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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3-4 The Annual
DC2m TH1m CB JH CGgk

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

6—4 vs Dirty Waffles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ok that will probably do

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11-2 We went down to Dead Dead Skilfull

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

Thursday the Third of April, 2008

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

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

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

A.M. Thursday the Tenth of April, 2008

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

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

Result: 7-1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nannas Vs Thursday Nights

0-9

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

On four.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four is approximately the number of own goals James converted

The prime factorization of four is two times two.

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

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

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

Four is a Motzkin number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Four is the first positive non-Fibonacci number.

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

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

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

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

The Mom Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goals: DC 2, JH 1

Opposition: DDS

Final score: DDS 5- Nannas 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 – 5 vs Gash Backs

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

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

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

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

3 3 vs ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vs Asian Sensation 3-2

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

MOM: CB

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8-2 vs Thursday Knights [the pits]
RH 1 TW 1 TK JH AW TH

It’s not often that you can hold your head up high and talk proudly of a game after losing by 6 goals but that’s exactly what this proud Nanna did. And I’d do it again, no question.

It was a tight five, and a determined tight five too
Unlucky to go down so hard, early luck was against us as the ball bounced kindly for the opposition, at least three lucky, pussy goals. It’s hard to defend against pure dodgy luck goals.

Moving forward we showed flashes of brilliance, Jim and Tao teaming several times before the captain sent Tao through with a back-heel, Tao finishing delightfully from a tight angle. Wal and the captain teamed up for a set piece execution from the land of perfection but those two goals were all we could muster.

The table looks grim with Nans clawing the bottom but there was a lot of good to be taken from the night.

3-3 vs hyderoos [the pits]
DC 5(3) | CB 4 | RH 4 | AW 1 | CG 1(gk) | TH 3(coach)

The Nannas looked to have the game under control after Daniel Crooks had put The Brown men ahead following some nice passing in the box.

A midfielder from the opposition team whose name is unknown struck from 30 yards, drilling the ball into the bottom corner beyond Chris Gill, and then said: “We need to sort out the sloppy goals from set-pieces.

“Thankfully I popped up with a nice goal. I think we were feeling we would not get much from the game after the way we played in the second half.” He added on themightfightingnannas.com: “To come back as we did a point felt like it was the winner. The late goal gave us a lift.

“We are conceding goals but we are scoring them too and that means we are still on course for the APISC Cup.”

The Nannas boss Tom Howie was disappointed with a draw after an ‘eventful week’ which saw the departure from the playing field of his close friend Leg.

“We wanted to give victory to Leg today,” Howie told themightyfightingnannas.com, “and it was an eventful week.”

“We should have won by five goals,” he claimed. “We didn’t see Hdeyderoos creating many chances today but they scored three goals.

“It’s the story of the season. Fantastic spirit but we have to learn to make the most of our chances. “We hit the post three times and I think we should have scored at least five times today.

“It’s a little bit about confidence – maturity as well. The basic ingredients are fantastic and we produced some exciting football.”

Attendees: CB, CG, TW, DC, JH, TH (coach),HC (assistant coach) AW, RH
Goals: DC(2)
MOM: JH,RH,DC,CB
AUNT: RH
Captain Kurgen stared out through the thermo-tempered glass as his cruiser arrived to pick him up, he kissed his wife and child goodbye before bracing himself for the blast of the airlock and laucnching himself directly into the familiar surrounds of the cruiser cabin. Chas Brown locked in the coordinates and striker hit the launch button, sending the camrytron overdrive into warp and sending the crew deep into the outer Albert System. In the gloom up ahead the crew could already see Futsal, surrounded by its three moons and its gangs of marauding soldiers.

Striker put the cruiser into orbit and slowly the rest of the task-team arrived. Battle weary soldiers, excited by the prospect of a final showdown, a chance for supremacy. The pre-battle briefing was about to begin when the coach arrived in full battle dress with a lip smothered in respect. “I’ll be controlling things from up here” he whispered into his communicator, “but this time I’ll have company”. He threw back the door to show a Huge Covill looming in the dark, built in the likeness of a man, but with giant cannons for legs, standing 3 metres high he was an awesome sight. “He’ll stay with me” barked the coach, “we can’t let him loose just yet”.

The ground-force beacon crackled from the control deck, “skirmish below, you’ll be in orbit for a further 18mins”. The coach and captain looked grimly at each other, this was news they didn’t need, the tension was already high, it would only get higher.

“Feed the Grilla and load the Hannantron” ordered Kurgen. Dutifully the team opened the cage doors and threw chickens to the giant grilla, locked to its net, like a spider ready to pounce. Then Striker opened the pharmacutical box and measured out a cocktail strong enough to kill a thurmasauron and slipped it down the throat of the sleeping Hannantron, the giant beast barely stirred, simply nodding its head in appreciation.

