Nannas vs Direct Rudboys

6. v.  8

CB2, DC2, TW1(ish), EC1, AW, CG (mom)

wow – it has been a minute. Some say the longest brown break in a decade or two. On Wednesday night The Captain was wondering which nanna would come closest to his maker. Putting my hand up here as it appears that asthma has taken over me in the last fornite. I had to leave mid first half to find an inhaler for good reason. I found that and bobbed back. I also forgot my shorts and so played in a (tastefully tan or shall I say light brown) pair of pants. So maybe this mom is a bit of a mercy mom.

the DRs were pretty handy. One year above El from his high school they certainly could pass and turn and run and shoot and score. The Nannas responded to the initial heavy onslaught from the DRs. We scored in the first half. It was only 1-6 at half time. Things were looking grim. Yet ok.

they were good to play against as in fair and tough. Matching is in our vigour. The second half was a brown avalanche WHICH WE WON!! Some hot hot goals on a muggy evening which was probably best seen by Tao’s toe knuckle hair goal which whisped a ball into goalas their goalie got cocky (by the nuts) and went for a run leaving the goals gaping.

we were really pressing them at the end as they ran out of puff, keeping in mind that as we are in our 24th year of playing that is longer than all of our opposition had been alive. Ever.

The Northcote Social Club took us into their bosom and we suckled on the teat of their sweetness.

3-2 v Dynamo Tehran

CB, SB (1), DC (2, MOM), CG, AW, TW (Ass)

Jim, all swagger and bravado, until the heavy yoke of domestic duty thwarts his unrealistic ambitions, yet again, leaving the nannas high and dry like a 13 year old virgin at a blue light disco. And Mo, having his hair cut especially for the Nannas but unable to adjust quick enough to changing circumstances, leaving the Nannas in the lurch, like a prehistoric reptile standing up his fresh faced young (yet in fact much older) mammalian date. Which left only five THONs (plus one ass Coach who is also technically a THON). It’s always slightly daunting, the tight five, 36 minutes of running without respite, but it also brings a coherence to the Nannas game which has certainly been lacking in some recent ring-in-heavy games. Also in the pros column fro the match was the opposition, our old buddies Dynamo Tehran, also well into the masters division and known for being physical but without any fuckery. And so to it… about 10 seconds in I had very pointy weasley  elbow to the ribs from a Tehranian in a yellow shirt I didn’t recognise, what the? And then a little guy in tight shorts who I wasn’t sure I recognised either was doing a lot turbo bustling. He wasn’t without foot skills,  or a turn of pace, but he was also quite keen on the mustelid elbows – fuck off mate –  and put them 1 up early into the half. The Nannas were pacing themselves and putting together some nice passes, but little white shirt was harrying like some kind of terrier which was annoying as hell. The Nannas were getting fractious, Sol had to remind Dj Renkin Penis that receiving advice on dealing with a situation whilst the situation is still live is never really appreciated. I’m pretty sure I have yet another ABI after heading a long ball (from a pretty decent goalie throw, nice one giller) , it would probably behove the Nannas to cease all headers from here on out… just saying… dementia and shit, you know. In any case, the Nannas started working their way into the game. Sol got us level with some sweet approach work and swept finish, then the MOM tucked away two tidy toe pokes. The Toe Poke eh, it is so maligned, the desperate stab of the technically ungifted, but when it works, hell it can really generate some pace in a tight spot, there’s also a lot to be said for the lack of rotation required in an old leg dubiously rigged with tendons nearing their expiry dates. All was looking pretty good at 3-1. Our defence was holding firm. Giller put in some amazing stops, as is his want, including a double stop the second of which was performed sitting on the floor, arms perfectly raised above his head, like some kind of goalie yoga. Andy had misplaced his kit so was trialling a new away strip of navy shorts (very fetching, note to the kit design committee) and putting in some very sweet raking cross court switch balls, though he did miss a gilt edge sodomites chance at the back post early on. Tao = Ass Coach = THON = freaking legend who comes to games even when injured because he loves the Nannas. And finally back to Chasbenis, perhaps the talking point of the game, which I actually failed to witness… the little white shirted terrier (who, it turns out, had a massive Conor McGregor full chest tattoo so may actually be an MMA pipe hitter) apprently , according to the Lady Chastity, tried to dislocate her arm, matters were taken into their own hands and a yellow card was issued to No. Brown upon which was remarked by the Son of Brown , ‘geez mate, you should practice what you preach”…. Burn. anyway. They got another, we won 3-2. We went to the Taco Truck for tacos because Giller still hates the Union (but still hasn’t found somewhere else to eat) the tacos were pretty good, especially the bonus chips and guac. Finding out that Four Tet was playing in Melbourne and we weren’t there was kind of a RIP but Andy hosted a most excellent fireside soiree on the way home complete with mini magnums and glowing green solar battery control panel lighting. ABKIT!

Timestamp: the world continues to fvck out, Gippsland has bush fires AND flooding, at the same time! and the No campaign and their atlas network advisory fvcks are looking terrifyingly close to winning, racist muthafvckers!… but it isn’t all bad , Collingwood won the Granny.

the lamest match report ever.

Tao scored a header

Chasby slotted one into teh top right corner

The author scored 4, for the third week in a row.  Thers a geometric metaphor in there soemwhere and I was going to draw a picture to illustrate but didn’t.

but suffuce to say we schooled some very fast young students, which is alwasy pleasing for a bunch of greay haired middle aged old men.

tight.

“To meet violence with violence is to play to your opponent’s
strong point and your own weak point.”
Hanan Ashrawi 2004

A trio of Crooks stole the show with some sublime interplay, movement and finishing. The real miscreants, though, were the three opponents who took so badly to being plundered that they physically attacked our two teenage players!

Owing to the difficulties of navigating a busy Glenlyon Rd on the long journey from East Brunswick to Brunswick your correspondent missed Lu’s apparently excellent opening goal. The scores were at 1-1 and the game tight when I arrived. A few ‘robust’ challenges from Gilla gave the opposition a couple of set-piece opportunities but all the silky stuff was from the gowns of brown. Sebastian, the fill-in, had two lovely feet and combined marvellously with Elliot, Lu and Cocky twice to put the Nanna’s into a 3-1 lead and in the ascendancy.

With around 4 minutes left of the first half, another tasty passing movement led to Lu being one-on-one with their goalkeeper. As he was in the process of going around him, the keeper grabbed his hips, pulled him to the ground and held him down. Clear penalty. Elliot ran over to remonstrate with the goalkeeper about the foul on his younger brother.

