1-1 Draw to Los Pitufos

GF, CB, CG, TH, JH, AW, TW(1)(MOM)

Well Nanna’s, once again unbeaten so far in the season, but can we keep the momentum up?? One might say we should have one this one and I might be that one. Especially when I was the one that should have got a free kick for a behind only to have it turned around on me and turned into a goal. Am I harbouring any bad feelings towards the ref?? Me?? Never. Even thanked him at the end of the game.

All that aside the Nannas played very well and managed to hold there own. Some very good defence from all with a special mention to the reach around (still waiting to see that famous move once again). Gill once again saved the game from defeat with some superb saves. Jim made a ripper pass that allowed me to just lift my leg ever so slightly to give the ball the deflection it needed to slip past the goalie as he tried to rush me.

So all and all not a bad effort for the first game of the season and the last game of the year. Now it’s time to get serious and take this new season and year by the balls and squeeze so hard that the veins are bursting with brown pride and finishing with a happy ending.

9-1 Victory vs The Annual

DC 3, JH 3, CB 3, TW, AW, TH Gk (MOM)

Let this week’s match report take the form of an analogous tale.

There is but one king that is king of all the vast African plains and savannahs and that king is the Lion. The King Lion fears no-one for he is king and everyone better do whatever the fuck he says or he will kill them. The other animals cannot touch him and the only thing he must keep is eyeballs on in terms of trouble is the upstart young lion bucks who would usurp him. These little prince lion upstart juniors will hang out on the edges sniffing around waiting for the opportunity to attack and try to steal the mighty King Lion’s lion kingdom from him. If the King Lion is not 100% percent ready and committed to fight he will be humiliated and the coach will have to give him a royal dressing down and remind the King Lion to “counteth not thy fucking chickens before thy fucking chickens hatcheth”, but by then it is too late because the young prince lion has a ball gag in the King Lion’s mouth and is riding him like a bitch and screaming ‘you’re my bitch now bitch’. To make matters worse every other lion in the joint now wanted a piece of the King Lion and for week after week he was savaged and demeaned in the most derogatory and cruel of ways, all but the last shreds of his dignity were vilely stripped from this once proud King Lion leaving just a weeping king lion husk weeping bodily fluids.

If the King Lion is lucky he will get a second chance to fight the upstart prince lion and a second chance to redeem his honour and his respect. Fortunately in this story the King Lion gets a second chance. For the King Lion once again entered the Lion Dueling Arena with the young junior upstart prince lion, and this time he knew not to counteth any fucking chickens. While the first half was relatively even, in the second half he just stepped right up and started chewing on that junior prince lion’s face, and he chewed that fucken’ junior prince lion’s face right off right of its fucken’ skull. Not content with a facefull of face he turned his attention to the genitalia of the young prince lion junior. Now, there are two ways for one being to take another being’s genitalia in it’s mouth; one is with a mind to pleasure the other being to the heights of ecstasy, or, quite conversely the second is with mind to savage and bloodily neuter the other being so that it is reduced to eunuch status. The King Lion took to the junior prince upstart lion’s genitalia with no mind to satisfy, please rest assured it was strictly the latter of the ways that the King Lion went after the junior prince lion’s junk- he fucken’ munched down on it hard, it was all teeth and no tongue, and he fucken’ got in there and fucken chewed and chewed, and gnawed away, masticating every last little piece of genitalia into the smallest pieces possible, all the while his powerful King Lion saliva was breaking down the matter at a cellular level so that there was no possible way at all you could just wack it on ice and chopper it off to the microsurgeon for the old addadictomy and somehow save the manhoodliness of the young lion upstart prince.

And when the King Lion was sated all but one of his constituent parts went to the pub and had a beer and some dinner (except for another one of his constituent parts who only had chips), and King Lion reflected on where he had been that Lion Dueling Season, from the king of everything to a piece of shit nothing, and finally -thanks to some ball blood on his lips- back to a modicum of respect . And then the Lion King reminded himself that it was not over yet, all the other Lions who had so royally fucked him needed to get their faces chewed off too, and some of those Lions were tough motherfucking Russian lions who fucken’ sliced babies wide open in Chechnaya for fun, so he would certainly have his work cut out for him, but if he can only stand up and fucken’ tough it out, and fucken’ fight with a fucking psychopath’s desire for the taste of scrotum in his King Lion mouth and win three more matches, then he will be; THE FUCKING KING AGAIN!

Nannas versus Vagabundos Da Praia

6   :   6

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

MOM: CG & JH

BY the skin of your teeth nannas, by the skin of your teeth.

Vagabundos Da Praia  have been a team that in the past the nannas have owned mentally. This time they bought in the Aryan Nation man…..he had a weapon. I’m not talking about anything insidious – I’m talking about his right foot. (probably his left as well) He was really the difference. Never spotted before, and hopefully never again.

About from him, the nannas would have ruled supreme…..like an Iron chef up against a kid making mud pies.

The goals were shared around, but the Nannas were not the menace that they were in the start of the season.

The game is a bit of a blur, but as we walked off the ref said “good game”. Mamoud is a man of few words, so when he drops a pearl, put it on your necklace…
I believe there was a first as well during the MOM voting. Chris “vodaphone” brown busted a very cheeky move, or was the fault on the part of Dan “musical cock chairs” Crooks? Almost a code vialation, but who do we give it to?

