vs The Annual 7-2
CB 1, DC, CG, AW, TH, TW, JH, RH

We won, we beat ’em. We slammed them back into their hungry cave. And King Lion was still King Lion.

As it turned out Troika (“Your fellow drinkers are likely to be 20-or-30-somethings (maybe even 40-somethings) who prefer to live near the edge but not on it”) was quite a good post-match venue choice. Although it was fairly deflating Jim’s tenacious reluctance to embrace the opportunity to take his fellow Nannas somewhere other than the Windsor. Oh well.

So Cocky is in Shanghai now and Rhian is in Castlemaine and I’ve left it so late to write this. It’s 7.46pm and I have to pick up Gilly at 8.

What else? It’s very hot. 32 degrees today the second of April. Last day of term tomorrow for the primary school junior Nannas (ie. El, Lu, Otis and Freya.)

The tight five configuration
It was a Nanna tight five configuration. Gill in goal, Tao carousing up front, Chassy and Cocky fiddling in the middle, and I, James, sitting in behind deep, just the way I like it.

Waiting for the kick off someone was overheard to say, ‘surely this is the tightest of the tight fives.’ There was no response, except after a while, another was heard to mutter, ‘that won’t please the captain.’

Nor will it please the coach, who has spoken before in none-too-happy tones about Nanna splinter groups. The Chassy–Cocky splinter group, not to mention Captain–Coach upper management group have always created unnecessary jealousies.

The game—first half.
In the first half the tightest of the tight fives stuttered somewhat. Sure we went in 3–1 up at halftime but all of us knew we were somewhat fortunate to have such a lead. Cocky was the first to score, with what seemed like to me all hussle. But asking him about it, he shrugged his shoulders and stated, ‘all arse’.

After that, apart from some nice work from the Chasm, our passing, or should I say my passing, was very shit. But on the plus side, our D was holding the opposition in check very nicely, except for one occasion when they tore us open pretty good, and Gill was exposed and subsequently beaten.

The game—second half.
The second half was much better from a Brown point of view. The half-openings that we had managed to cock-up in the first period due to shit passing, started to come together (I know I am mixing my metaphors here but I can’t think of anything else to say). There were at least five or six times when at least half a dozen passes were strung together resulting in goals or near misses.

In the first bit of the second half, the brilliance of our play put us 5–1 up, and we were cruising. But as often happens we became a bit over confident and over committed up front. The opposition pounced and pulled a couple of goals back, to bring it back to 5–3 with about 8 minutes to go.

But then I got the easiest goal of the season. The opposition goalie left his line to put a ball into touch. He and all his comrades walked lazily back into position leaving a gaping goalmouth. It was here that Cocky, who had seen the opportunity, pounced. Like a man possessed he ran to collect the ball and placed on the touch line. And just as he was thinking that no other brown had had spotted the open goal, I, James, ran past all the opposition players, whereupon Cocky fed the crucial pass. The loser opposition keeper sensed the danger but could not get back in time. I slotted home. The loser keeper complained to the ref, but the ref said fair play and the goal stood.

Special mentions
Special mention goes to Chasm for being the most beautiful and busy man on court.
Special mention goes to Cocky for a four goal feast and some scintillating passing.
Special mention goes to Tao for telling the ref where to shove it, earning a yellow.
Special mention goes to Gill for putting many shots on goal, and not once hitting the roof—I suspect some backyard practice may be going on.
Special mention goes to me, James, for scoring the easiest goal of the season.

5-5 v Boomin Back Atcha
DC m 2, CB 1, TW 1, JH 1, AW m, TH, CG gk, TK

They don’t drive cars, they don’t drink and they have those really creepy beards without mustaches. But the weirdest thing about the Amish is their belief that pride is evil. Hence why their kids leave school at fourteen to work in factories and hence why some of those same kids get the hell out and start dealing meth with the local pickup driving godless heathens. Strange as it may seem there are in fact similarities between the Amish and the Nannas – a bond of Brotherhood, strange beards, barely closeted innuendo and some hard living times spent sleeping on the floor in Hastings. But there is one place where these two communities of like minded souls do not meet and that place has a name. It’s the name that King Lion uses when he’s talking about his Lion King family. It’s also a name closely associated with the gay movement but we’ll leave that alone for now. Pride. That’s what I’m talking about, and not in an Obama “go to the polls” kind of way, I’m talking about the pride in seeing a group of individual units come together to form a complex emergent system that is greater than the sum of it’s constituent elements. Pride in seeing your brother Nanna giving his utmost for the team, running till it hurts, sweating till it feels like something is going to pop in his head, shoving the opposition until he gets a yellow card, yelling at the ref until he starts awarding penalties to the other team, but most of all pride in seeing your brother nanna yelling at his team mates mid game… what a minute… ahhh… that’s not quite where this tale was meant to be headed…

So, 5 a piece. The Nannas were all over them at half time, but some how they came back, Jim the Amish barn raiser had a clear goal disallowed because the ref is technically blind. Tom yelled at the ref from the corner (but not at his fellow nannas), Chassy slotted in a superb ground hugger (jim take note) after a rapid fire 1-2 from the sideline (but he did keep tryong to tack the ball of his own team mates). Speaking of which, Jim took a free kick just as I was lining it up (which really pissed me off), though I was glad to hear that he wasn’t subbing as i had first thought. I miscued a shot early on and shinned the ball but somehow their goalie fumbled it in. Giller made some magnificent saves, some predictably crap kicks into the roof (ouch!) and one tasteful throw that hit me in the back of the head and bounced in. Kondo’s positioning was perfect for a Walmartin Backdoor™ but the goalie got just enough to it. Tao put in an extremely solid display, hustling, shooting and yelling. Wal also put in a MOM worthy display. Jim was shit.

The other big news for the night was the birthday celebs for Lord Chassy, first Earl of Martindale, takin’ it northside to the little creatures ‘gay beer’ hall. Mussels, shanks, not so little pilseners, waitresses with love beads. Then ditching the softcocks (kudos to the funky nanna) we touched it and went to the black cat for panty stains and some bespoke dubstep phatness. Pert passersby pressing themselves against the glass and mouthing sweet obscenities at chassy for his birthday, Walmartin talking up the benefits of ‘the ratio’. A gentlemanly lift in the funkswick falcon to the sunroom® (think viper room) followed by more beats, a cleansing pale ale or two (well actually just one), a similarly abstemious attitude towards the lords good herb and an in depth analysis of the VCI-300.

tidy.

ps.  I may have got the goals wrong
pps. here’s a fun game fro the comments – match the Nanna to his Amish brother
ppps. from frasay “If Andy and Chazzy had a love child, he’d look like this guy.”

Hartley, who faced 32 charges of fraud, used a number of aliases including Anthony Edward Hartley, Gregory Mulligan and Tony Lorenzo, Detective Felicity Mansell of Feilding police said.

vs Los Pitufos won 4-1
CB 2, AW 1, TH 1, DC, RH, CG, TK, JH
MOM CB/RH

We dropped a goal near the start of the game and trailed Los Pitufos right through to the beginning of the second half. This engendered rather a lot of indignant anger and determination to show those punks who was boss. This was actually quite good for the Nannas as we focussed and got back in the game.

CB got a couple of goals near the start of the second half that put us in front 2-1. TH very casually slotted a blistering strike into the back of the net from outside the D. Then AW off a long run into his favourite position near the back door delivered his trademark finish putting us into a commanding lead 4-1.

The opposition were perhaps too tricky for their own good with a lot of gratuitous footwork which often resulted in them accidentally kicking the ball away and losing it. The major culprit was heard to say repetitively throughout the first half..”easy, too easy, it’s easy” which was somewhat irksome. Once we were in the lead he stopped saying this. I guess we showed him that “no fuckbuckle playing the Nannas is not ‘easy’ and never will be so don’t fuck with king lion fool!”

