Doris day said it first in 1952
‘The melon on the vine is ripe, mr Tap Toe’

It’s easy to gloss over such a lyric as a simple rhyme to
‘Sharper than an old tin-type, Mister Tap Toe’ but if you take the time to unpack these simple words you find a truth that cuts to the heart of the Nannas.

What Doris wants us to see is that when anything is in its prime it needs to be capitalised upon or it will fall to the ground and rot, attracting insects and vermin. What Doris would have seen on the 21 July 2018 is a group of men PEAKING. A team reaching its zenith, a tightly honed unit that needs to be picked from it’s vine, peeled and presented on a platter.

It is our time, it is our place, this is our year and our season. I feel plump and juicy, squeeze me and feel the ripeness.

ATT: CB, DC, JH (MOM), RH (MOM), TK, TW (MOM), AW

Nannas 5 plays Green guys 5

This was one of the best games that I can remember the nannas playing for a while. We really should have won but it was one of those things: we went behind, we fought back, they fought back, we weren’t going to let them best us, they kept coming.

Early in the piece it did feel like the Nannas were in for a long night, as we easily gave up possession in mid field and the boys in green strung together about four or five cross-court passes only to find the net at the end of it.

This early goal, however, only seemed to steel the Brown Men to their task. After that we held the ball (the control was huge as compared to the previous week), we passed effectively (hitting our targets time and again), we ran our socks off (Coach would have been proud), and we defended stoutly (about half a dozen times the Green Boys found it hard to find a player).

Then we got our first; I received the ball just outside their area with my back to goal, one-on-one (can’t remember who fed it to me). I turned my man and put in the far corner.

Then the Captain got one. Their keeper was slow clearing his lines, Hinkley could sense it and was on the hunt. He shut him down, the ball spilling to his feet and then he slotted home.

I can’t really recall most of the opposition’s goals but I am pretty sure the pattern was, after those first three goals and we went 2-1 up, they would equalise only for us to pull ahead again.

Anyway, so then it was Tao’s turn to shut down the keeper. Again their shot stopper was slow to clear, and perhaps underestimated the power and fury of his opponent, for as everyone knows Tao can bring both in abundance. Tao got in his face, read the direction he was going to go and when their keeper tried to hoof it downfield and to safety Tao was all over him and from the resulting ricochet the ball found the back of the net.

Next up was the Cock, who I was trying to coerce more movement out of (channelling the Coach). He must have heard me, because, in the very next moment, as I turned to my head following the ball, he had slipped under the radar to position himself perfectly in front of goal. When the ball was duly delivered, he, very stylishly, back heeled it for our fourth.

Cocky also laid on our fifth, with a perfectly weighted ball down the right. I was actually running to the middle and had to change direction and for a minute thought I wouldn’t get there but the pass was millimetre perfect: it drew the keeper out but at the same time allowed me enough time to slip it past him and into the bottom right corner.

Notes:

Note to Chassy: not sure why no one voted for you, you played okay, but probably best not to give me a big hug so close to kick off, you almost had me in tears.

Note to Kondo: some great distribution and fine shot stopping (as per usual); we just have to work on you drawing the man.

Note to Wal: keep making those backdoor runs, it’s always a delight to see you convert from that position.

Note to Hinkley: make those headers count; that’s the second you’ve missed recently.

Note to Cocky: stop looking so hang-dog, it really doesn’t suit you.

Note to Tao: thanks for some great post-match hosting of the Socceroos game, and just thanks for everything.

ATT: JH, TH, TK, AW, the two Jameses (the Headmaster and Mr Mercer)

Nannas 4 plays RMIT 12

At the end of work, I must admit I was thinking of going home. I was feeling pretty shit. Then I left work and it was a crappy outside too. It was dark, well windy, and it had that feeling that it might piss down at any moment (more on that later).

But, I dragged myself up to see Jezza. The last couple of weeks, he’d been a bit down himself with his broken leg and all but tonight he was somewhat better and it was good to see him. We went through our usually pre-game ritual; things started to turn around.

For a start, the ride from the Great Northern over to the game was ah-fucking-mazing. It was downhill most of the way, I had the wind coming over my right shoulder, and I was h!gh as a k!te sailing through Princes Park, down past the Juvenile detention centre and then up near the Coach’s old house.

