10-6 v The Legacy – Wesley
CB2, DC6m, GF, JHgk, RH, TW1, AW1

A mighty victory for the Nannas™.

It seems I start all my match reports theses days with “it’s been a long time between wins for the Nannas” and again this is how I should start. The old men of nanna, OMON, have been on a bit of losing streak but that streak came to an abrupt halt this evening. Well, in truth it wasn’t that abrupt. At one point we were 3-5 down and it was pretty easy to see how the game could end 4-7 or the like. But that wouldn’t have been a fair reflection of the Nannas’ efforts. They were, if not on fire, then at least very very warm. Jim was in goals with his new bike gloves, 3 beers and a couple of reefers under his belt. Apparently he had forgotten that the captain usually steps into the 4th string goalie position (and that was even before the pre game festivities). After a few soft goals he pulled it back together and kept a near clean sheet for the second half, not to mention some excellent distribution and not once kicking the ball into the wall at the opposite end of the court. Cheezles Jafrezzi, equally inebriated and thankfully not in goal, did a fair imitation of being on top of the situation before later admitting he was too hammered to see the ball for most of the first half. The author managed the incredibly rare feat of the double hat-trick. The numbers flatter him as their golie was crap and 2 of the 6 were tap-ins from some excellent assist work from Tao and Wal. Chassy was running hard and hade to deal with a number of over enthusiastic challenges (and the chastisement of his brothers) while banging in a couple of sweet shots, the first an instinctive left from an initially saved right… tasteful. The nannas passing game was also well and truly on display, the Captain, the Best Looking Nanna and the Walmartin at the heart of some very pleasing triangles, 1-2s and even some 1-2-3s…

Perhaps it was Jim’s scathing report from last week, possibly the absence of the Coach and The Funky Nanna, maybe the opposition having a really crap goalie, or perhaps merely chance, whatever the reason the sun was out and the Nannas shone! yay.

post match there was some confusion about who was cooking. without the coach to guide us (in fact we had to call him and interrupt hannah’s birthday celebrations) we went to Prudence and listened to Cheezles justify his only-child-like purchasing of pints, ate heavily cheesed and tardily delivered pizza, dicsussed topics of which i have no recollection and left smelling of long since smoked cigarettes…

timestamp: Transit of Venus, Nanna Forum kicks in and the Log Log™ goes viral, Logo V2 nears ratification – new hoodies should be sometime this decade, ARB cuts rates due to grim european economic outlook, Mit Romney nominated as republican candidate, Daenerys Targaryen gets her dragons back, le Coq Numerique orders an 8 bay raid for storing the flood of data from his Epic and also a freakin’ monopod !

4-3 Win vs The Hampton St FC Annual
DC, CG (GK, 1), RH, TH (MOM, 2),  TK (1), TW

Poor old Old King Lion – Climbed to the top of the absolute biggest mountain ever, showed everyone his massive ballsack, and promptly fell of the equivalent of the North Face smashing his face on every crag, jagging his ring on every rocky outcrop, smashing his backbone spinal column on every passing granite boulder as he fell further and further getting bloodier and bloodier and more wrecked and mangled until he landed on his neck on a bunch of razor wire that some carelessly left lying around the bottom of the drop. Pretty much his whole hind quarters were forced through his mouth lips and he could smell his own perineum directly with what was left of his shredded nose and nasal cavity. Every single bone in his body was broken into tiny shards of broken bone and his bowel came out his belly button which was were his chin used to be so essentially he had a goatee made of shit that tasted like quarter digested Gryphon. His paws might as well have been plastic bags full of rancid deer kidneys for all the good they were and his once might mane was a mess of coagulated body fluids from every conceivable thing in the body that produces fluid. If you got a budgerigar’s head and put it in a vice until the metal vice edges touched metal on metal you would have a pretty good approximation of the state of his vocal cords, the result being he had no roar to speak of. His once mighty legs had all the structural integrity of a pistol whipped junkie on the nod, because not only had every bone in his body been ground to a fine powder like I already told you once, his muscles had essentially liquefied in to a gelatinous substance from the repeated pounding they took on the endless fall from the top of what was a fucking high mountain which you might remember how fucking high from this. Through his brain was skewered a barbed and quite possibly infected piece of atrophied tree wood that had lain at the bottom of the sunless drop for years gather mould, fungus, bacteria and other extremely virulent microorganisms, slowly growing more fetid and dangerous to multicelled life and I think you get the picture Old King Lion was in an extremely bad way with no hope or any chance or possibility of a future except as hyena shit.

Yet his heart beat on, and his heart beat true.

The little children ask me: How did Old King Lion survive? How could Old King Lion walk away from such horrific injuries? How could Old King Lion play indoor soccer again? What does quarter digested Gryphon taste like? The answer to the last question is it tastes more like fresh Gryphon meat than half digested Gryphon, to which it is preferable, but it’s obviously not as good as fresh Gryphon meat. And the answer to the first three questions is: the mind.

Yes that is correct: the mind. Giller he said to us: victory today or relegation to the pits, that is what we play for. Our minds were steeled. We took to the court. Kondo scored first. I got a yellow card ’cause they pushed Rhian too much. It was a tight match. I drew the goalie out to an incoming high ball and he was pinged for handling outside the circle. For the ensuing free kick I went into a kind of fugue state where the kerfuffle of the free kick arguments around me disappeared and I could visualise the ball entering the net as though it had already happened, so much so that when the ref blew his whistle to signify game on it was merely a matter of allowing the future to happen as it already had and I sort of did a mind push kick on the ball and it powered incontrovertibly into the net, space-time rippling behind it like heat waves rising from the desert floor. Giller did some awesome saves. Giller scored another goal. I found myself in possession on the wing, opposition pushing hard up on my back, using only the power of my mind I force my way along the line toward goal, harried every step by a particularly large and nimble Hamptonian. As I approached the corner I turned and shot on goal: what happened next I don’t really know – Giller called it the greatest goal ever, but that could be gilding the lily, a bit. I think what probably happened is that I kicked the ball with so much mind power that space time was literally wrought apart, my cerebral cortex certainly shut down with the sheer mental effort, and I think the goalie’s did too, because when I came to he was only just realising that the ball was appearing from a tear in the fabric of a hyper dimension that my mind kick had ripped apart like so many polyester dresses on prom night. The goalie would have been half a chance to stop it had it been a regular kick, but this, as I said, was mind kick and the ball had travelled through parallel dimensions and space time tears and dimensionless spaces that not only cannot be physically represented they are literally beyond the realm of mathematical explanation, and where this ball had been there was no light, and no gravity, and no strong or weak electromagnetic force and no energy or time or anything, but it popped out in front of the goalie and he thought he had a chance and then it popped back into the physics-less place it had just been only to pop out just behind the goalie, and he turned and watched it roll over the line.

Then it was on. They got a goal back, it was four three and we had to defend. They through everything at us, but through a massive team effort we held them out, and I thought where the hell did that come from? I’ve never been able to mind kick a ball through a physics-less hypersphere before. And it come to me: old king lion had been brain whispering to me. Old king lion found a way even though he was smashed to shit at the bottom of death drop. And then I saw it wasn’t just me old king lion had been brain whisper mind puppeteering, it was the whole team playing with pride of Old King Lion. Then Old King Lion appeared to me in my mind and said (in all caps): YOU’VE WON ONE GAME – DON’T GET AHEAD OF YOURSELF – THIS IS EXACTLY HOW LAST SEASON STARTED, WITH A WIN OVER HAMPTON ST – AND THEN IT ALL TURNED TO 37 KINDS OF SHIT IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE. And then he was gone, just the lingering waft of quarter digested gryphon shit breathe hanging in the air.

After which Giller took us to Edye(?) bar on Lygon st and we argued endlessly about the new emblem and invented the Flonus or Flanus, a half flower half anus that quite beautifully represents a ripe blossoming male anus.

5-3 v hyderoos
CB 2 m, DC 1 m, JH 2, GF, CG gk

A mighty win, a mighty freakin’ win !

Man, it has been a really long time between wins for the ageing men in the poos and wees strip. Why has it been so long ? and what was so different on this occasion ? The obvious reason is that Nanna A turned up reversing the recent lack of cohesion due to inconsistent numbers and a near total lack of game fitness. But the TRUE reason is Scrotal Shaving.