5-7 Loss to Golden 40s

Goals JH 2, CB 1, DC 1, TW 1, AW 0, TH 0(GK)

MOM TH

I don’t remember how it started but I will NEVER forger how it ended. Unbeknownst to the rest of the table Wally Wong had been using the extended time between ordering food and receiving food to get the old ‘Wally Wong Magic Hypno Eyes’ going on a couple of ladies at an adjoining table. I think even he was a bit stunned by how well it worked, because one moment Nannas were happily having a gay old time laughing about something (probably Chassy tearing his pants again… tore it in the crotch again if you were wondering) and the following moment these two ladies did the ‘Mega Panther Pounce’ and landed at our table with some pretty crazy maneuvers. Pretty much straight away the Irisher of the couple was practically mounting Wal’s shoulder, Wal’s head was roughly the colour of borscht, and the rest of the Nannas egged her on, desirous to see if there existed in the old visible colour spectrum a red deeper than the deepest beetroot red that could be made to manifest on Wal’s head. There was and it duly manifested itself as the ladies tried to get Wal outside for a ‘drink’. Let that be a lesson to all Nannas to beware the seductive power of the ‘magic hypno eyes’ and not to blythly use it just because you are bored of waiting for your steak to arrive.

Just as Wal’s head had adopted the hue of that most famous of Russian soup’s as its colour for the evening, so to did the game have strong elements and overtones of the Rusky. I.e. the opposition were them. Just as some general said in one of them 50s movies about Strategic Air Command, “Were gonna be in a shooting war with the Soviets” (draw out the so part and say the viets part quickly if you want to sound like said general) so we found ourselves (although unlikely they were strickly speaking Soviet). They hit us pretty hard pretty early. Probably three goals running in hard off the corners and leaving their Nanna. From there we regrouped and never really let them get away, but the damage had been done and we couldn’t quite peg them back despite keeping the pressure on through goals and ball control.

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.

14-0 vs Spartans

CG(gk), TW(2), AW, RH(4), DC(3), JH(4)
MOM: rh

“No”
I hear you say – then
“Really?”
And I respond
“oh yes, indeed”.

Fourteen times did the ball cross the Spartan goal line – FOURTEEN. And how many passed the fortress that is Christopher Gill? zero. ZERO. That makes the scoreline for all you number-crunchers, 14-0,  the biggest winning margin ever (unconfirmed).

Powerful, yes, Skillful, you bet, fast, strong and even deft. But most of all the word that comes to mind is UNITED. It was a TEAM that scored 14 goals on this fateful night, sure some Nannas kicked more goals than others but in reality every Nanna was firmly gripping the thigh of that scoring leg and swinging it together.

I’ll start from the back were Gilla took the term “clean sheet” to a new level, not a spot on that sheet, not even a hint of perspiration, no hairs, the bed remained in such a condition that one would claim it hadn’t been used. That’s where they’d be wrong, for Gilla used that bed like no other man before him. Firing balls in all directions with placement and timing that brought a tear to my arse eye. Then saving himself for the very end and unleashing a punishing set piece from close range to register on the score sheet. His use of the long throw was superlative, with I, the captain merely there to polish it through the opening with a gentle kiss.

“But was he alone in defense?” I hear. He certainly was not. The back door Wallmartin was a tower of strength all night. At one point Wal had ventured forward a long way – and found himself somewhere near Thomastown with no train ticket, when he heard a sound. A sound not often heard on a Thursday night it sounds like this “oooooohhhgghggghhoo”, it’s the sound of ball beginning to cross the Nanna goal line. He raised himself to his full height and opened the throttle, sending his legs into a blurred and furious whirlwind, hurtling his barely recognisable form through the suburbs at near light speed. He made it to the goal line at the same time as the ball and swept it away with such grace that the referee wept, openly.

“Well where was the rest of the defence?” you cry. Deep in the trenches is where they were. So deep that the light no longer shone and the only way to make out the oppostition was through touch and smell. There’s only one man that can play in those conditions, and that’s big Jim Hannan. Groping through the darkness with those giant hands out-stretched, those long, strong, fingers probing the depths of the opposition attack. Coming up for air occasionally to sink a long range powerhouse goal before plunging back again to the stench and the heat and the inky black that he loves and knows so well.

“What of the offence?” What indeed, 14 whats infact. Striker by name and Striker by nature, that’s what they say of Cocky Cockshank and last night was no exception – or was it? Well I dare to say it was. For last night the striker turned a new leaf, unrolled a new rug, dropped some fresh trousers and revealed a new part of himself to the Nannas. And what a beautiful part of a man to keep hidden for so long. It was a sharing caring Striker that opened himself to advances, invitations, calls from afar and answered swiftly with kindness and precision. He stepped away from the limelight and let others shine, infact he made others shine, he was the light by which we glowed.

“Can there be more?” Oh yes, for I have not yet spoken of the engine room and the Nannas had an engine named Tao last night. The thing about engines is that they’re complicated, there’s a lot of moving parts and it must simultaneously do multiple things, I’m talking about passing, tackling, shooting, yelling and running. When that engine hits optimal revs it’s seamless, all actions happen simultaneously and the resulting mass of limbs and volume create an aural and tactile feast. And when that engine unloads from halfway with precision there’s only one possible outcome – GOAL.

“What of you then?”. Well I played and am humbled by my Nannas votes but in reality I was there to finish off the good work, a polisher if you will – there to kiss the children good night and put on the kettle for your hot water bottle.

