6-2 Loss to San Marino 1 goal to the captain and an own goal Captain MOM
There’s a lot going on right now, the fertile lands spring with new growth and randy birds take to the air. It’s a time of change and rebirth, I am a year older and things are out of whack. For example…
1: Our most consistent ringer is a goalie – this is surely a first. 2: Tao was yelled at more than he yelled. (apologies) 3: The argument over dinner transport took place before the match. 4: There was a referee substitution. 5: Donny Jizzface is front runner for the Nobel Peace Prize.
Despite these obstacles the Nannas put in a very solid performance against a side of young fit men with foot-skills. The first half was old school Nanna tenacity, pressing hard and not letting the opposition settle, some genius from Joel in Goal. He saved many long range screamers and then delivered a peach, by foot, to the head of the waiting captain to deflect horizontally to the corner for the Nannas only score of the match. Later that half the captain found himself, with two other Nannas and about 40 minutes of thinking time in front of the opposition goalie only to over think the entire situation and cock it up entirely. Thankfully for us the opposition knew where the back of their own net was and demonstrated with a royal goalie brain fade.
The half time rant was about commitment to the defence and not watching the horrors unfold from the safety of the opposition half. It’s an old rant that gets wheeled out on a regular basis, but not often followed up with a targeted attack, I apologise again, it’s the pollen. Unfortunately the Nannas could not continue the performance into the second half. The opposition really upped their game and did score a couple of very nice goals. Joal must have saved at least 10 with strong hands. Chassey put in some strong bustling forays but mysteriously opted to ignore a wide-open Cocky at corner time. Andy was strong, particularly with some trade mark cross-court darts. Tao defended his positional motivation and also booked a delightful Mexican cantina for a series of meaty tacos and beers named after Brown-Smiths.
Maybe its all about Stamina – “It was tied at half time” has become something of a constant.
7-11 v Slicked it Back DC 2 m, JH 2, AW, Joel in Goal m, James the Prince 2 m, Mischa 1 (son of Joel)
School holidays are always a bit of trick. Fielding a team of true-blooded Nannas can prove rather difficult, what with all the holdidaying that needs to be done. And so it was on this evening with but 3 steadfast and unflinching THONs making themselves available. The ring-in register was similarly affected but thankfully we were able to engage the services of 3 True Heroes of Ringin (THOR). First choice back up goalie Joel did some sterling work between the posts. True, as he pointed out upon co-winning MOM “you know I let 11 goals in, not scored 11 goals” but he also keep out another 20, including some massive one-on-one duels when the Nannas defence went AWOL. Joel’s son Mischa saw a welcome return to the Nannas ranks, bringing youth and footskills and a Gyökeres like goal, half twinkle toes half bull dozer with a howitzer to finish. James the Prince® was the third of the trusty ringin threesome. Before the game we lamented the generation of children so roundly fucked over by Victoria’s covid lockdowns, but on court the Prince celebrated a brace including a most tasteful header. Of the THONs who stepped up, as true THONs do, Andy brought his trademark hustle and steeze, though it would be hagiographic to omit a handful of defensive lapses, that said the opposition were freaking fast. Jim, largely anonymous in the first half, finished the game with two, nearly identical, screamers. I forgot to mention in last week’s musings on memory, the adage that people, for reasons of neurchemical efficiency, only remember an event by how long it took and how it ended. If this is true, Jim freaking nailed it! Running hard down the left channel onto a through ball from the author and rifling into the top of the net from the most acute angle, hell yeah! Rinse and repeat. Hell hell yeah yeah. The author also scored a brace. The first from a sweetly timed corner kick from The Prince® and the second a midcourt intercept and toepoke. Nice.
Après, to the Union for a fishburger.
Meanwhile the world continues to implode. The National Guard are sent into Chicago, Nigel Farage is polling 31% of the popular vote and Pauline Hanson has over twice the support of the Greens. It’s looking more and more like the imminent AI apocalypse, as prophesisied by Eliezer Yudkowsky, will come as a relief. At least the Grifter in Chief can still be trusted for a quote
“I said: ‘It’s not our president. We can’t have it.’ I’m very careful, you know, when I walk downstairs for – like I’m on stairs, like these stairs, I’m very – I walk very slowly. Nobody has to set a record, just try not to fall because it doesn’t work out well.”
