Thursday, 29 September 2016

Tall Story: The Biography (Part 1)

I’m going to start this by saying that I generally hate writing a biography for myself.  I’m only doing it now because I was asked to write something about myself for a project I’m working on.  The reason I hate it is because the fundamental problem with writing a bio for yourself is you either end up writing in the first-person and sounding like what the Italians would call a ‘baggadouche’ or you have to write in the third-person and it just seems like you’ve enlisted the services of an imaginary friend most people should stop listening to the voice of during child therapy sessions their terrified parents make them attend.  Or best case scenario, despite your use of the third-person approach, everyone reading it knows you wrote it yourself and you just look stupid, like you sent yourself a Valentine’s Day card from “A Secret Admirer”.

Ideally the way I (or anyone for that matter) would want my bio to come about is for it to actually be written by someone influential who’s met me, just to give it a bit more credibility.  However, Novak Djokovic isn’t replying to my emails and apparently Jennifer Hawkins doesn’t have phone signal in Myer, so here we are.  That’s why I’ve decided to do something a little different.  I’ve done brief re-cap of my life so far, with dot points of the important bits... but I’ve done it in three parts because it seems more digestible that way and, well… let’s face it, we friggin’ love trilogies.  That being said, I plan to live at least another 30 years so this could turn into a ‘Rocky’/’Police Academy’ scenario in years to come.  Nevertheless, have a read, have a laugh and checkout some of my “greatest hits” (that you may never have heard) from the 80s, 90s and today!


  • Born in Baxter House, Geelong Hospital on June 29th at some time in the early hours of the morning.  The entire experience must have been awfully traumatic and difficult because I’ve blocked all memory of it out of my head.

  • Photos later confirm that I in fact ‘came out’ butt-first, thus the reason in photos soon after, my rear looks like the face of an intensely sunburnt cyclops.

  • Meet my Mum, Dad, Grandma and other family… enjoy their company so much, I continue to live with them for a number of years.

Already getting centrefold poses organised.  Incidentally, this image would appear in the Geelong Advertiser as an 18th birthday greeting from my parents.  True story.


  • Enter ‘Bay City Plaza Geelong’ and upon being asked by an MC hosting a performance event, “What do you want to be when you grow-up?”, in front of 500 parents and children I proudly proclaim, “I want to be the first frog in space!”

  • We move out of our unit in Bell Park and into a new house in Highton.  Fortunately, due to my still tiny frame, I am excused from assisting with the moving process.

  • My sister is born – I mostly quietly but occasionally vocally, object to the introduction of a new housemate without my authority.

  • Mum buys me my first ‘outfit’ – a crisp white sailor suit, with navy embroidery, shoulder cuffs and gold trim on the sleeves.  A sailor’s hat and navy sandals are also included.  Only years later will I realise just how cute I really am at this moment.

You may need to adjust your screens to deal with all this cuteness.


  • I Begin Sub-Prep at St. Andrew’s Primary School in Newtown, Geelong.  Play ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ with twins, Evan and James McDonald at recess on my first day.  We become best friends.

  • Develop a deep affinity for eating ‘Play-doh’ and ‘Klag’.  Hence the reason I start referring to ‘art time’ as ‘tea time’.

  • Like the rest of the boys, and some of the girls, I have a bowl cut hairstyle.  It seems like an incredibly easy time to be a hairdresser.

Bowl cut on point and some pics with the twins throughout primary school.


  • Continue to fight the urge to suck my thumb when I sleep.  Parents buy me a product called ‘Ban-suck’, which is rubbed on the thumb and causes burning when put in the mouth.  I continue to suck my thumb and become accustomed to the pain.  This is possibly the first documented example of the term ‘thug life’.

  • I learn that we are not all on the same ‘toilet clock’.  I realise that none of my other ‘non-ethnic’ classmates have to go to the toilet as often as me… I'm 4-years old and it is my first encounter with the phrase “when in Rome”.  1 hour later, I poo my pants.  Mum picks me up and drives me home, while I lay face down in the back seat of the car, apologising profusely.

"Shout-out to all the people out there who ain't grow-up to be suckas just because they was little thumb-suckas" - Anonymous rapper.


