Tip-top Condition

Newcastle Herald

Saturday September 13, 2008

with Robert Dillon

I'LL give you the tip: it's a good job I'm a modest type.

Otherwise I'd be cracking the Dom Perignon and organising a tickertape parade to celebrate my victory in The Herald's League 2008 tipping competition.

Fortunately, that's not my style.

I'm not really interested in accolades and adulation, nor in collecting a commission from all the readers out there who cashed in on my expertise and won tipping comps in their workplace or local pub.

The satisfaction of giving my loyal followers - both of them - a helping hand is more than enough reward.

At face value, it may appear my landslide win was a mere stroll in the park.

Eight points, I believe, was the final margin. A full round of tips ahead of my nearest rival.

Dillon first, daylight second.

A famous triumph for the Usain Bolt of footy tipsters, who, apart from one week early in the season, led from start to finish.

And without wanting to honk my own horn, I didn't just hand out a thrashing to the Herald's other 15 tipsters.

I am reliably informed I also towelled up the so-called experts from the Sydney Morning Herald, Daily Telegraph, Rugby League Week, Big League magazine and any other publication worth lining your birdcage with.

But anyone who thinks it was a cakewalk has no idea about the commitment, sacrifice and pressure involved.

Some would say it's only a bloody game.

A bit of light-hearted entertainment.

A friendly social outlet.

That's where you're wrong.

People who regard tipping competitions as fun are invariably no-hopers whose entry fee is effectively a donation.

Amateurs with no concept of the killer instinct required to claim the ultimate prize.

True tipping tragics, on the other hand, realise that each season is a gruelling seven-month odyssey featuring highs and lows, devastating setbacks, inexplicable boilovers and the odd miracle victory.

They feel sick with disappointment when a sure bet comes unstuck, and the surge of pure adrenaline when an omen pays off.

Truth be told, I was a nervous wreck by season's end, haunted by the looming spectre of a man on a mission: my Herald colleague Neil Goffet.

By the halfway point in the season, I was five points clear and the tipping comp was looking like a one-horse race.

I was smugness personified.

But then grapevine whispers started filtering through to me Goffo had brazenly vowed to take me down.

Initially I laughed off such a prospect. After all, by round 15, I was seven points clear of him.

But week by week, he started to steadily reduce my lead.

The big fella was in the zone, tipping a couple of upsets each round that unerringly paid off.

Before long, I could hear lumbering footsteps just behind me, and my work colleagues added to the tension by shamelessly barracking for the underdog.

"You'll do a Quinny," said one, reminding me of Ben Quinn's unfortunate demise a few years back, when he led by streets mid-season only to limp home with the also-rans.

"You've made your run too early," said another.

"It's a marathon, not a sprint."

The tension was unbearable, as I knew full well that anything less than victory would result in merciless ridicule for many years to come.

Adding to the stress I was under, readers were calling from places like Sydney and Armidale, explaining that they were going on overseas holidays and could they trouble me to give them a month's tips in advance.

The stakes were high.

By the third-last round of the season, my lead had been whittled down to three points.

There was only one match in that round which Neil and I had tipped differently a two-point ball game.

Neil tipped Souths, and I tipped the Raiders. When the Bunnies popped a field goal to lead by 13 points at half-time, I was in the foetal position.

Somehow the Raiders regrouped and won 40-25. I was four points clear with two rounds 16 games left.

For the first time in weeks, I slept soundly.

When the tips were submitted for the penultimate round, Goffo picked six kamikaze upsets five of which crashed and burned.

I stuck to the favourites, which put me eight points clear unassailable when the final round kicked off.

In case you're wondering, I've made not one cent of profit out of my tipping this season.

The bragging rights, of course, are priceless.

But if there are any readers out there who rode my tips all the way to the bank, feel free to express your appreciation with cash gifts.

It will help pay for my valium subscription.

TIPSTERS

ROBERT DILLON

Newcastle Herald

FIRST

DAYLIGHT

Natural energy source

SECOND

NEIL GOFFET

Newcastle Herald

THIRD

BRETT KEEBLE

Newcastle Herald

FOURTH

BESTBETS

FootyTAB favourites

FIFTH

GARY VAN EGMOND

Newcastle Jets

SIXTH

GARY HARLEY

102.9 KO-FM

SEVENTH

WARREN RYAN

Coaching guru

EIGHTH

© 2008 Newcastle Herald

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