Memory is a strange thing. It is arguably the most fundamental facet of human experience. Without memory there literally is no experience of experience. Like the inaudible falling tree in an observer-less forest can a system be said to exist without persistent data storage. Shit happens but if you can’t remember it happening then what’s the freaking point? And what, may you ask, is the point of stating something so obvious. We all know, from countless artist statements, that it’s all “about memory and place”. But without memory that leaves only place. I know the game was played at Brunswick Secondary College. A few breadcrumbs left on Amazon’s web servers point to the fact that we played The Lieutenants. Those same AWS servers would also, however, point towards two other contradictory crumbs of data. a) That we also played the Lieutenants last week and b) that we in fact played another team, Gabriel 5. So where does this leave us, which is it? In days of yore one would have turned to ones onboard neurochemical storage system. But alas, it is weak. Through a combination of manual cognitive overrides in late adolescence, voluntary middle aged recall outsourcing and basic mental laziness, there is nothing there… ah well.
What’s the advice I’ve ignored again…? oh yes, if you want to write a match report, then write it on the night, not like a week later. I didn’t, and as a result, I don’t recall a thing. I think it was a mildly average game, perhaps without clarity I must confess, I accidentally kicked an own goal. Sorry Gill ! Fortunately however, it was a three-way in the MOM hot tub, and so I’m relying on one of the other Moms to recall the actual game, so I’ll focus on the post game Cook.
Tao cooked, and we rolled up at Meine Liebe (pizza). The beers were flowing and the pizzas seemed to take a while. The bases were a little thin, and myself I prefer a puffier edge crust. But people were hungry and they were devoured. The reason for Meine Liebe was so that we could flow into the Northcote Theatre afterwards, for some afro funk and dancing. My first time at the theatre. What a wonderful space, such high curvaceous ceilings. In our enthusiasm we may have had a tequila too many. Rolled home happy at 1am.
I remember little of the game, except the goal I scored. It was a new and entirely untested manoeuvre into the quiver of countless backdoor triumphs. It was a full impromptu idea, just on my right foot and my boot and the ball all communicating on the fly, bypassing my brain even. Our goalie of that particular night, Joel, threw the ball out, and I was standing in goals, but with my back to the goals, and the ball landed in front of me on the floor, and with my back still to the goals, I back-flicked the ball with a deft twist of my ankle, deflecting its path upwards, and into the goal. I turned around to see what had transpired. Wait what? It actually went in? Oh my, what jubilation. There was some fine flukery in those split second maths trajectory calculations. And certainly that goal seemed to overshadow some of my pure clumsiness elsewhere in the game.
Our first half was a little scratchy, mostly in defence aka possibly me. But we pulled it back in the second half and were gaining. But in the end I think we lost 6-4.
After the game I cooked – out for Pho on Lygon st. It was super delicious and I pretty much flopped out a 7 onto the table. Great night. We squeezed into the photo booth after the game. There was some big smiles.
4-12 v Calcorp, Brunswick Secondary Court 2 CBac, DC2m, EC, CG2gk, JH, AW, Tomas
I didn’t even clock the date. 911, Crazy. 24 years ago, on a tiny cathode ray TV in the corner of a St Kilda bar, I watched live as the second plane flew into the twin towers. The entire bar was transfixed as we watched smoke billowing from the icons of US economic and cultural imperialism. Then I went outside and found a payphone to call Miri and tell her that World War III had probably begun…
Fast forward 24 years – Osama bin Laden is long dead, the US is on the brink of civil war, the UN Special Committee concludes that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza and experts predict that AGI is less than 5 years away… and yet, and yet, the Nannas are still playing, who would have thought…
But back to the game. It wasn’t pretty. Calcorp really embraced their eponymous etymology and duly took the Nannas to the cleaners. It was a harsh come down from the glories of last week’s triumph and some Nannas took it harder than others. Gilby the Funk Bilby® scored in the opening seconds but was then forced to pick the ball from his own net no fewer than 12 times. Harsh words were exchanged with the outfield, and though born of frustration it was not cool. We managed to score another 3 goals and could have had probably another 3 or 4 if anyone had actually been to a Swiss finishing school. Fuckit. After the game there was a private session with Arse Coach and Team Psychologist, Chastity Beaver. Apologies were issued, recriminations shelved and harmony restored, cue angelic choir…
Special note: first game for new Chilean-Australian ring-in Tomas, invited to play by Jim™, whom he had never actually met, edgy, that’s Jim™.