I arrived at the end of the first half of the game before ours and one of the Dynamo Tehran boys asked if I either Andy or I would come on, as one of their players had gone down injured. After my ride, it was exactly what I needed; to get out and keep moving, and get rid of some of the pent up sadness that had been accumulating over the previous week.

I hit three goals for them. Issy on the sideline kept telling me to save it for the Nanna game but the ball kept rolling my way and I kept shooting. That first game ended up 8-4 in our favour.

Then the Nanna game started. I was feeling similarly into it but unlike the previous game we didn’t have as much control, and, crucially, the opposition was somewhat better. On about six or seven occasions we gave away the ball in mid court/our back half and they gratefully accepted the invitation to score.

One gets the feeling that if we weren’t so sloppy in possession we would have been a lot more competitive.

Afterward, we went back to the Great Northern to watch footy (Port versus Dogs). As per usual, I had to leave prematurely to catch my train home. Tommy came out with me, as he had put my bike on the roof of his car, and as we walked to where he had parked the heavens opened.

I was in a quandary: I couldn’t not go, but in that downpour I was going to be soaked within a minute or two, so I asked Tommy if he would give me a lift. Tommy did hesitate, mainly because him, Gilla and I had just visited the funk hole outside only minutes before, and I think he was a bit unsure of how he would handle driving in his state in a torrential rain storm.

He wasn’t the wrong. The windscreen wipers were on full tilt but were only half getting the job done. There were little rivers running over the road, making the lines almost impossible to see. And Tommy was playing some melodic, brain messing Stinky Jim tunes, which were making things only more confusing. But then there was the Nissan Micra of Safety. Oh thank fuck for that little white car that drove slowly just in front of us, leading us all the way down Rathdown and into the city, by which time the water falling from the sky had lessened. And thank fuck for the Coach too.

In loving memory of ‘Pat’ Patrick Francis Hannan: 25-12-1943 to 6-6-2018.

ATT: CB, DC, EC, JH, RH, TW

Nannas 3 plays New Team 5

Yes, I was selected to play in goalie on this evening, given that I put my hand up to do it.

We were pitted against the New Team. They were dressed in white.

The Nannas were six: five regulars, with the reliable Ides filling the now customary vacant sixth spot (I’m sorry if that seems like a negative statement; it’s not meant to be).

The game was decided in the first ten minutes; the New Team swiftly scoring four goals. This was mainly the result of marking leaving our fourth string, and somewhat clumsy, keeper exposed.

After this initial flurry we did tighten up our defence significantly but the damage was done.

The new team only got one more goal, which was the last one, sealing the result.

We got three but were largely ineffectual in attack.

As keeper, I had an interesting view of the game. Here are some of my thoughts:
• The Nannas need to belie their name and collective age, especially early in the game and especially in defence. In those first five to ten minutes, there were some Nannas in defence that seemed to get lost on court, almost to the point of not knowing why they were there in the first place: he wanders here, he looks there, he wonders about the meaning of life, he scratches his stubble, he tries to look focused and like he knows what he’s doing but don’t let it fool you.
I tried to wake these bewildered souls up with some judicious and very loud yelling (a quick point here about my shouting: I accept that I need to tone it down and will try to do so in the future but contrary to what was said post game [that I was screaming at people in the heat of the moment and that made some confused], I would postulate that a lot of Nannas were already very perplexed and my yelling was after the fact, trying to warm these muddled souls to the simple task of picking up a man), which seemed to work after a fashion.
• Never let it be said that the Nannas will let anything get in the way of a good chin wag: before the game, during the game, after the game, at the pub, there is always something to chat about. And you’d have to say that we have this same vacuity on court, albeit in something of a different fashion. There is a collective silence when defending, so much so that the Captain actually didn’t believe me three times (check your Bible) when I said that I had told a certain Nanna to pick someone up. Then he told me to be shut it when I tried to get up someone after about three of the opposition broke free in attack. Curious. This same code of silence applies to our attack too. There is no ‘time’, ‘have a shot’, ‘bring it back’, ‘clear it’. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating here a little but I do think it’s true that the Nannas need to be a lot more verbal on court.
• There was no penetration. The Nannas have never lacked for virility, so says Chris Gill, but maybe he wasn’t talking about our probing ability, on court that is. On this evening, the percentage of completed passes from the goalie to outfield Nannas was high, something in the order of 90% (I would estimate). Yet, even though we had lots of ball, and a lot of the time this ball was in advantageous situations, we couldn’t do much with it. There are various things going on here:
-We do lose the ball a lot. This tends to be either as a result of over-eager attacking play where we try something too ambitious for our limited foot skills, or we think we have to move it on quickly and then kick to no one, or a combination of the two. We also lose it because there isn’t a Nanna who can stop and control play, knowing when to go forward, when to retreat, when to stop.
-We do not move. This was very evident in the second half (although I do remember the Captain making a number of industrious runs down the right). Coach has been on at us for ages about his, and, while Tom can be statuesque in his own play, he is right. Watch any good basketball team and the one thing you notice is that they constantly try to get their opposition out of position through continual movement. Sure, some Nannas hardly manage a trot at times but any such effort should be at the service of getting free of your marker.
-There is still a lack of cohesion about the Nannas. I know what you’re thinking: are you fucking serious? Yes I am. Even though we have played together for 15+ years we still are a bit disjointed in attack/defence/general play.

