I am very sorry Nannas but it has come to this.

Score
Nannas 1 play … 2

Attendance:
CB, GF, CG, JH (1), RH, TK, AW, TW

MOM
JH

Possession
Nannas: 51%
Opposition: 49%

Time in opposition half
20 minutes.

Passing (including restarts)
CB: 15
GF: 5
CG: 25
JH: 15
RH: 15
TK: 10
AW: 10
TW: 15

Passes completed
40%

Multiple passes completed
10%

Shots
Nannas: 8
Opposition: 6

Shots on target
Nannas: 4
Opposition: 5

Corners
Nannas: 5
Opposition: 6

Free kicks
Nannas: 4
Opposition: 3

A quick snapshot of the game this week, and for the last few weeks
This is usually how the game goes: we dick around before the game (a few of us too cool to take it seriously); as the ref blows his whistle for kick off we scramble to get five on court; we start slowly almost surprised that we are actually in a competitive contest; the opposition take advantage of our confusion, usually getting a couple of goals; the Nannas get in to a bit of a we are going to get beat again funk; Gilla starts pinging from range; a few decisions start to go against us; Tao gets angry and starts lashing out; Chas and Captain start trying moves that even Lionel Messi wouldn’t contemplate; I yell at Tao to shut up, and get angry with Chas and Captain and Gilla for that matter for continually kicking the ball away; by this time the opposition has got about three or four, while we have wasted any ball, momentum or good will we ever had toward each other; Guy will give one of those the Nannas are fucking crazy/we have lost again/what’s the point? looks; at half time everyone wants to be captain, while the Captain struggles to give us a pep talk; by the time the second half rolls around we are playing better but there is no composure or control, so while we might be doing better in defence we are never going to crack them open in attack, not consistently anyway.

Plusses (well sort of)
There is still fire in the belly
If all the shouting, yelling, pushing and shoving are anything to go by, the Nannas still have the desire to play the game and the fire in the belly for battle. If only we could harness that aggression and anger and direct as a combined force against our enemy.
Or maybe some Nannas have come to the conclusion that they will never win again, and their only option is getting all bent out of shape at the opposition and the ref. One Nanna comes to mind here.

Defence is not the problem
This week we played against a team that had a lot more cohesion in terms of their passing and movement. Yet they only scored two goals. You can put probably two very fine saves from Gilla as the main reason it did not go to four against us but as a team we did hold them pretty well.

Issues
‘We are now the old and angry men.’
This quote comes to us from the Captain, and while it is arguable that he should do more to quell the rampant Nanna fury on court, he is right. The Nannas are indeed turning into a rabble, lashing out at everything and everybody, but mostly each other.
Composure, as Chassy says, is something that all the Nannas need to come to grips with. There were two main offenders on this evening (no names Tao or Gilla), and a third if his comment yelled at Chassy is to be taken into account (yes, that was me).

The stats do not lie.
We get plenty of ball. We just really suck at using it: our passing is truly shit; the options we take are worse (something that Gilla has to get his head around). It burns us every time.
The new Nanna creed: hold on to the ball or kick it to a teammate; don’t kick it to no one, or to the opposition.

The self put down
It was just under six months ago that the Nannas put out an under-strength team but still managed to take the title, beating all comers with guts, skill and teamwork. But all you hear after every game these days is, ‘they were really young, and really fast.’ Or the old chestnut, ‘Gee, they had some pretty sweet moves,’ said like some pimply teenager admiring his older brother who has just got himself a girlfriend.
Think about this bitches: we really aren’t that old and most times the opposition aren’t really that young or fast or skilful, and none of us have any serious injuries that we have sustained that are really starting to take their toll, crippling us now. But more to the point: if you think you are too old and slow and not up to it, then don’t play.

THE NANNAS vs

2                    :                    7

DC, AW, TW, TH, CG, TK, RH

We played these guys last week. Although last week we won the forfeit we chose to give these guys a little run around. Well. Last week it was a 7 – 1 loss. So if my maths is right it looks like last night was a bit of a win for the Nannas. Well done lads.

We made them look like a little bit of a bunch of idiots this week huh! We doubled our goal load on their asses!

We had a special coach last night. Someone who was coming off a little bit of a win for himself as well. Just a touch too tender to enter the battle field. Well his guidance was obviously a factor in our practical win.