Guy had been talking it up for days on the flurry and there was much discussion in the one-car-drove. Turns out Guy didn’t actually employ a razor, instead using scissors to reduce his ‘bush’ to a 3mm stubble. Now what is most interesting is that chassy, perhaps the most well groomed member (no pun intended) of the nans revealed that he had never partaken in pubic pruning. Imagine his shock andsubsequent intrigue when he learned that the striker had, from time to time, thinned out the manly nether forest. I can’t quite remember the details of Chassy’s questioning but, alarmingly, I do remember the phrase ‘sexual pleasure’ being used. Good God man, do you really want to drive that sort of traffic to the Nannas™ blog ?! Suffice it to say that we all learned a thing or two on that drive, mainly regarding the dimensions of guys bush (or was that only Giller and I later in the evening…?).

so… the game. Chassy, all fired up on thoughts of bald scrotums punched in a couple of early goals. Frasay (or should that be Shaun ?) was running diametric to the game plan but still managed to find himself in plenty of spaceq with some excellent positional work…get it. Jim, though drunk and high, put in a barn-storming turn; hustling , menacing and even scoring with his head ! Giller didn’t have much to do in the first half but came into effect hard in the second half, particularly near the end when he rolled his impressive girth onto the flimsy toothpick-like leg of the striker, cue hyper extension of the knee joint and the nans down to 4 men. Weathering a late assault with a man down is never easy but the nans acquitted themselves most admirably and ran out deserved winners.

Post match saw Jim dropped at parliament, Chassy dropped at home for an early departure (full kudos for playing) and Giller, Shaun and the author heading to Joes for pizza, beer, blonde and shaun talking bush.

vs Hyderoos
win 5-3
CB 2(MOM),DC 1(MOM),JH 2,GF,CG(GK)

If you cast your mind way back to the start of April (April 3 to be precise and not March 3 as Cocky would have you believe from his report), you will recall that the Nannas had a win. A mighty, against the odds kind of a win to cap off a season that left the Nannas with their collective pants well and truly down. This small victory held its head high in a torrent of loss. And if it didn’t get the trousers back up on the hips, it at least kept them pants from being consigned to the metaphorical rag bag and leaving the Nannas permanently in a state of ignominious undress.

It was the Thursday before Easter and it’s possible that some religious stirrings may have contributed to the rapid up-spike in the Nannas ability to win. Or it may just have been the rather ingenious way that GF prompted a frank discussion on genital depilation on the trip to the game. It was a one-car drove situation in the mighty Camry wide body and this kind of pre-game cohesion is certainly a factor in Nanna on-court cohesion. And then there are the individuals that constituted the team that shall forever be known as Nanna A that night. One thing I notice about this particular squad is that we had height on our side (not that kind of height Jim). Gilly, Fraser, Hannan, Crooks, Brown.. all over six feet.*

Thus, numerous tangible and intangible factors contributed to this stupendous display of brown pride. I didn’t attend the post match festivities due to a short drive to the Barossa the next morning but I hear that there was much fun and laughter at Joe’s. I was still buzzing the next day as I ate a limp, microwaved pie in Bordertown SA.

*Brown is not actually over six feet physically (just in the mind).

vs United Nations FC lost 12-2

CB 1 MOM, TW, TH, AW, GF, JH 1, TK

A loss of catastrophic proportions.
A cataclysmic defeat.
We hit the floor hard and we did not get back up.

On the upside,
We doubled our ‘goals for’ from the previous week.
We played with spirit right to the end.
We drew the last 90 seconds.

When you try to play snooker with a piece of rope,
The next time you have a good, stiff cue,
You’ll work wonders.

1-7 loss vs Red Peppers
Guilty persons CB, GF, JH (1), RH, TH (GK-MOM), AW, TW

Yep we sucked the shit out of a dead dog’s arse… But don’t just take this picture’s word for it, let’s check the UNPRECENDENTED postmatch flurry debrief:

Guy Fraser started things by rather wittily noting that on this blackest of Thursdays it was not just Cockano who got double the fist up the backside, and I would add that although Cockhammer’s was obviously the more literal of the buggerizings, I don’t know that you could say he was more royally fucked than we were.

James then chimed in with this analysis / proposal (an analosal if you will [perhaps not unlike what Cocky underwent?]):

After the high of last year, when we played with such control and poise, last night we reverted to the old Nanna strategy of kicking the ball away as much as possible or coughing it up in mid-field to an opponent that on the counter had a numerical advantage (as you can tell I am still angry).
We scored one and they got about seven.
Tom was deservedly mom for keeping it to seven ( it could have been about 15).
Admittedly our defense and attack on the ball were at times soft but in light of this old Nanna strategy rearing its ugly head I would like to propose a new Nanna rule:
any Nanna who does the one touch miracle ball to no one half a dozen times or more a game, that is, kicks or heads it away when they should have taken it under control and retained possession (and I am pretty sure i am right in saying this did apply to at least two of our better players last night),
1. gets fisted at the end of the game
2. does not play next week.
Controversial I know but the Nannas have shown themselves to be better players than the shit we served up last night.
Stay angry.

Rhian piped up with the not particularly helpful, but still pertinent:

What actually lost the game was Jim declaring that we weren’t going to win before the game started.

James got defensive and mutinous:

Well the way we warmed up, we looked like losers.
I blame the coach and captain. Absolutely no leadership.
I think a double coup is order. Fraser, you want to be Coach?

Fraser went to batshit crazytown:

I’m more interested in managing/coaching, going full strategy/non playing. I’d consider doing this for one season. If we didn’t win the championship, I’d go back to normal reaching/molestation duties.

Tao wasn’t to be silenced:

Yes we played pretty bad classic Nanna’s style. Not a lot of gold last night.
I turned up with a bit of a bad belly afraid I wasn’t going to be able to give my best on the night, and saying as much prior to the game. As it turned out I was right and kicked a lot of very soft and off target passes. On leaving the court I admitted to everyone and apologised for my seriously crap play. This, for some reason, seemed to come across as being an open invitation for Chassy to then pay out on me for apparently nearly putting him in hospital.
If I learnt one thing from last nights game that is admit nothing.

And he kind of had a point ‘cos Chassy did have a bit of a dip postmatch, but to Chassy’s credit he came back with the conciliatory:

taozza i would have still hassled you even if you had admitted nothing
i must admit my frustrations were probably mainly due to my own failing body (sore calf, shoulder, hip and knee)
apologies if you felt paid out on

Which is a nice way to end it because it’s important to remember we’re all good friends and we shouldn’t stay angry.

However it doesn’t change the fact that we played like a bowl of rancid leper dick soup. While everyone raises valid points about the game*, it wasn’t Tao’s one touch passes (which on other days work and work well), or Jim’s negative pre game comments, or Chassy’s apparently failing body or any of these things that cost us the game. We may note the team as whole was looking a lot like a team that hadn’t really played together for 8 or so weeks, and we may note that the team as a whole lacked a fair bit of commitment and attack on the ball (with the possible exception of Fraser who well deserved his 2nd place in the MOM, and who is beginning to get himself physically and mentally up to the rigours of Thurs div.2 (Wesley) after so many years away), and we may note the team as a whole lacked a little luck in front of goal, and we may safely say these things will return to us with some match practice. What I continue to stress we must improve on, and what I believe cost us the game, and what indeed our opposition did well, is PLAY INTO SPACE. It is no good being static to receive a pass. It is no good passing to someone directly only to have it intercepted. If you do not have the ball, look around you, see where everyone else isn’t and head there. If you have the ball, look for your team mate who is heading into the space and pass it INTO THE SPACE. If you are neither passing nor receiving draw your opponent away from your team mates and get into space yourself. There’s a new motto for the Nannas and I’m going to write it big:

SPACE IS THE PLACE

Lead to Space – Pass to space – Make the Space.

Next week is Hampton – we step up and play like the champions we are.

Fortunately the night wasn’t a molten hot barnacled dildo mashing away on our collective quoit in its entirety – no ’twas a feckin’ sea shanty of a barnacle we encountered down Ponyfish Island where the parrots all have wooden legs and play P.E. on squeezebox ’til the wee feckin’ hours, haulin’ the sheets and weighin’ anchor and what the fuck have you, all the while cookin’ burgers (just a mite underdone for Andy’s likin’) for the lubbers afore they feck off to the Giant Theremin to ponder the mystery of the Fox – Thank ye Chasbarge.