Post game eating. The Captain took us to some very reasonably priced but extremely tasty Vietnamese, where we asked Ides boring questions about his final two years of school. He was much enthused.

🕗 Thu, May 17, 2018 – 08:00 PM🔸 Brunswick – Court 1 ⚽ FC Dalles – MINOR FINAL

Coach (1), Chazzy, 📣 Captain (ass coach), Kondo (GK), Elliot, Tao, Jim, Le Coq (1), Sol (supporter)

In the first few seconds of the game a flailing fist caught me on the lower lip, blood gushed from the wound and splattered onto the floor. I stared at the man who had just injured me, concentrating hard, I reached out with my mind, I could feel his consciousness, a cold lump of unintelligence just floating there… and then it was gone. I had worked my way to his primary nerve bundles and shut off the protein chain that signals neurotransmitters to be released which immediately shut down his nervous system as messages could not be passed across the synaptic gap which rendered his entire being useless. He slumped to the ground like a life sized human statue made of jelly that had just been taken out of its mould. I had gotten my revenge. No one would ever know it was me that had put an end to his life except him.

vs Dynamo Tehran (Loser’s Semi-Final)
9-2 Victory
CB 4, DC 3, EC 2, TW, CG, TK

(To be read aloud in the style of a pirate or a swashbuckler)

Ole Big Burly Chest wasn’t there

It didn’t matter

Cos we was

There.

Oh yes we were, we were there with bells on,

Raining goals down upon them

Like a rainstorm,

An unholy tempest.

Nay we were.

’tis the truliest thing i ever spake.

Ay.

Dat’s roight.

Oh we won it.

We won it roight up in ’em.

Ah we did.

Left me happy all the next day.

Happy as a lark.

As sunshiny as a new born son.

All happy and squelchy and shiny.

Dat’s roight.

We beat ’em good nar.

прошлый четверг нанны сыграли матч против Гарри Поттера. Риан забил хет-трик, а нянцы выиграли 5 – 2. Гарри Поттер пытался пробить шестнадцатилетний (он был очень зрелым). После игры мы съели самые изысканные тако.

Someone 6 plays Nannas 0

Att: CB, DC, JH, RH, TH, TK, TW

Introductory comments:
The Nannas were looking to bounce back after a particularly terrible performance the week prior. It wasn’t just the score that looked miserable in hindsight but the way we went about it. Once the Nannas went behind, all our bad habits started to re-emerge: Gilla and Tao had a fight over who was take a free kick, and then carried that into the half time talk, and I had to stand between them to try to get them to focus on more constructive matters; speaking of halftime, we had three people, Gilla, Coach and Captain, all vying to try to give the pep talk (I really hate saying this but if you’ve said something the week before, and the week before that, and the week before that, and what you’ve said is not really that strategic/tactical, maybe it’s time to focus on something else, or just shut up already! I am so sorry); and then Coach and Cocky started arguing about something in the second half (I didn’t catch what they were on about but it did seem a little puerile and a lot pathetic).