But imagine my shock when I went to the APISC ladder to find that we are not on the top of the Table -THIRD!! if you will. The second placed team have 77 goals from 5 games that’s an avverage of more than 15 goals a game. hard to believe. It’s lucky that the Nannas live for the challenge.

VS ??
TH, DC 2, RH(MOM), AW 1, JH(MOM) 2, CG 1

Gillie had the fish Pie. FISH PIE.
There were two steaks and bangers on the menu. Maybe he’s pregnant.

Anyway – the game was a cracker – a real corker.
Nannas at their fighting best – we led from the start and never let it go.
Powerful, passing Nannas running from the back and following through. Including a superlative solo effort from Cocky who was on fire up front, Wal on hand at the back door to slip one in, Gilla (pre-pie) hitting the roof only once – a record I believe, Thomas Obsidian Howie rock hard behind the tight shorts of powerhouse Jim Hannan and the captain on hand to collect the tissues.

Only downside was the dodgy St Michaels Court which, unbelievably makes the Wesley court look like wembly. The surface so slippery that the reacharound became the follow-through.
Maybe it’s what we’ve all been waiting for.
Nannas on fire.

VS Dirty Waffles
TH(GK-Mom), CB 1 (Mom), DC 2, TW, RH 1, AW, JH

Sometimes a man, a mountain climber say, looks at the mountain ahead of him, and thinks not of the pain and suffering awaiting him amongst the jagged peaks and bottomless crevass’, but rather of the good times, the panoramic vistas and the fresh mountain air reaching deep down to the ends of his alveoli. So it was that i gazed upon the match ahead of me last Thursday past, not thinking of the jarred fingers and buttock bruising that awaited me amongst the impending combat, but rather of the fleeting moments where everything comes together for a moment of brilliance and the smiles and gestures of support from my comrades in battle. I think a lot of this had to do with the pre-game rainbow flurry and the mention of Chas’ trouserless driving, in my mind I was on the phone to Chas when his pants got ripped, the conversation went something like this:

Phone Rings

Chas: Hi this is Chassy
Me: Hi Chassy it’s me.
Chas: Hi how are you?
Me: Very well thanks how are you?
Chas: I’m good too.
Me: What are you doing right now?
Chas: I am driving in the car.
Me: That sounds nice.
Chas: Yes it is… oops hang on whoa!
Me: What happened?
Chas: I just got a rip in my pants.
Me: How could that possibly have happened?
Chas: I tore them on the gear stick.
Me: How?
Chas: It’s complicated
Me: Oh.
Chas: Yes, I think I have to take them off.
Me: Oh
Chas: Yes, I am taking them off right now.
Me: Oh.
Chas; Yes I am sliding the crutch past my ankles right now.
Me: Oh. Do you still have the lambswool car seat covers?
Chas: Yes I do.
Me: So is the lambswool nestled up against the underside of you bare thighs?
Chas: Yes it is quite snuggled up against it.
Me: Oh
Chas: Hang on there’s someone on the other line
Me: Ok

Pause
Chas: It’s Jim, I’m getting a three way going.
Me: Hi James.
James: Hi, I heard Chas had to take his trousers off.
Me: That’s correct.
Chas: True
James: Are your thighs touching the lambswool?
Chas: Yes.
James: Are the backs of your calves rubbing against the piping on the edge of the seat?
Chas: No, the lambswool covers the piping.
James: Oh
Me: Where did they rip again?
Chas: All over

… anyway it wasn’t a conversation that ended quickly. As for the game, it had its highs and lows. The highest being the opening stanza of play where we controlled the ball without letting the opposition touch it once until we had scored the opening goal, the lowest being a slight fuck up by your’s truly and letting the ball in.

Nanna’s v XXXX

4 : 3

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

MOM: CG

Bitch slapped em!! It was the old Italian guy who’d we all seen around the traps for years -  worried, we were!! He had the foot skills of a thai hooker, the face of a wind ravaged cliff and the snarl of a bengal tiger.

Rhian kept pointing at him and ducking his head, a small child he seemed. Dan Crooks didn’t like the looks of him either and he joined Rhian in the feotal ground position, spooning each other for reasurance.

It looked really dodgey until chris Brown walked in with a really “heterosexual” handlebar mustouche. That lightened the mood up a little.

It was a light game. We came back several times to level and then we pulled ahead, right at the end. We seemed in for a tight last two minutes, when they decided that the 4:3 score line was too heavy to deal with and they actually stopped looking a the ball.  It was quite an anticlimax to the tension that we dealt with for 34 minutes.

Everyone played well. Rhain and Dan asked me not to mention the spooning.

NANNA’S Versus Los Pitufos

4 : 1

DC(2), JH (1), TW (1), AW, CG, TH.

MOM: JH / CG

One of the Browner games for a VERY long time! Infact, one of the Browner Thursdays for a very long time.  We began the game with a VERY tight six but finished the night with a VERY loose six!

The defensive heat the Nannas turned up was frightening, I’m still trying to comb down my chest hair after witnessing it first hand.

It must be noted that the maggoty new ref from last week continued his insanity by making up rules and awarding a penalty against the goalie for a perceived handball….Penalty saved – ref looked stupid.

It really was tightest I have ever seen the back half, they had very few shots.

Another note must be made to Jim’s blobbling, juggling, run down the wing with a deft flick to Dan to complete an attractive thang!

more notes must be made at the Nannas sunny disposition. Everyone was happy smiling and sweet.