  • Perform my first creative piece at ‘Show & Tell’; a collection of poems and humorous song covers including a rendition of Right Said Fred’s ‘I’m Too Sexy’, which includes the lyrics “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt…. that’s why I wear a jumper.”

  • Give mum a letter to send, with illustrations and stickers, to ‘Agro’s Cartoon Connection’.  She promises she will give it to her “good friend” and host of the show Anne-Maree Biggar.  I win no toys… I meet no puppet.  Years later, I learn that my mother never sent the letter.  Nor does she, nor did she ever, know Miss Biggar.

  • During a visit to the Geelong Show, mum and dad tell me that this is ‘Disneyland’.  The first true test of my limitless imagination.

Post-'Show & Tell' class photo: This is what bad-asses look like in the private primary school system.


  • I get lost at Canberra Serbian Festival while waiting for mum and sister to come out of the toilets.  I assume that after 15 minutes they must have come out without me seeing them so I go walking to find them.  I am sad, until a nice lady with a floral dress helps me find my “mama”.  My mum finds me and she is happy.  Then she smacks me for walking off alone.  I am sad again.

  • Realise I have a knack for maths timetables after winning several timetable competitions in class.  It begins a long run of amusing but mostly useless skills.

  • Have first artistic tantrum when my first published piece of work, (a poem called ‘The Follow Dog’) is printed in the school year book, in the bottom corner of the page.  I protest that it should be centre-top.

  • Dad lets me get my hair cut ‘number one’ all over.  My mum blames him for years that this is the reason my hair is no longer straight… or blonde.  The bowl cut soon makes a return.

The shaved head look slowly growing through on a trip to Fiji.  Don't know whether to address the fact that my head looks like an egg with three-day growth or that I would've made an awesome addition to the 'Lion King' Broadway show.


  • For two months, I’m convinced that ‘finger’ is in fact pronounced ‘thinger’ and proceed to inform and gradually convince my Grade 3 class of this fact.

  • Mum enrols me in gymnastics for coordination purposes.  It seems I am walking into too many walls and injuring myself a great deal, and in a variety of ways – possibly due to my head, which at present, is still too large for my body.  She buys me a pair of pink and black spandex shorts for the activity.  I comment that she needs help with her colour-coordination.

  • Start playing basketball with the Knicks at Geelong’s ‘Life Be In It Centre’.  In my first season I sprain my ankle and dislocate my little finger.  For the remainder of my life, this will leave me almost completely unable to perform an adequate ‘pinky promise’.

  • Start learning to play guitar; mostly Elvis songs, which I proceed to play at every opportunity for my classmates, particularly at ‘Show & Tell’.  Unrequested/unwanted encore performances become a trademark.

  • Come runner-up in a school camp ‘talent’ competition by performing an impersonation of Elvis as an elderly woman, along with my Indian friend Sujain.  This, coupled with my ‘Elvis guitar serenades’, lead to me having the nickname ‘Elvis’ for the remainder of primary school.

Girls love a guitarist... except when his guitar has Disney stickers on it and he wears his grandma's vest while playing it. 


  • Buy first ever CDs (all singles); ‘Spice Girls – Wannabe’, ‘Los Del Rio – Macarena’, and ‘Seal – Kiss From a Rose’.  The last of which, I’m ashamed to say, I will go on to request at OzSkate Rollerblading Centre, during a weekend visit.  I also get my mum to write on each CD cover ‘Stefan Popovic’ so that (unfortunately) there’s no doubt whatsoever about who they belong too.

  • Start learning Taekwondo.  My training includes 2 hours of martial arts training each week, as well as renting every Bruce Lee movie ever made.

When you really want to be Bruce Lee, but instead you're the only kid who forgot his Taekwondo uniform for the photo day.


  • Go on a world trip with parents and sister for two and a half months.  See the real Disneyland.  Dad tries to joke that this is the ‘Geelong Show’.

  • Perform in my first school play.  There isn’t enough room left in the cast for the main production, so I am left to perform in a separate play to the rest of the class, with the nose-picking, asthmatic British kid, Johnny Joseph.  He plays a giraffe and I’m dressed-up as a bear.