RH is too be commended for a very solid and focussed in-form game and a well-deserved MOM.

Props also to my cuzzies David and Solomon for their support. They have now commenced their circumnavigation of the continent in the Mighty Blue Magna (stuffed to the brim with guitars, surfboards and tents).

vs Dirty Waffles
Nannas win 3-1
CB 2, DC 1, JH, AW, TW, RH, CG, TH
CB MOM

The Dirty Waffles. Dirty. Angry. Not good to eat, but good to beat.

They don’t like losing but lose they did to a strong, cohesive unit of brown men playing at their best.

It should be noted that although someone has to receive the MOM, tonight was exemplary for its display of teamwork and commitment across the board.

The game began with immediate ferocity with The Dirty Waffles determined to exploit their physical superiority by dubious means. However it is a testament to all Nannas that we managed to ignore most of the argy-bargy and get on and play the game. CB got an early goal after being ankle-tapped and off balance and surging towards the keeper got a lucky bounce and ran it in to the net. Running back triumphant from scoring he ran past the player who had ankle-tapped him who then proceeded to violently ram his elbow into CB’s chest. The guy is freaking massive so CB declined to battle and offered his hand in a truce saying to him “that’s just too dangerous man!”.

DC added to the Nannas score with a powerful strike from just outside the D. So now we were 2-0 up and the Waffles started really firing up. They are a tactical team and they started putting together some very good cross court passing and offensive plays that in the past have opened the Nannas right up and enabled them to thrash us quite easily. However tonight the Nannas were holding position and marking players tightly which shut down their operations again and again rendering them ineffective.

CB scored once more from a solo run up court to put the Nannas in an unassailable position for the final few minutes.

Mighty brown victory Nannas!!

vs The Annual lost 2-4
CB 1, TK, TH, RH 1, JH, AW
MOM CB

It wasn’t as hot as last week but it was a hot, trim Nanna contingent that took the court this week with the lean six.
Apparently not hot and trim enough to unseat the Phase wannabe beeyatches in their headbands and over zealous 50-50 ball challenges.

The Nannas took a while to hit their straps tonight and a few soft goals in the first half allowed the enemy to open a gaping lead of 3-0 by half time.

The second half was won by us 2-1 but was too little too late.

I got the first goal: a right footer into the top/ middle of the net from the edge of the D after a scramble in front of goal.

The second goal was a lovely finish by the Captain on the left from a cross court ball from me.

Dan and Guy were in New Zealand for a wedding. There are rumours that the BPBD may make an appearance in our next match.

This game occurred before the weekend of the Victorian bushfires. The Brown-Smiths were camping in Warburton that weekend only 45km from Marysville which burnt to the ground. Thankfully we are all safe and made it back to Melbourne with no incident. We did witness the darkening sky, red sun and black rain of Saturday afternoon which was also the hottest day ever recorded in Melbourne: 46 degrees.

Special mention goes to Marion, Izzy, Coco and Gabrielle (my mum) for their support.

Nannas  v Booming Back Atcha

Score: 5 v 4

Attendees: JH, DC, TH, CG, TK, GF, RH, TW

Goals: JH 2, DC 1, CG 1, RH 1

MOM: JH

The evening:

Kondo was the first to turn up to a Nanna event with an I-Phone; Saskia started crawling, at the very tender age of 6 months; Cocky, disciplined for his MOM duties non-compliance, was stripped of his post-match vote; and two Nannas were faced with an hour’s drive home, setting a very dangerous precedent.

The game:

The excesses of Christmas proved somewhat befuddling; maybe it was the un-ventilated arena; perhaps it was the bloated eight, which for the first half ended up being a perfect seven, confusing us even more because Coach had pulled together the sub sheet for the former; probably it’s just the way the Nannas play these days.

Nanna skulls were fuzzy, so much so that it looked like several of us had come down with a severe case of the Chasms in D. After kick-off and then the restart Nannas sprang hither and tither like rabbits in a warren fleeing from a ferret. There were moments when every time the opposition got the ball, many a Nanna erupted in a cold fever shouting, screaming, and generally doing everything they could to upset their comrades.

Yet, while the Nannas did go briefly behind, once they got in front they were never headed.

The opposition did have skills, especially in the turning and shooting department, which Coach found out much to his amazement/chagrin just before time. But these skills were not team wide, and what was similarly evident was their lack of cohesion in defence, which came from their shit keeper who did not inspire between the opposition sticks, letting in a couple of howlers.

Gill got one from a speculative throw. Against all nay-sayers Gill continues to pepper the opposition’s goal, as well as all parts of the stadium, with a fertile foot and looping arm.

Striker kept up his goal average with a low trajectory shot. Cocky likes to preach about the merit of some golden rule he apparently heard Arsene mutter. Cocky is to be commended for the example he set on this evening—wanker.

Hinkley got one too, through a head goal, or header. This long throw to a head waiting expectantly up front has long been a Nanna sucker punch, much like Tao’s in off corner move. On a good day, when things are going for us, it goes in and everyone is happy, but on bad days it becomes an over-used act of desperation, similar to the Nanna one-touch that goes to no one.

I got two, praise be to me, though the first was a lolly pop off my right that my twenty-month could have got in front of.

Special mention must go to Guy Fraser, the pure embodiment of zeal. To see him pick out a much faster man, hunt him down like a crazed animal until the quarry falls in a heap of desperation and then perform the reach around on him is to know true brown.

Special mention also goes to Kondo for letting a bunch of never satisfied technology nerds get a hold of his newly acquired I-Phone.

DC(1) CG(1) CB(1) AW TW TH JH RH(Coach)
Three way MOM-RH TW DC

Now there is a good reason for writing your match report very soon after the game and that is because who can remember shit this long after it. What I do remember is that the Nanna’s stepped up and took the challenge head on. It was inspiring to see some serious dedication from my fellow Nanna’s. We took on a team that well and truly embarrassed us on more than one occasion and we took it to them and actually had them for a while. There was nothing to be embarrassed about on that night. Every Nanna pulled their heart out of their chest and threw it on the court for all to see and there those hearts throbbed all bloody red and beautiful.

Not only did we play like champions but we played with respect for each other and the opposition.

We need to take what we had in that game and bring it with us into the next season.

Special mention has to go out to the Sisters that played their final last weekend and won. And while it’s nice to get a finals trophy again the new ones are seriously fucking ugly.

4-3 loss to some cocks

DC(1) CG(1) CB(1) AW TW TH JH RH(Coach)
Three way MOM-RH TW DC

When I was about five years old I found a pool of water in the driveway of our house and in that pool was a thin layer of diesel. Trapped within that thin layer was a rainbow – I thought to myself “Now I know what beauty is”.

At the age of fourteen or maybe fifteen Paulette Dunne finally undid the last button on her school blouse in her mothers sewing room and revealed a section of flesh that I had never before witnessed off the printed page. “Ahhhh” I thought, ” now I know what beauty is”.

Beauty stayed relatively unchanged for many years until I met my lovely wife and then agian unchanged until the birth of my daughters – “Surely” I thought, “now I truly know beauty and I can die happy”.

But I was wrong. The fourth of December 2008 will go down and history as the day that Beauty was finally laid to rest. Seven brown men pulsating in unison to the beat of just one drum – and what a drum.
What a beautiful drum.
The Nanna drum of beauty.

all the necceasaries have been covered by more onto it, better looking and more dedicated members of the nanna bretheren who truly do the name MOM proud. Now mock freely.

Nannas v Russians

2–16

GF, TH, TW, AW, JH

The hardest game of the season; the Nannas were always going to have a tough time.

First, there was talk of camping resulting in three Nannas fucking off somewhere breaking the Nanna’s and Cocky’s heart.

Second, there was lots of champagne drunk immediately before the game.

Third, we were all high on an art opening, Andy especially.

Fourth, it was a scratch match, and we had confirmation before kick-off that we were in the finals.

