WE GO to Sydney. We lose. Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was. Aaaaaargh!

 There are two explanations for Sunday's loss to Sydney.

1. Vitezslav Lavicka watered the pitch. Adelaide were hit by illness and injury. Sydney is cursed ground for the Reds. Bridge mishit his shot so badly that he managed to get it on target. Vitezslav Lavicka watered the pitch. Adelaide were hit by illness and injury. Oh, did I say that?

2. Adelaide have overachieved for years - and especially last year - based on a sound squad and good coaching. But teams have worked us out and the standard has been raised. We're really good at what we do but it's one dimensional and if it goes wrong we don't know where to turn to next. We met a vastly improved Sydney team who pressured us until we broke. Admittedly it took a great goal from a very unlikely source but we had no answer because we lack firepower and we're weakened by injury and illness. And because we don't like to take risks.

Well, Viddie is the man and I hate to doubt him, but there are many of us who would dearly like to see some more attacking football coming out of Adelaide. Undoubtedly, when we have Owusu fit and Cassio and Alemao running the wings we'll look stronger and more dangerous. When Reid and Hughes have worked out who's the holding midfielder (or when Viddie decides we only need one!) we'll have more shape. When Rudan is fit then Fyfe (who returned to his Sydney form in the second half) might lift his game. When...

Haven't we been saying this for too long. When. If. Strikers score goals and Cristiano is not a lone striker. He's a poacher. He needs a partner. Surely it would have been worth the gamble of playing Monterosso with Cristiano for longer than that last desperate gamble on Sunday? Pantelis could have gone off at the half. Dodd could have gone left. Hughes could have moved up to attacking midfield. When Alemao had to depart, Shin could have gone central and Hughes could have gone right. We could have played like we wanted to win. Three shots in two games is not ok.

It's just one loss. I hope. There is no doubt that Reds fans are some of the most loyal going around but we need to see goals - or at least see a team set up to score them.  Alemao looked like he wanted too and his form is a revelation. Can the team structure change to accommodate the risk of two strikers? One can only hope.

Speaking of seeing goals, GCU are coming to town this Friday night. They're on a high. Adelaide are rebuilding. I very much doubt that the Golden Boys will be feeling overconfident. Hindmarsh is not an easy place to play (and we promise not to spread the field with jelly). If they win this they'll really have some bragging rights. This will be tense.

Imagine the scene.......

From his seat at the back of the smoky room, Red could hear the squeal of tyres and the race-tuned engine as it idled, then cut out. He looked up as the door swung open, shedding light into the sober and quiet interior. This was a family venue. Red registered no surprise as the Golden Boy walked in. They'd never met before but he'd known this was coming. Dressed to impress, the young man would have intimidated his peers. Red just grinned. Another fighter. Another fight.

He'd heard the stories, how Goldie had been hitting the pubs and building a reputation. First he'd taken a swing at the Roaring Bull up north, where he came from. It'd been touch and go for a while and he'd taken a knock but he'd left the Roar nursing more than a sore ego.

Next, he'd muscled in on a young turk by the name of Fury. It hadn't been pretty. Word was the loser was hospitalised. They were still cleaning blood off the walls.

Now he was here, driving his dad's car and looking for trouble. It could have come at a better time. Red was still bruised from a tough scrap with the Blue Meany and was shaking off the flu. Life comes at you when it will. No use complaining. After all, this wasn't the first time someone had come looking for his scalp, thinking it'd be an easy take. Just last year some very big names had come calling. Had gone home crying.

Standing slowly, Red tousled his young lad's hair and told him to go home and tell his mother that dad might be late. They'd been playing two-up for jelly beans. The boss had gone bankrupt and times were tough but you make the best of it. Got to look after the kids.

Shaking Goldie's hand Red noticed the way his muscles rippled under his shirt. No scars to speak of either. None - yet. It's funny how they all think there never will be. Red knew better. Scars don't kill, they teach.

Peeling of his faded denim jacket, Red watched the young man flexing and preening. At least he wasn't mouthing off - but was he really going to fight in those leather pants? Different worlds.

He knew this would be a tough one and that no-one really expected him to win. But when had they? He wasn't pretty and he wasn't wealthy. But he had friends and he knew his mates would be by his side whatever the outcome. He wondered if Goldie had any. It's tough being the new boy. Especially the new, rich boy.

Red took a deep breath and went over the new moves he'd been working on with his manager. Could come in handy tonight.

"Care to step outside?" he asked.

To be continued...