  • Later that year, I perform in another class play about ‘Waltzing Maltida’.  I play the ‘Coolabah Tree’, due to my freakishly tall frame.  It literally involves me just standing with one arm outstretched over the rest of the cast holding an empty box of ‘Coolabah’ cask wine… in school uniform.

  • Soon after, St Andrew’s Primary School closes down.

Disneyland.  Some have gone so far as to refer to it as "the 'Geelong Show' of the northern hemisphere".


  • Finish Primary Schooling, and begin Secondary schooling, at Kardinia International College.  I bring the bowl cut with me.

  • I keep playing basketball, and after playing and training 4 times a week, combined with watching ‘NBA Action’ and ‘NBL Highlights’ every Saturday morning, I am convinced I will be the next Michael Jordan… only more pale.

I only realise now that we had essentially the same hairstyle, except my sister's was 'salad bowl' while mine was still at the 'soup bowl' stage.


  • I audition for ‘Hey Hey It’s Saturday’ in the same room that the Keno lotto draw is filmed.  The routine consists entirely of me impersonating Scottish, American, Indian and English people.  I don’t make it onto ‘Red Faces’ and the show is cancelled soon after.  I begin to notice a trend with the effect my performances have on the fate of the venues at which I am performing them.

  • Decide to stop wearing Speedos, just in time for my first end-of-semester beach trip.  Am happy that certain things have been left to the imagination, out of sight and out of mind.

  • Learn how to make highly realistic fart sounds with my hands, providing my classmates with endless amusement during excursions and class movies in the auditorium.  I also become the bane of my teachers’ existence.


  • I go to Japan for one month on study exchange.  My Japanese improves significantly while living with my host family and going to a Japanese school, but I seem to get more out of walking around the city kicking buildings whilst shouting, “Aaargh GODZILLA!”

  • Start to get the reputation as the ‘class clown’.  Girls think I’m hilarious, but just want to be my friends.  Begin to feel like puberty has been wasted on me.

Japan trip 1999:  No knives and forks, no shoes, no problem.

The End of Part One.

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Monday, 29 August 2016

Zemlja Sporta: Mi Smo Taj Narod, Mi Smo Ta Ekipa

Zasto je ovo zemlja sporta? Stalno se prica da smo takva zemlja. Da smo "ta" zemlja. Ponekad se ljudima cini da smo jedva drzava ali retko da sumnjaju da smo zemlja ozbljnog znacaja kad je sport u pitanju. Vidimo po uspesima nasih sportista da je to istina ali ne moze se ova titula racunati samo po uspesima jer su Ameri, Kinezi, itd vrlo "uspesni" u sportu. To sto im se krv verovatno moze klasifikovati kao radioaktivan zbog dopinga je vec druga prica. Necu da brojim uspehe nasih sportista prvo jer ih ima previse, i drugo jer to nije smisao ovog pisma.

Mi smo ta ekipa sto se kapira u pokretu.

Ne, mi smo zemlja sporta uprkos tim uspesima. Mi smo zemlja sporta zato sto po  logicnoj analizi ne bi trebali da budemo, a jesmo. Da li nam je to u genima, verovatno. Da li bi Karadjordje bio majstor za zakucavanje, nisam siguran. Da li bi Milos Obilic mogao sa reketom to sto je uspeo sa nozem, stvarno nemam pojma. Ali u ovome jesam siguran; sport je postao najbolji dokaz da iako je ekonomija u losem stanju, iako narod pati, iako neki nemaju sigurnost da ce sutra imati posao sa kojim su se vratili kuci danas, postoji bar jedno mesto gde sa trudom i sa borbom dokazano da cak i u ovakvom sistemu ljudi mogu uspeti.

Nase odbojkasice su objasnile.

Momci iz BG Sindikata su u pravu kad kazu da "ljudi slabo pamte, to je ovde glavni problem" ali nekad mi se cini da ljudi ovde pamte i uvek se sete da kad su nas politicari izdali, prodali i razocarali, sportisti nikad nisu. Sa ponosom kazemo da smo 'Zemlja Sporta' jer volimo sto se sport ne dobija na pregovore vec na borbe. Ne mora Brisel ni Bajden da se umesaju kad Nole ima tajbrejk ili kad Sale Nacionale trazi "tajm aut". Nasi sportisti su nam uvek bili uzor patriotizma, ljubavi prema otadzbini i dokaz da ipak postoje ljudi koji se nisu predali u borbi za buducnost ove zemlje iako sadasnjost ove zemlje ne izgleda uvek sjajano.