Fifth, we were playing the Russians, who had on their team a player of mammoth skill, his footwork so great that most of the nannas, high and drunk, could hardly make out his constantly twirling feet, let alone manage to get in his way, or even touch him—as so many of us wanted to do, in our inebriated admirated states.

Yes, the odds were stacked against us. But the Nannas battled bravely and there were moments of magic.

There was Tao on the turn, rapping the ball onto the post and into goal.

There was Tao again, going the nut and getting a red card for his efforts. At the time the Nannas were probably down 10–nil but Tao only knows one way, which is to find an opponent, whack him as hard as he can, whack him again, and then for good measure whack him once more.

There was Tommy throwing his gloves to the ground in disgust. There is some rule somewhere (which the Russians knew, mind you) that states that if you have a player sent off, you can send on a player in his place after three minutes. The Russians had a replacement to send on and did so; we did not and could not. Tommy said, ‘fuck this, and fuck you [to the Russians]’ and then stormed off.

There was Andy, all buff and shit, steaming up the camera for the post match shot. Yes Andy is a very sexual man and to hell if anyone knows it. Andy knows of course that indoor soccer is only a game but the real test of a man is his attractiveness to other men. Andy does us all proud.

There was Ghee, after a long flight, after much champagne, after much feeling up of art folk, all steel and sweat, striding onto the court. Sure his skills were a bit rusty, sure he had trouble getting to grips with the very regimented Nanna game plan but fuck me did he run, fuck me did he try.

11-4 vs New Holland
TH, CG (gk), AW(1, mom), CB, RH, DC(3, mom), TW, JH

Quite possibly the most supporters ever seen at a nannas match. Admittedly all but one were blood relations of a team member but it was still an impressive turn out. I think perhaps Ivy Hinkleys first game? and three generations of browns in the house, not to mention three iterations of crooks ransom confusion.

But of the match, well we were pretty soundly outplayed for most of it. That’s not to say we played badly but the other team definitely had some moves, damn their eyes. Our opening goal came via a sweet through ball from the middle generation brown which old man crooker managed to toe poke across the face of the goal. The second was a trademark Walmartin backdoor special into the roof of the net. Jim was stumbling around like some kind of soccer somnambulist. The coach made a great one two run but double footed himself in front of goal. Wal managed to raise the ire of one of the new dutch cockney douche nozzles (double code bonus) and Tao of course had to get in there and start throwing his weight around (code bonus and violation negating each other). Rhian must have been doing something as must Giller (apart from letting in goals and kicking balls at the roof) but I can’t really remember, or perhaps they were trying to recruit more nannas for their little ‘camping’ holiday on the last Thursday of the season ???!!!&*^%*&^%…  anyway I’ll just finish up with the dead sitter I missed followed by the two headers that I got !? miraculous (and kudos to Giller where kudos is due, even if he is going camping with the “anal explorer”*)

and, dammit, no team photo taken with all the kids, I mean supporters…

* ask the coach

Few things are a worse sight in sport than that of an errant team trying to find its way back to form. The Nannas fall into the above two categories: our form foul, our ways exceedingly wayward. But such is the nature of a team that continues to start badly; such is the nature of team where the starting line up is more unpredictable than Cocky’s facial hair; such is the nature of team that in recent weeks has, as Gill says, lacked any menace whatsoever—even after the coach’s roasting a couple of weeks back.
On this evening a bad start was again how we began. Like a final a couple of seasons back, like only last week, the Nannas let four goals in before it dawned on us that we were playing competitive sport, and losing badly. Yet it does have to be said that we were up against some sharp and shrewd passing and running. I recall the ball being played diagonally to just in front of where captain was backpedalling for all he was worth. The ball eluded said glorious leader but found an opponent who pasted one past Gill.
It is true that on occasion we are slow out of the blocks, you might also note that there are many sci-fi nerds who play Brown, you might even go so far as to say that some Nannas like each other too much, but never ever utter that Brown men of any ilk lack backbone. With four goals against us, so began the Nanna fightback. This time around Chassy, a man of colossal spine, led the revolt, slotting home the first. As women are to nagging, so is Chassy to opponents; as vultures are to dead meat, so is Chassy to the ball. Inspired by such brownliness, we went into the break four–two down, after I was called on to slot home a penalty—why it was awarded I really cannot recall.
The second half was won by the Nannas four goals to two. At one stage we were two in front but could not hold it. I cannot recall how our opponents managed to get back on level terms with us in the second stanza, but I am sure it was all arse and much undeserved.
Of the rest of the game, there are only fleeting pockets of remembrances.

But I do remember what occurred post match and the now infamous MOM vote. While there is conjecture as to who initiated the cock up voting for MOM the first time, when the second ballot was called for there is no doubt that Cocky became the first Nanna in the history of Nannadom to cast his vote in standard donkey fashion. For such disrespect, Cocky goes into the next match, in my opinion at least, with a code violation against his name.

vs Los Pitufos
Loss 1-2
CB1, DC, AW, JH, TH, CG, TK, RH
MOM CB

Shit dang it! Had it half written. Didn’t save. Shut down Safari.

Here goes again.. The floor at Wesley is now shiny and sprung. APISC didn’t get their shit together to put floor protectors on the base of the goals so we had to play with micro-goals.

The Nannas know what they like and they like what they know. Whether it be pottles of tartare or beachbox poker or ton ju or the word butthole or regulation size freaking futsal goals! So perhaps it threw us more than the other team (who were bottom of the ladder mind you- oh the ignominy!) when presented with goals the size of laptops. DC was particularly aghast at the change and could be heard muttering angry words ‘gainst said goals making him look quite the dementia patient. Joining in the metaphor TH rebuked him in his sternest matronly tones and told him to get on and kick a goal. Which unfortunately the most Strikerly among us could not do on this low evening.

CG was still suffering from Ebola and allowed not one but TWO goals to sully the back of the crocheted thimble he was guarding.

The rest of us did OK but not OK enough. TH was in fighting form on the sidelines trying to rip a hole in his vocal cords as he bellowed encouragement and rebukes in equal measure.

CB managed to snake a ball into the net in the second half. It was a left footer and it blasted its way in from well outside the D. CB came close to equalising when another shot tickled the goal frame for a little longer than is decent before scurrying away in disgrace.

It was great to have the Tokyo Terror fresh out of Tokyo and back in the fold. TK put in a solid game of hussling and is still fitter than the rest of us even after three months away.

Speaking of which Spring is well upon us and its time for the Nannas to start going for those morning sprint sessions, lifting weights, riding bikes, swimming out to the heads and back etc. In short, fitness is lacking, some of us are pushing late 30’s, we need to work at it. We need at least two out of these three: fitness, skills, will to win.

Tight like an 8 way butthole. You know what I am talking about Jimmy dear.

5-8 vs ?
CB2, DC2m, JH1, THgk, AW

A tight five squad of nannas hit the court, the coaches fighting words of the previous report still ringing in their ears. A hunger unseen the previous week was in their bellies and in their feet but something else was missing. Perhaps it was Jim’s focus, having given that precious commodity to the green flat-mate before the game. Perhaps it was Tao. Perhaps it was Cora’s middle name. Perhaps it was the good idea that might rescue my show. Hell, maybe it was the Force, that mysterious energy which binds together all the merchandisable objects at skywalker ranch.
Who knows?
Andy drove halfway to Northcote before being forced back by the traffic.
I ate some milkybar.
Chassy prepared to be divided into 5 for a major Telco.
The Captain prepared to operate the hit show of the Melbourne Festival.
Gilly prepared a special wilting solution for his penis.
who knows ?
the cantankerous lung butter certainly had no idea of the impact it would have on Jims occular vascularity.
but enough speculation, enough short selling, let’s talk actualities, lets talk government guaranteed deposits in the back of the net.
a couple from chassy – returning to form. one from Jim that was verbally helped across the line by the coach/keeper, 2 from the author, one of which was a tap-in after a perfectly timed and sweetly weighted layoff from the walmartin. which again puts me in the mind of mooting the addition of some kind of ‘pass of the match’ gong… I’ll leave the logistics of that little chestnut with upper nannagment.
who knows ?
a half kilo of beef at the windsor, jim saying ‘get fucked’ upon hearing Issy and Cora’s surname whilst constantly reminding the diners of his elevated mental state.
beer.

