Article: Sydney Morning Herald, Saturday October 11th, 2008

Put Down Your Pony Glasses
William McInnes

Somehow the fates were telling anybody who would listen that this week would be an odd one.

How else can you account for the fact that almost all of Sydney were barracking for Manly in the NRL premiership? Well, not all of Sydney, but enough to start some head-scratching.
I don't care who they were playing, when did everybody start barracking for Manly?

Years ago when I walked to the old Riverview Hotel to order my first schooner in Sydney, some old codger called Eric decided to offer a bit of advice.

"You're a big bugger," said Eric, who drank from a pony, a half glass measuring 140 millilitres, and wore a hat that these days would be thought of as groovy but then just looked like the hat old fellas in pubs wore.

I nodded.

"Second rower?" he gurgled.

I shook my head.

"Fullback?" Eric turned his nose up slightly.

"Right, well I'll tell you this for nothing: always drink pony glasses, moderation, know your limits and go for anybody but Bloody Manly Bloody Warringah and you'll be all right. A lot of toffs." He took a swig of his little glass of beer and added as an afterthought, "and always blame the winger if things stuff up".

I thought of Eric this week a bit.

Lots of things were stuffing up and lots of people were looking for wingers to blame. Our tyro of a federal Opposition Leader, Malcolm Turnbull, had a crack at trying to take some of the credit for the 1 per cent cut in rates given to the nation by the Reserve Bank.

A week ago, he was offering a bipartisan joint effort on the economic crisis, at the same time blocking budget bills in the Senate. Well, he was having a go, as Eric from the Riverview Hotel would say.

There's nothing much an Opposition can do in times like these, but still Malcolm might as well try. The Treasurer, Wayne Swan, accepting that the banks may not be able to pass on the full rate cut to consumers gave Turnbull a little room to move. It might also have given him some pause for thought, perhaps to ruminate on the fact that things were as bad as some were saying.
The economic turbulence has become the latest soap opera fascination for the broadcasters and commentators, and the Premier, Nathan Rees, probably thinks that is just fine. Any week where he doesn't have to sack some minister and where all of his cabinet keep their clothes on is a good one as far as he is concerned.

And now the whole world is going to hell in a hand basket. The sure sign of the seriousness of the situation is reflected in the faces of the traders who give little reports on the markets, usually on late-night bulletins. Mostly they are pleasantly bland talking heads delivering information as routinely as the weather and sport used to be done.

This week some of these talking heads looked scared. That is something, to see a primal and real emotion on display from a TV talking head. None of the pat explanations would work, none of the tried and true phrases about cycles and curves and seasons. They looked for all the world to be looking for a winger to blame.

Midweek saw the telecast of the second US presidential debate between the senators McCain and Obama. John McCain tried hard to be folksy but looked a little like Uncle Fester from the Addams Family only being allowed out of the cellar as long as he didn't get too cranky. "Now friends," he would say a little too much and all the while Obama was all loose-limbed elegance and seemed to be on the verge of smoothly segueing into some Brook Benton song. The phrase he is most fond of is "you know". As one would say it to friends.

It was a town hall debate and the audience was made up of a cross-section of American society.

Hello! I wasn't quite sure why the debate was being telecast live but somebody at the ABC deemed it to be important enough to be so I watched a little.

I wondered if McCain or Obama would barrack for Manly.

It was that sort of a perplexing week. When McCain pointed to Obama and referred to him as being "That One!" I thought to myself, this is the "Blame the Winger" moment of the 2008 race.

Then the sky began to fall again. Central banks across the world acted in unison to drop rates in a concerted effort to instil confidence in the markets. Well, that's what the talking heads said.

In Great Britain, the Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, announced a huge shoring-up of the nation's financial institutions that bordered on the part-nationalisation of the banking system. Even in the US rumours of the Government taking equity in the banks were run up the flagpole. Nationalising the banks. Ben Chifley would have started turning comfortably in his grave and reached for his pipe.

One person's misfortune is another's opportunity. The Commonwealth Bank licked its lips and started looking for ripe pickings, swallowing BankWest.

An acquaintance of mine said she loved all the turmoil and the rich buggers getting it. Whatever that meant. Things have changed a little. It's more than just sweaty late-night financial talking heads at stake. It's people's super and savings and certainty. But some people can't be told. Some don't get it.

Amid all of this turmoil somehow Gunns of Tasmania, they of the pulp mills and woodchips, announced that Don Burke, the former television gardening guru and king of lifestyle entertainment in the days when people had money to spend on their gardens, would be their spokesperson. Talk about a career move.

And then I pause for a breath. Well, Don's having a go. I think of old Eric and his pony glasses and of his talk of moderation and knowing your limits. A fundamental truth that too many forget. Well, there is a time for everything.

But I must say with the greatest respect to old Eric, I'm glad Steve Menzies scored that try. The Beaver was a good player. So well done him.