I think we were all aghast and dumbfounded by what followed. The goalkeeper pushed Elliot over and took a swing at him. A second player grabbed Lu by the throat, forcefully. Cocky rushed in to extricate his boys from the melee, quickly followed by Gilla as peace envoy. Quite how three of their players were seething with rage and apparently indignant with the injustice of the situation was utterly incomprehensible.

The young referee then in charge of the game offered little control of the situation. The fella with the chest like the Heidelberg Tun must have heard the commotion as he came over from the other pitch. To restore some calm and order he suggested we abandon the remainder of the first half and persuaded the opposition to play on for the second. Yes, somehow a few of them didn’t want to play on! No penalty was taken. No red card.

And, breathe…

Thankfully, the passing and movement from the Nannas scaled new heights in the second half. A controlled left footed volley from Cocky – in off the near post from an insouciant chipped pass from Lu which followed earlier good work from Elliot – was a particular highlight of six second half goals. There were even a couple of cheeky goals from me. I think talk of how good they were had already gotten out of hand by the time we got to the pub. Thankfully some footage has emerged of them (here and here ) so you can judge for yourself.

And so, to the Union where Elliot and Lu were being encouraged to reflect on the pitfalls of violence by not only leur pere and the other Nannas, but also Miri and the sage advice of their Grandparents who had also witnessed it all. A debrief, and an attempt to piece together how any of that had happened, seemed necessary. If anything, it became more baffling as apparently the opponents (approx. 10 years younger than the average first generation Nanna) are apparently fathers to young families! Also, all the stories we swapped of the individual reactions we witnessed confirmed that they largely remained angry and in denial of any wrongdoing throughout the match.

The Nannas schooled the Bad Dads on the pitch but the bigger lesson for all of us was in the triumph of non-violence. Peace, love and the jogo bonito, people.

report by James Mercer

Nannas 9 – Bad Dads 2
JM 2 (MOM), LC 2, EC 1, DC 4, CG (GK), Sebastian the courtside ring-in

NANNAS vs PANTHERA FC

4.               vs           9

DC1, CB, TW1 , AW (Mom), TK (MOM), CG (mom) 2

We ended with an incredible team goal. We were cheered off by a growing sideline crowd but unfortunately they assumed we were the 9 with how good we looked. It was a long throw to the left side with Rhian heading it back across the goals  for Cocky to tap it in.

Panthera FC are actually our new nemesis RMIT B TEAM who wanted a little more respect than just being a sloppy seconds. THey opened with a roar in the first half. We were a little shell shocked. But we won the second half. THey were 6-0 up in the first half. I camme in my jeans for the start of the second. Sorry Jim, I know you hate it when people come in their jeans, its so uncouth.

ITs always hard after making the finals, the Nannas seems to slump a little. But onwards an upwards gentlemen. Remember we get the country boy back with his BIG LEFT FOOT and his power stance ready to firm us up again.

Dinner proved at the Northcote Social Club and their cheap steak night. Not for the captain’s last match for a while though, he went full Maryland on us all.

NANNAS V CALTHORP

0           V.       7

DC, CP, RH, TW, CB, CG (mom)

I FORGOT MY CAPE.

Chassy remembered his Nanna Onesie.

The last customer of the day, after I told him of the impending match 37 minutes before kick off said to me, wow, did you see the episode of Ted Lasso last night? The latest one? No, I hadn’t, he proceeded to tell me of the lowdown and how the keeper in the TV show suffered a really horrible and grotesque broken nose.

Then he left the store with me mouth agape. I stepped onto the court nervous AF with a constant hand hovering over my beak for the whole match.

Playing against a VERY STRONG opposition the match began in a fiery manner. Tao being ragdolled and cock offered then massaged in the chops. No card, no matter. They really really won because they were so young they thought that we were so old that when we joked about our age being 35 they thought that that was so old, and so far from their age, that it might be close to where we are. They really were destined to win this one. We never got close. There was a penalty shot by us but their keeper was pretty goooood. Chassy was an injured nanna and limped off and is still limping today.

We took a group photo at the end together with CALTHORP and wished them well with their ascent to the higher division with the hope of never playing against them again.

The Nannas needed help. We needed familiarity. We were broken men. We went to THE HORN. The tibs, the wot, the kitfo. We back in the food womb. the band BLOW blew us into the happy place we needed to be.

We walked across the road to the appropriately named RUNNER UP bar. I handed over my runner up trophy and he put it on the wall, next to the 15 or so other runner up trophies that had been slung to the way side.

The season felt a lot longer than 15 weeks. The Nannas we brave and brown and were incredible to get were we got. Much love to Carl and Guido and Henry and Jerry, others who had given them selves up to be Nannas.

Congratulations gentlemen on doing what we do. 23 years is a lot of funk and today I feel really sore but proud to be a Nanna.

1. The Nannas 5 La Bestia 3

AW RH 1 EC 2 CB 1 TW 1

in an unprecedented dented attempt at vote fixing a pre-report was made…

2 down after 10 mins it was looking ugly, the Nannas were on point but the op had some skills and could stop and turn like really freaking quickly, what they didn’t see though, was the brown avalanche rolling down the mountainside towards them, a 3 goal Nanna lahar smashed them into halftime. The third act saw a mini revival and the scores at 3-3,  tempers were fraying, tackles were getting a bit spicy and the Nannas were on a four foul knifes edge, but a 4th brown goal hustled across the line really upped the ante, the Nannas were defending like their lives depended on it, The Lady Chatterly in particular looked at one point possessed by a small to medium sized demonic force, snapping and biting and snarling… they threw everything at us, to no avail, and then finally, after a number of earlier attempts Elliot glanced in a fifth with his pink-Modric-elastic-banded head… game over!

We went somewhere, the crofters arms? The chaplains loins ? it was a bit shit, which looked bad for Rhian, but he and I did share a jug which was quite special (ps. Andy owes Rhian a pint via me) and we discussed the white lotus and geometrically titled danish films and the socceroos and Elliot had a pineapple and jalapeño margarita just to keep it real.

Then we went home and I poured a VERY deep bath while taking to long to write this pseudo match report on my phone, so I better get MOM, bitches.

NANNAS 2 v WEST BRUNSWICK ALBION 4

JH, CG, RH, TW, AW, CB, DC

The day after the match I was standing in the doorway of Northside and Sean Deans a kiwi D&B DJ legend walked past. I told him about the nights before loss and of my sadness, even though I was standing on a rainbow, he said…..”you Aussies are so preoccupied with winning! Congratulations with finishing second, unless of course there were two or three teams in the comp.” “No, there were maybe 8” I said. To which he replied, “Well In that case you guys did really well”

What a pussy I thought as he walked away, happy with second place, happy with losing at the final hurdle, happy to receive the little trophies instead of the slightly bigger ones, happy to know what could have been ours, but we let slip through our fingers.

