Welcome back dockerlanders, hope your xmas was minimally exciting, as was mine. If there's one thing less appealing than the overblown consumerfest build up to Christmas, it's having your blood pressure elevated during the holidays by blow ins called relatives coming round, pilfering the decent beer and the Ferrero's and hogging the big arse TV. Mine stayed over the side of the continent this year, so it came early.

I'm also glad to report this xmas was a little more efficient at the Drubbing household, what with no simultaneous vomit and tummy expulsions ensuring the nominated days for opening gifts were observed.

While spending some quality time in the bosom of my family, I also spent it with a good friend; Matt Price. I was lucky enough to receive Top Price as a gift, and so I could savour some great work from one of the very few blokes left who could give journalism a good name.

It makes you realise how far off the game the local sports scribblers are. If they all worked really hard, had some talent, and took the trouble to be informed, they may just be able to write some stuff equal to what Matt discarded in the bin. And he only knocked out the sports rectangle in time off from his real job.

Reading some of Matt's prose, it's saddening to realise we will have no more of these once-abundant gems, but nice to have them collected in one place. And reading so many of his pieces together, it's amazing how he was able to retain the wide eyed, kid-in-a-toy-store perspective of the theatrics of politics and sport, as a keen observer of human nature, whilst also succumbing to its being one of its participants.

Of course, the Freo stories are a highlight, as Matt sways from blind devotion, to resigned pessimism, highlighting the experience of following what the Vic's consider the daggiest footy team in the league. Yes, the comments from a number of Matt's colleague's reveals that, unlike Matt, Freo are viewed as a 'team destined for small things'. At one stage Matt reveals that he gave up hope on Freo, couldn't see the point anymore, but couldn't help himself; he always came back for more. How many of us can relate to that?

So if you weren't one of the lucky ones this year, and the sight of those paisley socks and those shorts that your grandad wouldn't even wear just makes you wish you got something decent out of the whole shebang, treat yourself, go buy Matt's book. Get it for the Docker articles, but also enjoy his political sketches; the only thing dry about politics by Matt Price, is the humour. Be amazed at Matt's insight to the characters of Kevin Rudd and John Howard. Be even more amazed that while spearing them with his wit, they loved it and were just as avid readers as the rest of us. And they all miss him too.

Laugh at his absurd meeting with Bob Dylan, where if Matt had enough presence of mind, he could have given His Bobness a lift in his battered Volvo. Wonder what the hell he saw in the Doobie Brothers.

It'll get you in the mood for footy. It'll make you laugh. The tributes are genuinely moving. Even Armani socks can't do all that.