Sonja Petrovic i Ana Dabovic slave medalju. Igraju kolo kao sto igraju kosarku.

Mozda smo zemlja sporta zato sto nam to daje nadu da ce sve biti bolje, kad tad, jer u sportu nam nikada nije bilo gotovo, i kada je sve izgledalo da jeste. Da li su to trojke Saleta Djordjevica u poslednjoj sekundi, ili Grbicev skok van terena da spasi jedva zivu loptu i donese Srbiji zlatnu medalju, ili Milica Dabovic kad je usla u igru sa jednom vezanom rukom? Odgovor je da su sve te stvari i jos mnogo vise.

Pa sta se cudite?  Kod nas je sve ovo normalno.

Mi smo zemlja sporta zato sto za bas male investicije imamo mnogo "zarade". Mozemo nekako da oborimo svetske sile koji uloze grdne pare u sport i za kojima je infrastruktura na velikom nivou. Mi smo zemlja sporta zato sto preko nasih sportista, vidimo da napredujemo. Vidimo da neko juri ka cilju i ako ne dodje dotle, ipak sigurno ne stoji na mesto gde je poceo. Realno mi smo trn u oku ovim svetskim silama. Kad nase odbojkasice pobede amerikanke u polufinalu. Kad nam kosarkasice ne odustaju od borbe posle poraza, i vrate se kuci sa bronzom koja sija kao zlato. Tad, znajte kad vam prica decko koji je Srbin ali je na zapadu rodjen i odrastao - stvarno smo im trn u oku.

Mozemo biti ponosni sto realno nismo buket cveca u botanickoj basti za kojim se neko mnogo brine, pazi i trudi. Mi smo cvet koji bez polivanja i paznje nekako raste kroz beton zahvaljuci samo ulicnoj kisi koja jedva dodje do nas pa se nekako i izgura da oseti sunce.

Sa nasom kosarkasicom Danijel Pejdz.  Bronzana medalja sa ukusom zlata.

Mi smo zemlja sporta ne zato sto drzava to snabdeva i finansira, vec zato sto nema investicija. Mi smo to sto jesmo zbog toga sto nismo, i to sto imamo, imamo zbog svega toga sto nikad nismo imali. Zato sto nasa motivacija nisu pare ni slava, vec patriotizam i inat. Ljubav prema zemlji koju zelimo da imamo a ne prema stanju u drzavi trenutno. 

Mi smo zemlja sporta zato sto se nikad nismo stidili i plasili se toga da smo david protiv Goliata. Zemlja sporta zato se igra kosarka na ulici u 1:30 ujutru dok na zapadu samo do 5 i to mora da bude u sredjenoj dvorani. Zemlja smo sporta zato sto nam je jedan od retkih dokaza koja su ostala da red rad i disciplina jos vaze i da funkcionisu. Da u ovoj drzavi gde ljudi misle da ne moze da se uspeva, ovi sportisti stoje kao dokaz da mozemo. Dokaz da nase cerke nemaju razloga da gledaju starlete i da nasi sinovi nemaju razloga da budu kriminalci. Dokaz svega ovoga je bio aplauz i ovacije ne samo nasim sportistima sinoc koji su osvojili medalje, vec i onima koji nisu. Uzvikanje "Sampioni" i "vi ste ponos Srbije" su dokaz da iako zelimo pobedu, na kraju krajeva postujemo borbu.

Svi kao jedan, i u dobru i u zlu, svim srcem!

Ja ne mogu da igram za reprezentaciju, moj put u zivotu je drugaciji. Ali bih voleo da se se borim za ovaj narod, za ovu zastavu i za ovu zemlju. I ponosan sam sto nase kosarkasice, odbojkasice, vaterpolisti, kosarkasi, rvaci i mnogi drugi imaju talenat, hrabrost i zelju da to uradite za mene i za sve nas.