All Nannas played with a pride and a fury that we come to expect from our boys. Dan was massive up front, Rhian was hard like a captain. Andy was a slippery greek as always. Tom had a slick look and a hard foot. Kondosan ran like a treadmill. Tao looked incredulous, often. I was there.

Still we are up high on the ladder, deny us that, THE ANNUAL!

Cooking was mine and I tried for a seven at the Burlesque Bar on Johnson St. Tao gave me one and everyone else looked embarrased. Chassy was missed, on the court and dancefloor. Luwow was underwhelming. Thank god we are not voting (except for Tao)

THE NANNAS vs NAMELESS BITCHESS

Forfeit – sweet brown victory

CG, RH, GF, DC, AW, TW, TH

I left Melbourne on Saturday morning at 6:45 am. it was sleetingly sad to leave but Brisvegas called. A man weekend with a difference. A footy trip. Three men, one game and 24 hours to do it. Walking off the plane at 9:30am the 20 degrees was to be the coldest point of the day. After a superfine breakfast and perhaps my fourth coffee of the day we rocked into the hotel room.

A minute nanna nap and we were off, to see Brisbane town. As it was by now 27 degrees, the volleys felt like Douglas Mawson had dressed me. I had to get some thongs. Luke and I took off the shoes and went looking for some thongs at the nearest chemist or even, god forbid, shoe store. Dan really wanted to just eat lunch, but we needed thongs. We walked and walked, we went through, malls, thorough museums, through amazing massive pools that were full of people swimming. Some, rather beautiful in their routine. Us, however, we kept walking. I think we did up to 12 kms though town and about 3 hours later we were happy and truely believed that we had seen, or rather felt the city.

Our walking took us to a park on Boundary Road that was an unofficial Aboriginal tent embassy of sorts. There was an enternal fire and sacred ground was all around. We stayed on the oval, with the fire and the day felt complete.

It was a good day.

Oh, there is also a massive phallic tower there that was built by STEPHAN, the towns most successful hairdresser, during EXPO 88. It is very funny, and bulbous. There are wack lights that flash at some times. Weird times. I heard from three different sources that the lights were to represent the arrival of huge ecstasy shipments, therefore it must be true right.

Collingwood won. 

Post feast chatter

Nannas     v      VJFC

1                  v            5

GF (1), CG (M), TW, DC, AW, JH

It was a fine night, in the end. The game started off rather shaky with one of the least powerful flurries ever. The Nanna’s looked shaky, but still we formed as the brown cloud of respect that we do. I must say the VJFC were a good team, not only was the game hard, but it was fair, except for Jim who nearly went to court apparently.

The game was really an avalanche of pain for us. We got hammered all night. It was not  that pretty, until of course when there was about one minute to go. In a blur of passing fury the nannas moved the ball up to the only nanna who had the stones to put one in. It was the newly appointed Geezer, Ghee the whinging pommy bastard, the  maggot from the ol blighty, the queens servant, the earls court rat. Guy Fraser. As he kicked the goal, he also spat out a mouthfull of blood. He must have taken a hit somewhere, but it all happened in slow mo. It was memorable.

Afterwards things got crazy. When we hit Lou’s opening, the only thing I remember is that Kano was calling out, “Is that Z-Bug, Is that Z-Bug? He’s a legend.” To us he is just Andy, the greek defender, the one to always order another fried banana. The sneakiest of the nannas. For the cook Jim walked us down the classy alley towards the finest xiao long bao’s in town.

Xiao Long Bao – Shanghai Steamed Soup Dumplings



Probably the worst season ever although it does fail to note we won our last game

Result: Vaga 10, Nannas 1
Attendees: CB, DC, AW, GF, RH, TK (MOM)
Goals: RH 1

It is time to enter the 36th chamber of Shaolin again. Analyse what you have and what you don’t have. We can forget all our past, broken heart, solitude, bad habits and old glories. Get calm and look around. Are we ready for the drill?

Now, you can see a big mountain next to yours. How can you get there? Can you get the top? What is your way? Any tactics? Plans? Advise? The enemy is in front of you. You know they do not wait your turn. You know Banzai charge does not work anymore. You know snipers do not pull the triggers till the last moments. You get them or they get you. We decide all on the court. You take a big breath even when you get the ball. Look around. Your body knows what need to be done. You feel moving millisecond slower because everything is under control. You make it happen as you imagined. You know what will happen next because you have the ball on your foot. To get the top of the mountain, we sometime climb down if it is necessarily. We go back to basic lessons and create the killer moves.

