It’s an ancient plot device that is still used by sitcom writers. The loveable male lead, let’s call him “Ross”, has been in love with the saucy female lead, let’s call her “Rachel”, since the beginning. Every time that “Ross” and “Rachel” are on the verge of getting it together, “Ross” buggers it up, condemning us all to another ratings season of unfulfilled, unrequited love.
The Socceroos, having qualified for next year’s World Cup finals, recently indulged in a spectacular self-immolation (is there any other kind of immolation?), losing 6-0 twice in a month. To lose 6-0 once is bad luck, to lose 6-0 twice is folie.
Rumours in the French press that the Australian team enjoyed much of what Paris has to offer have yet to be proven. Nonetheless, scorelines of 6-0 6-0 belong in tennis, and Holger Osieck now has the title of Erstwhile Australian Coach .
How, then, can the Australian football-loving public cheer itself up after such a dire 24 hours? Copious quantities of drugs, of course. Or the Melbourne Derby, which is not a horserace but an A-League match contested by the two local A-League teams.
And what a derby! An unspectacular 0-0 draw! Oh well, not every episode of your favourite TV show rocks your world.
Thin White Line photographer Jim Webster was at the game and had a lovely nap. He woke up to take a few photos, but otherwise is feeling rested and refreshed.
Consider this: struggling sitcoms often commit the desperate act of introducing fresh characters to stimulate the ratings.