Ovo je zemlja sporta zato sto na neki nacin, tu nam nikada nije prestala borba. Kroz ratove, sankcije, inflacije i patnje, ovde smo uvek nasli neku srecu i neki uspeh. Za deo sveta koji je toliko patio zbog ratova, nas sportski rat koji ce vecno trajati je jedan koji je imao vise pobeda nego poraza, i sto je najbitnije, bez izgubljenog zivota. Mi smo zemlja sporta zato sto smejemo se ironiji u lice. Zemlja bez mora koja osvaja sve titule u vaterpolu. Zemlja koja pobedjuje Koreance u sportu koji su oni izmislili. Zemlja koja nema para, a ima mnogo zlata.

Dosli smo na docek iz Krusevca, Uzice i Australije.

Spomenucu jos jednom za kraj zato sto sam pun emocija ovih dana (kao sto ste sigurno svi vi koji citate ovo) zahvaljuci nasim sportistima pa evo; Mi smo zemlja sporta upravo iz ovog razloga; zato sto po svakoj logicnoj analizi, ne bi trebali da budemo, a nekako jesmo. Zato sto tu svako moze da nadje srecu - kockar, umetnik, radnik, student, profesor, bolesnik i doktor, dete i deda. I dok tu postoji ta sreca, uvek ce se pojaviti nova generacija koja ce je ili traziti, naci, uzeti i deliti sa svima nama da nam ublazi bol i digne iz monotonije svakodnevnog zivota.

Friday, 22 April 2016

'Iz Dijaspore s Ljubavlju': Otvoreno Pismo Mom Narodu i Mojoj Zemlji

Pre neki dan, ponovo mi je postavljeno pitanje, "šta znači Srbija nama koji živimo u Dijaspori"?  Sada, ovo je ozbiljno pitanje.  Ali ozbiljnost zna da bude malo teško i dosadno a naša priča zaslužuje mnogo bolje od toga.  Eto iz tog razloga i pošto svi koji me znaju, znaju da mogu biti zabavan, smešan, nasmejan, pozitivan, ali teško da budem ozbiljan, odgovoriću na ovo pitanje na najbolji način koji umem - od srca.

Ja nikad nisam zavoleo osobu zato što je bogata i, takođe, ne bih je mrzeo ni da je siromašna.  To važi i za Srbiju.  Za nas u dijaspori, Srbija je sve.  Tu su nam koreni, tu nam je rodbina, istorija i veliki deo naše priče.  Brinemo o Srbiji kao što brat brine o bratu ili roditelj o detetu.  Nama je ta briga možda još veća jer živimo daleko od Srbije i ne možemo uvek da budemo tu sa njom.  Kao kad brat, sestra ili dete ide na daleki put, jednostavno brineš o njima.

Nismo svi izabrali tu sudbinu; neki smo rođeni u dijaspori, neki su otišli kao izbeglice i neki su otišli jer su shvatili da, iako vole ovu zemlju, oni ne mogu da žive u ovoj državi.  I kao što znamo, država i zemlja su dve baš različite stvari.  Kada sve to sabereš, Srbija je deo nas.  Deo našeg identiteta, našeg srca, naše familije.  Želimo da joj pomognemo kad joj je teško, a ne da je zapostavimo, bez pomoći da propada.  Želimo da je štitimo kad je neko napada, da je branimo kad je neko vređa i da je hvalimo kad god napravi neki uspeh.  Zato kad neka budala u Srbiji poseče hrast star preko 6 vekova, mi osuđujemo budalu a ne Srbiju.

Ne možemo dozvoliti da budemo mrzovoljni ili negativni jer to ubija ljubav koju imamo prema Srbiji.  To što živimo u dijaspori ne znači da Srbiju volimo manje, već možda da je volimo i više.  Nismo glasni nacionalisti, već velike patriote i to što volimo Srbiju, ne znači da mrzimo ono što nije srpsko.  Cenimo neke male stvari što ljudi koji ovde žive svaki dan možda ne cene.  Kao što zdrav covek ima milion želja, a bolestan čovek samo jednu.  Cenimo miris beogradskih ulica za vreme paklene vrućine, cenimo miris šumadijske trave posle velike letnje kiše, ukus hladne vode sa česme pored magistrale, osećaj vetra koji duva sa reke dok se šetamo sa dobrim društvom pored keja i stare kaldrme koje su možda nekima neudobne za šetanje, a za nas je svaki žulj dobrodošao i svaki korak nova uspomena.