We fuckingwell drank that keg!

Result: ??? 7 plays Nannas 3
Attendees: CB, DC, JH, TH, TK
Goals: CB 2, JH 1
MOM: JH

Pre-game

• Ghee and I visited the Coach’s kid. She’s a cutie. Lots of dark hair. Great bowel movements. A bit grisly on this occasion though.

The match

• It was a tight five configuration. Gilla, Tao, Andy and Captain made themselves unavailable. Coach was back but Ghee got off at Redfern, with a serious little toe injury.
• The first five minutes. Both teams were in slow motion.
• The next10 minutes. We went behind 4 nil. They got two from headers. Cocky gave them a gift (a telegraphed pass right in front of our goal), which they gratefully accepted. Jim gave them a present too (a very soft pass on our side of halfway). They had to work a bit harder to convert that one.
• We got one back. Chas to Tommy, Tommy to Jim, Jim on his preferred side in space. Jim slots it past the keeper.
• Half time 4 to 1. We were playing better than them. We seemed to have more of the ball and lots of half chances, which we didn’t convert. They had more luck in front of goal.
• The second half. Very similar to the first. We seemed to playing better than them but on the scoreboard their tally progressed at a greater rate than ours. We got two to their three. Chas slammed one at their goalmouth from a side restart forcing an error and a goal. Chas slotted home for a second time after the ref gave us a break (probably because Gilla wasn’t there). They got theirs on the break, one of which was another header.
• It always felt like we would better them until a couple of minutes from the end. We had a number of clear-cut chances that on any other night we would have taken. Chas missed from point blank range, trying to recover a ball from very high in the air in a sort of scissor kick manoeuvre. Jim was one on one with the goalie only for the ball to bobble just as he was going to hit it. Cocky should have had a couple.

Analysis

• The Nannas put out a very strong team. Kondo made some fine saves. Tommy had a fine return performance post baby birth. Chas was strong and true. Cocky played without luck in front of goals but still threatened for most of the match.
• The tight five was gold. We played with cohesion, holding the ball nicely and for the most part finding people with our passes. Towards the end, we did slow a bit.
• Our defence was shit. We could not stop bleeding goals. But it has to be said that a least half of their goals were from headers, which are hard to defend against. Gilla needs to go watch their keeper, who could teach him a thing or two about when and how to throw the long ball.
• Ghee, as coach, apparently was giving us encouragement and direction from the sideline but I really didn’t hear him. Post match it was said that he had removed his shoes and socks mid-game to inspect his seriously injured toe. Interesting.

Afterward

• We went for plates upon plates of fried chicken and, to wash it down, a keg of beer. We drank it all.

Verdict

• If only we had of won it would have been one of the better nights of my life.

CG, DC, CB, JM, AW, TK, TW (1)(MOM)

1-3 Vs VJFC

It’s late, it’s Wednesday night and Austin Powers is on TV. Bu that’s not an excuse for not writing the match report.

We came up against some old foes and were keeping it together for most the game. Managed only one goal from a lovely pass across court from Chassy allowing a nice toe poke from myself to hit the back of the net.

That was in the first half. This team, who usually start to fall apart, much like Classic Nanna’s, were able to keep their cool and put a few more into the net than we were able to.

There was the most contentious disallowed goal from a throw from Gilla that just missed Cockys head to then slip through the goalies legs. It seemed that the goalie did indeed touch the ball but the ref, in his wisdom, decided to ask the goalie if he had indeed touched the ball before or after it went over the line. After a time the goalie couldn’t make up his mind and the ref still went against us. This only went towards confirming what Gilla always suspected of this ref.

In the end it was not just the disallowed goal that was our downfall but more the 3 subs that made it very difficult to keep a consistent game plan.

Angry already

Had to post – Everyone’s so happy, and Andy’s old bike is there.

1-0 v ?
CB, DC (1,mom), RH, AW, GF, CG, JH

A Win! A freakin’ win at last. Long has it been since the mighty king lion, vanquisher of mythological and metaphorical beasts, savoured the the sweet, cloying taste of victory. And well done it was too. A good solid 1 goal win, established early and defended righteously until the final whistle. Yes, a good solid win that was both good and solid. Hard edged and smooth, with very little ornamentation or detail, just good, honest and lacking in any overwrought features, characteristics, attributes, aspects, facets, parts, components or elements.