Everything was in place. Nanettes, flanuses, brown ties, capes and of course police resect. Tao even came with some D’Artagnan meets Game oF Thrones respect that had eyebrows raised. Andy was tall, nearly as tall as Jim. Chest puffed out and READY. Jim was ready but also excited by what lay ahead, his glory. Rhian was practicing his magical leaves before the game, Chassy was striding masculinely and my cape was flapping in the breeze. Dan was erect and ready to play. .

At half time we were ONE to NIL up. Could the unthinkable happen? We were in the drivers seat. We were unsettling the apple cart. We were beginning to dream.

Well the start o the second half was like having a glass of cold water thrown in your face and down you pants at the same time to wake you up. THE DREAM IS OVER. They jumped us and we all slowly woke up with slightly smaller trophies.

Sean Deans is a pussy.

The Nannas vs West Brunswick Albion

4  v  14

CB (1), DC (2), RH (1), TH, TK

tonivht will always be known as the night a truly incredible goal was scored. Not one incredible form of brown brilliance from an individual  but a group movement like a glorious flash mob. We didn’t win the game but we definitely won the right to sleep at night.

The goal was in the top ten of the most brilliantly spiritual goals in the history of the Nannas.

we were bringing the ball up from the backline when we NUTMEGGED 2 of them in a row. First a pass from Chassy to Dan, then. Dan bump to Takeshi. Then he passed it to Rhian who then BACKGEELWD it into goal. That’s right, … it was a DOUBLE NUTMEG BACKHEEL.

one of the most holy of all goals. I was merely walking the sidelines as a coach. But I was bathed in the aura of the moment. I still smile about it now.

Vs Ben’s Babes

4-9

CG (mom) RH(1) EC TW (1 TH TK DC (2) – CB (coach) AW (cheerleader)

The Nannas turned up early. I think we have to stop this stretching beforehand. It’s got ruinous results.

the last two weeks the Nannas have stretched out some soft tissue concerns. This week it would appear no different. The goalie limped into his Friday.

The game was signaling poorly early…. the opposition was fast, and clinical. Let’s just say at 1-4 at half time we knew we had a fight on our hands.

The youngest Nanna, this evening, Elliot signaled his intentions very early with a yellow for pure brown aggression within 5 minutes.  It set a precedent early. We played hard but slightly slowly. They moved around us and towards their goal.

ultimately the goalie picked up the ball 9 times from his net but it seems his fellow police respecters admired his pick up styles. The end of game happened and everyone looked at each other as the final whistle blew and gave each other “I wish Jim was here” eyes.

not so much for his on field brilliance but maybe more for his after game care. He was the king of helping chassy dry off after his shower. The boss of loosening toms hamstrings on the side of the court. And of course the lord of the back pat on the walk out of the stadium.

it seems the Nannas will need a bi weekly hand to be put up to give some post match cuddles. Some embryonic hugs, or some supple manipulations, anyone? Andy?

the country sweetness of Jim is sorely missed. We wait for next week excitedly and maybe just maybe we will win. Not this week though. Not this week.

thenpost match we classy, another look at the Retreat and the highlight was Cocky ordering the SpatchCOCK. That’s a lot of cock on a table. Maybe it was a seven at the end.

I left early, it will live in the world of maybe.

the Nannas v Big Kick Enegry

SJG (MOM) 3, DC 3, TW 2, CB, CG, TH. RH (ass coach)

8.  :   2

Slow to start
Nanna’s rubbed against Big Kick Energy seemingly evenly matched.

Top bun had height, a quick turn and sharp right foot.
A few Maradona physiques in their team, but without the same chutzpah, no lo suficiente.

My memory of these moments in a hall in Brunswick at the end of 2019 is like a melting ice cream, ribbons of caramel pool on the pavement, unrecognisable from the cold desirable seconds ago.

Facts like names, chronology, order itself are flimsy raft-boats that appear when the mind sinks into wakefulness from dream state
like a ocean liner whose true story may die with its captain.

This game cleansed me.
I bathed in their tears.
Tears are many things
Water, mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin, immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, and potassium.

To say we won is to say I cried.
What did you win, what did you cry.

The compounds of this victory are equally complex and invisible.

I think about covering my body in tattoos
I want to kill the opposition
I am marking the stubby Maradona
There is peace in my heart
My mouth awash with the metallic taste of hemoglobin from the red blood cells.
My life has been wrapped in spreadsheets
Meetings with management
Moving back and forth in a square that neither expands nor contracts
But the game here moves in measured rewards and executions.
Break, turn, pass, run, split, shot, net, goal.
Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

There is something sad about a wild horse being tamed
A wild stallion, unridable, bucking with all fury of the mountain fires.. worn down by the fences and cowboys rope.. the dust cloud settled to a trotting beast, broken and rideable shaped to mans will.
A well tamed horse is called dead broke horse.

We saw that spirit of the game pushed out.
Around 6-1 the referee put on Bohemian Rhapsody on his sound system..

We are the champions, another one bite the dust or we will rock you all would have been more apt choices from Queen.

The pain of an unanswerable question drives some philosophers to madness and martyrdom.

Why were we the better team?
Entropy.
The emotional transactions of our days.
6 ft above our heads the psycho-spiritual thermodynamics reigned supreme.

But of course, see?

Le Coq looks like a Greek god

Tao means the source of creation

Fish gills take oxygen from out of water
An opposing element, transmuted.
Our Gill plucks the oppositions ball from our goals and thrusts it forth with savage intention.
He slaps it. He drops 90 degrees onto linoleum. The ball is not allowed here, it is against our nature.

I had only this game to rip forth some meaning from the day, so I lean into the wind to fall and die or fly and live. And we flew and we lived

What I mean to say is victory came to us because we beckoned it
We possessed it
Or rather it possessed us
The other team did not want it
We were on fire, violent and creative.
But On our way to victory we destroyed something beautiful in the process
Competition
And it becomes abstract
A demonstration
A amusement ride
The wild horse is gone

A experimental 6 minute rock opera song sung by a flamboyant gay English / Indian man is reduced to a background music for the soccer jock in a hall in Brunswick at the end of 2019.

