Dear Russell Crowe
I started attending Rabbitohs games as a member the year before Peter Holmes a Court and Russell Crowe bought their controlling interest, having learned to enjoy the sport since moving here, adopting them as my team out of a sense of loyalty to my ex (who only ever cheered for them because of a soft spot for small animals) and because, c'mon, any team with such a fearsome mascot is worth supporting. (Yes, I know, that's sarcasm, not irony, the sense of humour that Australians think American's don't get, so maybe we don't.)

But for all the investment Mr. Crowe has put in - especially the addition of Sam Burgess and David Taylor last year, and Greg Inglis this year - how am I left with such a win-less team? Granted, it's only round seven, but the only performer on the side is the littlest guy, Chris Sandow, who's kicking wonderfully well, not to mention scoring tries that seem to galvanise the squad, if only for ten minutes or so.

People talk about players being "80-minute men", but I'd say the Rabbitohs manage about thirty per half, before fading into irrelevancy. The Bulldogs didn't just manage to off-load the ball whenever they needed to, they also managed their passing in a way that suggested South Sydney had collectively taken a blow to the head that left them unable to follow the movement, letting Canterbury penetrate the defense easily.

The score, 36-24, suggests a closer game than it was.

On the station platform on the way out, a local wag remarked, "next year, brother, next year". Seems like maybe that's the way this season will turn out. Do I need to think about a new loyalty?