*Except for Jim’s about me deserving to win MOM. I played just as crap as everyone else, but had the slight excuse that I was in goals where I only play once every other season.
#Also I should stress typing ‘dirty toilet’ into Google images when safe search is off, returns entirely too much information.

vs St Kilda FC
won 6-2
CB 3, CG 2, TW 1, DC, GF, TK, TH
JH (Coach), AW (Cape Bitch)
CB MOM/POF

Sorry about the disrespect. I had a few things on my plate. A diagnosis of osteoarthritis in my acromioclavicular joint, an ultrasound guided steroid injection, packing to go camping before: flying to auckland, driving to taupo bay, driving back to auckland, christmas etc, ferry to waiheke, NYE etc, ferry back to auckland, flying to melbourne for 21 hours (and in that 21 hours: recording a voiceover, sleeping, packing the trailer), driving to newmerella, driving to saltwater creek, camping, swimming, going on a mandate with tao and cocky, nearly stepping on a brown snake, maintaining a near-perfect esky bin with large blocks of ice, having kondo and becky stay for one night and eating lamb and drinking whiskey, the annual whiskey row (inaugurating the morning lie-down), the pack-up, driving back to melbourne (including toasted sanga and v in cann river, fish and chips in traralgon), the trailer unpack, one night in melbourne, driving to portsea for two nights, driving back to melbourne… and here I find myself.

Before I get down to business let me further address my misdemeanour/ crime/ disrespect in failing to post my match report within the required seven days. So it’s actually 45 days since the Grand Final. Interestingly the GF was played 23 days before the end of 2011. If I manage to post this today then another 22 days will have passed since the first day of 2012. Which would mean that I would have just scraped in ahead of the second 23 day cycle. Which is fortunate because I believe the rules state that if two cycles of 23 days are passed without the posting of a match report then the required punishment is permanent deregistration from the order of Nannas followed by castration and defenestration. Happily I will have just avoided the first two of these punishments (assuming my post goes up this day January 22, 2012) and will have to suffer only the ignominy of defenestration. And I shall obediently be defenestrated as required.

Now to the game. But first, the build-up. It was nothing if not a build-up of such surging, raging and frothing tumescence that all the power of the Southern Ocean might seem a child’s bath in comparison. It’s turgidity was such that the frustrations of seventy five fourteen year old boarding school boys (having had their porridge spiked with viagra and made to watch JH mince around naked but for a hand towel) might be barely discernible. Yes it was just that kind of deeply swollen member of a build-up that can be caused by only one thing: words! And not just any words but the mighty fighting words of our master wordsmith Coach Judge Coach. He lifted us up where we belonged with his poetic viagra, he spoke of mountains and hyenas and jackals and lions. He spiked our morale so full of mythical vibrations and the thick, hot blood of narrative that we were in a frenzy of victory-lust by the time we hit the court on December 8, 2011.

But what of our highly fancied, overwolf of an opponent, St Kilda FC? The team that had won every game of the season. The undefeated. And if I had the stats I could tell you about their points, their high scoring games and their whopping goal difference. But I don’t have the stats so I won’t. Suffice to say: THEY WERE NOT EXPECTING TO LOSE! They weren’t expecting to see a team of Nannas high on prose-induced morale either.

We stepped up and we stepped to them. A very solid overall team performance. Excellent coaching from JH. The defence was dogged and determined, the shooting inspired, the possession play text-book. And we kept on pounding them. Even when we were 4-2 up we kept on giving it for the whole thirty-six minutes. It was interesting to see a team as good as St Kilda actually begin to fall apart as they realised they couldn’t win. The final score: 6-2.

Then we went to Kondo’s for a classic six goal after match function. Steaks and an enormous daikon that we all had a go at grating. The lebanese blonde. Beers. Talk of family crests. Guy revealed that he comes from a long line of strawberry eaters. Nothing wrong with that. Strawberries are good for your teeth and they are the only fruit to have their seeds on the outside. Just like the Nannas who wear their cojones on the outside of their trousers when they smash the top of the table into the next cubicle and beyond. Perhaps, the Nannas’ finest hour!

4-3 Win vs Hampton FC in the Semi-Final
CB 1, DC, GF, CG, TH 1(MOM), TK 1, TW 1, RH(Coach)

-Let us talk of events metaphorically
It’s a helicopter shot, wide, all that is; deserts, jungles, canyons, snow capped ridges. It tracks and pans and starts moving purposefully to the most majestic peak in all the vista. Slowly the vastness focusses in on this monumental craggy outcrop of weather hardened igneous agelessness, tracking around it in a circular manner, showing its glory, revealing it’s staggering size and magnificent beauty. As more is laid bare one comes to realise that its beauty belies its hardness. What is at a distance splendid is up close devastating. What is from afar glorious is in situ a terrifying place to be. For this, dear reader, is the Mountain of Soccer Finals. As we get closer still we notice a beast, perched statuesquely on the summit of the mount gazing nobly into the distance, the wind catching its lustrous pelt and shimmering it just so. Through the technology of modern motorised pan/tilt units and gyroscopically stabilised camera heads the beast is quite nicely revealed to be a wise old lion, friend to children, bon homme, and brewery provider – but he’s not been playing with children or providing breweries lately no, for the same nifty shot that revealed the old lion to be an old lion carries on quite adroitly to reveal the scars of battle. Blood around the mouth,  scratches, nicks, viscera all mashed between the lion claws. Wise Old Lion has been fighting on Mount Soccer Finals and soon it is revealed his quarry – an hyena/jackel wearing a old lion skin(?) lies bloody and defeated at his feet. We track back up and pause on the face of this fighting lion. It is a look not of happiness, and only the merest sense of satisfaction is detectable on his countenance. No, it is the look of resolve of a warrior who has won a mighty battle but knows that an even greater fight is ahead. Now the CGI kicks in at no small cost, for we track to the eye of the lion and see what he gazes upon in the reflection of his own  retina. That’s right – he’s looking at an even bigger, more awe inspiring, nastier, finals fighting thunderdome cage match arena mountain, that’s right next to the one he just climbed, conquered and fought upon. And do you know what he sees on this war zone crag? A Gryphon – a mythical creature with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, a divine guardian and hell crazy good fighter. The old lion smiles a little smile and licks his chops, he does not know how, but he knows he must, and most importantly he knows he can, climb that mountain and smack that poncing gryphon down.

-Let us talk now a little more literally
Dear sweet sweet lord mother of Mary the innocent saviour how was that? There was talk in the dunnies and we kind of had it from there – plus the cape came to Wesley for the first time. Coach Captain coached us strongly from the get go. “Get the first goal and get them on the ropes” was his advice. I was able to do pretty much that thanks to Tao’s back heel which I was able to convert on the run. From there it was one epic struggle immensely worthy of the name semi-final. We got another one – either one of Chassys big feet from long range, or a Tao deflection. But Hampton never lay down and they got another one or two back. Takeshi nailed the most beautiful lobbed header into the far corner. Giller hell crunched a dude onto the ground whimpering. Once play resumed they slithered one in and there was a very tense last minute played out at 4-3. Sweet victory thoust is the sweetest teat at which to suckle.

Post match Captain stepped it up a notch with park cooked bratwurst and beers in Fitzroy North Park st. Then to datestamp it for Babcock’s happiness we went and partied all night at Tao’s 40th the following Saturday

Vs VJFC
1-0
CB mom,DC,TH,TW,AW,GF,CG 1,TK

I no longer drive
I do not, I arrive
It’s not part of my thing
Put it there gimme five

Shoved to the ground
By a punk not in brown
Eloquent fury
“are you out of your mind?”

Scoreless for ages
Just like teenagers
Then a big gill goal
For the gold and brown pages

Tenser than a kiwi-France final
Or a scratch on new vinyl
Just one point in it
It nearly went vaginal

Plus tard, rue des fleurs
Wal’s choice we infer
Pas mal du tout
For a night in october.

The Nannas vs (The Dreaded) ANNUAL (Hampton Street FC)

0   v    3

CG, TH, DC, GF, TK, TW, JH

hang your heads low……

It was a totally impotent performance, admittedly their goalie stopped ALL our goals, but we didn’t have a lot of shots on target.

At least Guy was doing his part. We told him at the start to definitely use your secret weapon. Don’t let it go to waste. It is known on a few continents now, its – THE REACHAROUND. He was jostling with a man and slipped the reacharound on him and low and behold the guy just spooned back into Ghee. He smiled like he had prearranged the moment.