NANNAS vs BENS BABES

3 v 4

TH, CG, CB, EC, GM, SJG (MOM)

Draw of 6/6 vs Schnicks

TH 1 Tit goal and MOM – Others

I don’t know about you losers but I’ve won MOM 3 out of the last 4 times I’ve played which I’m pretty sure is sort of a god-damned record, and none of them were charity fucks so stfu. Here’s a poem I wrote about how ball-tearingly awesome I am so go read it, or better yet have someone read it to you and think about how you could be as good as me if you tried except you can’t because I am the best.

He’s a judge,
He’s a coach,
He’s the greatest player ever to play
He’s won three MOMs in a row
He scores a goal every week
He’s on fire
He’s the best
He cannot fuck up
He’s deep in the zone
MOMs and Goals and
Goals and MOMs and
His tit got a goal
He’s Steve Smithing it every fucking day
Like a legend and a hero
And Maradonna at his peak
He’s the real Don Bradman of the Futsal World
Like the King of the Jungle
He’s on top of the world
Like a baby done a shit
He’s well self satisfied
Like a cabbage made of gold
You can’t eat him but he’s amazing
Like a koala with a sword
He can climb a tree and fuck you up
Goals and MOMs and
MOMs and GOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAALS
Everyday he is amazing
Everyday he is incredible
Everyday he fucken smashes it
Everyday he kills someone’s belief that they can be the best
Like Superman on steroids
Like Richie Rich but with more money
Like Allah but you can draw his face
Like a mid 80’s Merryl Streep
He’s the toast of everyone’s balls
A real hot debutant
Whose aceness is undeniable
In every way
Whose penis is quite sizeable
Most every day
Whose shit is remarkable
You’d have to say
And say it they do
I don’t know about you
But your jaw be on the floor every time he score
Because of the wonderful things he does
For instance:
Killing it, and
Slaying it, and
Making it dead
With true modesty and majesty
Just like the Queen
With her jewels and
A corgi skin rug
He’s a bit fucked up
But you can’t say anything
Because the bossness factor is extreme
And in excelsior
And as an earthquake shakes you
And as Cheech Marin he bakes you
And as Houdini he doth fake you
You’ll be crying on your ass

Damn straight.

5-4 v Harchester

CB, DC 2, RH, CG, JH, TH 1 (MOM), TK 

And so the earth continues its relentless revolve upon its ever so slightly wobbling axis. And so the tides continue to ebb and flow, filling then emptying the liminal lands as they done since time immemorial. And so the sun rises to shine upon the world every day as it has ever done thusly. And so another Thursday rolls around and the Nannas are found to be pulling on their boots and writing one another sexually explicit limericks just as they have done for as long as any of them can remember. 

It was on such a Thursday, after much ribald lyrical contemplation of James’ member, that the ‘shittest Nanna’ – as he was known only to himself – prepared a pre match espresso and pondered how he might improve on a particularly shit game he had executed only the week previously, in which he had played rather shitly and been aptly recognised by his brethren in the Nannas as being worthy of precisely zero votes in the most prestigious of all Nanna awards, that being the Man of Match, or MOM as it was colloquially know amongst the men who wear brown, in fact his efforts on field had been judged equally as useful as an ex-banker now living in Grey Lynn who wasn’t even aware the match was taking place, and who was most likely, rather shabbily, involved in the semi-mystical onanistic practice of shadow pumpery.

and then he ran out of things to say…………

Is it better to publish a half finished match report or none at all? The former I believe.

Sorry

I love you

PLUS I FORGOT WHO GOT THE GOALS – WHAT AN ASSHOLE

1-5 Loss to Dynamo Tehran

CB 1 (MOM), DC, RH, TH (MOM), TK GK (MOM), TW

Imagine, if you will, an ageing water buffalo. His testicles are chock full of a horrific malignancy. A Komodo dragon bites those rancid pustular gonads clean off the old bull, but finding the taste so spectacularly awful he spits them out leaving them covered in highly septic anaerobic saliva. These fetid cojones land in a pile of leper anus’ that have literally shat themselves out of their own rectums during an explosive bout of dysentery related diarrhoea. A passing cat vomits a green bile glaze all over this malodorous mess, then it bakes in the tropical sun and maggots grow in it, until even they die and rot into little sulphurous maggot corpses because it is such god awful disgrace and affront to everything that isn’t a noxious pile of shit covered leper anus’s glazed in cat vomit with a couple of pus filled water buffalo testicles sitting on top. 

This sorry picture does not adequately confer the shitness with which we comported ourselves.

On the plus side I won MOM. And I have to assume it was because of love. I showed Chassy a lot of love on the flurries (even after I was a bit cranky with him) and then he showed me a whole lot of love right back ( I think). So let’s not forget what is most important: the love a Nanna has for a brother Nanna. Love you all…