And then came the IMPROMPTU. Post game resembled a slick operation….none of this Silly south side folly, they headed straight for the Supper Inn. With a booking under their belt, they pushed past the line on the door and straight to PORK town.

What went down next was greasy, spicey, sexy, beery, peppery, and very fried (expect that flounder!)

Dan became Nanna of Nannas with his selfless gesture…..

The only disappointment must be the pinnie parlour on Bourke Street that had two out of possible six DAYTONAS working…..not cool.

This, is the album cover, and if you’re not in the photo, you’re not in the band, and you’ll have to be roady or coke bitch or something and Jim gets to be leads singer cos he stood in the middle and proved he had the best teeth and Takeshi is the guitarist who thinks too much and gets angry because its not about the music any more, and Rhian is the gay tambourine player and Chas is the not quite as gay bass player and Andy actually is Charlie Watts and I’m the slightly wrong rhythm guitarist who marries a fresh 17 year old every year, sorry but that’s just the way it goes.

Opponents: Vagabundos Da Praia
Score: 2 (Nannas) – 2 (Vaga)
Attendees: AW, CB, JH, RH, TH, TK
Goals: CB, JH
MOM: TK

Flanking maneuvers played an important role in nearly every major battle in history, and they were the very important factors in the game we played in this week. I am going to re-visit the moments to diagnose the flanking tactics of the Nannas.

Team were well shaped and I felt that the members were focused, dedicated and cooperated to win this game. Moreover, I saw the great accuracies of the performances from every Nannas. I think that it was the key of the night.

The first 20 seconds , JH who stayed in the front had the amazing moves to disappear into the blind spot of the enemies at the left corner. When all opponents looked at the right corner to defend themselves, he slowly moved forward and set the best position to snipe the shot.

AW who was just going to kick the ball from the right corner, noticed the flanking immediately. He sent the most accurate speedy pass just in front of JH. They understood what needs to happen instantly and the ball was in the goal after a second.

This happened again to the combination of CB and RH in the middle of the game. CB looked the right corner to send the sign and run into the left very quickly. RH of course saw the move and kicked the ball for him to shoot. The timing of the both two were literally unstoppable. It was great sharp goal.

Those two goals are the proper goals of the Nannas. They were happened by the good understanding of the field positioning and the combination of the accurate maneuvers and cooperation. I am very excited to see that again on the field. Good luck brother Nanna. see you in shortly.

2-1 loss

AW(1), CB, CG, JH, RH, TH, TK, TW.

There is a saying in my trade, the construction industry…”measure twice. cut once”. And I think this could equally apply to the packing-your-soccer kit-in-a-hurry scene.

It was a Very slow day. Sometimes those nanna days are really slow. Like I’m itchy to get to the end of the day, and it’s just dragging along, totally oblivious to my pre-match excitement. And I’m 10 storeys up in my city studio, gazing out into the canyon, the abyss of concrete buildings. Daydreaming. It’s a killer view. And I’m just gazing out there, taking it all in. the concrete buildings. the cars below. the rooftops. the nude girl in the apartments opposite. The carparks. The air-conditioning plants. The Fucking What !

You can’t miss that flesh tone. It just jumps out amidst all the grey. And this is no ordinary nude girl. This is hot Asian girl. Now that is pert. And she’s just wandering around her apartment all day. Making toast. And listening to music. Calling a friend. I look at my phone, half expecting it to ring. But no. Finally she gets a little chilly and puts some red panties on. it’s like I’ve fallen into www.hot_asian_girl_doing_doing_ordinary_things.com. But without having to hand over my pin number.

Needless to say, I didn’t get a lot of work done that day. So much time gazing out the window waiting for her to call me. If only I had spent a fraction of that time double checking my soccer kit for the game ahead. Just a couple of seconds would have taken no effort. Instead, selfishly I gaze. And drool.

I turn up to the game, those pert breasts burnt into my retinas. I can barely see the court. I can’t even see the ball. I’m drunk on flesh. I get dressed. Where are my soccer boots? You are fucking kidding me. I have left them at home. Tommy comes through with a spare pair of shoes. size 45’s. It’s like I’m wearing flippers. I’m drunk and I’m playing soccer with flippers. I feel like I’m playing underwater.

Anyway. Given the circumstances I remember little of the game. I remember Chas lining up a penalty kick. He is standing there between two beautiful breasts. I want to run towards him and kiss him. I restrain myself. Chas side-kicks the ball to me. It’s sweetness. For a moment I think trap and shoot. But no time and I risk the one-touch. It finds the corner of the net. Goal.

The rest of the game is a blur of bumbling. Slurring from the side-line. And defensive play. We went down 2-1.

But I was drunk. I was underwater. I checked my phone after the game to see if she had called. a simple text ” U R my BCKDOOR MAN ”
 
 
 
 
 
 

Edgy, noisy, holdin’ it.

TH(COACH), DC, TK, JH(1), CG, TW(2, MOM), PM(RING IN)

Nanna’s Vs Allens FC 3-3

While it wasn’t quite the welcome back to second division some Nanna’s might have hoped for thought it was still a pretty good effort and a well deserved draw.

Well Nannas it’s been along wait but upper management has finally resolved some bitter in-fighting and the much debated “missing game” has been resolved.

Feast your eyes

Much kudos to Cocky for a second triple crown – they said it could never be done, and he’s done it twice. A much deserved win, very close to big Jim Hannan in second and a sly back door run form the Walmartin in third place, brown work indeed.