Ghee actually looked really freaked out, I mean even training on Jim there is a moducum of on court decorum, but this…this was a new one for Ghee. Ever the Nanna Ghee kept reaching until all were finished. 15 minutes later the game resumed.

They got the first with a soft effort from the incredibly good looking goalie. More crap mistakes resulted in their crap goals. Three in fact. There were no highlights at all for the Nannas this game. Nothing to speak of, in fact a bald game it was.

Cooking was in the capable hands of Mr WEIS, now the call was for Raphs burger oint, but it was sold out, he LUCKILY pulled a SASSY outta the bag! (oh and an esky full of votes….

It was a rather

5-7 v ?, Melbourne Girls’, 9.20pm
CB, DC 4, GF, CG (gk) 1, RH, TH, TK
mom DC

A curious game this one. APISC pulled a late venue change on us with the game shifting to Melbourne Girls College*. A time change also proved an arse for Jim who was forced to get high and catch a train to regional oblivion. Giller on the other hand made the late pull-in, bringing our number to 7. The excitement of the generator bikes in the foyer soon wore off when we realised that there were no spare balls for a warm up, but it was okay for the Reach-around™ as he had worn some tights. A rather soft goal was conceded by the Nannas not long after kickoff but we soon stormed back into the game. Some magical cross court passing lead to the first, followed by a free kick and something of a solo run by the author. Giller was playing some lovely square balls early on but then started to kick them around a little too much for the coach’s liking who, in quite uncustomary form, yelled at the goalie… a lot.. all the way to the side line after the half time whistle blew.. and still kept yelling. Early into the second half we nicked another but were 4-5 down before Giller finally hit the target. the equaliser is always a rejuvenating force but by this stage the nannas were getting tired and the defence was beginning to gape. The man in tights was really starting to sweat, the captain was taking some wild punts, the coach was yelling ‘Fraser’ and pointing a lot, it was heading south fast and we shipped two more before the final whistle… ah well. Unusually, yet luckily for the author, his 4 goal haul was enough to pip Giller by a single vote. Then Chassy of the Triple Crown® took us to some crazy Shanghai genre mashup inspired diner disco in the arse end of Little Collins. Bong Mist was there which made it seem cooler than perhaps it was. We drank beer (except the coach who had tap water (which according to Guy is still technically mineral water)), talked about movies (Guy was there), Rhian gave props to the new museological show at acmi (well actually that was in the car on the drive to Melbourne Girls’), I tried to convince Tom that it is actually spelled reamde and isn’t just a design thing, we ate some chips and calamari and completely forgot to discuss the style guide for the blog, which was annoying.

* it was noted that a nanna progeny may be attending said institution to receive her secondary education

6-4 vs The Decepticons, Wesley 8:40pm
MOM CB,TH
TH(gk),CB 3,DC 2,TW 1,GF,AW,RH

You see, it’s all about perception. What you see, or think you see. What you feel, or think you feel. The interpretation of experience as it comes to be shared with your Nanna brethren. The inevitable progression from my mind unto yours. And the fallibility of the former as it falls prey to the corrections thrust upon it by others. And standing outside of experience confers a heightened level of objectivity to the observer. Thus, may the detachment of the onlooker swell the onlooker’s sense of righteousness. And perhaps they are correct.

I was at Monash University this week and I happened to be wearing the black woollen cap that Coach gave me during the early noughties. I was in need of a haircut and the cap does a good job of hiding and flattening the naffness of my large, billowing absence of style. Interestingly, as I approached the campus centre I was repeatedly approached by student election sprookers asking me if I were a student and whether I knew how to vote. I responded to this repeatedly, “No, I’m not a student.” To the which, a young woman (friend of one of the sprookers) announced, “Well, you’re pretending to look like one!” This made me feel a little self conscious and as I entered the Campus Centre I thrust said woollen cap into my man-bag allowing the absence of style to billow out quite unsheathed. Having eaten some foul coagulated vegan gruel from Wholefoods I left the campus centre to return to my rehearsal room. This time, not a single sprooker approached me, nor narrowed their gaze upon me, nor even glanced at me. WIth the loss of the woollen cap I was instantly and unambiguously ‘not-a-student’.

Yep, these young men we played against took one look at us and thought wow they’re not students. None of them is wearing a black woollen cap. They must be old ‘not-a-students’. They must be masters of their craft. Battle hardened but not bruised. And their perceptions manifested themselves in objective truth. For it is true that we were victorious. No less that six times did we plunder the cavity of their sacred goal. They could return the favour only four times. But we witnessed a kernel of potential in these infant-men. As Thermos wisely observed at half time.. they will improve. And they did. They won the second half.

Guy Fraser made his return to the court. In fine style. He allowed his tan to acclimatise before hitting the court. You cannot hurry these things. It can only result in a loss of face. So Frasay stepped up and pulled out some classic lumberjack moves. Blocking the ball with his snapping, lizard-tongue like legs. Spirtitually reaching around and giving the common courtesy to the metaphorical Nanna ball-sack. Fraser, we all enjoyed it and I know I speak for all (as one) when I say “Great to have you back buddy!”

Hinkley took us to the Belgian Beer Cafe which was not quite as lame as everyone expected.

vs dirty phase wannabe annual hampton park fc

4-4 (3-3?) draw DC, CG, RH, JH, TH, TK, TW, AW

Oh great lets write about another game against the Annual – that is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo boring. Oh great I broke the blog – or maybe the blog was soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo bored with hearing about the annual again it’s trying to get it’s little blog lips around both barrels of a double barrel shotgun. Shit now I’ve fucked it – I really don’t think this is going to align properly for the rest of this post – Oh well fuck it, what do you want from me – hang on it’s doing something, it’s not going to be quite right but maybe not quite as shit as I thought – I’ll just quickly preview it… Nope it worked it out, it’s all good it’s just the alignment is fucked for me while I try to write it… anyway while we didn’t exactly have them drowning on our jizz, at least we weren’t waist deep in theirs either. The game went thus: we were down, we came back, we had ’em, they got their third tinny one for the night and we were spewing. Fuck all that shit.

Anyway forget all that shit – here’s the hampton st fc twitter feed…
http://twitter.com/#!/hamptonstfc
They seem to think they played in the division 3 grand final… oh I think I get it – seems what we called the losers semi is actually division 3 semi as we play in division 2/3 ergo top four spots are division 2, next four spots are division 3 and last 4 are losers

And their facebook page
http://www.facebook.com/hamptonstfc

HOLY CRAP! has anyone used google to search for stuff before? Check this shit out:
http://www.youtube.com/user/grantrowley#p/u/15/CLoQ0PPGqZs

There’s at least one other game there but we get smashed so I didn’t post it.

Well now I’m in the rather problematic position of having to talk of the cooking, when it was my own. Has anyone won MOM and cooked on the same night before? It must have happened. With Hannah rather fortuitously in Sydney I hatched a plan to cook at my own house, which, while I knew was novel could also be boring. Then I thought ‘if it was 1997 it wouldn’t be boring – no sir, we’d be sitting around smoking bongs and eating take away pizza and drinking beer from tins, and watching Jackie Chan movies high as garaffe[sic] nuts” so I thought fucking ay right time travel bizatches (cue twighlight zone audio effects : ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyywawowhatever -schnitzels! there goes the alignment again.

3-4 vs V J F.C @ Wesley
DC[2,mom], CB, RH[gk 0.75 of 2nd half], TW[1], AW[gk 0.25 of 2nd half], Phil [1st half only, GK]

Nearing the end of July and I think this was only the author’s 4th game on court for the year! Ass coaching is all well and good (I was actually surprised at how receptive to a bit of ass coaching the Nannas are) but nothing beats being on the court of battle itself. Damn it is good. Winning is even better but just playing is at least 93% of the good times, and that’s not even counting the GHBG™ or even playing well. Actually maybe that’s a bit lower… In numerous studies the GHBG has been shown to improve situations by at least 10-15%. Feeling as though one has played to the best of ones abilities must be around 10% and let’s say winning is another 10% that leaves 65-70% good times just being on the court… and I was feeling it!