So, on the day of this game, Jim wrote a long post on the flurry, and curiously he was only banished for a few minutes. Obviously, he wasn’t trying to be a smart arse, which he often finds hard to resist; instead he was honest in his suggestions that the Nannas should wake up to themselves and stop with the taking themselves so seriously and the grumpy old man routine. It had only been a month or so prior that they had been accused of being bullies, so after seeing this performance he felt compelled to say something.

The game:
Before kick off the Captain pulled everyone close and repeated Jim’s very wise words, telling all Nannas that they needed to look deep within themselves to rediscover their inner child and an Espirit de Nanna, which had been so sorely lacking on a number of occasions over the last months.

The game itself should have gone better for the Nannas. The first two goals against us were entirely preventable; our marking in front of goal from set pieces is at present wholeheartedly shit. Essentially, as happened the week before, we got behind our opposite number, leaving our keeper stranded one-on-one at point-blank range. The Nannas who let these goals in, and they know who they are, who had similar lapses last week, need to sharpen the FUCK up. It might seem obvious to say but if you are not as fast as your direct opponent, it’s probably a good idea to give that player a yard or two.

We probably should have pulled one back during this time. The ball fell most fortuitously to Jim who was standing just outside their defensive perimeter for a corner. He hit it pretty sweet with his big toe. It beat everyone, especially their keeper but cannoned off the back post.

Jim would do this twice more before the end of the game. Once when he was one on one with one of their defenders with the keeper still to beat. He thought about trying to go around the defender but once more unleashed his big toe. Like in the previous instance he beat the keeper but not the crossbar. On a third occasion, he was over to the left. He had found space. Tao picked him out. This time, he used his instep, but much to everyone’s bemusement, while the ball a third time eluded everyone, it seemed only destined to ricochet off metalwork and away from goal. The only other real chance we had was Coach trying to chest home from a corner. While he got his chest in good position, he never really found the angle or a sweet spot from his left nipple; he probably should have gone with the right but it’s a hard shot and Coach would have produced a miracle if he had of pulled it off.

Discussion
One could make the argument that had Jim (and Coach, and maybe Cocky too) converted, the Nannas might have been more competitive and I find this case compelling. It would have given us hope and would have encouraged us to pass more, as we were finding space and did have time on the ball, especially in the first half. What’s more, their third and fourth goals did come from the bounce of the ball going their way but they were able to finish these, unlike Jim.

Moreover, the further we found ourselves behind, the more we exposed ourselves trying the long or miracle ball but most of the time we only succeeded in giving the ball away, which effectively led to their last two goals.

Post match
We went to the Union and talked about Takeshi’s wedding and bucks.

Vs jalãpeno chinos
4-4 draw
Cb 3, dc 1, tw, rh, jh, cg, tk
Cb mom

“It’s a win!” pronounced the captain immediately following tonight’s game. “A draw is a win for us!” he enthused.

For the chinos it seemed more like a loss. Having been recently demoted from div 1 they didn’t seem too happy to be shaking the hands of the nannas as equals on their descent.

We certainly had to fight hard for it. They had some skills, some fitness and they were motivated. But they were up against “ole king lion” at his wiliest. And you need more than just skill, fitness and motivation to wrestle a victory from the giant maw of the king. You also need structure, vision and guile.

Where the nannas lack fitness and occasionally skill, we make up for it with structure, old man wiliness and nearly two decades of experience!

Plus our not so secret weapon. The ultimate goal stopper, the firewall, the Gillkeeper. The keeper of the gill! Sucking oxygen from the atmosphere, the mighty gill feeds its own need for oxygen while depriving the lungs of the enemy. And snuffing out their attacking firepower.

It’s supernatural. The enemy lines up a shot, smashes it in, perfectly weighted, perfectly placed. It is surely unstoppable. No human could stop that ball. But then. Dah duh-duh-duh! The Gill wobble- stretch-leaps like a jellyfish-spider-leopard in all its glory scrubbing the ball from its velocious trajectory and then landing teddy bear like, angelic, in a louche resting pose and patting said ball affectionately and with great pride, a genial smile warmly spreading across his face like the feel of urine in your own pants.

Meanwhile, the anger and frustration cracked the manly masks of the chinos leaving them whimpering and subsiding into pre school paddies and bitter “not fair”s and anguished “that shoulda gone in”s.

A draw! A mighty draw!