More stats here
respect.pdf
goals.pdf
attendance.pdf
commitment.pdf

We all look happy

TH (COACH), DC, RH(1,MOM), TW, TK, CG, JH

It will be remembered as the last.
An era bygone,
Fond thoughts, small aches and faded bruises.
goals that were and could have been
Goals

Goodbye first division
Home of the champion
Home of the real
Home of the Nannas

Hello aspiration
Hello to men who yearn
Hello to real Nannas who fuck people up.
Hello to hard like fucking nails Nanna fucking hard men.
Hello second division pussy’s crying in pools of their own blood and saliva and shit and piss.

CG, AW, TH, DC(2), RH(1), TW(1, MOM), TK(GK, MOM)

Nanna’s Vs Bulls 5-9

After a last minute change of times allowing the Nannas to actually put team together I’d have to say we rose to the occasion and managed to hold ourselves pretty well. Off to a bad start and what could have been a very frustrating game with the ref from hell. A goal disallowed from the before mentioned ref after he called play on and then changed his mind after the refs team got to him. Thankfully he didn’t stay much longer and a new ref took over. And I’d have to say he played a much fairer game.

Either way the Nanna’s played a pretty good game and, though we didn’t win, we did hold our own and stopped them from beating us by as much as we know they can and managed to put away a respectable amount of goals ourselves.

Well done Nannas!!

AW, CG, DC(2), TH, TW(2), RH(1), TK
(MOM – TW & TK)

Nanna’s Vs Bulls 5-9
It was very late game 2240 at the pit. The 7 of brown Nannas turned up with the friendly smiles for the referees and the passions to beat them up respectfully. We were in good shape to cooperate as the team and pushed the Bulls to the corner quite few times.
At the first half, our tight defence blocked the counter charges of the Bulls well. The king of the goalie Gilla saved several almost unstoppable goals. But unfortunately, the game was started from the goals from the Bulls. We moved the defence line to the front to play more aggressively and it changed the balances of the game. We cut out their attackers from the back side and DC & TW squeezed in the beautiful goals. The good tight marks were hustling the opponent defenders and we ended up having 2 penalty goals. TW and RH were very calm and kicked the ball like “Sushi Master slicing the Sashimi”
Well, the Bulls had great skills as usual and goaled 9 and we chased it up to 5 goals to keep us brown. Very good game indeed.

JH(3), DC(2), AW(1), TK(GK), TW(MOM)

Nannas v Lola 6-12

It was a mighty fight the Nanna’s put up but the new team came out, mostly in the second half, with a bit more class than we were able to match. While there was some Nanna gold it wasn’t quite enough. Jim put away 3 very nice goals though he tried very hard to give one back by admitting to the ball hitting his hand ever so slightly. Got learn to shut it sometimes Jimbob.

Nannas v S & P

3 – 5

CG(1), JH(1), DC(1), AW, TK

MOM CG

I think a few nannas went into this game with a “put us down a grade” mantra repeating in their heads. This did not reflect, for a second, in our performance, but it was there, hidding in their minds.

There is still fun in defeat and I think last night we experienced that “fun”. We came off the courts with a smile….knowing we could have won, we had a chance, we came back from a long way down and touched them….but then they touched us again!

The Nannas account was opened for the NINTH SEASON by the goalie, it was agricultural but we’ll take it. At half time we were 3 – 1 down, and the mantra was silently resonating. However, a Nanna never says “stop whipping me bitch” so the Nannas put on a hustling display that would have made a sheep dog hard! They didn’t get in any shots for ages, all the while Jim sneaked in a cheaky monkey corner in off type thang. Then Dan ripped a beast from the east….3 all!!!

See how close we came!! With about 4 minutes to go we could taste it… Then they got two quick ones…ah what could we do. We saw the top of the mountain, but just couldn’t make it there…

Still the NANNAS that where brown enough to make it did VERY well!! Hoild your heads up high brown men!

Hopefully next week, we might get some subs!

TH (1), DC, JH, TK(GK), TW(1)(MOM)

Nanna’s Vs Thursday Knights 2-9

Well it was a tight fighting Nanna’s that went out to try and prove something on the last game of the season before the finals. Need I tell you the Nanna’s are not in the finals and it wasn’t the worst defeat by the Nanna’s but neither was it a close one. I’d say we tried some of the time and ran our little legs down to the knees but it wasn’t enough. Tom poked a ripper goal from way out that left the goalie wondering what the happened. Tao found himself surrounded by opposition in front of the goals and facing the wrong way and with not much else to do back healed it in for our second and final goal. There were some great saves from the gallant Takeshi Kondo but too often it was left to him to save the day and there’s only so much one man can do.

Till next season Nanna’s get out in the yard and start practising. In the way to work take a ball and dribble dribble dribble.

2-11 Vs The Bulls

TK[GK] JH DC[1] AW RH TW[1, MOM]

Oh crap. I reckon we need to bring a laptop to the pub from now on and whoever gets mom writes it there and then. I can’t remember shit from last week.

I know we started off pretty well. Keeping the stinking refs goal scoring to a minimum in the first half. Tao scored first blood after some very tasty passing around goals by the Nannas. Dan took the second goal and that was about the last time the ball saw the back of the net for us. That’s not to say the ball didn’t get to see the back of the net a fair bit more just always seemed to be at the wrong end. Second half saw the refs step up and start scoring like we know they can. Even when half their team were screaming at each other all of us couldn’t stop one of their players from scoring.