As to how things played out… well, we should have had them. We started the game sans all 3 experienced goalies which meant Phil started in goal. He was doing a sterling job but relinquished the role at half time due to an apparent conflict of interest ? The captain (4th string) stepped in and also did pretty well before stepping aside for the Walmartin to finish off unbeaten. Chassy operating on a dubious ankle managed to have his big toe broken early into the piece. An early penalty was very generously offered to the the author by the Captain, who had forgotten how freaking stressful they are, he aimed to slot it into the bottom right instead kicking it straight down the middle, where the goalie had thankfully moved. We had a few more chances. The author ran into a lot of dead ends, The opposition fumbled in a couple of ugly ones, and that was that. almost.

Then Tao took as to Long Play. We had crumbed cutlets, rib-eye on cauliflower and fennel, white anchovies and some true school mushroom gnocchi. Everyone else drank overpriced imported beers with nice labels but It’s The Winter of the Dark Beer® so I tried the Coopers Stout which was largely underwhelming. The fruity White Rabbit Dark Ale definitely has more to offer… unfortunately for Tao Chassy believed me when I said the steaks cost twice as much as they did. The beers were pretty expensive and the ratio appalling but it was overall a very enjoyable experience and I should definitely have given Tao a 5 instead of the 4 I did, Sorry Tao. You should have done Andy’s post vote spruik pre !

It should also be noted that 5 Nannas in one car drove. The captains bar is beyond compare !

It should also be noted that in the flurry this week: “Of all the questions the Nannas have faced, despite its apparently innocuous veneer, is this the most deeply profound and philosophically perplexing?”… stay tuned.

Vs Vagabundos
Lost 5-3
CB(mom),RH 1,JH 1,AW,CG 1(gk)

It was 3 all at one stage.

Jim fired in a blistering left. Hinkley took a nice deflection off his head into goal. Gilly threw one in with max force. These were the goals.

Unfortunately, the opposition got two more goals and beat us fair and square.

It was yet again a game of attrition. It is difficult to imagine a game of futsal with four nannas playing (ie.one short) and three on the sidelines. But this is how it was.

5-4 Loss to Pornstars
CB 2, JH 2, TK, TH, CG, RH, TW, DC(coach)
MOM 4way: TK,TH,CB,CG

We lost and it was close.

Timestamp. TH recovering from knee surgery and his first general anaesthetic. DC still recovering from lower back (sacral) injury. TW recovering from man flu and preparing to move Northside. TK recovering from Queensland in Queensland. CG recovering from his solitary man-time in NYC. JH recovering from the Malmsbury Flu. AW recovering from another holiday somewhere. RH recovering from ditto. CB recovering from being Sedge at NAB.

The nanas have been playing together for reportedly 10 years. Thats a long time. Thats since the year 2000 ? What happened back then ? Well the concord crashed, The spacecraft NEAR Shoemaker enters orbit around asteroid 433 Eros, the first spacecraft to orbit an asteroid.  And against the advice of the Year 2000 Doomsayer Cocky, I was in Barcelona. I was with a Swedish girl, eating tapas and secretly deeply wishing I had buggered romance and not agreed to getting an apartment way out in Castelldefels, rather than in the centre.

The centre is where its at.

And thats really where i am going with this because I feel we lost the game because we lost the centre.  The passing game was not as fluent as one would hope from 10 years of passing pally wallying ( pall e well e’ing ) . Kondo had us sound at the back, and we had some stout performances, or glimpses of brilliance but we lacked a fluency in the centre, and in our all-round passing game.

Its our ability to dribble a bit if their was space or a lacklustre opponent, or turn the ball and find a man that would do the same, before feeding it up north to a likely lad. We often got caught in the corners, going too deep.

Jim thumped one in.  He must, in my limited experience with the nana game, to be called that likely lad. Tom, who could play anywhere, too looked a likely with that sledge hammer of a foot, Chassy looked a solid force at the back and potential midfield partner to Rhian and Tao.

So thats how i call it. 10 years and perhaps you need to go back to basics. Work on the passing, love the centre and you will have glory.

the BPBD ( Brown Proud but Disallowed )

Playing: JH, TH TW, RH, TK, PC, CB, DC (coach)

Score: 3 Red Peppers to 1 Nannas

Mid season analysis.

After a string of losses the Nannas sit near the bottom of the table. This week we were beaten by an average adversary, who we should’ve done better against. The week before we apparently played worse (although no one really wants to talk about it) but suffice it say our prospects for this season are looking bleak.

So it becomes incumbent on this Nanna to examine closely how the Nannas are travelling and suggest, from my seat on the train, how we might salvage something from the season.

Last night was one of only a handful of games I had played this season. There wasn’t that much difference to a lot of other outings. We were fairly tight at the back (they only tore us open on one occasion), we were mostly in control of our passing (meaning, we still did kick it away a lot). And we did pull some good moves from time to time but suffered that most heinous affliction, which usually happens against Hampton FC, of not being able to score.

The problem, from this correspondent’s point of view, does not come specifically from any one team member.

The Captain continues to impress with his form, following on from a strong showing last season. Indeed, he seems to be having something of rennainance with his running, passing and shooting. While the years have slowed him somewhat (I can see him straining, trying to make his non-compliant body move more swiftly) his touch and confidence have been outstanding.

Chassy, by contrast, has lost nothing of his speed, moving about the court, lithe as a tiger, hungry for the ball and a piece of anyone that gets in his way. Chassy has the skills and a shot to rival any of the Nannas but could take more time over the ball, meaning a touch every now and then, so he can use these his attributes more effectively.

Then there’s Tao. One of our key competitive animals and when on song indispensable to our fortunes. He embodies the true Nanna spirit of fight, fight and then fight some more. Was good last night and is now passing earlier but at times lets his emotions rule him.

Tommy remains Tommy, dependable, unflappable and most times the keeper of the Nanna’s rational side (except when he’s arguing with Gilla at a halftime interval). Could play more on the balls of his feet, ready to snuff out danger or toe poke home when the opportunity arises.

Takesh. Last night Takeshi was magnificent in goals and except for a blemish approaching half time would have been man of the match, hands down, again showing his extraordinary powers in goals. He may not have the flair or the long shot of Gilla but he more than makes up for it in pure balls.

Last but by no means least was the ringer, aka Pete Circuit. Pete, by his own admission, may not be the most skillful player (which probably describes most Nannas) but showed guts, no hesitation to get his hands dirty (the way he bundled opponents made me proud) and a willingness to put the team ahead of his own self, running himself into the ground, at which time he had to come off and have a lie down. But he soon pulled himself up to do it all over again.

So the problem then is not with the personnel we have been putting on the field. And unlike this game, for the most part we have been getting on the scoresheet nicely. But sometimes you do get the feeling, as do some of our opponents, that some of our goals are all arse: the dipping shot from downtown; the patented Nanna sucker punch (the header coming from a Gill throw). Don’t get me wrong, there have been some fine moves and fine goals over the last little while (recent efforts from Hinkley, Chassy and Tao come to mind) but what we are sorely missing is that selfish, single-minded striker, someone who can steady in front of goal and consistently put a couple away. To my mind only Cocky truly brings this to the side. Get better soon striker.

A second problem is structure and awareness. The Nannas have neither. On too many occasions we fail to recognise space staring us in the face, instead wanting to be played the ball in bad position. On a number of times the other night we had all bunched in our own half drawing our direct opponents with us, leaving, as they say in footy, our forward 50 very open. A lobbed ball into that space with someone running onto it would have resulted in a one on one with the goalie but no one really noticed and the opportunity went begging.

For any Nannas going forward, remember Ian Wright, who said, ‘it’s the off the ball running that kills ‘em.’

Maybe it’s time the coach and his assistant get out their whiteboard and get the Nannas working on a couple of simple things that could potentially buy us more time and easy opportunities.

Afterward we went to Africa Town and much to my surprise my choice of venue was voted on. Someone in their infinite wisdom decided to add another layer of beige to what is already, every Thursday, a very brown set of proceedings. Never let it be said that the Nannas don’t live up to their name.

Anyhow, before voting I heard someone comment that their bread was cold (no shit!), then gave me a one.

Vs ??
Lost 2-5
CB 2, RH, AW, TW, TH, AW, TK(gk), DC(coach)
MOM CB,RH
COOK DC 2.3

Wow, so many stats and informations to be recorded before even starting to talk about the game.

We played with the optimal 7 plus the luxury of a coach in attendance. Thank you Cocky.

The great thing about writing the report on the Thursday following the game is that it feels like mental preparation for the next one. The downside is that there are significantly fewer facts to call upon.

What I do remember was some solid competition in the first half. We stayed within a whisker of the opposition for most of the match. In the second half they got a couple of goals in quick succession. The nannas hung their heads for a moment too long and the match slipped from our grasp.