3-4 The Annual
DC2m TH1m CB JH CGgk

there’s not much to add to the coach’s eloquent appraisal of the game.
they wanted it more and we played like crap (and chewing gum).
it was actually quite like how I imagine it is for teams with more skills playing a fired up nannas side, complete with a stuperboot ricochet and the captain’s patented glancing header. the coach did get a sweet stuperchip though….

6—4 vs Dirty Waffles

JH(gk), TW(2), AW, RH, DC(4)
MOM: dc, jh, aw

Well, I do not really remember much about the last Nanna outing, my concentration, or perhaps nervous tension, kept me so focussed on shot stopping (not getting whacked) that half the game seems to have gone unregistered by my memory banks.

Well, the Nannas were lacking, in personnel that is. Coach and Gill gave no explanation for their non-appearance and Chas, with arse hairs flaring, proudly announced that he was off to bask at the beach—so much for the brown brotherhood.

Well, we were a paltry four until Tao, gulping at a V, ran in to save our bacon. But then the question, who would deputise in goals? Captain put forth that I was a natural choice, shouting proudly that my ball skills were impeccable, flawless, unblemished. So here I was trying to figure out what the Captain and my ball skills had been up to, and more importantly what the Chasm would think about it, when the game started, with me standing in goals.

Well, AWong, the very bravest of MOMs, was in a very scything mood on this evening. Sure he might not look like anything like Roy Keane but fuck me does he do a good impression of the former Man U hard man’s ankle–knee–groin grind. He was bringing people down from behind, poaching balls from in front, and then, just for fun, threatening to grab all and sundry’s gonads: AWong a true mountain of strength and stamina. As the Captain noted post game, the patented ‘Nanna crumble’ never came about, and that was due largely to AWong.

Well, Tao, angry, ever vigilant for even the slightest insult or knock, lay into his immediate opponent at every opportunity. Yes, it would not be a Nannas’ game without our man of fury tearing up the court, cutting a swathe through any hope the opposition had of a civil, friendly fixture. To be fair, Tao did almost recreate his magical volley from the grand final a couple of seasons back, but this time he only found an opponent instead of goal. But he did manage a cracking strike getting contact with the top of his foot, angling the shot upwards and into the roof of the goal.

Well, then there is Striker. Striker was in full flight for all of the game, not only toward goal but also defending ours. Apparently he scored four goals but what was really evident was his passing and movement. Usually Striker has some difficultly with distribution. Some people put it down to a subconscious fear of teammates, myself I think it is more to do with a lack of practice. Whatever affected him in the past did not on this evening, he was all side-foots, back-heals and running, lots of running.

Well, last but by no means least is Captain. While I know Captain did play, I don’t actually remember him being on court. And this, frankly, is the way it should be. Captains in my opinion should be invisible, spreading themselves like glue throughout a team with quiet pats on the backside, rants at errant team members, and lots and lots of shouting to build morale. It was all there from the Captain, well so I imagine.

6-2 vs Dirty Waffles (or was it 6-4?)
JH(gk), TW(2), AW, RH, DC(4)
MOM = threeway = dc + 2? (no gearstick ripping or sheepskin back of the calf* brushing involved)

Dirty Waffles ?, is that the scatological equivalent of a soggy biscuit ?

Anyway, the flurry yet again revealed a lack of commitment from various sections of the nanna brotherhood. I won’t go into it further but let’s just say that some nannas need to take a long hard look at themselves (Jim, I don’t mean it like that). But one Nanna with full commitment was Tao, rising from his hospice bed to cough and yell for the full 36 minutes demanded of a tight five. He even managed to slide a couple into the back of net. Jim “the gear stick” Hannon is also deserving of the highest kudos for stepping into goals. With legs of steel, impeccable timing off the line and some fine distribution Jim’s skills belied his 5th string rating. Our defense was mainly solid with only a couple of slip-ups but the midfield was where it was all happening. At points the passing cross court was woeful but generally there was some of the tightest ball movement seen in a while, one-twos, back to the goalie and opening up down the flanks, slicing open the defense through the middle. Up front a couple of finishes were decidedly poor but a couple were struck pretty sweetly too. The opposition had some ball skills but they didn’t really have the hunger and it has to be said that we would have been pretty crap to have lost.

cut to the Windsor and there has been a change of menu, the ribeye now comes with a ‘jus’ and no mash. The portabellos were pretty tight but it required the insight of the nannas resident life coach Andy wong to realise that chips were also required. Interestingly enough I was surprised to see that when the chips arrived Andy went for the ‘spray sauce all over the top of the chips’ technique. I have always favoured the ‘dipping’ model, arguing that this keeps the chips crisp and you don’t end up with that gluggy mess at the end. But bowing to Andys superior understanding of the natural order I expect there is something I’m missing, or perhaps there is some witty link back to gluggy mess/soggy biscuit/dirty waffle at the beginning of the report – thomas ?

ok lastly on a more chronologically fixed note. After nearly two years of avidly consumed rumours and hearsay, the Canon 5DII has finally been announced, looks like the mingin’ shit and even shoots 1080p but the HDMi out would appear to have overlays (soggy shitcakes) but it only gets crazier, Jim Jannard has announced that the specs for scarlett have totally changed, same price, same delivery date but heaps better ?! I need it so bad.

• as of going to print no member of the Nannas yet has an iPhone
• Obama is back in the lead
• the global financial crisis deepens as the US federal bailout is meet with market skepticism
• damian hirst has a ‘primary’ auction and sells £170m worth of ‘meaningless’ art on the same day Lehman Bros folds
• the liberals no longer have a wombat as leader
• david foster wallace Dies at 46
• david rosetzky exhibits the first work of australian video art shot on red
• chassy says ‘fvck ads’
• thomas goes to yet another primavera opening
• otis, elliot and lucien all attend tennis training camp for the school holidays
• the mighty gunners go top of the table
• 30 Rock is very funny (even have discussion with random stranger about how great Alec Baldwin is)
• art angst reigns as the supreme bringer of bad times in the life of the author
• daughters smiling and practicing mongolian throating singing is the bringer of the good times
• 2GBs + 4 off-peak really doesn’t cut it when you don’t have supplemental governmental access
• putting 70GB uncompressed files from a MAC onto a PC formatted disk proves pretty much impossible

ok that will probably do

Yes, for those Nannas present on this glorious evening there was only beauty to be beheld. Beauty in a Nanna line up whose efforts in attack were only matched by the magnificence residing in their shorts.

Yes, the Nannas were well hung and didn’t we know it. The brown men strutted onto court legs akimbo, bulging in the trouser: men of virulence ready for any manly challenge ahead. And while the surface to be played on was greasier than Guy Fraser’s underwear after a long stint internet gazing, our control and assuredness under foot was never in question.

Yes, while there were examples aplenty of Nanna pace, power, poise, passing, purpose, presence, persistence, pugnaciousness, penetration and execution, the following (in chronological order) were the standouts.

Yes, Striker took possession of the ball, just on our side of halfway. Like only a striker can he ignored every plea of support from his comrades and took off in search of goal. On his way there he encountered every player for the opposition. Did he fluently and fleet-of-foot step around and through their challenges I hear you ask? Not a bit of it. Instead he was intent on running into them, using his pure manliness to force the ball down field. One by one they fell by the wayside until he was one on one with the goalie who, in a panic, wet his pants. Striker picked his spot and found it.