Should there be an independent ref come in to ref the refs team when we play the refs??

THIS IS A TEST OF THE EMERGENCY MATCH REPORT SYSTEM (Not a test really. This is for real. This is what we’ve trained for.)

Holy sh1t Nannas there i was in my kitchen holding the modem/router going this piece of junk doesn’t fit in the toaster (ie it’s toast), ie the whole friggen internets is gone just up and fvcked off from my bedroom. Then I attempt a remote login, but the server is not recognising me. I’m hacking command line like a lesbian at a rug grooming convention but nothing. (Some of the less poindextrous of the Nannas may be lost about now) I’m right in the citrix kernel of some secure apache server deep under the Nevada desert in an old salt mine, zero’s and one’s just flying by my eyes like some bad hyperspace effect from the 70’s, but nothing. Ixnay on the postskay. What is a Nanna to do when faced with such an obstacle to his sworn duty? Order another mojito and say ‘so it goes’? No! He places upon his head his resourcefulman’s hat and offers up results and not excuses. So hereby goes the match report for last week so that all may see and be satisfied of it’s existence and that it may be posted to it’s rightful place as soon as my internets comes back or I work out what ‘command line’ means.

MATCH REPORT 080228

TK(GK) TH(MOM) DC(1 GOALS) RH TW AW JH

9 – 1 (We went down)

Man you should have been there, it was flippin’ hilarious! Captain rocked up with his right foot hanging on by half a tendon and some matted leg hair going “I’m right to play, really” as though it were naught but a bad Monty Python sketch. Then Cocky the prodigal Rudcock was like, “you’re schtick is weak. I’ve been in the old country too busy to write match reports, because I have been working on a whole bunch of new material that centre’s around sh1t dribbling out of my arse most of the time and then occasionally exploding forth in an hilarious punchline of fecal eruption”. And the Nannas were in agreeance that that was indeed some funny sh1t. The joke’s didn’t stop there, in fact they continued apace onto the field and sustained an uproarious hilarity for the duration of the match.

OK we went down. They avalanched us a bit at the end, and I reckon we were about 4-1 at one stage and not entirely out of contention. Teamwork was not in great evidence. Obviously if I am in contention for the MOM then our stars are not shining so bright. We were beat by a better team on the day who played a heap better than us. That is not to say we cannot beat them. We got a goal and kept our pants and that is something.

vs The Hyderoos 6-4 Win

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

MOM CB

Ah.. the sweet and delicate flavour of victory. The first taste for the mighty brown men in 08. Up against the only other team in the division without a win under their belts, (our old nemesisians ‘The Hyderoos’) winning was crucial and crucially, we won.

CB and DC took a brace each, AW one with a textbook Walmartin Backdoor (invisible until he slotted it), RH one with a midcourt captain’s special net slammer.

We romped ahead to a 4-0 lead in the first half and then a mid-game slackening ensued enabling ‘The Hyderoos’ to pull back four goals and level the scores 4-4.

Hard to believe but true, we kind of dropped to their scrappy level and they clawed their way back to the cliff-top with us. However with a final couple of strokes we dropped them into their own enduring humiliation at the bottom of the table.

 

vs Bulls lost 11-8

CB 2, DC 3, TW 2, JH 1, AW, RH, TK, TH (Coach)

MOM CB, DC 6 votes

A big old T bone of a game against the rather talented Bulls was perhaps the Nannas finest loss to date (and quite possibly our highest scoring game ever; 19 goals in 36 minutes is more than one goal every 2 minutes).

They were good. They had the Balkan complete with lightspeed accelerant heels, the Salesman who could have sold vocal warm-up techniques to a bunch of deaf-mutes and others with skills and pace to rival the Nannas’ finest.

Did I say we lost? We lost. Can’t remember much else. But you’ve got the essentials.

 

 

vs Bulls lost 11-8

CB 2, DC 3, TW 2, JH 1, AW, RH, TK, TH (Coach)

MOM CB, DC

A loss, details of which I can’t really remember. So instead I’m going to tell a touching story of nanna brotherhood.

One night, a few weeks ago, Chas asked if I could help him load an oven he had recently bought on ebay into the back of his camry. The thought did occur to me that it would have to be a fairly tight fit but anyway, the oven was in Port Melbourne and he picked me up at about 8. I was about to walk out the door all free and easy but miri insisted I take the holy trinity of wallet, phone & keys. ok ok. So we’re in the car heading down punt road listening – as most readers would know, chassies movie always has a soundtrack – to a shuffling pod (that being claire’s iPod, the one with chas’s name engraved on the back) and I’m thinking – again – how it’s great to hear kool keith find his way to the top of the random shuffle pile… to be continued

have to leave now for the game, taking an extra set of undies as the pork dumplings i enjoyed earlier today with bozza have consequently induced vomiting and loose bowel movements… joy.

back again, god that was hideous. So anyway, we’re now driving through the city, and I’m vaguely aware that this is a rather indirect route to Port Melbourne. As we pull up at the lights on the corner of William and Collins, Chas looks over and thinks he sees someone who ‘could almost be Thomas’. I’m squinting (yes, i probably should wearing some kind of spectacle) and can just make out a figure at the tram stop who, though unrecognisable at this distance, is sort of leaning on the tram stop in a manner reminiscent of the coach. We hang a right and siddle past. Sure enough it is the coach who jogs down to meet us. Turns out Tom is heading to Elwood to meet George. Of course my first thought is let’s give Thermas a lift but knowing Chas’ general reluctance to deviate too far from his intended path I say nothing but that’s ok ‘cos Tom is doing all the suggesting. Chas is proving hard to convince but finally relents and Tom jumps in. Keen to hear more of Chas’s new ebay purchase I enquire as to the style of the oven, 6 burner , full fuckin’ hosting model, nice, and what brand ? Brand ? No one cares about the brand ! really ? Come on Chas, don’t you want some smeg in your kitchen ? no, no smeg. then what the hell is it, like promax or some dodgy… no no… who cares about brands cocky , jesus … well, ok then.