So moving on to other details of import:
• Whitney Houston died and was reincarnate as Susudio Dougdale Whitney Rhonda Coltrane Howthews Mathowie III • Kevin Rudd resigned as Minister of foreign affairs • Le Coq Sportif hired a camera he has already paid for because his still hasn’t arrived after 9 months • Ghee got some new Persols • Arsene Wenger said coming 4th is a trophy in itself after losing 4-0 to Milan in the UCL • Sydney scientists built the world’s tiniest transistor by precisely positioning a single phosphorus atom in a silicon crystal • Le Coq Sportif successfully wrote a setup script quicker than doing the task manually in the first place • Rocket started Kinder • The Hyandai iLoad with a third row of seats became very attractive • Austerity measures are enacted due to massive overspending •

I was going to write more about the nature of self delusion and outcomes versus process but that will have to wait for another time.

“done is the engine of more” – but isn’t that just capitalist thinking ?

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

I pulled in some favours from the family and got hold of some neck parma, some salami, and some panchetta for pizza night. Actually, I can’t verify any of those ingredients, it was so long ago, but I’m pretty sure we had salami. We had cheese, I know that much. The white stuff, the buffalo cheese, or danger cheese, as it’s known in milking circles.

Gilla was my Ben Kenobi, coaching me, encouraging me, as I kneaded the door and applied the toppings. There was as air of imminent disaster like a demons possessed shadow, closing in the room as the oven heated.

I told stories about cutting edge sexual deviancy and experimental adult video making, and then once every nanna in the room had turned a ghostly white, we sat down to 4 pizzas.

Then I bid the nans adieu, and they went home to have horrific nightmares about extreme penile pee-pee hole enlargement, and German schizen “cinema.”

We all had the nightmares. We all still do. In time, the sun will rise again.

5-8 Vs Harder Than Pele
CG (G,MOM), Dave (1), AW, JH (1), GF, TW (3, MOM)

I made some notes post game and during the cook to give myself some pointers when I finally sat down to write this report. I decided to let the notes speak for themselves.

Match report notes
Harder than pele 5-8
Tw3 david1 jim1
Jim with lovely header. Andy gave goal to david. I got one thru goalies legs, in off goalie and fought off 2 guys to kick 3rd.
The Uranus exp
2 girls and a cup
Be naughty
Pizza
Taught Andy about skat and the elephant party trick.
Frasay cook 5.67 at home

And that’s all folks.

0-5 loss vs hyderoos

CG, GF(mom), JH, RH, TH, AW

it was a long time ago – like WWII

in the quest for inept and poorly considered metaphors what planes were we?…

Hinkley was the Hawker Hurricane, dependable and did all the grunt work, shooting up the bombers while the Johnny Niceteeths in the Spitfires got all the glory dogfighting Messerschmidts. Did I tell you they were tough? They were tough. Fly with the arse shot out of them. Plus they both start with H and Hinkley’s a South Islander which is where the Hurricane would have been from if Stanley Hawker was a Kiwi.

Big Jim Hannan was the B17 Flying Fortress. Not the newest, not the biggest, not the fastest, not the best armour, not the biggest payload, not the highest ceiling, not the most guns, but responsible for killing more godless Nazis than any other weapon in the war.

Giller was the Me 262 – A fricken jet? In WWII? Yep that’s right – A fricken jet. In WWII.

Andy was pretty much the whole Russian Air Force or whatever the fuck they called it back then. Crazy two seat tank busters they made in the 10s of thousands and Yakelov fighters that the dude who made the plane flew the plane and other mad shit only Russians can do.

I won mom so I must have been something good like the Mosquito. Made of wood I was fast and I flew away whenever bad times came.

Fraser was the Ekranoplan, which isn’t even really a plane and certainly isn’t from WWII and willikers if that thing reacharound you boy will you know about it for a long time no sitting down sir.

How the fuck we lost that war with that arsenal at our disposal you ask? – I think the opposition were pretty much Korean War era models, Sabre’s and Migs and crap. Not totally out of our league, but next level shit. They had firepower, range, speed, ceiling and armour on us, so despite the fact we put up a good fight (probably slightly better than the score indicates) we never really looked like it.