Tu su naravno i ukus domaće hrane, vibracije domaće muzike i zvuk pozdrava "Srećan rad momci!" sa majstorima koji kopaju ispred kuće uz njihov odgovor "Hvala dečko, živ bio!"

Mi smo možda za neke ljude ovde ludi jer volimo Srbiju čak i kad je postalo normalno da je ne voliš.  Kad mržnja postane normalna, ljubav postane nenormalna, nažalost.  Jeste istina da živimo daleko od Srbije, ali to ne znači da ne razumemo kad joj je teško i šta muči našu braću i sestre koji ovde žive. Možda nam to i daje snagu da budemo objektivni.

Na kraju krajeva, možda je ova istina najvažnija: volimo Srbiju ali i vidimo da naša Srbija nije trenutno u najboljem stanju i da njeni građani zaslužuju bolje.  Svi znaju da su potrebne promene, a znanje nije dovoljno, potrebna je akcija.  I mi dijasporci možda najviše osećamo dužnost da krenemo sa akcijom zato što smo u mogućnosti da nešto uradimo.  Nismo naivni, nismo glupi, već verovatno dovoljno ludi da uspemo u tome da vizija budućnosti Srbije postane realna sadašnjost Srbije.  Ovo je naša kuća i ako idemo daleko od nje, kad se vratimo, uvek će ostati isti osećaj.  Konačno smo se vratili tu gde pripadamo.  Tu smo među svojima.  Kući smo.

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* Ovaj moj tekst je prvi put izašao u informativnom i integracijskom časopisu " Spoji ! " - Prvom srpskom časopisu u Austriji, Nemačkoj i Švajcarskoj koji je pokrenut od omladine.

Friday, 8 April 2016

10 (and a bit) Reasons You Should Absolutely Not Cheer for Novak Djokovic!

He’s the world number one who makes all of the players ranked below him look like a collective giant "number two".  In light of the fact that another series of Djokovic triumphs has us hearing a series of different criticisms from people trying to justify why they dislike him, I felt it only fair that I compile a list of a few criticisms that will finally outline some completely valid reasons for disliking the super-serving, rapid returner with the back-hand from the city Belgrade and the forehand from the land of 4C’s.


Loyal Grand Slam customers get looked after if they make an 11th purchase.

Djokovic wins… a lot.  Like he wins pretty much everything.  Last year he had the most successful season in tennis history!  You’re not the only one with a pool room Djoker!  Wanna give someone else a chance!?  The ATP tour’s become a series of Djokovic re-runs.  People attending live Grand Slam finals have started turning to each other before the first serve and saying, “haven’t we already watched this match like 8 times?”  On top of that, again as winner of the Australian Open, he left with $3.8 million this year.  Now what one person calls “prize money”, someone else might call “regularly exceeding the amount of money one person is allowed to take out of the country.”  Whether he’ll appear on an episode of 'Border Patrol' anytime soon, we can’t say for sure.  What we can say for sure is just that it’s disappointing to see Eastern European migrants coming in and taking hard-working Aussie jobs!


He grew up during a time when NATO and US forces were dropping depleted uranium on Serbia, soooo he’s probably radioactive.  It just doesn’t seem right to cheer for someone who appears to have radioactive superpowers and therefore an unfair advantage over the rest of the ATP players, am I right!?  He’s pretty much one of the X-Men.


Don't take my word for it, take mathematics' word for it.

The unfair training advantage of the support from NATO and the US doesn’t stop there.  For example, while Federer grew-up playing tennis at a Swiss estate where there was a pool, Djokovic grew-up playing tennis in an empty pool during a state of emergency.  While Murray was allowed to stop training when his coach blew the whistle, Djokovic was allowed to train until the army sounded the air raid siren.  It’s a level court so shouldn’t it be a level playing field?