Yes, AWong found himself streaming down the right hand side after a ball that had come loose of Nanna possession. Just before he reeled it in he stole a glance across court. To his left a group of players were waiting: Nannas expectant for the cross, the opposition scheming a defence. But AWong is known as the backdoor specialist and with good reason—once a fellow tastes the sweet delights of the alternative avenue to goal he will never want it any other way, and so it was on this evening. Reaching the ball his brain had already computed the angle and pace that he would have to strike, and strike he did, threading the eye of the needle so perfectly that one Nanna went into fits of ecstatic joy the moment it left AWong’s boot.

Yes, Gill had been pinging away at goal for most of the match and his efforts were, for the most part, powerful and penetrating, rendering his opposite number a slobbering mess at the other end of the court. But just for sport he laid the ball at his feet, held his hand high in the air, and then took a few steps back. When everyone was ready he strode surely forth, cocked his leg and swung swiftly, sending a distinct smack throughout the arena. Such was the pace imparted on the projectile that it held its height, barely a metre from the earth, as it curved from left to right, as lefties are wont to do, toward net. The crowd gasped as Gill and his opposite number raised their hands in anticipation, but at the crucial moment Striker materialised out of thin air sticking his right hoof into ball’s path, shifting the trajectory out and away from gloved hand and into goal.

vs Dirty Waffles 4-4
DC 2, CB 1, RH 1, AW, JH, TW, TH (GK)
MOM CB, TH
YC TW

I don’t know whether it was the Swedish Math Metal played en route in one of the Northcote Camrys or the focussed pre-game drills or possibly Jim driving the company car but whatever the Hades it was; the Dirty Waffles hadn’t laid a single syrupy digit on the ball when (after barely a minute of play) we had our first taste of the back of their net.

We had picked the Waffles for arrogant and it was therefore good for the Nannas to get that early psychological edge. Unfortunately that edge was blunted with two loose goals by them in quick succession. Some loose marking (CB guilty once) gave TH little chance of stopping some shots from too close in. 2-1 to them.

TW got a Yellow Card for throwing the ball away. The vibe was getting edgy and desperate. Rhian executed an Acute Sweet Poke (ASP) that was third time lucky after two close attempts by AW and DC. 2-2 scores are tied.

DC got another goal and then they got two more and at 4-3 down and with only minutes left on the clock, a loss for the Nannas looked imminent. CB received the ball in front of goals and sweetly poked it high and into the back of the net for the mighty equaliser.

Special mention goes to the esteemed TH who was massive in goals.

A draw. 4-4. A big game. Strong work Nannas.

The night for this brown Nanna started in the car and Striker busting out the fake cigarette. Coach said ‘look out! It’s the fuzz‘ but Striker wasn’t fazed—he was way too high to worry about some bitches with some phoney respect.

Anyhow, Striker offered the fake ciggy around the car. First coach took it and then after some time I put my doing two things at once ability to the test. Needless to say that you never mean to get totally high but sometimes even the slightest puff can put you out of your mind, as Vic-roads would have it.

Anyhow, the game started slow and Gilla is right our D was of the highest order—no bitches would penetrate us until the very last minute.

And yes the ref was of the same ludicrous disposition as on our previous outings, calling fouls when no contact had been made and on one occasion calling Gilla for stepping out of his area with the ball, even though he, the ref, was a good twenty metres away.

Gilla had his revenge: from the ensuing penalty he guessed right, literally, and made a majestic save.

Anyhow, Striker slid down the right hand side, pulling a move further right and then hit one back across the goalie for one of the sweetest strikes of the year. And that was how it stayed until the middle of the next half.

Anyhow, games are oft won in the blink of an eye and on this night the Nanns went from one-nil up to three-nil up in a solitary minute, I shit you not. The first was set up by yours truly—with a chip and chase Sterlo style. Winfield Cup fans circa 1982 will know what I am talking about. Cocky, in true-strikerly fashion, finished off the move, being on hand to accept the final pass in a two-on-one situation.

Then I struck again, this time getting the final touch as Gilla launched with his left and I with my head, heading home.

Anyhow, Tao finished the scoring for the Nannas with something of the following, which I really don’t remember:

‘I passed one off to Dan who ran down with it as I ran with him on the opposite side of goals then he passed across to me and as the goalie waved his arm around in front of me a popped in passed his left side, or his right side as I’m looking at him, through to the back of the net.’

Anyhow, then it was off to Impromptu it up and apart from the Supper Inn, lashings of lager, and Gill whipping my arse in Virtual Tennis, there was some very serious talk about the state of brownness across the full spectrum of the Nanna line up. From the way I heard it one Nanna, and no names will be mentioned here, didn’t want to join the brown fraternity because, and I quote, ‘he had a busy day tomorrow’.

Anyhow, while this revelation did momentarily shake the spirits of the Nannas it was, in the words of one person present, not wholly unexpected. I think he said something like, ‘well that arse-bandit was never really fit to the lead the Nannas anyway’.

Anyhow, Striker said that he would step up and lead because he was at that moment in time the richest, literally and metaphorically, and in all honesty I think all of those present, even though they may not have wholly heard this comment, did subconsciously accept the self-nomination—I know I did.

9-2 vs X X X X
TH, JH(2), TW(1), RH(2), TK, AW, CG(GK,1), DC(MOM,3)

One word – Commitment. That’s how to win the respect and admiration of your brother nannas. By showing commitment on the ball, on the field, in the pub, in the beach-box, in the face of desiccated mushrooms and forkfuls of crunchy powder… But most importantly by showing up to play having witnessed the birth of your daughter and leaving hospital less than 48 hours previously. that is Commitment with a capital C. To be honest it wasn’t planned, I was totally reconciled to, and comfortable with, the fact that I wouldn’t be playing, but then it was 7.10 the punks were in bed, the little miss was snuggled up with Miri, the dishes were done, the bench and table wiped. Really, what was I going to do ? Go into the stude and do some art labouring? Hell no, I was going to join with my brown brethren in a classic Nannas landslide! So good. So good in fact that Nannas barely noticed the three subs. So good in fact that the Nannas were laughing. Laughing after successful flowing moves, even laughing after crap passes. There were goals aplenty and the author even managed to score a goal for each of his progeny. Ah yes, all was good in the world. So good that the Nannas even forgot to give all their votes to Tao…

Opponents: Los Pitufos
Score: 7 (Los Pitufos) – 2 (Nannas)
Attendees: TK, TH, DC, RH, JH
Goals: DC, JH
MOM: JH

Butt- reamed, rammed, arse- invaded, jam-rolled, indescribably filled, yes Nannas, this is how I felt after a non-too terrific performance Thursday night last.

Yes Nannas, questions do need to be asked. Questions like should Captain have sole control of the growing of his facial hair mid-season? Should Striker get a good night’s sleep on a Wednesday night? Does coach need more time to get his dicky knee right before entering the field of battle? And the most important of all, what is the recommended number of subs if half the Nannas are expected to be late or have an off night?

On reflection the Nannas weren’t too bad. The word that most comes to mind is soft: soft in defence, soft in the contest and fifty fifties (if I can use a couple of footy phrases), and definitely soft in the first half. Well more like asleep in the first half.

The first stanza was were we lost the game, for before we knew it we were about three goals down and it all seemed perfectly harmless, almost like, oh well we’ll get it back somehow. The thing is this sort of attitude only works in the event of a landslide if we can get to our opponents and really put them off their game. The nannas Thursday last were never going to do this.

The second half was better; we did find some rhythm, though not a lot. We did start to string a couple of passes together, though on most occasions the final, crucial pass was beyond us. And yes our defence did tighten up, although there were about two or three times when an opponent had his back to goal with a nanna close enough to hump him, only for the opponent to turn and take the softest shot.
All nannas please note: standing up against the back of your opponent like you have a strange urge to sniff his crack is not defence, it is a recipe for disaster.

Special mention goes to Cocky for trying to convince the nannas that winning the second half was a noble and just cause.