To celebrate defeat Giller took us to a whole bunch of places that he’d been lucky enough to be able to rehearse the previous week when we lacked quorum. Northside -> Saskwatch -> Korean Izakaya

the Nannas v top of the table…
0. V. 5

Th, gf, cg, jh, rh, aw

Was not pretty…. As you can tell there were NO goals. Not much to say really. Let’s say that we held them to 5 goals…

Cooking was what it was about. We started at 4pm with golf then after Jim popped Tom by one and the captain drew with the goalie all bets were off. The we hit Taco truck, turned up after Carolyn Fraser but got served before her. Embarrassing , but a full show of respect! The game was next……nuff said….
Post match we hit Cherry bar and Saskwatcj did their thing. The Nannas did check the back room, with Deaf Lepard, Non Jovi, thin Dizzy and more….
Post cherry we hit Joomak – late night KoRhian respect.
An epic day……

7-2 Victory over Hampton FC
DC 1, CG 1(GK), RH 1, TH 2, TK 1, TW 1, AW

When you have shot a hyena jackle wearing a lion skin in it’s head. When you have bent over a Gryphon and showed that Gryphon what for. When you stand on top of mountain and that mountain is the Mountain of the Indoor Football Grandfinal. You fear no evil – for you are the meanest motherfucker in the valley. Basically you become what that dude became at the end of Kung Fu Hustle – a super awesome machine that cannot be stopped, you get that Buddha’s hand manoeuvre where you just fly in from the sky and smack any bitch down that tries to mess with you and there ain’t a damn thing anyone can do about it because you have achieved oneness with all that is and was and will be. Come to think of it, it was a lot like a kung-fu movie fight: we danced with them early for a while, trading blows, level pegging, going toe to toe. We got one – they got one back, maybe they were even ahead there at one stage, Giller was doing some fine saves, Cocky was monstering the goal without much luck, it was a bit of an arm wrestle. Then came DEATH BLOW. Not really wanting to blow my own trumpet here, but it was probably the reason I won MOM, plus Cocky did describe it as ‘an early contender for goal of the season’, so I’ll give you a brief run down. Basically it was the run in from defense, Tao laid it off to me and I struck it pretty sweetly from a few metres over the halfway line. It wasn’t a true toe poke, more of a hybrid half toe poke half ‘proper kick’, at any rate I got sweet hold of it. It seems to me that once you hit a ball sweet enough and it’s travelling at sufficient velocity it has no choice but to bend, and bend this one did, across goal away from the goalie, going into the net low and hard, the goalie left standing, the smack of the ball hitting the bricks leaving a resounding ringing through venue. Perhaps better goals will be scored, but this one also came at a decisive moment, the arm wrestle that had been being fought out by the whole team, was brought to swift conclusion by this one kick. From there we essentially were that giant Buddha’s hand that comes in from the sky and with impunity smites all those before it – the flood gates opened and we left laughing and smiling into the night, a night that featured delicious Huxtaburgers, drinks in a bar that you couldn’t get into to buy beers because of the private party – but you could sit on the street?, awesome car ballet behind Trippy Taco and a massive spray paint impromptu at Northside. We were happy and laughing but deep down we were sad, very very sad, because of the disrespect.

There is disrespect and then there is disrespect.

There are those that post a report late and redeem themselves with fluent prose, this has been known to win favour amongst upper management, occasionally to the chagrin of some select players. There are those that post late and display an aloofness that somehow places them above the Nannas as if match reports have no meaning or no relevance to the author.

Then there are those that post late for no apparent reason, laziness maybe, they forget the score, the vote count, even who played and then all they have left is the meta-report. The report on reporting, a last ditch attempt to try and save some face from a seemingly unsalvageable position.

Does this third style of report have a place? Does this style of report bring a new discussion to the whole reporting process? Is this, infact, the style of report that the Nannas have been craving. A report that looks beyond facts and stats, beyond reporting even, A report that spreads the legs of reporting, lifts the reporting processes’ skirt and reveals just what sort of underwear the reporting process wears.

For a report to work, to have any place in our history it must leave more than a record of events, it surely must attempt to recapture a moment in time that escapes the confines of the physical world. Aren’t we really craving a picture of our inner selves? emotions? feelings? doubts? fears? Leave the facts to the title and the photo, embrace the words that you long to see on the page, and in doing so take the Match report to the next level.

Surely there is a time when the meta report will pass without chance of a code violation.