ATT: CB, DC, CG, JH (MOM), RH
Nannas 4 plays Copa Cobana 3

Time stamp:
Fletcher was officially five months on the day after the game; it had been just under five months since I had played for the Nannas.
Prelude:
Of the Nannas, there were five to take to court, with El taking up a sixth position. It was muted that we get a seventh but six was deemed ample (by those in the know). Yet, the sixth, El, did not end up being the sixth, as he somehow contrived to run into the back of a parked vehicle on the way to the game. Furthermore, for a moment, it did appear that Cocky would not make it either, having to tend to his injured child, but with about five minutes to spare he showed himself.
So, we were five. And what a magnificent vista of manhood we were too. At the back stood Gilla. Resplendent in his keepers kit, huffing it out nicely with his ample chest and sizable thighs. It was obvious, for anyone keen on looking, that getting past him would take some doing. At the other of the court, Cocky took his place. All pace and fury, all movement and magic, the Cock’s intent would be running himself back and forth, making the opposition pay for any look they gave him on goal. Just behind the Cock lurked the Chas. Now let me tell you a thing about the Chas. He might look ungainly, all legs a loping, but in truth they don’t call him the most beautiful Nanna for nothing. At right back was the Captain. With a fresh shave, he was a picture of sculptured sinew and monumental muscle; sleekness, out to cut a swathe through the opponents’ flank. Beside him is where I took up station. From my vantage point the court seemed small, the ball hard, the opposition slight and pink. I felt like we had them.
First half:
The early exchanges were positive. The Nannas took early touches, making favourable forays forward. We had the ball and were going to keep it. Furthermore, it was only a matter of time until we would break them down and score, and so it proved. The ball was delivered to me by Captain (I think) just inside their territory. Cocky could see plenty of space down their right flank and ran to where he hoped the ball would be delivered. I put it in front of him, and he duly slotted home. It was a fine effort given his natural right-footedness and the keeper came to meet him at the near post. 1-zip.
They got one next. It was their only good move for the entire game, opening us up with some fine passing and movement, which the Nannas were hard pressed to counter. 1-1.
Next came our second. I got the ball mid-court on their left with my back to goal. I had one dude to my back, and another loitering to my front. As the dude in front came to challenge, I slipped it passed him and turned the dude to my rear. All I had to do next was finish, which I did, hitting it low and hard, to the keeper’s right. 2-1.
I am pretty sure they got another before half time but can’t remember it.
Half time: 2-2.
At the break the Captain talked to us of pressure and keeping up our previous efforts. His masculinity and silky skin a guide and inspiration for all the Nannas.
Second half:
Chassy took this inspiration to heart, leading the way with those loping legs of his. Early in second stanza he thought he was through but the ball jilted loose, leaving Chassy to run past their goals with nothing to show for it. Yet, as their keeper threw it back in, Chas saw his chance and jumped its intended recipient as the ball rolled toward him. He stole, he turned on goal, he placed it neatly passed their keeper. 3-2.
Their next goal was my fault. The ball came bouncing through. I failed to clear it, only getting a weak touch, which only set them up. 3-3.
This last goal proved a tonic for the Nannas; we knew we were better than these young punks, we knew we could beat them, and we certainly knew we weren’t going to lose. So we pushed forward time and time hitting cross bars, skewing our shots just wide, missing final touches that would have let us in on goal until finally, during one of these attacking raids, the Cock was hauled down just outside their penalty area. He stepped up, sizing up the shot. They put three in the wall, and had one marking Chassy over to on Cocky’s left. That left me unattended, so I wondered over to the right. There I stood all alone, the back of the net beckoning me like David Beckham’s flashing boots. Cocky was given the green light to strike. He pondered his options. He looked at the wall, throwing a cursory glance in my direction. I wondered, will he kick it to me? The moment lingered, until suddenly the ball came my way; the perfect pass, expertly weighted, right in the middle of my stance. All I had to do was lean back and lash into the top right corner, which I did. 4-3.
Then came the last two minutes of the game. We felt in control, we were pushing for a fifth, the killer blow. But somewhere in all that dash and hustle, pushing forward, striving for that final pass, we gave it up, and, in true Nanna fashion, in mid-field too. Well, the opposition saw their chance, could they steal a draw from the clutches of defeat, maybe even get two and take the victory? The Nannas backpedalled, Gilla threw himself this way and that, heaving that huffing chest of his as he repelled shot after shot. Suddenly, all our control and passing deserted us, not being able to even get a touch. Suddenly we were under the pump. But the clock was against them, and we, even though we did panic a little, were resolute.
Final score 4-3.

‘‘Twas the night before Friday, a sacred night. The only night in the week that is not, not Thursday. This particular not, not Thursday was the not, not Thursday of brown pride, of victory, a display of raw power that has not been seen for the past Millenia. 8-3. Double plus 2. This night shall go down in history as one of the greatest conquests in modern history. This monumental game shall never be forgotten. The numbers eight and three were burned into the retinas of every individual who witnessed the game.

Who knew so much power could be squeezed into such a small booth.

-Vistor [elliot]

CB, DC(1), JH ((2)MOM), RH ((1)MOM), TK(G), TW ((1)MOM), AW

Having more than one MOM really is a race to get the report done or one is just repeating everything that’s already been said. What more can I do now that the wordsmith Jim Hannan has come before me? It’s not like I get paid to write anything.

As Jim say, it was a well fought game against a worthy adversary. The most class of Nanna’s on this night. Passing was tight and right. The ball was hitting the back of the net at both ends and few unworthy ones of theirs were getting through (except for their equaliser that was my fault 😢).

4-6 Loss Vs Perspolise
DC (2), JH (1), RH, Principal, TH (G), TW (1(MOM))

Against a mighty good and, may I say, gracious team the Nanna’s were outclassed but managed to hold our own and save face a lot better than our first meeting with these semi pros.

Some extremely tasty passing by the Nanna’s helped us slot away 4 goals to keep us within a snifter distance of victory but alas it was not to be that kind of a glorious night.

Not that we should hang our heads in shame. No not at all. The top team are a team worthy of being beaten by.

Post game the captain took my daughter in his car and, as if he knew I was going to get there before him, and though he knew there was a rock star park out the front of the decided upon venue for eating and drinking, he sent me to the wrong venue to keep that rock star park all to himself. Well played captain, well played.

There was nothing going to dampen our spirits on this night of nights with the news we had all been waiting for was upon us. Jim was finally leaving the Nanna’s…. for good. Alas this was not to be. Instead we were greeted with even better news. Another Nanna will be brought into the fold. A new little Hannan will be coming into the world. Hooray for Jim……… and Christiana I suppose. Love and Kisses brother.

Ok, so this is actually an old team photo but with the correct players, except Gilla wasn’t actually there, I just added some smiles because that’s what we should be doing at the beginning and end of each game.

5-8 Loss Vs Bens Babes
TK (G), DC, JH (3), TH, RH (C), TW (2(MOM)), AW (AC)

Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, for yelling at my fellow Nanna’s and at the ref (though I think I only did that the week before and not so much on this night)

It was a well fought game against a pretty good side. They did start to tire near the end but then again so did we. Their shots on goals were mostly good but it could’ve been a bit of a tighter game if not for some less than tidy defence on our behalf. We know we can be good in defence but when we’re not we really pay for it.

The captain said to me post game he thinks we could beat them. This may be a little optimistic but you never now. Probably on our best day we could when we all work together, run together and don’t leave each other hanging. We need to look for and use each other when we can. Holding onto the ball for too long tends to have the one outcome, giving the ball to the opposition (and yes I am guilty of that).

So in our next game let’s try and be nicer to each other, encouraging rather than angry. Let’s get faster passes, especially from any free shots. Don’t wait for the ball to be brought to you, run in grab it and get the shot out there before the opposition have time to regroup. Our best shot is to get the ball up our end while the other teams are runnings back. Fast turnarounds is what we need. And running down the opposite side when someone has a run on the ball. There should always be back up. The ball may be passed to you or you might find yourself with a rebound to take advantage of.

Let’s climb that ladder of glory Nanna’s.

vs RMIT

2-5 Loss

RH (capt) , AW, TK, TH (1 goal),  CG (1 goal), TW

I got there really early thinking that it was a 8:20pm match. As the half time finished I was thinkning it was full time and that I had been abondoned by all the nannas. I was frantic. Walking around like a stunned funk apostle. It wasnt until Joel told me it was half time that I realised the Nannas would never let me down. THis was the last time Joel was nice to the nannas that night.