TH(GK)(MOM), CB (1), DC (1), JH, AW

11-2 We went down to Dead Dead Skilfull

An extract from my personal journal I would like to share with all the Nannas out there in bloggerszone:

Thursday the Third of April, 2008

Dear Diary,
Today I found out miracles really do come true and how awesomely akbah is indeed allah, because today, dear diary, I won the highest honour and respect of my sweet Nanna brethren despite letting 11 goals go by. Today, dear diary, I felt for once the Nannas finally respected me for who I am as a person not just how shit I am on the soccer field and that makes me feel really good. Dear diary today I feel like all the good in world is finally happening to me for once, because how is it possible that such an honour should fall to such a one as me….(&c, &c)

Anyway it goes on like that for a couple more pages and I basically just piss my pants ‘cos I’m so happy and humbled by this honour etc etc whatever. So the crux of it was we got caned pretty hardcore. We had our moments for sure, but we let a few too many soft goals in. Sure I got nutmegged once (maybe twice) but I also got a bit of a boning from a couple of own goals and a few occasions where they were just lining up to have a shot, and you can’t let a side as good as them do that without expecting a bit of a fisting. I think Cocky got a goal by taking the high ball interpretation to that place where there’s just enough doubt in the opposition’s mind that they stop for a second and not quite enough doubt in the refs mind (cause he’s liking you today) to pull you up. Perhaps it is fair to say the scoreboard wasn’t an entirely true reflection, we seemed to hold them quite well for periods, then they would avalanche us. We lacked a bit of luck/finesse/finishing power in front of goals too, on a couple of occasions we were one out with the goalie and probably should have made more of our opportunities. Perhaps it is also true we lacked a bit of the elixir from the week before. Who can say from where comes this elixir, and why the Nannas should be drunk upon it one week and parched for a taste the following? Probably some sports psychologist I guess

I would leave the Nannas out there tuned in on the internets reading this blog with the following personal journal extract:

A.M. Thursday the Tenth of April, 2008

Dear Diary,
Last night I had the strangest dream, I was locked in a room with all my dear Nanna brethren, we none of us were sure exactly what we were doing there. It was a little peculiar, but I feared not, because my brothers were at my side. Slowly we became aware of a strange noise. Quiet at first, it gradually increased in volume. Somewhere between the drone of a partway demented automaton and the cry of a frightened fowl, it wasn’t particularly pleasant. Louder it grew, and with it the concerns and agitations of myself and my trapped comrades. All of us being brought up on the mythology of the Star Wars, we started to get that feeling we had felt as children, in the pit of our belly when we could not help but place ourselves in the garbage compactor with Luke et al. The noise grew louder still, verbal communication became impossible. Terrifying. We none of us had any notion of how to combat this situation, how to extract ourselves from this hell room, nothing in any of our experiences had prepared us for this. The noise reached an intensity that was doing permanent damage, it started getting darker, the smell of death began to permeate the room. We all of us realise it will end shortly and end badly. Then hope. Someone, I don’t know who, maybe all of us together, become aware of a thin crack of light way above us. To high for a man to reach, it seemed as first as though it would offer no salvation, then the Nannas started to organise. Without any prompting or apparent guidance, the tall men of the squad formed a circle, the hands of one man firmly grasping the shoulders of those on either side of him. On top of them scrambled the medium sized guys, similarly forming a circle of strength. Finally as the sound started to affect the internal organs of the Nannas, the smallest Nanna clambered up the backs of his fellows and punched mightily at the sliver of light. The sound stopped, a light of a most brilliant golden bathed us and I woke with words of Tenacious D in my ears: “That’s fucken teamwork”

Attendees: TW, TH, DC, RH, JH.

Result: 7-1

T’was a tight five that adorned the court. Adorned? Yes adorned for there was beauty to be beheld from the Nannas on this evening.

The Nannas glided about the court doing what we pleased to insipid opponents, which was only fitting given the mismatched nature of the contest. It was almost like a prediction for the Geelong, Melbourne game to be played this weekend. Or perhaps Manchester United versus the Gunners in the title race? Maybe I am reaching on that last one.

Some might raise their eyebrows in surprise at such comparisons but scoff no longer doubting fools. Indeed if our tight formation of five wasn’t completely focused, so insistent on grinding our foes into the dirt like the helpless bugs they were, we too may have been in awe of the eminence of our efforts.

The nannas were in the mood and there was no stopping us. Not a stuttering opposition, nor a paltry turnout (from the uncommitted), or even Cormac, who threatened all night but ultimately always undid himself with his own trickery, would hold us up.

The brown men seemed to swallow a sacred elixir of patience, poise, speed and movement before we stepped on court. But in truth this performance had been on the cards for a while; form is intricately tied with momentum, and even though we had been beaten in the weeks leading up to this night, those score lines were deeply flattering to past enemies.

It appears the new style we have been toying with for so long is finally gaining currency in our play. All the Nannas need to do now is keep up that style for an entire 36 minutes. Against lesser opponents on this night it proved easy. Against those of greater calibre, our conditioning will have to improve.

Special mention goes to the Captain for playing on the very day his baby was due.

Special mention also goes to Coach for almost keeping a clean sheet, but the goal that got him was a good one. The dirty back heal from the aforementioned Cormac.

5-6 vs S & P
CG[gk] DC[2,MOM] JH[1] AW[1] TW[1] TH

what an arse.
things were looking good, the nannas started brightly with a tight defense and some good early runs. The opposition had some moves but nothing overly threatening. Andy Wong opened the scoring with a speculative shot not far from the halfway line. Almost reminiscent of the shot from Cesc that put Arsenal into the lead on Tuesday night. There was some fantastic hustling from the nannas particularly Tom, Tao and Wal, pressing and suffocating space. Against the run of play the opp nicked one back, they did have some ball skills after all. But more committed hustling tight in the left corner from the le coq spotif resulted in a dispossession and another goal. half time and the scores are tied 2-2. Then the nannas really lifted their mental game and pulled two goals clear, a father flukey left from Le Coq and one off the knee ?! from big Jim Hannan, the Stupaknee™ if you will. it was at about this point that M3 ( that’s right people a ref called M3, the very ref who this author was restrained from laying an official complaint against) began his typical slide into farcical decision making. A penalty was awarded for some clumsy bundling in D by Jim. The sweaty portly stubbley angry man steps up to take it and of course giller, using the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, saves the goal with his feet, ah yes feel the pain you sweaty portly stubbley angry man !! ha ! but no ! the ref is claiming he hadn’t blown the whistle, you’ve got to be f**king serious. from there it’s downhill , the nannas have been dealt a serious injustice from which their fragile psyches can not recover. the opp run in another gaol almost straight away the nannas just standing around in disgust. that is freakin’ bullshit ref ! still stuck in the past moment the nannas see another and then a another in the back of their net. Tao rallies to pull one back back but it’s too late. Anally defiled by a melways ref. the ignominy. fvckit.

epilogue:
to further compound the lack of courtly behavior three nannas left the table at the chief before the other three had even finished eating, what is that all about ?
well, at least the gunners are through to the quarter finals of the Champions League…
oh, and there was some contention about the MOM voting, but given that the coach hadn’t posted his report on the site… (some cods wallop about server hacking)
anyway, Andy will probably be writing a report as well so the more the merrier.
it should also be mentioned that the glorious captain of nannas has been taken ill, we all wish him a speedy return to health & brown manly vitality
congratulations also to Pete & Nat on the birth of their little boy Cohen (sp?) – woohoo !

Nannas Vs Thursday Nights

0-9

RH(MOM), JH (MOM), AW (MOM), TH(MOM), Oz the Lebanese ring-in.

On four.

Four is the only number in the English language for which the number of letters in its name is equal to the number itself.