Att: JH, RH, TH, AW (Coach)

Nannas 0 plays Bens Babes 25 +

My day was spent at work, publishing web pages, dealing with staff and trying to walk back the Nannas from their rage over perceived poor treatment by Joel. It was an interesting conversation. According to some, the Nannas had been wronged, and the only course open to them was their continued anger and hatred toward their persecutor.
Note: those who felt most aggrieved felt themselves most justified in their position.

Before that we had spent the best part of the week trying to get subs, ring ins, pinch hitters, deputies, old friends, new friends, our kids, players from the opposing team but no one would come to our aid. And so it came to pass that for the first time in the history of the Nannas were a paltry three for a final. Of those we did have not all of us were of sound constitution—the Captain having contracted a virus of the intestinal variety in Vietnam.
Note: the Breaking of Nanna by-law #56 was almost as bad as the now infamous Chasm incident.

It was hot, damn hot. The mercury was well in excess of 40 degree c. The stadium had exhaust fans in full operation but that only brought down the temp to something in the 35–40 range.

We were able to draft in the ref to play in goals for us but he knew as we all did that we were a shadow of our former selves and nothing would prevent the pounding we were about to endure. And so it proved. The opposition had a good seven players, of which they made full made of, and of which they used to excellent effect. They had the ball, they had control, and from a couple of minutes in they had put at least five past us.
Note: the ref stopped tallying the goals only a few minutes into the game, so it is impossible to tell how many they got.

At around the mid-point of the first half, Tom’s mate, Pat, decided, in his mercy, to join our team. It did give us parity in terms of our numbers but it didn’t really help. Pat ran with us, he tried to pass to us, he occasionally took the ball off an opponent and while all of this did help, it really wasn’t ever going to affect the final result.

As the match wore on, and they put more goals past us, they become more and more confident, and we drained our energy and sweat until we had nothing left. Whereas in the first half, we put the occasional pass together, and had a shot or two on goal, in the second stanza all we could do was try not to lose the ball, but when we did the result was the back of our net bulging again and again.
Note: it’s hard to run when you’re hot, out of breath and the opposition is giving you a towelling; it can be even harder when, like the Captain, you’re recovering from severe gastro-intestinal upheaval.

In the end, it was a killing but an honourable one. We brave three were thanked by the opposition for turning up, even though we only had slightly better than half a team.
Note: according to the Coach, Bens Babes hate our guts, and want to do us harm, but on this evening it could be said that we gained their (grudging) respect.

After, we went to the Retreat, and Captain immediately began the rehydration process with pint after of pint of sugar laden drinks, water and the odd beer.
Note: the Captain did look particularly unwell mid-point through the second half.

We did return to the subject of Joel, well, I did. It was pointed out to me that Joel should have more attentive in his referring. I did try to say that this point should have been made calmly but firmly to Joel in the aftermath of the game, and if it wasn’t heeded it should be raised with his supervisor.
Note: the Nannas never really thought of this, which is somewhat surprising.

I then informed the Nannas that in the aftermath of that game they were now considered bullies, and their behaviour had caused anxiety and mental unrest.
Note: beware the GRUMPY NANNA.

vs Lieutenants

lost 2-4

CB, DC 1, CG 1, TW, AW, TK, RH, TH
MOM: CB/DC

The Lieutenants are at the top off the table but we gave them a pretty good run for their money.

In French, the word Lieutenant means place holder. That is, the person who stands in for the captain. The English pronounce it “Leftenant” because they want to distinguish themselves from the French. While the Americans pronounce it “Lootenant” which is actually closer to the French pronunciation.

But. What do I remember from the game? I remember Kondo doing a lot of powerful running. I remember Cocky scoring a phenomenal goal. Oblique angle and slotted like he really meant it. Even the ref was seen nodding his head appreciatively. I remember Gilly scoring a goal. He threw the ball down the court and their keeper tried to pick it up but it snaked between his legs and into the back of the net.

I remember feeling like I had burnt through my fuel, cracked into the reserve tank and then burnt through that. I had to go and open the external door to let some cool breeze onto my overheated system. Then I had to crush up little bits of my soul into pellets and burn those.

I would have been happy to not go on for the last two minutes and let Rhian stay on. But Coach was yelling at me to get on. And so I did.

Tao got a stitch too. So we must have been really pushing it.