It was a weird night. All of a sudden Tao turns up like a legend even though he was dead for all money on the flurry. Always a nice surprise to see a sneaky nanna turnt up. We gathered before the match. INstead of passing the ball around, we collected in the goal mouth and talked tactics. We faced a team of 10 very fast kids all under 20. We were wide eyed with THE FEAR. Don’t run we were saying, pass it around, save our strength, get ready! Instead the Nannas came out of the blocks like Peter North after a run.

THe level of heat on the court was intense. The nannas were right up in their chris Grill. I have never seem such brown furvour for many a year. The whole team were on fire. Tom got the first with a parry, then I cracked a long bomb (first in a while). We were two nil up at half time. INSANE. One of the heaviest halves I’ve seen in brown. All I can say is that it was an old hairy David versus a very young Goliath.

Then Joel comes back into the story. Their keeper tries to stop a ball but slides over a meter out of bounds, handling the ball as their last player to goal. Clear penalty. We all yell at Joel, who is off on the side talking to his friend and he MISSES the WHOLE INCIDENT. He calls play on as he didn’t see it. We yell madly and play goes on for them to score a goal against the tide. And what an old tide it was.

Then they got another, and another and another annnnnnd another. Oh and one more. We were broken. NOT HAPPY JAN. But we were not done for yet. Whilst their guy with a head knott top bun thing was shifting his game up several levels, we still shut him down.

Then Thomas is in an altication. As he remembers it a guy was running blindly backward towards him. He crosses himself with his arms to protect his body / head from the impending clash of the titans. THen guy connects with the coach. He goes down. The Coach is intact and relaxed. The guy on the sideline tells Joel that Thomas shanked a guy, then Joel asks Tom to sub off or get a red card. The Coach chooses red.

THe nannas are down but not out. Whilst they shoot, we parry. They attack and we hold crazy firm. We cannot bridge the gap. It is a bridge too far. THe Nannas go down.

Post match the Nannas are in fine voice, After shaking with RMIT and congratulating them we let Joel know that definitely fucking a Nanna in Tasmania might get you a prison sentence, but doing it on the court in Brunswick apparantly aint no thang.

It turns out that Tom shook hands with Joel after the match proving to us all that a Nanna with a brown heart is a Nanna indeed. We changed outside in the cool night air. So unhappy. It was interesting to see Andy Wong, the coolest of all Nannas be as Angry as Tao has ever been.

Brown Fury.

Then we step to the new Joe’s. I foolishly say to Tom, WOW, its amazing that none of us Nannas ever get injured….. Within 5 minutes Rhian picks up Quad tightness. Just out of the blue.

It was not a brown night.

Vs Harchester United

5-1

CB 1, TW, TK, CG, DC, AW

Bunch of constables.

vs The Heathens

8-3 Victory

CB 2, DC 2, JH 2, TH 1, AW, CG (1 goal opp late)

A powerful and beautiful display by the dreamy Nannas. All bedecked in splendid matching brown. Looking every inch the team in their well considered silky matching vestments.

The opposition a rag tag bunch in sweat stained mismatched cotton T shirts and heaving with piercings and body paint and other barbarian adornments.

If you had been there to witness the competitive gnashing of teeth and the humidity that infused this vespertine display, dear reader, you may well have needed a long, cool post prandial shower in order to recalibrate your skittish personal thermostat.

Vs  Dynamo Tehran

4-3 Win

TK, RH (1), CG (G), CB (1), AW (1(MOM)), TW (1(MOM))

What a game to return to. After trekking the jungles of Sumatra and Malaysia in search of volcanos, baby elephants and orang-utans , whilst fighting off gangrene, ross river fever, etc, it was amazing to come back to the open arms of the Nanna’s and play an awesome game against one of longest lasting adversaries.

The game started off a little shaky even though we got the first goal. By half time we were a goal down.

After a little pep talk from the captain, and of course from the goalie, we came out with a little extra in the tank and managed to find the back of the net 3 more times whilst holding our opposition back enough only allowing them one more goal in the second half.

Big win for the Nanna’s and a great first game back after 5 weeks.

Then, after only 2 days back in the country there I am preparing to go away for some serious BBP with the brethren. What a week, what a weekend. Still glad I didn’t go for a swim in the middle of the night.

By way of introduction (and making up for reports unloaded), it was a very proud dad-moment to play on the pitch with my offspring, Izzy. It was something I’ve been dreaming of, hoping for that father-son-game-crossover before that dirty R-word (retirement) which must be fast approaching. So there we were, Izzy had rocked up to watch the game and unbeknownst to me he had his Nanna top on under his hoodie. Once this became apparent some general cajoling ensured from the surrounding huddle of nanna seniors. And next thing we know we got a 11 year old on the court (and 7 months). He’s been finessing his skills since very young. Soccer is pretty much his entire waking focus; six games a week, indoor, outdoor plus lunchtimes. With greater fitness and ball skills than my own, the Nanna’s succession plan is well and truly underway. It was a super special moment to play together. I nearly shed a tear of joy. There’s much that he hasn’t mentioned in his report, mostly of his pure excitement in playing and inclusion into the game, but I’ve left it raw as his version of events.

From Izzy below:

My first game for the Nannas… and I scored! I think the dark chocolate and the juggling outside helped me to prepare for the game, I didn’t actually know I was playing until the last few minutes when Andy noticed I was wearing the kit.

Chazzy scored a hatrick, one of them Dan rolled it back and Chazzy smashed into the net, left footer. My goal was in the bottom right corner and the goalkeeper just got a touch on it but then it rolled past him and in, I also had another chance were I ran it up and then shot but it hit the post and rolled out behind the keeper. The other goal was scored by where I nutmegged the defender and finished it off bottom left. The end scores were 7-3 our way, WE WON!!!

After the game we went to LaxaKing for dinner, ( I didn’t have any because I had already had tacos before the game ), I ordered a lemon lime bitters and Chris gave me some of his tea, Andy and I tried counting how many people worked there and we figured out there was about 40.