Half way down Kings Way Tom gets a call. George is now at the Espy, so we can drop him there which isn’t quite as far, is it. Apparently George is going on date and has asked Tom to come along to bolster his cool friend count or provide moral support or some such. Chas is speculating about some kind of bergerac role for Tom, then was some lewid talk involving whispered instructions which I shall not repeat. Though getting late, the sun is still high and St Kilda is doing a fairly passable impression of a groovy urban seaside hangout zone. Pulling up outisde the Espy I start working my charms on Chas, ‘c’mon… just one pot, chassis, c’mon…’. Unbeleivabley my powers of persuassion prove to much for chas and we park in the rock star park. Analysis of the parking meter reveals a cost of $2 an hour or $6 all day, Chas is looking confused and I see why, he has just put $5 in the machine, I mean how long does it take to drink a pot for crisake ? yeha yeah, what was I thinking…

Ok so thi sis where things start to get weird. we walk up the Espy and theres a bouncer at the street level. Tom walks through but the bouncer is unimpressed when we try to follow. “are you here for the gig ?”, err, no we’re just following our friend. Tom is at the top of steps beckoning. So I guess George must be going to this gig, finally we get through and then Tom starts pointing at the gig poster, wild gesticulating, WTF, Dr Octogan !!! ah man, how much would i love to see kool keith, but the oven… there’s no way chas is going to forget that, but he’s walking up to the door.. well ok let’s go and at least look in the door… Now tom has payed and what is this, chas is getting out his wallet, it’s 35 bucks, ther’s no way chas is going to payt $35 for one pot! The Tom says to teh door bitch “surely cocky has his name on the door” ? so she sort of does this cursory flip through and says yeah ?! nice one Tom, I can go halvies with Chas in this cunningly wangled ticket, which makes the post on;ly abou $20 each… but we still won’t see Keith… man this is weird but hey just keep rolling with it. We head to teh bar, I order 3 pots only to realise I don’t have any cash (hell I almost had no wallet), so Tom steps up and orders another 3 by accicdent, so we now have two pots each, madness. We take a seat, I’m kind of spinning out but Tom and Chas seem completely cool with it all, so I just take a sip of my coopers pale ale… and where’s George and his date ?

A couple of swigs later and in strolls Jim ? apparently Elo is having a birthday party of sorts at the espy and so of course it’s no surprise when Rhian walks in. Hell this could almost be a nannas function, ah the automomously self forming good times… if only we didn’t have to get this damn oven. To top it off Rhian says he saw Takeshi outside, of course, Kondo is always at the Espy, and given that Kool Kieth is playing it’s almost logical to have expected he would be here. If only I’d brought some of russian gymnastic training equipment. and what about the oven. “what time do we have to get this oven by chassie ?” “the guy said we had to be there by 10” “sweet…”. At Rhian’s suggestion we move into the pool (strong suggestioning from the captian as usual) where several rounds a winning pool ensue, accompanied by unending jugs. Still no sign of either George or Elo, but no one seems too fussed and then Lou walks in, so of course I have to relay the series of fortuitous coincidences that he has now become a part of. It may be a school night but I’m starting to get pretty largered (or pale aled) by this point.

to be continued… I have to go to the opening of Game On.

Matchday. And the day started like any other. I’m a rituals man. And a believer in feng shui, with my back to the mountain, facing the view. Or the enemy. And i like my rituals. And match day is a big day. I don’t like to drift from the path. I like to progress into the day like any other matchday. Don’t like to shake it up or the earth may open up.

Wake up. It’s Thursday. Bowl of muesli. Matchday I like to eat all day. I know I may not get dinner, so I just like to eat big. And it calms the nerves. No-one wants to fight on an empty stomach. Then Newtown for a blueberry bagel with game. Same Every Thursday. Just carbo-loading from the morning. Shortblack to wash it down.

Struggle through to lunchtime. Then its off to Waiters (club) for a big pasta. Penne calabrese. Tomato base with salami and capsicum. I pick around the capsicum. Another shortblack.

But this is where the day began to unfold. On this particular Thursday I decided to break the ritual and lunch with a friend. Most of my work friends know I’m as stubborn as shit when it comes to my lunch rituals and rules. Can’t eat last night’s leftovers. Can’t eat at the place I ate for lunch the previous day. Must eat pasta on a Thursday. Anyway, I couldn’t be bothered going all dictorial on my friend, and so we lunched in this nice little café (superfino). His choice. Nice little salami flatbread, with a portuguese tart to follow. Shortblack. All very nice. But it really didn’t fill me up the way I like.