I was walking through Docklands this week on Wednesday when I saw a familiar burly chest heading towards me. It was the burly chested guy from Dynamo. We both slowed, recognising each other. I knew he was. He was struggling. Thrust his hand at me and I shook it. “Jarrod” he said. “Soccer” I said. “The Nannas”. And kept walking. Didn’t give him my name.

After the game we took it to Uncle Joe’s. We got the booth. They were serving some archived remnants of Four Pines before they sold out to some big tax avoiding shareholder corporation. It was tasty. And the vibes were good. I remember a lot of laughing. And a lot of advice for Self Help. Gilly was in fine form.

Peace out and keep avoiding massive bolide collisions.

ps. Ok. I have just looked at Cocky’s match report and he reckons we scored three and that I got one of them. Mmm. Wish I could remember.

pps. And Tommy played! Funny, I only remember him coaching. No offence Tommy. I think I mixed some memory tinder into my soul fuel pellets.

ppps. Did anyone see the SBS show on extraordinary people? There is a woman who can remember the details of every day of her life. That would be handy.

19 October 2017, 8:40pm

3-4 v Lieutenants

DC (1,mom), CG (1), CB (1,mom), RGH, TH, TW, TK, AW

the postbox game. like much of the postbox week it’s all a bit of a blur. we played well though and only lacked a touch of luck in front of goal. Coach was doing more yelling than Tao but thankfully didn’t use any gifs on court. Unfortunately, at one point he was so busy yelling Coach failed to realise a tap-in had been put on plate directly in front of him, oh well. Giller really stepped up his distribution with some delightfully weighted throw/pushes (and also, according to shazza, did some equally delightful “cat” jumps). Wal turned up seconds before kickoff and is now watching whales in Byron Bay as only a truly gifted life coach can. sharon kicked a goal ( i think ?) and looked a bit puffed at halftime, rhian, takeshi and the author did some stuff like kicking the ball and running. Tao did do some yelling but not as much as the Coach (and may possibly have scored the goal that I’ve attributed to sharon). Finally, Jim ruined it all by not turning up, something about jizz in his eye… or was it on his shoulders ?

After the game we went to uncle joe’s wherein much hilarity issued. chatling drank more beer in the hour we were at joe’s than in the entire beach box, and unsurprisingly had a much better time. giller and coach resorted to the analog voter at which point giller turned into Brian Epstein schooling Self Help on the most efficacious means by which to launch an EP. more laughing and then we went home.

Harvey Weinstein is going down. Trump is hyper normally arguing with dead soldier’s widows. Turnbull says the NBN was a mistake but blamed labor while unveiling the coalition’s first attempt at an energy policy in 4 years. half the Nannas have seen Bladerunner V2.0 and a few have finished WestWorld. Do we really think, do we really have memories ? Syrian babies are heartbreakingly starving to death and a bear in Myanmar had its 3kg tongue removed in the midst of the rohingya ethnic cleansing. Incredibly Officeworks honours it’s “lowest price guarantee” on items available online from the book depository, making a plain softcover large moleskine notebook less than half price. The arid garden at the royal botanic gardens is no longer replacing cacti due to theft and the pork rolls from the bot cafe are shit. Leroy Sane is the man and Man City are absolutely monstering the premier league.

what is real ?

vs Harchester United 2-4 loss

TK, TW 1, CB 1, SB, TK, JH

Mom: SB

It was an exciting and fun experience and I had lots of fun. They were pretty chunky and big but I didn’t get bashed up too much. It was a pretty intense day because I didn’t have school cause of district athletics and then I had soccer training where we played against the under fourteens (lu’s team) and then I played for the Nannas.
Tao and Chazzy got the goals. They were both quality goals. Gillie did some great saves and was unlucky when they went in.
The squad on Thursday was;
Tao, Sol, Gillie, Chazzy, Jim and last but not least Kondo. After the match I got a steak and pepper pie from the seven eleven and it was bloody five bucks. It was revolting and had lots of fat and not much meat, I had mustard with it. Huge mistake, it made it even worse than it already was.
Kondo got shoved from one of the biggest dudes. They were really rough, fortunately they weren’t rough on me thank god. Kondo had a bit of a swollen knee. (By Solomon)