Attendees: JH (MOM), AW (MOM), TW (MOM), Headmaster James (HJ), Joel

Nannas 5 plays Alberto Melasani FC 5

Two days before my birthday (f#ck you all) and the Nannas all decided that this would be a good week to not play. This happens sometimes when everyone has something on and we are left scrambling to find ringers (to be noted: a couple of Nannas disappeared off the face of the earth after signalling their non-playing intentions; this surprised some Nannas, Tao especially).
So, we thought we had a team with Chas and Guido saying they could join the fray but Chassy did the classic I’m out, no, I’m in, no, I’m out, move (the legend of the enigmatic Chassy continues to grow), while Guido rang me about two hours prior the game saying he had to fly to Brazil the next day and wasn’t going to make it.
So I texted Phil, who said he could come but then didn’t show up. Luckily Joel could deputise but when we got on court he didn’t really play that much. He said it wouldn’t be fair if he played to his full ability (or some shit like that), so he hung out on court, didn’t man up and was more a link man than anything else. To be reasonable, he did pull out a move or two and scored a goal so I can’t diss him too much but we would have creamed them if he had tried (so probably best not to get him again).
I was in goals for the first three quarters of the match and this is what I clearly recollect from that time:
1. There was some very sweet passing and movement, and Tao hit almost the perfect goal after essentially the ideal lead up. I threw it to him standing just on the other side of half way. He laid it off to Andy, who drew in a defender and then passed it back to Tao. Tao had space so he hit it with the outside of the toe. It swerved wickedly from left to right. The keeper had no chance.
2. While we were effervescent in attack, our defence was close to the opposite. There were at least a dozen times when they streamed forward with not a brown player between them and me (I know how Gilla feels). Surprisingly, I did save quite a lot after getting a few early shots hit straight at me (which made me mad but also gave me confidence) but couldn’t get everything.
Then I came out of goals and HJ went in. HJ was as good in goals as he was on court (which was in every way noble and upstanding, befitting a man of his stature and employ); I am pretty sure he didn’t let any in and if it were up to me he would be first choice sub (even though when he wasn’t in goals he missed two or three sitters from directly in front in true Jim Hannan style).
Anyway, I thought we were in front 5-4 when I came out of goals, and not long after, after a bit of a goal-mouth scrap, I put one away. Obviously I didn’t look at the scoreboard but it was 5-5, instead of 6-4 (like I thought).
Anyway, that’s how it ended up, except for one punk talking shit about Gilla after the bell. These guys could be our new arch enemies, and what’s more we can beat them easily (if we were to pull a full-strength team together).
Afterward, we went to our new clubhouse and talked of babies, absent Nannas, flying overseas and trips to the snow (and obviously, I was the tallest one there).

vs The Randy Dragons 2-10 Loss
CB, JH, RH, TH 2 (MOM), TK(gk)

We Lost to The Randy Dragons

Boy did it hurt. That fucken’ scaled scabrous thing you do not want given you a fucken’. 8======>~~~~~ But fucken’ us it did. Ouch! To paraphrase the pharisees – Jesus Fucking Christ! Like when Conan the Barbarian punched a horse we went down. It was bad.

Let’s focus on the positives. I got two goals – that does NOT happen every day. We drank beer – that was fun. It was Jim’s first game as a married man – it did not end in divorce. Chassy said the FUNNIEST thing I have EVER heard at the pub – we all laughed. +++++ (positives)

Well, where to from here? We need to fight back, and get our own Dragon Cocks. I’m pretty sure buying actual Dragon Cocks is frowned up on (like buying Rhino horn I guess), but there’s no law in the world that says you can’t turn your own Penis into a Dragon Cock – sooooooooooooooo somehow we have to metamorphise Chassy into a Dragon’s Member *BA DING CHA* see what I did there? Oh boy-o.

8:40 versus Lieutenants
CB 1m, DC 2m, RH 1, TH, TK, AW 1 – (highly unsure of the actual goal tally)

The mercury has really dropped recently, which makes the dedication of the Coach® and the author to their on-going controlled experiment even more remarkable. I swear the temperature in the Merri Creek Valley was close to zero as our intrepid cyclists made their way to Brunswick (perversely riding within meters of the skippers house en route).

Much like last week kick off was again meet almost immediately with weirdness. This time in the form of Joel – aka Little Ref – informing our opposition that they were on the wrong court… that was a first. They departed and the Nannas, who until that point had been playing rather well, were left standing around the court looking rather confused (the author even more confused due to the bewildering effects of the controlled experiment was prompted to question if in fact it was actually happening in actual reality). Eventually another team was found who appeared half familiar but at the same time kind of cobbled together. Weird. Needless to say we’d really had our flow fucked with. Now, we’ve played these guys (or most of them) many times before and one thing that is really noticeable is that they really don’t like to smile much, if at all. Anyway, it was a curious game in that we actually played quite well, stringing together some really nice moves, especially passing around the back (with some tasteful touches from Takeshi in goal), but we lost really badly, shipping 9 goals in the process ? how the hell did that happen. I was clearly to blame for one of them, I swear there was no way the guy could control this crazy goalie looping punt… but he did. The Coach was also to blame for a couple of not-following-your-man-as-he-runs-in-a-little-circle-doing-a-1-2-in-the-box-before-shooting goals. So perhaps the Skipper is right in proposing that the GHBG is good for attack and not so good for defence… could be something in that… maybe… possibly. Speaking of attack, we did score a couple of nice ones, I almost karate kicked their goalie in the face to get a mega cross court switch ball from von Martinadale III. There were also an inordinate amount of goal-mouth scuffles which we never quite able to convert. I should also mention that there was some rather unsavoury off-the-ball action when one of the opposition blatantly elbowed the author in the ribs ? apparently this was in retaliation for some perceived injustice earlier in the game. Moments later the same perpetrator, having been bested in a 50/50 ball proceeded to hack wildly at the authors legs as he made off with the ball, fortunately for the authors bodily well being he had transitioned into a kind of flux state where the hacker had become more a tricky piece of terrain to navigate while skiing or mountain biking than a human, a kind of terramophism if you will, which the author successfully avoided whilst involuntarily emitting a whoop of glee…

Anyway, the score did most certainly not reflect the game. poohs.

Afterward we went to Mr Wilkins and were regaled with tales of a young von Martindale III’s late night adventures in prophylactic procurement before being joined by Gillman du Brassy for an entirely wholesome game of Jenga (which the Coach lost). Pints of Steam Ale (and some unmentionable lager) were consumed and talk turned to the backdated bucks party that Jim would be needing having gone and got hitched in the Big Apple whilst on a research Junket for Cory Bernadi’s new conservative party for whom he will be shortly announcing his appointment as press secretary. The Nannas then spent the rest of the evening thinking of words that rhyme with Cory… story, allegory, Montessori…

p.s. what is that in Jim’s hand ?