Firstly, he’s single-handedly making Santa and the Easter Bunny look bad with his overwhelming generosity.  I mean following his 2016 Australian Open win, he donated $20,000 to Melbourne City Mission's early childhood learning program!  Where does he get off!?  Added to that, he’s gluten-free and he spends a lot of time helping sick children and the less fortunate.  You know what that means - he probably has a weak immune system and he’s in all likelihood contagious.  Yep, generous or contagious people!?  Stick with people like Rafa; who seems to only have some sort of anal itch, and Kyrgios; whose charity work is limited to getting his brother and mates free tickets to his games.  Really, they’re the healthier option.


Someone's not getting bitty tonight!

He’s defeated Murray dozens of times in front of his mum.  In front of his own mum!  Do you know how much that strains a relationship between a mother and son when the son repeatedly flies the mother out to the other side of the world only to see him embarrassed on each occasion?!  I bet she can’t even look Andy in the eyes when she breastfeeds him anymore.


He’s a nice guy AND he’s the world No.1!  Has he no respect for the sacred “nice guys finish last” rule!  If Djokovic keeps up this kind of behaviour, it’s going to force the wider community to question their belief system in terms of success and more importantly, where are all of Nick Kyrgios’ supporters going to go!?  Also, let's not forget he’s a Serbian coached by a German.  Between the two men’s countries dominating basketball, football, waterpolo and volleyball just to name a few sports, now they’re taking over tennis as well!  With the Serbian talent for sporting domination combined with the German quest for world domination, the west is screwed if WW3 is a sporting event.


Started from the top and now my whole crew here.

He’s better than Roger Federer.  Wait, or is it “Federerer”?  How many “er’s” are there in this dude’s name anyway!?  Meh, I digress – Novak, you aren’t allowed to be better than Roger Federer!  Do you know how hard it is to draw a double-headed eagle on a tri-colour flag with face paint!?  It’s certainly a lot harder than cheering “Go Roger!” and drawing a first aid sign on one's face with two colours (one if you’re sunburnt or really pale)!  When you’ve been told by the mainstream media for so long that Federer is the "greatest of all time" and you go and kit yourself out with the appropriate supporters’ gear based on that assumption, only to have it proven wrong, where does that leave you with your credit card debt from!?  Where does that leave you and your house full of Swiss flags that make you look like you live in a battlefield hospital and your collection of ‘RF’ caps that make you look like the most epic supporter of the Rotary Foundation in history!?


What’s with his erratic behaviour too!?  Like when he applauds his opponent when he makes a good shot and then smiles happily when he wins?  I’m sorry, haven’t you learned anything from Federer?  Why can’t you just ignore the achievements of your opponent and then cry when you win?!
*Sidenote:  It’s also okay to say Djokovic is arrogant once you’ve decided you dislike him.  I haven’t really made Webster’s Dictionary my bed time reading choice of late, but I’m pretty sure it outlines the definition of ‘arrogance’ as; “the expression of happiness from a person you dislike following a success they have achieved in spite of your overt dislike for them.”  Yep, a safe bet is this; happy Djokovic = "arrogant", sad Djokovic = "sore loser".  How much better do you feel about yourself now!?  It’s like I just poured you an extra glass of weekend on a Monday morning!


I stand by my made-up, non-existent movie.
He’s a Serbian guy that beats the very Anglo opponents he faces.  So I imagine it’s a massive shock to most of you that this flies in the face of what you’ve no doubt learned watching movies like 'Behind Enemy Lines' and 'The Peacemaker' where the guy with the Slavic last name is always the bad guy and always loses.  This isn’t sport, this is fan fiction!


Djokovic has won six trophies and more prize money at the Australian Open than any other competitor.  So he comes to Australia, as our guest year-in year-out, and like inviting a kleptomaniac tradie over to your house after hours for dinner, you end-up paying him handsomely only to have him leave the country with your finest silverware.
So in the end, let’s not forget Djokovic is the world number one.  He’s the best in the world at his job.  Yet every time he comes to work, he’s got to deal with several hundred people cheering for the guy who’s just rocked-up trying to get him fired and take his job.  People who probably watch the movie ‘Happy Gilmore’ and cheer for Shooter McGavin over Happy Gilmore.  A Wimbledon crowd that probably cheers for Johnny Lawrence against Daniel LaRusso in ‘The Karate Kid’ and a capacity Arthur Ashe Stadium that in all likelihood when watching ‘Indiana Jones & the Raiders of The Lost Ark’, cheers for the rolling giant ball rather than Indy.