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╱╲╱╲╲╱╲╱╲╱╲╱╲╲╲╱╱╱╲╲╲╱╱╱╲╲╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╲
╲╱╲╱╲╲╲╱╲╲╲╱╲╲╲╲╱╲╱╱╱╱╲╲╱╱╱╲╲╲╱╱╱╱╱╱
╱╱╲╱╱╱╱╲╲╲╲╲╱╲╱╱╱╲╱╱╱╱╲╱╱╱╱╱╲╲╲╲╱╲╱╲
╲╱╱╲╲╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╲╱╱╱╲╲╱╲╱╱╱╱╱╲╲╲╲╱╱╱╱╲╲╲
╲╲╱╲╱╲╲╱╱╲╱╲╲╱╱╲╲╱╱╲╱╱╱╱╱╱╲╱╲╲╲╱╲╲╱╲
╱╲╱╲╲╱╲╱╱╱╲╱╲╱╲╲╱╱╱╱╲╱╲╱╲╲╱╱╱╲╲╱╲╱╲╲
╲╲╲╲╲╱╲╲╲╲╲╲╱╱╲╱╱╱╲╲╲╲╲╱╲╲╱╲╱╲╱╲╱╲╲╲

write(String.fromCharCode(0x2571 + Math.round(Math.random())))
after*
10 PRINT CHR$ (205.5 + RND (1)); : GOTO 10

– – – –

4-5 v Harchester – CB,DC,CG,JH,RH,TK,TW
one car drove. pits weirdly dejavu. should have won but lost instead. chief after, more dejavu. chassy got high. tao = northside driving legend. self help demo in car on way home.

– – – –

*   https://vimeo.com/26472518
** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PETSCII

5-11? Loss Vs Bayer Neverlosin

TK (G), DC (1?), JH, TH (C), AW, GM (1), TW (2?(MOM))

It was a triumphant return after the longest of long times away from my Nanna brethren. Every Thursday for over 3 months I wept knowing that my brown brothers were out there on the frontline fighting the good fight. Winning some and losing others but always putting up by turning up. And me sinking into a couch, tears pouring down my face as I nursed my knee back to health. Mattered not how many hookers nor how much blow I blew, it couldn’t put the kind of smile on my face like the Nanna’s can.

Putting all that misery aside Thursday the 1st of June was my return into the fold. Extremely nervous I entered the arena, legs shaking every so slightly and tasting the smallest amount of sick at the back of my throat. I started out as first sub to allow the adrenaline to build. Finally my 2 minutes were up and I called out for a sub. Hesitantly I ran out and very quickly got into the swing of things. Managing a few passes and the odd dribble here and there. Running hard but holding back ever so slightly as the fear of hearing that pop in my knee again filled me with dread. Fortunately we were playing a very good team that didn’t feel the need to slam into us or push us over. They felt very comfortable running rings around us and kicking goals, many goals.

The final buzzer went and I left the court unscathed. No horrendous cracking noises from my freshly recovered knee. With that I hope to return next week with a little more confidence and gusto.

Thank you for welcoming me back Nanna’s. Peace and Love.

P.s. I might be a bit more vocal this week :-0

vs Lieutenants loss 4-9
CB 1, DC 2, TK (gk), AW 1, RH , TH

Well, we lost. Let’s say it loudly: NINE GOALS TO FOUR!

But like Anish Kapoor’s Vantablack (a pigment so dark that it absorbs 99.96 percent of light), this scoreline was not at all reflective (of the match). The scoreline reflected perhaps .04 percent of the true nature of the match.

And like Anish Kapoor’s Vantablack (a material so dark it makes crinkled aluminium appear flat), the scoreline of this match has obscured the vital details and quality of this sporting contest.

Until now.

In retaliation against the malign influence of this truth absorbing scoreline, let us dig a little deeper. Let us reach around behind this eclipsing result and reveal something of the true nature of the competition.

Within the first few minutes of the game the opposition had scored three goals and the Nannas were perfectly placed to come from behind (if you will). And come from behind we did. CB nutmegged a player and slotted a low corner goal. Soon after AW converted another with a lovely finish in front of goals. DC slammed one home and we were back in the game at 3-3. Just before the end of the half we conceded another goal. 3-4 at halftime.