Nannas 2 plays Unathletico Madrid 1
Attendees: Caesar, Dave, Gilla, Guido, Jim, Jerry (team MOM)

I am not quite sure what it is about this team that fires up the Nannas. Maybe it’s the little Asian dude, who’s forever grabbing at you, pushing you and purposely getting all up in your shit, but the moment you do it back to him, he gets more indignant than Donald Trump at a press conference. Then there’s their keeper and his on-field bunkum. This pecker puller, who can’t help himself but remark on nearly every play of the game, was the same guy that when we played them ages ago threw the ball away from Chassy when they were five or six goals up with a about thirty seconds on the clock. Or is it the guy with the angry eyes. Mr A-Eyes, after I had inadvertently kicked into him and then tried to apologise, went into this transfixed, primeval state with his mate all like ‘ooooh, don’t touch him, ooooooooooh don’t even go near him’ like he was so close to the edge that one more little push was going to see him inflict some sort of berserker rage.

Sure, in the first half, I got into them worse than a bad case of the Clap but it wasn’t like they were blameless in all this, and it wasn’t like we weren’t in a competitive environment where getting your opponent worked up is a good way to put them off their game (these are the same guys we beat in the semi last season).

You will be pleased to know that I did resolve to settle it down a bit after a couple of words from Dave at half time. The only problem was Caesar didn’t get this same advice, or if he did he didn’t heed it. He and Mr A-Eyes had a bit of a set too in the second half, which almost came to blows.

You will also be happy to hear that we were playing some good football. We were holding the ball and passing the ball, Caesar kept running through them, and Dave and I were cleaning up at the back. The first half ended at a goal apiece, and in the second, Caesar got another early on.
As the clock wound down they came at us again and again. They are fast and young, and in those last ten minutes it seemed like we must concede.
Yet they were also way angry and sulky. And like a spoilt child that always gets its way, they expected that the goals would come (but sometimes, like on this evening, this can work against you).

Gilla did pull off some amazing saves (as he always does) but the real turning point was when Jerry arrived with about eight minutes to go (just when some of the older Nannas were starting to tire). It was like the Calvary appearing out of the last afternoon mist after much blood shed and sure enough it tipped the battle in our favour.

As you probably have guessed, we held on.

Afterwards, most of them didn’t shake our hands and they were mutterings like, ‘let’s take it to the carpark’, but all they did out there was cry to the ref and Joel about how dirty we were and how the officiating should have done much, much more to stop this.

What a bunch of babies.

MOM: Andrew ‘Walmartin’ Wong
Report – unposted

first game in the new kit, and yes, Wal again taking another dump in our collective mouths…

” That’s come. I’ve come in your mouth. Not a frozen log”

Nannas 1 plays Dery 5
Att: ANDY, GILLA, GUIDO, JIM, KONDO, RHIAN, TAO

Another season done and another very Nanna way of completing a finals series. Yes, we made the granny but it wouldn’t be a Nanna granny without just a little controversy. And coming out of this minor storm upper management will need to answer two key questions before the new season:

1. What’s up with Chassy, or (put another way), is Chassy out of his fucking mind? Now don’t get me wrong, on the one hand I did very much enjoy the flurry that Chassy’s texts created. It was at times hilarious and one of the best flurries that the Nannas have generated in years. But on the other hand, and it’s a big but, there is a time and place for such conversations and given how divergent the Nannas can be on almost every given topic, he must of know that raising such a subject would create 

alarm

anarchy
anxiety

agitation

bedlam
a brouhaha

chaos

clashes

conflict

confusion

destruction

disorder

disarray

dismay

disquiet

a free-for-all

a furore
foreboding

hysteria

havoc

a hubbub

mayhem
madness

a mess

a mobocracy

panic
pandemonium

a racket

a rumpus

turmoil

tumult

a struggle

an uproar

unease 

within the brown ranks. So starting this conversation only hours before the game, and not letting it go like he did, was, as they say in corporate land, a complete and utter dick move. Sure, we all love Cocky, and as much as we all wanted him to play and we all felt for him that he couldn’t, the conversation about this should have happened way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way, way earlier. The question I keep coming back to is what was Chassy thinking? Was he trying to undermine us? Was he jealous that we were in the finals? Did he not want us to win? Was he just fucking with us (although this didn’t seem the case given the tenor of his later texts)? Why was it so important that Cocky played, and what did Cocky think about this? And why couldn’t he keep it in his pants and see that he was doing damage to the morale and stability of the Nannas so close to the season decider?

2. What is a Nanna? This is a question that was brought up during the pre-game discussion and it’s one that does need serious attention. Is it someone who’s been in and around the team all 15-16 years or it is someone that is in the team on any particular week? Will there ever be such a thing as an on court, playing Nanna, and an off-court or BeachBox Nanna? And where do ringers fit into the wider scheme of things, especially now that there are one or two Nannas that aren’t playing as much as they used to? Is it fair that we ask ring-ins to fill in and be an integral member of a team for five or six weeks as we go all the way to the finals but then, when we make the granny, we suddenly decide that the ringer be is not good enough and expect them not to play because a Nanna becomes available? Should there a minimum number of games you have to play a season to be a Nanna? Or can you always demand a walk up start for any game, let alone a final, regardless of when you played last? And if you’re not playing do you have the right to try to influence on court matters? What rights do you have if you are not a Nanna original? Would the Nannas ever be picked on form and/or commitment? What is the point of the Nannas? Are we a team or just a bunch of part-timers who pick and choose when we want to play and expect there to be a space ready for us to fill, even if it’s at the expense of the wider team? Do we want to win or are we just happy to turn up, week on week, and take what’s coming to us?
So many questions and as Tao said this will need to be resolved in the Nanna constitution before the next round of finals.

And so to the game. We did okay. It was a totally scrappy and uncontrolled affair, and it was always going to be won by the team who took their chances. They did, we didn’t: end of story. We had a couple of moments of good play, like the five or six minute spell leading up to half time when we started to string a few passes together and Guido buried one from close to half way (but just before the break they got one and got back to 2-1).
The second half was pretty much the same but their striker kept getting goal side and Gilla couldn’t stop him. It’s true we were a bit too fired up and there was no fluidity to how we played, and less passing. Far too often we kicked the ball away or went solo when someone else was open and had a better position than us.
The other team were good though. They hustled us; pretty much did what we did to those young punks last week. They never let us settle and were physical.
It was a bit disappointing. It was a bit frustrating. It was a bit sad.
Afterward, we went to Howler and discussed selling cars, treehouses, weddings, and then I left.