T ies in football are hollow affairs. They suck the air out of the stadium. They immediately have you scratching for perspective: who dodged the bullet?
who pissed it away? whose two points were grounds for optimism? Invariably, they prompt a few days of very tedious content about extra time and golden points.
The SEN open line (“how you doin’…that’s the way… hey I just wanted to talk about scrapping the draw…”) is ringing in my head as I type.
Last night’s season opener was no different. It started with Dustin Martin lunching on a spilt mark in the opening seconds. It ended with the Carlton and Richmond players slouching about like Brown’s cows, assuming their neutral poses.
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