Vs The Annual, 3-4 Loss
DC (2) TH(1) CB JH CG(GK)

MOM DC TH

It is oft said of the youth that while they possesseth the energy they possesseth not the control. Perhaps you may think back to your own youthful actionings, in the bedroom, where a great deal of excitement and exhilaration and stimulation was not necessarily able to be drawn out, or manipulated to maximum advantage, or the utmost power leveraged when needed most. Or perhaps you have experienced this recently whilst enjoying the company of someone younger than yourself. Whatever your manner of understanding, the maxim remains the same; the young, while willing, lack the experience that counts. Sometimes however it would seem that vitality and vim can overcome the knowledge, skill and know how that the decades provide, and thus it was well and fucking truly proved this Thursday past. For the Nannas arrived with “in the bag” mentality, thinking to toy with the young opposition a while, as a feral cat might toy with a caught rodent, or a well-versed harlot might toy with a trick at the limits of ecstasy. Yet despite going down one-nil early on, the foregone conclusion mentality continued to hold sway amongst the Nanna brethren, as though somehow our age, experience, skill level, ladder position and track record meant we were ordained for victory. Well let me tell you Nannas, history is littered with the fetid corpses of those thought themselves predetermined to win, the tales of old are awash with the blood of the foolhardy who believed destiny had fated them success before the battle had begun. If you learn nothing else from last week’s defeat learn this: counteth not thy fucking chickens before thy fucking chickens hatcheth.

Of course while the mindset describes the demeanour, which defines our loss it does not describe the manner. How were a bunch of pimply children with little more than eagerness to describe their soccer skills able to defy a battle hardened outfit of match fit Nannas? I will away with the verbose language and give you one word. Desire. They came with greater desire, and for that they were rewarded with a great victory. Greater desire for two things: desire to win, and desire for the ball. The desire to win is essentially what I have already discussed. A belief that you can win is a much surer bet than a belief that you should win. I hope every fucking Nanna out their in Nanna fucking land has got that in their heads, because we are about to move onto what I believe is a greater problem: desire for the ball.

You’ve got to want the ball. You’ve got to want the ball real bad. And you’ve got to put that wanting the ball real bad into practice by going after the ball like possessing it is what keeps you breathing. Not only last Thursday, but generally, Nannas are a bit soft at the ball, holding off it, standing behind the opposition and putting their head down when a pass does not miraculously find it’s way through, generally not wanting it bad enough. While I am loathe to single out an individual, I will at this juncture raise the name of the purplest and most angriest of Nannas, Tao. While he may not have the strike of the striker, nor the shadow foot of the shadow foot, nor the back doorness of the back door man, nor the Heisenberg uncertaintly principle of the man know as the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, he has a desire to possess the football the likes of which exists in no other Nanna. While he may have his moments of code violation and giving the ref an earfull, it is his willingness to go to the ball wherever it is, no matter how far away or how hopeless the situation may seem, and make a contest that the Nannas lacked this Thursday past. I want us all to take a little of Tao’s tenacity, Tao’s never say die approach, and fucking well get in there and make every ball contested. No matter you think the contest is over and you are beat, fucking well get back on the ball and make every moment of possession the opposition may have a hard fought fucking annoyance for them. This week I don’t want any excuses, I just want to see Nannas wanting the ball so bad it hurts them deep inside. I really hope I have made myself clear, because this is the area in which we acted like a bunch of nutless monkeys last week, this is why a bunch of fucking teenagers wearing girl’s hair accessories were able to bend us over and disgrace our junk.