Well, here’s a first for Between Coffees – a guest blogger.
It’s Grand Final week so that means we’re preparing for our annual Grand Final BBQ, the highlight of which is the presentation to the winner of this year’s footy tipping competition. The lucky winner gets to keep The World’s Ugliest Trophy for a whole 12 months so I’ve asked my mate, and blogger-before-blogging-was-blogging, Daniel Bowen to reflect on his all too brief time with his trophy.
Over to you Daniel….
2004 was a golden year for me, at least in terms of footy-tipping. I entered both the competition at work, and Tony’s competition. To my surprise, I came equal first in the work competition, netting several hundred dollars in prize money. But that was nothing compared to the joy at discovering I had won Tony’s competition, and thus earned my right to the perpetual trophy.
The trophy is a prized object. Don’t listen to Tony when he says he got it unwanted a couple of years ago, and that it sat in his garden catching leaks from the gutter. It’s actually an item of great value. Originally made by convicts in Van Diemens Land around 1810, it was a decoration in the house of a Dr K.W.Smith of Hobart. Smith passed it down to his grandson, who took it with him when he moved to Melbourne around 1855, where it fell into the hands of Tom Wills. Wills used it as a prize for the winning team of the very first football game, which started on August 7th 1868 at the MCG, concluding on September 4th of that year.
Just how this prized trophy got into Tony’s hands is unclear. There are rumours of a late-night poker game, and O-Week prank and large amounts of alcohol being involved.
In 2003, Miss Marita Cullen won the competition and held the prize. In 2004 it was me, and for the past year, I have had the privilege of having it in my house, displayed prominently. Many visitors in the last twelve months have remarked upon its beauty.
Alas this year, my footy tipping performance has been somewhat less spectacular.
Effing awful, in fact. I am saddened by its departure from my home. But life goes on. And hey, at least my team made it into the finals, before beginning its inevitable downward spiral.
And so this Saturday, I will regretfully hand it back, so it can be awarded to this year’s winner.
Damn it I so wish I had won the competition now. Much like St Kilda there is always next year.