The siren went and the battle started. And what a start. The enemy came out strong and ruthless, mercilessly knocking down barrier after barrier and sweeping in two successful raids before the crew had time to steady. Emotionally the damage was huge and it took desperate measures from strong men at the back and a vigilant Grilla to stop an avalanche. Corporal Chas Brown led the run into the danger zone bravely, forcing defensive switch and then switch again, forcing attack and counter attack. But the enemy were strong and again they swooped, angry and loud, screaming through the meek shields. Chas found fault in the speedie midwork of lance corporal Tao Weis who was caught off guard, his response was wild and erratic, losing control of his hover vehicle and sending friendly fire spewing in all directions, not a single crewman remained unscathed, and when he finally regained the wheel another attack had swept through.

The second half of the battle was a much more even affair, Corporal Weis and Striker teaming up delightfully and fruitfully, the elusive Wallmartin, with his ability to disappear, sneaking around the backdoor on several occasions and a solid defensive unit providing a steady platform. But the giant cannons of the hannantron and the Grilla seemed wayward, blasting forever skyward and making no impact on the offensive front.
The enemy locked down and the battle was lost.

A tired, sad and angry crew made their way back to the nutrient post South of the solar river and dined on parmagana. The coach bestowing his battle medal to the captain for duties in combat. It was small reward for a desperate day.

Futsal still glows in the evening sky, and on a clear night you can hear the pounding feet and cries of

“mark up nannas, jesus, what the fuck are you guys doing?”

Attendees: CB, CG, TW, DC, JH, TH (coach), AW, RH
Goals: JH, CB
MOM: JH

Tommy thought long and hard about what to wear for the evening.
Tao needed a nostril reconstruction.
Chas was convinced that people were talking about his bum.
Andy was on time and duly mocked for his commitment.
Hinkley and Dan sported respect but the latter seemed to having some anger management issues.
Gill was all brown in a very becoming tracksuit.

I started on the bench, which was good. Being unsteady on my feet, I wanted to see how the game progressed before entering the fray. In the coach’s room long before the contest, there was instruction on the art of mind-fuzzying. Our manager insists that I think too much and play much better on instinct. I think he could be right.

The Nannas put two goals away in the first half. I remember the first one inasmuch as I can still feel my foot making contact with the ball.

I do know that Chasm scored the second but the details are hazy. His arse might have had something to do with it.

The second half for the spectators was disappointing but only because they could not join in the adrenalin frenzy that the Nannas had whipped up on court. The Browns were unlucky on several occasions not to go further in front. And they never looked threatened at the back.

Afterwards the pub played host to the coach getting yelling out of his system.
Cocky tried to re-ignite his anger over a controversial MOM vote but even he was spent.
Good sleeps were had by all.

Attendees: CB, TW, DC, CG, JH
Goals: CB 4, DC 2, JH 2
MOM: CG, JH
Opposition: Allens FC (second division, and rightly so)

One notorious premiership manager calls April, May squeaky-bum time. Well I reckon Sir Alex would get a lot out of the footage from the Nanna’s Thursday game because on display were very brown, super-clean bottoms.
For the Nannas it was a tight-five set-up. And tight we were. So tight in fact that the opposition soon found all their hopes and dreams for a competitive match dashed and they quickly resorted to tactics that are best described as wanker-ish.
Tao pointed this out to the referee but was rebuked, shown yellow. Dan took matters into his own hands and was shown red.
While Cocky was off court the opposition wanted to relive their hopes and dreams of rippled nets, filled with pounded balls. But fantasies are quickly snuffed out when reality is nearby, which took the form of Chasm parading his ample chest and super-squeaky buttock. Displays like this are hard to ignore and the Allens were held firmly in check by an aroused Nanna quartet.
In the spirit of Easter (whatever that means) Cocky was allowed to re-enter the fray and the Nannas went from defence to offence quicker than Gilla could say “this team are a bunch of fools”.
Highlights:
Dan’s wide grin as he led with his head toward his opposite number.
Chasm’s ample chest and squeaky-clean buttock.
Tao’s dissing of the referee walking down the stairs out of the stadium post-game.
Gilla re-telling how he was a sole queue person outside Workshop.

Match Report 22/03/07

RH TW TH JH CG no MOM TH one goal
Captain Strikes another one past the 300m mark, Jim blows his load and the fireworks begin.
It’s lucky Gilly was there to document it or nobody would believe it. Finally we get proof of the previously mythical “skyrocket load” that has been a constant rumour in Nanna circles since the infamous shower scene after last seasons finals win. We believe you now Dan, he really puts on a spectacle, Justine is a lucky Lady.
For the record, Thomas hit the holden sign and the tractor twice, tao hit the tractor and the post and there was some really classy parking.