The alternative with which I could come up was that Port was being sponsored by the “Miss Behind” contest [it’s a thing!]. It can only be one of the two, if not both, because our effort in avoiding kicking the ball between the goal posts was as outstanding as our defensive work. Terrific job!

We would have been even leading at HT, if the quarter had happened exactly like we had planned it. However, the Lions scored two goals in the end of the half. It sounded inconceivable, but it was true.

Meanwhile, in BigFooty, the melting level had decreased a bit; even though people were having trouble understanding precisely what we were trying to do. They were struggling to see that we had Brisbane right where we wanted them!

Think about it. After playing one quarter of not-football and another of half-football, we were only down by 13 points – 5.9:39 to 8.4:52. Playing total football in the second half, Fitzroy wouldn’t stand a chance. Everything was fine.

At the beginning of Q3, the Lions asked us why we were smiling. We told them why… “I know something you don’t know. I am not left-handed.” We switched to total football and, just like that, we were losing by just one point. It was time to run over the Lions, increasing the pressure, kicking a bunch of goals, securing all four points, and having a good percentage boost.

That was the plan anyway. However, things happened somewhat differently. Fitzroy didn’t fell on their knees and pleaded for mercy. They actually reacted.

Now, that’s inconceivable. They are respectfully good, I reckon that, but we were playing full football. “It must be the umpires. Yes, we are getting robbed!” BigFooty came with a pretty logical explanation, and I was ok with it.

Both teams began to trade goals, but, as an evidence that our plan was working despite of those bloody umpires, we won the quarter. At 3QT, our deficit had been reduced to six points. Everything was fine.

We started Q4 on their throats. We took the lead right away. It is true that, soon after, they had retaken it [“in-con-cei-va-ble!”], but we didn’t bother. We answered it immediately with two more goals. We were 10 points ahead, and they felt it.

Our game was too much for them. They could do nothing right. We were all over them. It was impossible for them to breath, let alone move the ball. We kept punishing them both physically and on the scoreboard to the point that commentators were wondering whether AFL should institute a mercy rule and stating that we had become favorites to win the flag.

That was the plan anyway. Brisbane did not capitulate, though. At that point, they were supposed to be in awe before our mightiness. However, they were smiling. We asked them why…

“I also know something you don’t know. I am not left-handed either.” We didn’t see it coming. We didn’t see it happening. Probably, we won’t be able to remember nothing of it when we finally wake tied up to a tree.

In fact, those two goals were the last scores we had in the game. The Lions finished the game scoring 4.3:27 to zero. They won by 17 points. Our master plan didn’t work. The final siren came, and we had lost the game…

“Inconceivable!”

Everybody at home was awake by then. My wife, who had been following my suffering for a few minutes, then said:

–      You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

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Never mind... Next week, I will be doing everything again. I can't help it.
Please, Port, do not let me down...

CARN THE POWER!