Rhian gave someone a reach around. The writer slotted two goals with the purple slippers (the details of which elude him).

Afterwards Cocky took us to the Bourgeois Beer Café. Which was actually quite good. Although Kondo gave it a 1 for lack of originality.

Greg Louganis won multiple gold and silver medals over three olympic games, he won multiple world titles and was the undisputed king of world diving for nearly a decade. His face adorns stamps and he had his own line of sporting clothing, including winter jackets, for cold days after the pool. These facts about his prowess are undisputed – but – the vast majority of people in the world remember him not for these great acts but for one lapse in concentration when the back of his head collided in spectacular fashion with the end of the 10metre spring board.

The moral of this story is that one simple lapse can ruin an entire career.

On Thursday the Nannas were not at there best, and if this game had been internationally televised it would be for this performance that our past ten years would be remembered.

It cannot happen again. Every game is important.

Greg Louganis now competes in competitive show dog competitions and has written For the Life of Your Dog with Betty Sicora Siino.
Let this be a warning Nannas, Do you know what the worst thing about competing in show dog competitions is?

Post match Cocky took us to the closest venue and won very high points for proximity, in fact scored maximum for this category, which is unfortunately only 0.1 of a mark. The beer was delicious and the noise level ideal for pleasant conversation. Fore-thought was low and originality got a 0. No food.

3-4 loss vs the nuts (with Giller’s bro in them)
CB, DC(1), JH, TH(gk/MOM), TW(2)

First we listen to the gospel according to Pegazus and those deserter Nannas take careful note of these most powerful lyrics.

Yes that’s right Pegazus you truly know:
Brothers stand as one
And never surrender
Until we shed blood
Where the heroes fight and fall
Bravest warriors standing tall
Never surrender
The Crusade.

TRUE. HEROES. OF. NANNA. [Roll of HONOUR!]
Cockdangger’s back was just useless muscle sort of sellotaped to his spine. He still played – and he’s a TRUE HERO OF NANNA
Jimmy Hannanberry’s last day of freedom before he goes to live on the plantation. He still played – and he’s a TRUE HERO OF NANNA
Taoser’s been drunk and high non stop for a week since the family went old country. He still played – and he’s a TRUE HERO OF NANNA
The Chasvestito parked in Reservoir. He still played – and he’s a TRUE HERO OF NANNA
Coach Judge Coach had tickets for some other shit or something. He still played – and he’s a TRUE HERO OF NANNA

Yes these are the annointed men of herodom’s most valiant hall of mirrors. When they look around there they see the best Nannas, on the back of a giant winged horse who is so tough he spells his name with a motherfucken’ Z. They aren’t so scared they go to Queensland. NO they go and kill Saracens on a Crusade on a giant winged horse etc. TRUE WARRIORS STANDING TALL! NEVER SURRENDER! THA CRRRUUUUSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADE!!!

Anyway we kind of metaphorically surrendered to the Saracens by kicking a couple of own goals which really jags a broadsword right up in your curry hole. This was pretty indicative of the luck we were having – technically probably the better team on the day, but too many shots at the goalie, into the crossbar, wide of the mark – in short, unable to convert.

TRUE. HEROES. OF. NANNA. then shot, skinned and gutted a fat yak on the fucking battlefield fools and had giant fucking fat yak legs sitting on the cadavers of their defeated enemies with yak fat dribbling down their bearded chins and over their bloodied fists or they eat bespoke pasta at Fat Yak – don’t go getting technical with me you weren’t even there.

Hi umm…. vs the annyal (or whatever name they have now) with I think Kondo in goals and dannmuy and chassy and me (your vert tired coach) + Tao and Rhian and Jim I thingk – i’d guess 2-1 a loss to the brown men and I got the goal.

FIRSTLY i can strongly advice against graiting the end of your fingertips with the cheese grater when you are grating the beets as not only does it make typong annoyingly painful but hard as the baindainds tend to make your tips slide all over the keys annd mash inappropriate keys.

SECONDWISE do not forget tp wroite tjhe old matchy until the last minute when you have worked solidly for two weeks every day and now you are tired as it makes remembering hard and does not help when your fingertips are a hurting from grating misadventure.

THIRD TIMES A CHARM and the reason you are here even still reading this. sing it with me looud and strong brother nannas
OLD KING LION!
OLD KING LION!
OLD KING LION!
OLD KING LION!
OLD KING LION!
YEAH FOOLS THAT’S WHAT U’M TALKIJG  ABOUT – OLD KING LION!
Old matey the Old King Lion, Old King Old Lion, King Old Lion was walking down the road when he saw and absolute knob headed cock bandicoot, which in and of itself is not that an unusual a thing as there’s plenty of them tipe of characters of a thursday night when Old King Lion does most of his huntiing. WHat sturck the Old Lion guy was that this here bandicoot was all dressed up like old Lion King, all balls brassed up kinda like how the King Lion buffs his own balls, all mane a swishing around with the sheen and whishwazz of a disturbingly simmilar sheen and whishwazz to what the Lion Man like s todo his liek, a hint of eyeshadow and a little bit of mascaran lash thinkening not at all unlike how OLD lione likes to make himself look a little bit sensitive and brooding but still mothwer fucking king of the old jungle. “what the fuck” thihnks mr lion, “what the fuck sort of knob headed cock bandicoot steals a respected Old Lion’s likeness and acts like it’s NOT EVEN DOING IT – FCUKS SAKE MAN THAT IS AMATEUR!” Straight away old king lion’s brain goes Chess Grand  Master on its own arse. THinking 10-50-1000-2300000000 moves ahead in the blink of an eye it see’s every permutation, devises a plan and spits it’s mouth’s chewing tobacco at the feet of the pesky ‘coot. THe old dangerfield manouvre, lose marginally, so we’ve right where we want em for the finals.

5-1 win over some old guys RH3(mom) CG(1) CB TH TW(1) JH AW

Nannas match report available here

RH2 (MOM) TH JH CB(1) TW AW CG(1)
4-2 Win

4-3 Victory vs VJFC (Va Jina Football Cunts)

TH (GK-MOM), RH, JH, CB 1, TW 1, AW 1 , James the ring in and Julian (Tao’s French bench assembler), and there was an own goal if you’re counting.

Sugar is sweet, so is honey, mix ’em together and it’s sweeter still. Add some maple syrup, how’s that taste? A bit sweeter. Maybe some golden syrup, mix that in real good, now you’ve made it sweeter. Add some other different sort of sugar, maybe brown sugar or caster sugar or icing sugar, in fact fuck it, put ’em all in and as much as you can get, bags and bags of the shit, you might need a forklift or a dump truck or preferably both, trust me you can’t make it too sweet. Then you’re going to need palm sugar and coconut sugar and any other exotic sugar you can get, blend it in and taste it, it’ll be pretty sweet already, but not sweet enough. Go synthetic, I would recommend sucralose, aspartame, saccharin, glucin, dulcin, neotame, alitame even acesulfame potassium, get as much as you can get and don’t worry about any of that shit causing cancer, that’s not the problem, the problem is it won’t be sweet enough – and it’s not. Add some natural sugar substites, xylitol, pentadin, monellin (you know from serendipity berries), erythritol (good because it’s less likely to produce gastrointestinal distress when consumed in large amounts and we need A LOT of it), glycerol, luo han guo whatever, pour it in, mix it up, dip your pinky in and taste it, gaze meaningfully at about 45 degrees from the horizontal, and go “hmmm, not quite sweet enough”. Get hardcore with the proteins, specifically brazzein and curculin, at over 500x the sweetness of sucrose by weight these little guys are essential for getting it sweet enough…

I could make some elaborate allegorical tale about the nature of the struggle between us and the va jinas, but the internet writes better and has bigger dickheads so let me just say that we are the bitchenest Anonymous hackers and they be knob wallabies extraordinaire HBGary Federal. See here and here.

I hope you enjoyed that little diversion, it was pretty cool the way we ended up owning them like that stupid HBGary va jinas. In real life it was of course Tao being the young lady hacker who social engineered Greg Hoglund and like what the man from Ars Technica said, we didn’t need any super special hacks to get through their defenses, just good exploitation of the holes they did leave. Plus I think we rattled them a bit.