We knew that all we needed to do was get back on the court and slot two quick goals and we would be in the lead. Unfortunately the opposite happened. Lieutenants slotted two quick goals and suddenly they were ahead 6-3. Then a couple more: 8-3. We clawed one back: 8-4. Then they whipped our undies off and made it 9-4.

But we could have beaten them. They kept getting their goals by running a 1-2 off the side kick and getting into space and having a free shot at goals. We kept forgetting that when we are blocking the side kick, we also have to be ready to turn, run and mark the player who has just taken the kick. At least three of their goals were scored in this manner.

And so it was to Mr Wilkinson that we took it for the post match festivities. And they were wholesome and involved Jenga and good ale and a late and welcome arrival from the Endangered Gilby. The Jenga really primed me for some awesome fire building action the following weekend while camping at Kinglake with Sol.

8:40 vs ?
CB (Ass), DC (M), CG, RH, TH, AW – Goals unremembered

It was a strange game – no doubt in part due to the continuing controlled experiments that the Coach and I have been performing with respect to the GHBG – but beyond that it was still strange. It may seem churlish but I feel a large part of the weirdness came from the induction of a new $ Import. Giller announced early on the flurry that we would be joined by a member of the Happy Days cast whom it would appear none of the Nannas had ever heard of. A request was made for clarification but none was forthcoming…

… eventually the identity of the “The Fonz” was deduced by someone with more advanced post graduate qualifications than those possessed by the Nannas – but that didn’t stop the weirdness. In fact right from the kickoff it was crazy, Giller let though a soft shot from distance that he would normally have stopped with his eyes closed using only sonic resonance imaging. Perhaps it was the startlingly novel pre-game tactics talk (or perhaps it was only startling to the bewildered test subject) or perhaps it was some kind of professional colleague performance anxiety situation, who can say. Pretty soon the Nannas were further down. It’s rather ungenerous to blame the $ Import for our defensive lapses, especially in the light of their super tight aerial skills and approach play, and I’m sure the Nannas would generally be quicker to blame the controlled experiment in these instances but on a couple of occasions the Nannas-standard-defence-mode of man marking rather came apart at the seams and we shipped another couple of super soft goals. On the upside we did also score a couple of nice ones (though I can’t recall exactly by whom at this late date). On a double thumbs upside we were joined just before halftime by ASS COACH Chasbian Chico von Martingale III shooting plasma from his chode*. On the downside we still lost.

Afterward we went to Howler and drank some superfine beers** (after being ignored by the very Dutch-like-in-aloof -service-manner-but-unDutch-in-general-compentance bar staff) but unfortunately those Nannas outside of the cone of the controlled experiment had to scurry off home inexplicably, leaving only the Coach and I to work on the furtherment of the Nanna project. Following a mandatory GHAG and supplementary beer there ensued much discussion of politics, technology and speculation of a sci-fi nature. It was also proposed by the author that the Nannas should start an Erudite Conversation Club™ wherein the Nannas partake of high quality single malt libations and discuss a mooted topic as intelligently and articulately as they can… stay tuned.

* Cannibal Corpse
** Brooklyn Breweries East India Pale Ale + Fury Road IPA

Einstein didn’t get too many things wrong.

‘For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction’ is neat and tidy but does not accurately reflect the chaos in Futsal. If one side takes unwarranted physical action upon a player then the equal reaction would be to retaliate with a similar amount of physical force – but no. Better than that, a better retaliation is to score a goal that ties the match with 11 seconds left on the clock and leaves said opposition in fits of rage, too angry to even shake hands.
But then again, time is relative and does not follow a linear path, this was proved when said opposition returned to the time just after the match finished to shake hands but found that the Nannas had already left the sporting arena and were gasping for air on the lawn outside. The moment that normally proceeds directly after the full-time whistle had been shifted temporally and physically to a new space, a warp in the time space membrane which can surely only be caused by an enormous shift in gravity. The joy of the draw had swollen the collective Nanna’s mass to such an extend that time itself was being forced to follow in our path.

Or was it that the Nannas had moved so fast in the closing seconds of the match that time had slowed down for them but not for the opposition? Thus the point that existed at the end of the match for the opposition coincided with a point many minutes later outside on the lawn for the swift moving Nannas? The opposition weren’t being rude when refusing to shake our hands, they were actually still playing the match, the final whistle not yet having been blown. This would prove that playing futsal for the Nannas makes you younger.