Four is the number of brave Nannas who turned up for the 640 game at MacRobertsons

Four is the smallest composite number, its proper divisors being 1 and 2. Four is also a highly composite number. The next highly composite number is 6.

Four is the number of MOMs voted to the brownest of honours at the completion of said game

Four is the second square number, the second centered triangular number.

Four is the number of tennis balls equivalent to Andy Wong’s testical size.

4 is the smallest squared prime (p²). It has an aliquot sum of 3 which is itself prime. The aliquot sequence of 4 has 4 members (44,3,1,0).

Four is approximately the number of own goals James converted

The prime factorization of four is two times two.

Four is the number of Purple Hearts Rhian would have been awarded if he had sustained his injuries fighting for the US Military.

Four is the smallest composite number that is equal to the sum of its prime factors. (As a consequence of this, it is the smallest Smith number). However, it is the largest (and only) composite number n for which is false.

Four is the number of diseases I was inoculated against prior to the game (Typhoid, Hep A, Tetnus, Diptheria)

Four is a Motzkin number.

Four is the number of hours prior to the game that the nurse inoculated me.

In addition, . Continuing the pattern in Knuth’s up-arrow notation, , and so on, for any number of up arrows.

Four (hundred) is the number of times I thank the Lord Jesus Christ every day for being part of the Mom Four

A four-sided plane figure is a quadrilateral (quadrangle) or square, sometimes also called a tetragon. A circle divided by 4 makes right angles. Because of it, four (4) is the base number of plane (mathematics). Four cardinal directions, four seasons, duodecimal system, and vigesimal system are based on four.

Minus four is the number of times Oz worked it back into the D.

The smallest non-cyclic group has four elements; it is the Klein four-group. Four is also the order of the smallest non-trivial groups that are not simple.

Four is the number of minutes Tao would have got to play if he had continued getting changed after he realised it was the second half.

Four is the maximum number of dimensions of a real division algebra (the quaternions), by a theorem of Ferdinand Georg Frobenius.

Four is the number of centimetres Rhian’s half volley from the old over the head dob missed by.

The four-color theorem states that a planar graph (or, equivalently, a flat map of two-dimensional regions such as countries) can be colored using four colors, so that adjacent vertices (or regions) are always different colors. Three colors are not, in general, sufficient to guarantee this. The largest planar complete graph has four vertices.

Four is the number of millimetres to the right required for OZ’s shot to have not hit every post in the goals and instead sailed into the back of the net.

Lagrange’s four-square theorem states that every positive integer can be written as the sum of at most four square numbers. Three are not always sufficient; 7 for instance cannot be written as the sum of three squares.

Four is probably two more legitimate chances than we actually had.

Four is the first positive non-Fibonacci number.

Four(teen) is the number of dollars it costs to play when only four Nannas front for a game. (Or maybe $17.50, I forget)

Each natural number divisible by 4 is a difference of squares of two natural numbers, i.e. 4x = y² − z².

Four is the number of times it took me to get my t-shirt on the right way around for the second half.

Four is an all-Harshad number and a semi-meandric number.

The Mom Four

Sport. A cruel, cruel mistress.
Just ask captain. Inquire what it was like to bust ankle. Then say, how did it feel to sprint on ankle for half hour?

Sport. A real bitch.
Just ask coach. Raise how hurling soccer ball must have been exceptional c*&^ after receiving range of crippling blows to arm thirty minutes prior kick-off.

Sport. A total waste of time.
Just ask Tao. Put, if you dare, how with only five minutes left on clock he found Nannas nine gaols down.

Sport. No point trying.
Just ask me. Exclaim, busting gut back in d only got ball on ball on ball on ball on ball ricocheting off foot, leg, appendage into own goal. Own goal. Own gaol.

Sport. A real tragedy.
Just ask Andy, who, despite best efforts, could not prevent competitive game in first half turning rout in second.

Present: DC, CB, RH, TK, TW, AW, JH

Goals: DC 2, JH 1

Opposition: DDS

Final score: DDS 5- Nannas 3

While this game ended in defeat, the Nannas will be sure to take something out of it. It showed that team brown can play a game to beat any opponent no matter how skillful.

Most times the Nannas beat opponents like DDS in the later stages of a season when we are all hyped up and our brownly manhood is on the line. We mark up, impose our immense physicality on our opposite numbers and generally worry them out of the contest.

Last Thursday’s game was an example where we used two distinct styles of play, none of which reflected the method we employ come finals time.

After a very slow start where the opposition put two goals past us that could best be described as hopeful long-range efforts, the Nannas suddenly heard the absent coach’s call to play with our heads and not our arses. We started running, defending and most important of all passing.

Yes the Nannas started to control the game, employing the adage that the ball kicked moves faster than the man running. Strangely, in our possession the ball went backward just as much as it went forward. We also demarcated a ten-metre semi-circle around Kondo’s goal that became an opposition no-go zone.

Funnily enough it worked. Cocky bagged two, yours truly curled one in from range, and the opposition could not find their rhythm, taking sporadic and ill-directed shots on goal. The browns went to half time with a one goal lead and their tails up.

It wasn’t to last long. From the whistle for play to get under way in the second half, the Nannas were caught on their heals and promptly punished. 3-3.

Then trying to regain the initiative the Nannas pushed too many forward, and our d was caught at sixes and sevens on the break. 4-3.

From there the Nannas reverted to the aforesaid second style of play. This is the game plan usually engaged when the Nannas are up against it. It is a game of long passes, misdirected one-touches, and no patience or panache whatsoever. The Nannas used the old no-nonsense straight up the guts at all times approach, thinking it must reap rewards.

The rewards did not come. The Nannas were brave, but the Nannas were also out of puff. A late goal by the opposition sealed it. Final score 5-3.

Special mention goes to Tao for trying to tell the ref that he was in a better position to adjudicate on the game, after a call when against him.

Special mention also goes to the Captain for his self-nomination as the worst player on the pitch, which seemed somewhat harsh. Such self recriminations are always to be commended, especially when they come from our fearless leader.

2 – 5 vs Gash Backs

TH (Mom, GK), DC, AW, JH, CB

I don’t know if any of you were in Stalingrad circa WW2 when the spaghetti hit the fan. That shit was fvcked up. The Germans were the sophisticated, well drilled, experienced hard men and the Russians had nothing except for about 20 times as many men and a bitch of a winter. Basically you had no chance, if the cold or the starvation or your own secret police or the enemy or dysentry or the tuberculosis didn’t get you then you died from drinking anti-freeze for the high. You were stuck between two megalomoniacal egos refusing to back down. That’s kind of how it was for us. Them with there fancy skills and the ex-australian rep ref playing for them and little iron crosses hanging around their necks, and us with the glorious will of the Soviet people.

Simplest way to understand it is to think of me in goals as the Volga river, nothing can get past, that’s not even an option, but fritz is still going to shell the shit out of me day and night. Jim was the October Tractor Works, a lot of bad shit happened there, men eat horses if they were lucky. Cocky, as always, was the poster boy magnificent sniper division getting all the food, all the press, and all the ladies. Chas was the 5 million strong Red Army troops who the Hun could not conceive of existing over the other side of the urals with their T-34s ready to die in wave after pointless wave. Wal was frostbite, eating Jerry whole and turning his flesh black. Tao was of course the generals who never showed up for the fighting but invented new medals for the dead soldiers to wear.

So despite what history tells us we lost. But we drew the second half, and if you take the two goals that the ref got out things don’t look so bad, plus I was in goals and that sucks harder than having the Romanians on your flank. Then my bicep got ruptured and it took a week for the bruise to come out. Amen

3 3 vs ?

dc (2 mom), tw (1), cb, ring-ins adrian (gk), phillipe

Who knows where all the nannas went ? Reigning champions one week, mild mannered dinner party guests the next, some nancy birthday party according to reports. Well at least Takeshi and Thomas had a valid (in fact the only valid) excuse being they weren’t in Melbourne (you hear that, you bunch of light lager drinking nancy boys !).