However back to that big pile of sweetness you were making in your mind in the first paragraph. That’s been in the sun for a couple of days, it’s reducing down a bit and through that process getting sweeter. Get some sort of giant cauldron on a flame and reduce reduce reduce, we need to sweeten it some more, it has to be so fucking sweet that every mother fucker in the universe gets diabetes from its very existence alone. Ok get it into a malleable ball about 500mm diameter, take that ball and with your own Nanna mind hands form it into the bludgeoning weapon of your choice, maybe a warhammer or a mace, even a morning star is ok, or a base ball bat or crow bar if you want a more modern vibe. Then put it in your mind kiln or whatever you’ve got in you mind tool forging workshop that can make an ultra sweet mess of mind hand formed weapon as strong as steel. Now I really don’t know how long it will take to harden, it’s your mind tool forging workshop and you’ll have to work that out for yourself. But as soon as it comes out you grab your engraving tool, and somewhere on the end that does the damage you inscribe these words in big letters: SWEET REVENGE. Then you walk up to (in your mind only please)  whichever of those va jina’s sorry excuses for a face pisses you off the most and smack (once again in your mind only please) that bitch down with SWEET REVENGE…

What’s that noise? Don’t you hear it? All the angels in heaven are crying with joy because the awful dreadful horrible curse of The Dirtiest Loss Ever (see here if you don’t know what i’m talking about-AS IF) is lifted. That’s right friends the sun is out and the birds are singing their innocent little arses off with out and out unadulterated glee such is the happiness the world feels when the dirty low act robbery tragedy sushi roll of major pissed offedness, that’s sharpened to a point and stabbed right in your guts and can NEVER be removed, and has to live there all your days long, not being eaten like a normal sushi roll, but fuckingwell eating YOU is removed from your guts by SWEET REVENGE.

RH(2)(MOM) JH(1) TH(1) AW(1) DAVE (Ringer) TK

It was a game of two halves. In fact it’s more reasonable to consider it as two short games than one entity – which would make it a drawn series as we convincingly won the second game by a single goal.

The first game in the series was not one that many Nannas will remember with pride. I’m not sure how many Nannas can remember back to the early days of the Nannas when a young friend of the Nannas – Dave was his name I believe – decided to take on a larger opponent by the name of Goliath in the car park. Dave was brave and agile and quick which is helpful. Goliath was an enormous powerhouse of strength and physical ability, skilled in all martial arts, ever, and carrying an assortment of the latest combat weaponry from the Russian version of the SAS.

At Daves funeral we talked about how he had battled hard and really given it his all but in the end had very little to offer in the way of a ‘knock out blow’. When Goliath opened up with his Armour Piercing shoulder mounted rocket launcher Dave could only really stand and take it on the chin and there’s only so many of those that a man of relatively small stature can take upon the chin.

So it was in the first game for the Nannas. The opposition may not haver been carrying any discarded russian weaponry but they were packing some tools that no Nanna has ever owned. There were Multiple goals, and the ‘M’ in Multiple is capitalised for a reason, that went past the valiant Takeshi Kondo. There were passing moves and bursts of speed more often seen at Albert Park during the Grand Prix than on a regular Thursday.

Only one Nanna stood up in that first game and kept the home fires burning – the Coach with a sizzling goal that lef t them reeling, sort of. So we left the first game with our pants on but only just and carrying some heavy scars.

The break between the two games required the Nannas to dig deep, there were strong stirring words, I think Jim said “Holy Fuck”. But it was a different Nanna outfit that took to the second game.

A decisive, fast moving, quick witted outfit. Ringer Dave opened them up early with some fancy footwork, working hard down the flanks and delivering ball after ball accross the goal face, it was only a matter of time before a Walmartin would find himself knocking on the back door with room to spare and a laser guided right foot.

The defence too tightened up, the Nans started mixing it up, laying it up at the back, sending long balls through, rotating positions. Big Jim hanging off, not plunging in, which is hard for a man with such urges. Thomas marshalling the troops, working the numbers and unafraid to take the hard knocks. Ringer Dave going the extra yard by attacking an opposition foot with his head, gutsy. It wasn’t till the final few minutes that the Captain had a run, from a kickoff, the seas parted and allowed an easy slot to find its way home.

And what to do after two short games rather than one game of two halves?

A scenic stroll through the unseen backwater that is Parkville. Thomas opening up a whole new genre in Nanna cooking by providing an insight into his ‘secret Melbourne’, the nooks and  crannies that make this town of hours such a wonderful place. Alfresco Salt and Vinegar washed down with crisp clean Asahi in the night air and ‘blind mans Aerobi” to finish. A delight.

Game: NANNAS vs V J F.C

Win 4:2

CB, DC(1), JH(1), CG, TH, AW, TW(1), TK(MOM)

This opponent is fresh and fast. They have very good foot skills to bring up the ball to the front.
So the game became intense from the beginning. Both of us had quite few shots and somehow we ended up losing two goals quickly.

The pressure was on. As we were chasing, the 4 magic goals saved our life the night.
Our first break through was TW. When I was surrounded by their defense in deep front with the ball, he was running behind me like a cavalry penetrates anything he wants. I sent the ball back to him as soon as I saw and he scored beautiful one.

Our soul was lifted by this goal. The second one was followed by DC’s back heal kick. This trick kick was shot from out side of the penalty line. It was looked like he was just turning around so that the goalie could not stop even it went through between his legs.

The third goal was the our favorite goalie goal. CG did this again as everyone expected. The score reached 3:2 at the mid second half. This goal changed the mental balance of the game significantly.

The fourth one was launched from far back of the penalty line by JH. The trusted main cannon blasted everything a second before the whistle.

It was a good game and a nice way to finish the end of 2010.

A Happy New Year brother Nannas!

Vs Team Scandinavia- The Low Countries

6-3 Loss TH(1)(MOM), RH(1 0r 2?), JH, TK, AW, CG(GK)

Fucking Scandinavian low country bitches. Two faced cock heads. In the war they were all “we’re neutral”, then “actually we’ve got blond hair too we’re with the Nazi dudes”, then “microwave ovens are cool, let’s go suck on some American cock”. Fucking Finnish Amsterdamian fjord lovers, if Brussells is so cool why isn’t Luxembourg a part of Belgia then? Jesus! Anyway they’d all had tank commander training from the Waffen SS so they were well drilled, they’d been on the echinacea pills since birth so they were fit young specimens, they could run, pass, strike and all that shit, their dicks could table dance the Jenkka at 140 bpm, while pulling one of those overwrought Belgian beers that yuppies love so much, all the fucking while with a smile on their dirty wannabe aryan faces. What hope did a somewhat depleted Nannas have? What chance the aging brown men against such a virulent specimen? What tricks could Old King Lion muster from his bag of old tricks? I’LL FUCKING TELL YOU WHAT TRICKS! HOW ABOUT THE TRICK OF FUCKING HAVING BALLS AND STEPPING UP TO THE OPPRESSOR NO MATTER WHAT THE ODDS. (that trick always fucks the kids) HOW ABOUT THE TRICK OF SEEING THE TINIEST CHINK IN THE OTHERWISE IMPREGNABLE 9 INCH REACTIVE TITANIUM ARMOUR AND FUCKINGWELL HAMMERING ON THAT CHINK UNTIL IT CRACKS WIDE OPEN. Let’s break down the tricks then shall we?: Trick one – Stand up to them – You are a proud Nanna with a fighting heritage that goes back over 10 years, sure you’re facing up against an opponent superior in many ways SO WHAT? Form on paper don’t count for shit, he still must beat you, you take it to his sorry herring eating arse and you make him beat you, every time, and you make it hard for him to beat you, you make him think twice about wanting to beat you. This we did. Trick two – Drive a wedge into his crack – His crack in this instance being his lack of goalie, the wedge in this case being our constant pounding of his crack, lots of aerial balls in, lots of shots on goal, lots of being there for the parry and fumble. This we did, Rhian scored from the head from a big throw in from Giller, and I managed to crumb one. Plus Giller kept kicking the ball into their heads but they just kept smiling. All that said they were pretty good, we certainly gave them a bit of a scare when we drew level, and the score only really blew out in the last couple of minutes when we pushed forward trying to arse the game back.

For afters Giller slipped his tougne into big Jim’s ear and said “LP – tropical far North Fitzroy”, new and super groovy we drank Quilmes and had a little impromptu.

vs Hampton FC

lost 1-0

CB MOM, TH, TW, DC, RH, TK, JH, AW

The Phase wannabes aka The Nanna Wannabes aka The Annual aka Hampton FC. We don’t enjoy losing to these guys. One of them wears a headband. They keep changing their name. They’re pushy. They’re hungry. They’re tenacious. They play our game. They keep beating us. Fuck it!