And so I went into the game a little underprepared. Sure it didn’t help having only 4 players. And half of those sporting injuries. The prematch contraversy had also thrown the team. The game fell apart and we went down. And there niggling in the back of my mind were the words in large font, “I should have eaten pasta”. But I’ll never know. Was the dark cloud the lack of carbos? I’m a superstitious man.

Was good to ‘chief it up’ postmatch with a big steak, asparagus and mash on the side. Pepper sauce. good to wash away the postmatch aftertaste.

But the highlight was the dessert trip to Jock’s icecream. Pistachio, and Coconut Ginger in a waffle cone. Spirit-lifting.

  

A dirty lose cleansed by a win for my tastebuds.

The Four

Players RH TH AW JH
MOM RH TH AW JH
Some say there’s no such thing as 100 percent effort, some say that a picture ca never be truly perfect, there is no pefect storm. I say phooey to those guys.

I’ve seen a group of men, as equals stand up and fight with a pride that can only come from 100 percent dedication, 100 percent pain and 100 percent Browness. And when all this comes together you have the unheard of, the unholy, the unbelievable tight MOM four.

A tight MOM four is even hard to type, let alone be a part of. I can’t say it without falling to the floor in a pool of my own excrement and vomiting up blood. It’s so beautiful it’ll tear out your eyes. And I’ve seen it, that’s why I’m blind and dictating this report to a swiss maid who has a surprising amount of stubble and a deep voice but a sweet little hole, in her ear for an earing.

Tight MOM four, I salute you – code word, code word, FOUR, FOUR, MOM FOUR, SALUTE !!!
Captain out

Tip: Do not rely on your memory to write match report after nanna function. It doesn’t work. I remember having a swim. And before that there were some dinosaurs. And a man with a beard. And then a round ball…As always, I only have a very loose recollection of the actual game, and the buffet hasn’t helped.

  

It had been a tough return for wal. Starting back at work after 4 weeks off for Christmas, overlapping some beachtime with the crooks and brown camps. Hammocks and christmas puddings had taken their toll. That ‘famously’ tight body, was looking a little ‘bouncy’ on the slow-mo replays. but it wasn’t just wal who had ‘let go’.

  

It was a sluggish game. How I picked up the MOM is still a mystery to me??? But sometimes that’s just the way the math pans out. I think I ran around a lot, up and down…

  

Court conditions were proving the physics law “the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection”. The late afternoon sun, blazing in at 2 degrees (to the horizontal), rendered much of the court as a mirror. This meant that taking any passes on the ‘lakeside’ was pretty much blind guess work.

  

But let me not blame the sun, mother of mothers. It was a sluggish start to our new division. And that was with 3 subs. And for some reason, I can only remember the Gill moves. I remember Gill’s head hitting the floor. I remember then Gill in a push-up position and the ball smashing into his eyeball. Then there was some crazyness where Gill came right out of goals, and danced up the court, ducking and weaving in and out of the glare and shadows, losing the ball, somehow getting it back, crossing the court back and forth. Madness. That’s entertainment.

  

And then there was the other madness, the other exception to the ‘angle of incidence’ rule. Obviously such rules apply in a vacumn, free of friction and magic. And it was Chas who defied the rule. It doesn’t account for spin. Chas kicked the ball from the corner at about 88 degrees. It hit the post. Rolled around the goalie, who was frozen by this madness. Walked slowly along the line, teasing time. And then curled in. Goal! Un-be-lieve-a-ble.

  

The rest of the game was a rather uneventful (from my perspective). Thomas fronted up, despite an injury from the week before. Chas danced the dance, and popped the first goal (unseen from my perspective, and I wish I could remember who assisted. sorry). Even Taoza could barely muster a tantrum. The Cap-i-tan was there. He could not have forseen that a few hours later he would wake up in the nude on the bathroom floor. Crooks, ever graceful, but who had some issues with passes. And Jim, who also had mutual issues with passing. And the cheersquad, always appreciated, courtesy of the Crooks Ransom posse. And there was some off-field umpiring disputes, led by Crooks, and reined in by Coach.

  

We lost 5-2. Hughness left Melbourne. I lost $15 at poker. I lost arm wrestling. And after a solo smorgasboard, Heath, a cowboy who represented much nanna ethos, camping, and sharing a tent together on a cold night, departed our world. It was a low week for reality.

  

But the lows make the highs higher.

  

  

  

  

3-2 vs Some guys 15 years younger than us.
CB(0), JH(0), AW(0), DC(1), CG(1), RH(0), TW(1)

What a night, what a game, what a way to end the year. A nice little kick around on the back turf, Wesley Old Boys know what I mean, then a confusing moment when Dan tried to explain his well thought out and beautifully laid out plan of attack. I think we may have even kept to it on the odd occasion.

The Nanna’s started off well and finished even better. Jim managed to not give away any goals and that was a great help. Though Dan tried to help the other team with a near own goal. Tao managed, what was called the goal of the Season (possibly the year), to volley the ball past 2 of their players plus the goalie leaving him just looking straight ahead as the ball dribbled back past him from behind as it came back off the net. But enough about that goal.

As for the rest of the game I may need to get the dvd release when Takeshi gets it out as it’s a bit of a blur as to the order of things. I know they got a couple of goals and then Dan pushed one to the back of the net. I could be wrong but I think Gilla the Gorilla with the mighty through from the back line put so much spin on that ball that the other goalie didn’t have a chance of holding onto it and fumbled it through for an own goal rightfully given as a goal to the goalies goalie Chris Gill.

Well done Nannas. We are Proud and very Brown.

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