Anyways, we were fortunate enough to have a couple of ring-ins bolster the team. Ade stepped masterfully into goals and Phillipe lent some Gaulish flair to a tight five returning once again to the sacred pits. The 6.40 is a hard grasp (I’m still waiting for a fine after pulling a u-turn over the median strip on Kings Way !) and we kicked off with only 4 nannas on the pitch, luckily so too did the opposition. I always find it kind of weird when a game starts not quite right, like you really don’t have to run or something, which made it even weirder when the nannas took the lead through a toe poked effort from yours truly. I can’t really remember the sequence of events after that but Tao arrived as did his opposite number and then we ran a lot. Ade put in a couple of great saves and Phillipe had some nice ‘foot rolling on top of the ball’ styles. The Nannas never really found the fluidity of last week (which is to be expected) though late on Cassis made a very nice run through the centre of the pitch, drew the goalie and then offloaded for the striker to tap in. The tie ended in a draw which was kind of ok.
yeah, something like that.

then it was on to the ‘not looking so bad these days’ chief for beers and pottles of tartare where lots of bubbles were blown in glasses of lemonade and the big kids were ‘chas’tised for leading Solly astray on the absolutely filthy window ledge – Shubut !

vs The Annual (Wesley) 9-5
dc(4), cb(2), tw(2), jh, aw, rh(gk), owngoal(1)
MOM cb/rh/dc

“continues to sh1t in the mouths of his compatriots…”

So this is what I read as I sit in my little cubicle on a Thursday morning tirelessly working towards a greater future for all G7 owning nannas. This is the thanks I receive for my efforts to realise the true power of a camera crippled by it’s manufacturer to maintain market separation. Well I say to you Thomas “I hope you firmware is unsupported”. No Raw capture for you my brother G7 owning nanna, no in built intervlometer for you, no RGB histograms for you, no undecipherable stereo data information for you ! that is what I say…

But I digress. back to the far more pressing task of ceaseless self promotion, especially given these unstable and soon to unstabled times. I’m still not entirely sure that this qualifies (as far as I can tell I look like a total penis) but if you’ve got a spare 170 Mb of download lying around you can check for yourself sunday arts 14.10.2007. I’ll do it myself at some point and post only the incriminating section for those who can’t be arsed.

but back to the game. 7-0 ! sweet hey-zues ! The mighty Arsenal in Imperious form . Now this may seem like yet another digression but let me continue. If you take a close look at the sixth goal by boy wonder Theo Walcott two things come to mind. 1st (as stated by more or less every commentator) is that it bears an uncanny resemblance to the trade mark styles of Thierry Henry. 2nd is that the Nannas or perhaps more keenly The Annuals goalkeeper bore witness to two very similar strikes in the far more humble setting of the wesley indoor court. The Best looking Nanna, aka The Purple Headed Father of Two slotted in two almost identical shots. Running left and drawing the gaolie wide before pushing the ball across the face of goal with the deftest of touches off the outside of the boot. There was more magic. There were also other self similar goals. Chassy was in a speculative mood and passed a couple of long cross court balls coming in at just below hip hieght. While the Author managed to pull them out of the air with a fair to average degree of skill, the opposition were so sh1t that they allowed enough time for everyone to watch the ball bounce and “cock wallaby” belt the crap out of it on the half volley (very satisfying I might add). For his continual running and vigilince (and forgetting the occasional late pass) the slim hipped chassis was rewarded with a brace. Jim still continues to support Man U and thus didin’t score any goals. Andy Wong put in a late arrival (though his excuse was later deemed worthy) but was timing his runs to far post impeccably. On several occasions Wal was in exactly the right place at the right time but the pass never arrived (see above). And Finally the captain, selflessly stepping up to defend the sacred nanna portal. Some great saves (a couple of early naff through the legs too but who hasn’t done that 176 times themselves) coupled with some top shelf distribution…

ah well. very good nannas, sorry about the fecal oral…

vs Asian Sensation 3-2

DC 2, CB 1, TW, TH, RH, JH, CG

MOM: CB

Well it all started a bit nerve wrackingly in peaceful northcote with a late pick-up from Gilly that caused the writer to phone Cap’n Hinkley in a blistering panic questioning, “hast thou forgot to pick me up?”. To this Cap’n H responded “Nay you idiot we are bearing down on you right now. Keep your cool man!”.

And thus they did pull up (as it were) and indeed we then took a wrong turn down Hillside (at Cap’n’s insistence) but finally caressed Slater with Falcon power and deposited one Shank D’Coq in the rear with moi.

We were on our bloody way and not a minute too soon. Talk of demerit points and potential lost licences en route did not deter our Keeper from keeping it slick and edgy in the travel.

A rearward park and arrival. Followed by a jolly good warm-up: hack, one touch keepings off and the running one touch drill. Interspersed of course with a solid potshot at the late and incorrectly entranced Weistsiders. Jim was ready for it.

Then rain, talk of tactics, talk of code and a tight huddling kickaround with patently aggressive tones. Inside at last and money dialled into our beloved Ref almost before he had finished the final blow.

The game then. And what a solid and spirited first half it was. The one-touch work really showing up in the game with some excellent quick passing that resulted in early goals for the Nannas. The first goal was a nice finish from D’Coq off a classy throw from Gilla. The second goal was a 123 starting with the writer centrecourt right, quick ball to D’Coq left then back to the writer running onto the ball and finishing decisively. The final goal was another great finish from D’Coq after a lovely set-up from Taozza.

Taozza impressed with some fine passing and defensive play. Jim was more alert and less alarmed this week. Tommy looked hot hot hot with a new haircut and shave. Gilla was in fine form and did a couple of double saves that were awesome. Cap’n had his shooting foot on and launched a couple of rockets that were unlucky not to be goals.

The second half was less impressive with the opposition clawing back two goals and nearly making a break for a draw towards the end. However we held on and sweet victory was our bedfellow once again. Unanimity expressed on pleasures of winning.

Back to the empty Windsor for jugs, crisps and gusts of smoke blowing in from outside. Strong work Nannas!

vs Los Pitufos 3-1
CB 1, DC 2, TW, JH, TH, AW, CG, RH
MOM: CB

They were young, younger than us although that wasn’t apparent to begin with. They could have been 34ish but they weren’t. They were teenagers with no calcification, no arthritis, no dodgy ankles. All we had was our hurting bombs and we kinda used ’em.

The game began with a very tidy yet explosive powerball from Cocky on the right. He punched crosscourt on the run and the ball made no bones about hitting the net with gusto. So we were one goal up and then things started to get ugly. Its hard chasing a bunch of teenagers around for too long and chinks in the Nannas fitness armour began to show. Chinks in the Nannas awakeness armour also began to show with Cocky giving Jim a good sideline berating for his statuesque behaviour oncourt. Jim defended himself by saying he was in defence and didn’t need to run onto the ball. Mmmm, 2 and 2 is four Jim you do the sums. On the subject of berating, Tao uncharacteristically screamed at the writer for being out of position only moments before the writer successfully made the tackle. To which the writer responded (with uncharacteristic indignation) that Tao should save the ‘telling off’ till after the f**k-up and not before.

But I digress. After a lot of yelling and a lot of mess, the opposition equalised near the start of the second half. A lovely offensive play involving the writer and Tao resulted in Cocky slotting his second goal of the match. Soon after, the writer struck gold from the right after a vigorous fend-off of the opposing defender.

The game was ours. A 3-1 victory. The aftermatch function was held at the Windsor Castle (home of the fourteen dollar jug). With eight Nannas in attendance it seemed appropriate to convene a formal planning meeting (please see big Jim Hannan for the ensuing ‘actions register’).

Plans for a new lighter weight fast drying uniform were discussed. And November 24 has been locked in for the Second Ever Nanna Beachbox Poker Function At Mt Eliza (SENBPFAME).