Once again I find myself adding to the tome of honourable losses. It was very nearly a 0-0 draw. Which may have been unprecedented and will now remain so due to the fact that these nemesicians sneaked in a goal right near the end of the match with only minutes to go. And in doing so, snatched the near-dissolved gastrolyte tablet of a draw right off our collective tongue and swapped it for the bitter pill of defeat. We all know about this kind of pill. The pharmaceutical of the vanquished. More bitter than a neat glass of Campari warmed under the hot loin cloth of an obese medieval statistician. More cloying than a mouthful of green chalk.

Kondo was valiant and staunch in goals. Repelling wave after wave of attack. As for the single goal that got past him, I cannot comment for I didn’t see it. Cocky sacrificed himself in the form of a large, mobile haematoma. The writer had a couple of good shots. Tao provided V Shots that got some of us pretty pumped. We drank and ate at the Belgian. And.. Curtain.

CG DC-2 AW CG JH-1 RH-1 TH(post match)

In july 1973 captain Curtis Browning of Bravo company was wounded by shrapnel 2 miles north of Pnang Ta on the Kotan peninsular. He was unconscious when dragged into an army evac helicopter and only regained consciousness in the relative safety of the hospital aboard a medical naval frigate 4 days later. His first thought was of his men and although he couldn’t walk he demanded to be returned to the jungle. In the end he was restrained in his bed for a full month. During this time he was tortured with dreams of his men caught in crossfire, aimlessly wandering in the dense and unforgiving jungle.

Finally he was released and spent four days fighting his way to the front line and his men. His first emotion upon reunion was that of relief and then quickly a sense of awe overcame him. In his absence bravo company had recaptured Hill 462 and gained ascendancy in the battle for control of the Kotan peninsular. He wept solidly for two days, the emotions were enormous, his men had reorganized themselves and fought with such skill and teamwork that he felt he was superfluous. His chickens had outgrown the nest and were now flying alone.

After two days of tears he realized that in actual fact his role in bravo company was more important than ever. His chickens could fly but now it was time to turn them into eagles so that they could soar in the clear blue skies. He took to the skies and his men followed, they flew above the trees, above the clouds and high into the nothingness above.

Its time to fly brown men and soar like eagle, don your wings and flap with me.

no stats available apart from DC(4,mom)

well yes, it is with some degree of shame and embarrassment that I write this report almost three weeks late. The small matter of an extended south pacific sojourn coupled with patchy internet access and a liberal view of the posting rules is wholly to blame (the disrespecting of the flurry is another matter entirely, the blame for that lays solely at the feet of the authors flaky webmail server, well most of it, that and the super dodgy telcos operating in the relative third world nations of Aotearoa New Zealand and the Republic of Fiji Islands (and the Piña Coladas)).

Anyway, enough fleshing out of match reports with extended excuses. The game itself was pretty good as I recall. We won the first half big time and only lost the second half by a bit, leading to a net result of the Nannas™ up something like 7-4 (maybe 7-5) at the final whistle. The only thing that really stands out from the match in my post plural Piña Colada memory is the early contender for GOS (goal of the season). Giller, reading a run from the author, throws the perfect long ball towards the right corner. Arcing over the authors left shoulder the ball drops invitingly for the half volley. With acres of space the sensible thing would have been to try and control the ball and get closer but fvck it, why not have a whack. By pure fluke the strike is as sweet as the proverbial nut leaving the goalie rooted to the ground as the back of the net billows… Tight is Right®

from the depths it came.

vs ??
lost 2-4
CB MOM,DC,RH,TH,TW,JH,AW,TK

Oh man, after a Man Weekend I am meant to remember shit. I close my eyes I see the ears, nose and clean white teeth of the piglet we consumed. What I can do? Come on there must be something there. Some hazy image or a snatch of conversation? Or perhaps a hazy snatch and an image of a conversation? Nup, nothing. It was cold.. real cold.. No, I’m just making it up now.

What about the Man weekend eh? Perhaps that is more important to catalogue. Let’s see.. Goalshooting (won by TH), Relay (TK,TH,CB), Discus (CG-controversially or DC- non-controversially), Intra Big Ball (Gold Team:CB,TW,JH,TK), Intra Small Ball (Gold Team), Dodgeball (Unknown), Can Hold (TK), Robot Hand Shandy (Boomers:CG,AW,TH), House of Cards (AW), Personal Sharing On Mic,PSOM, (tie:AW,DC), Table Tennis (CB), Best Barista Bitch in Balnarring, BBBB, (JH).

Please add to Man Weekend catalogue as desired..

erm… I have not had much sleep this week and the most extreme cortisol levels that is a miracle i even remember playing. As such i can’t remember the team or the score. I do remember that i played a whole lot better than the week before when i played like shit, well apart from the copious assists Jim so generously mentioned in the previous report. To return the favour i would note that Jim was hitting some of the sweetest sounding shots in a long time. You know, when you can just hear how sweetly the ball has been struck, something to do with physics and the massive real-time acoustic modelling being done in the brain, unfortunately someone seemed to get in the way every time and those sweetly struck balls would simply not go in. Finally Tao laid off a sitter for Jim to tap in… Erm what else … Shit, I really can’t remember much. the art Fair opened last night and my nervous system only narrowly escaped a full collapse leading up to it. I seem to recall Kondo and Andy Wong were on fire… the cross court passing was all over that shit… The Coach punched one in from the left with a ferocity that belied his signature languid style… … … yes… I better get ready now. Last game before the man weekend.

time stamps: esme turns one, art fair 2010 opens, gillard slumping in the polls, rudd speaks, rhian updates the mom voter, tao refuses to eat oysters, hollywood evaporates…

MAN WEEKEND HERE WE COME !!!!!!!

vs South Melbourne AMC 13-0 WIN
CB MOM 3,RH 3,TW 3,JH 2,DC 1,TK 1,AW,CG

There they were. Us. No uniforms. Full of hope and wonder. Bearded, bedraggled and unkempt. Men in their late 20’s. Thinking.. “sure, I’ve got some footskills, i used to play soccer at school, i may not have a south american/ european gene in my genome but I know soccer, i know football, i can do this, yeah yeah, awesome let’s ride”.

And then there was us. (perhaps “them” in another decade). Older, wiser, fitter, happier. Men in their late 30’s. Thinking.. “no, you can not do it bearded young fools, you shall not ride, you shall be bludgeoned hard and long by the long handle of the nanna bludgeoning machine. 1, yeah that’s right, 2, take it, 3, there you go, 4, taste it, 5, eat it, 6, slam it, 7, feel the power, 8, ooh touch it, 9, get up bitch, 10, get up again, 11, look at me.. bang, 12, one more, one more here we go, 13 thanks guys great game see you next time.”

And that was indeed that. Thirteen to zero. Three hattricks and some. But strangely, a slightly empty feeling. Like it wasn’t really a game at all. More like a training session. So we better keep our game up and on this week. Especially with the BackDoor and the CoqLoft home on their respective workbenches.

Timestamp: Nanna man weekend confirmed for Aug 6/7 at Balnarring complete with pig on spit. Only three weeks away!

4-4, v ?
AW, CG(g), TH, TW(1), DC(3,m), CB, JH, RH

I think Tao summed it up perfectly, they deserved to win, but we definitely deserved to draw !

The game started off with a radical reformation of the 9 man sub system by the Coach that was very nearly scuppered by the late Arrival of Andy and Issy. Tao scored the first with a nicely angled shot, I’m a bit hazy on where their goals came in the chronology but lets cut to the 3-1 score that wasn’t in out favour, but we fought and somehow clawed it back to 3-3. With about 4 mins to go they got a soft one which after all the hard graft to equalise was a real knife in the guts. Then with seconds to spare we won a corner. tao stepped up to take it, Tom was yelling at the author to “get in there, cocky”, but he was timing his run, Tao looked set, the author took off thinking it’s never going to happen, but the opposition came off their lines and a corridor just opened up, Tao slotted it perfectly across goal where it was met by a Nanna boot… Equaliser ! so good.

Then Wal took us to Gigi Baba via the Grace Darling (where they were playing the Stone Roses) for one of the finest after match meals the Nannas have had to date. so good.