If you read this as a genuine “how to” guide, there’s a chance you might have a severe 'Fed-oepus complex' (where you want to eliminate Federer’s wife and have an intimate relationship with Roger).  If you laughed, share it with your friends, cheer for Nole and show everyone that the Djoker is the King.
The King is still well and truly in the building.
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Tuesday, 8 March 2016

The Daily Male Talks the 'Day of the Female'

March 8th; it’s so much more than just the day when the number of male feminists increases exponentially as men try to earn brownie points on social media.  It’s International Women’s day.  A day for celebrating the achievements and addressing the issues of the half of the world’s population that manages to repeatedly claim a larger portion of the doona cover from the other half of the world’s population.

This year’s official UN theme for International Women’s day is “Planet 50-50 by 2030: Step It Up for Gender Equality” and why shouldn’t it be!?  I wouldn’t be writing this article if it wasn’t for a 50-50 effort from a male and female almost 30 years ago.  So on this your official day and in the spirit of your Patron Saint “Beyoncé”, this is just a one-day reminder of why you should enjoy today so much, as well as all the ways you make the other 364 days of the year pretty great/crazy/weird too.

The place of worship seems to be generally everywhere.

For starters, International Women’s Day is your day to celebrate just being you!  Like if Valentine’s Day celebrated singles.  A day where no matter what your profession, passion, nationality, religion or dietary requirements, you get to celebrate being a woman.  No exclusions, if the world was a Tinder app, you would all get a swipe right today just for being signed-up.  There hasn’t been such an indiscriminate celebration since the concept of the “participation award” in primary schools.  International Women’s Day is your own personal “Drake day.”  It’s your day to take pride in the achievements of women throughout history and now, and even though you may have not struggled at all, you get to blast Drake’s “Started from the Bottom” like it was based on your life story.

Today’s not just an opportunity to break the internet with inspirational Tupac quotes.  It’s a reminder to embrace all the stuff that makes women great.  The things that, much like garlic, egg and pepper, on their own aren’t great, but when mixed together make a pretty delicious omelette.  It’s for this reason that the recipe for many of the greatest women in history involves two-parts ‘resting bitch face’, one-part resting in your activewear, as well as several parts of your ability to say everything’s fine when it’s clearly not and your lack of shame in asking for directions when lost.  If you doubt any part of this, try to find a picture of Marie Curie smiling or Serena Williams not just kicking it in activewear.

The greats of history embraced the 'resting bitch face'.

Added in to all of this, let’s acknowledge that you balance out all the flaws of us men (and even as I write the word “men” to describe myself as one, I realise that the word “boy” feels more appropriate).  In a world where most men can barely remember to lower the toilet seat, today is a celebration of all of the women who never quit trying to raise the bar.  You’re a constant reminder to all the fans of the bible out there that even if women were truly made after men, it was because like any of us that have tried a recipe for the first time, you’re rarely happy with the result of your first attempt and need to make try a second time before you’re happy with the results.

I suppose it’s also worth mentioning that you’re so awesome that Bruce Jenner became one of you!  Let’s stop and appreciate just how massive this is.  You had an Olympic gold medallist and millionaire say his greatest achievement was finally becoming a member of your gender!  Now having only been a member of a few video stores, health funds and fast food clubs myself, I can’t imagine being a member of any group that would mean giving up so much to join but also make me feel as good as that.  Although it does explain why the Matildas have gained a bigger following over the last two weeks than Melbourne City FC has over the last six years.

      The Matildas                                       Melbourne City FC
Mathematics don't lie.

So more than anything, I wrote this piece because I thought you deserved a little more flattery (and hopefully laughs) than just 140 characters would provide.  So to all the women out there, whether you’re a ‘Dannii’ working on becoming a ‘Kylie’ or you’re a ‘Hillary’ but you think you’re a ‘Beyoncé’, Happy International Women’s Day to all of you.  I’ll leave you with a verse from your Patron Saint that I hope you’ll shout proudly as you read this; “Who run the world!?!?....”