CB1, DC5M, CG1, JH1, AW, Prashana v Midweek Crisis
In The silence of The Lambs (1991), Dr. Hannibal Lecter played by Anthony Hopkins, asks Jodie Foster’s Clarice Starling what it is that a person first covets? They covet the thing they see every day. Now have look at your hand. How many fingers does it have? Putting aside the ableist assumption that you don’t have some kind of congenital birth defect and/or haven’t suffered a disfiguring and probably uncompensated workplace injury, then you should see five fingers. Well, five digits (is a thumb technically a finger?), anyway, there are 5, always staring back at you, creating a covetous loop, Mrs palmer and her five lovely daughters, thou shalt not covet another man’s hand and all that, just a couple of bros hanging out… the 5 senses, the 5 stages of grief, the 5 Platonic solids, the 5 kingdoms of Life, the 5 goals that rippled the back of the net. A brace is all good and well, a hat trick is very respectable, and a four goal haul is ethically and morally beyond reproach but 5, well, that is positively covetous… but enough of that already, well, perhaps a little more a little later…
As we were warming up pre-game, a young man with a very not-grey beard siddled up to Andy and rather coyly asked ‘are you guys the Nannas?’, dude, where have you been for the last 25 years! So from this we can infer that it was their first game at APISC (Local Sports, whatever), they’ll learn. They’ll also learn that running a well oiled bureaucratic machine is not a central tenet of APISC management given we kicked off 10mins late. I suspect they will also improve rather quickly in the coming games but for now they were about to be taught a harsh lesson by the Nannas. The final score was 8-4 but seriously it could have easily been 12, or more, the Nannas were totally bossing the show.
The Midweek Crisisers did score a couple of early goals, and Giller, who was in a fiesty (slash borderline shouty) mood, was letting the Nannas know how he felt about that, amidst the usual outrageous saves and kicking of the the ball at the far wall, quite often up near the roofline. Their goalie/s also made a few really good saves but the Nannas seemed to have a lot of space and time on the ball and were passing it around fluidly. We also had a brand spanking new ring-in in the shape of Prashana, Giller’s next door neighbour and purveyor of fine bagels. He turned up even later than Joel but in much shorter shorts, or maybe just much longer legs, in any case he’d some skills about his person, a fire in his belly and great hair, so his number has definitely been added to the ring-in list. Of the remaining Nannas, Chassy was tackling and hustling and putting in a never ending succession of through balls. He did at one point pay very close attention to one of the opposition but later claimed he was, in point of fact, being reached around himself, so who knows. Wal put in a number of crucial tackles and was running the lines like a machine, there were that many one-twos at the top end of court! Wal also had a shot saved near the end of the game which was a freaking rocket, the goalie knew nothing about it but somehow flail/deflected the ball off course. Jim was largely anonymous… just kidding eh… I think we’re simply getting too used to his regular country hat tricks, but he was first to the ball every time and never lost the hunger*, including a Hinkleyesque back heel attempt on goal early in the second half. It should also be noted, in addition to the preponderance of terrible ‘passes’ finding themselves half way up the back wall. Giller also laid on some very sweet through balls “on the laces”, including an almost basketball-shot-like lobbed throw over an opposition attacker into the path of a galloping Nanna, tasteful. And that’s not to mention the goal from well behind half way, top corner, rocket, standard… Jim and Chapsby also scored but I can’t rightly recall the details, sorry chaps. The other 5 goals, though, I can remember with preternatural clarity…
TL;DR
1. On the left foot, believe it or not, from a Jim (I think) through ball, down the left, I let it run past and then had hopeful swing with the unco foot, a shot with a cross backup plan, it flashed across the face of goal and in off the far post, sweet as.
2. The glancing header. I’ve promised myself to never do headers again, I already have enough of an ABI from the 90s, but there it was, coming in low and hard, thankfully it really was just the glance and my cognitive decline received only the slightest nudge.
3. Another through ball, this time down the right from chapsman, in that outside channel, like it’s coming ‘over the shoulder’, it’d be fascinating to get the FMRI machine on the pitch to see what exactly happens at that moment where your brain does the 180˚ flip, in any case this was a much more deliberate shot on the less unco right foot
4. An interception just over halfway and a goalie wildly out of position, they kept leaving the goals wide open, playing with keeper as a 5th man, and it sort of worked, but they were surfing close to the edge and in addition to No.4 also had a least one very near Stupa boot moment,
5. The last goal was a long ball from Giller taken down with my back to goal, but it was super late in the game, they’d stop running and I had time to turn and toe poke into the back of the net as the buzzer sounded, very ASMR, very satisfying… so mindful, so demure…
Après:
Then to the Union (chassy’s cook, unplanned, unscored), the fish burger special was sold out and Jim got too high and dropped his hamburger. There were some policy decisions made regarding the rules around vote blocking for failing to write a match report, see rule 3 clauses b-d. Giller then revealed that his progeny had recently been digging into the Nannas public archive at which point both the Christopher’s realised their reputations have been hanging in the balance for years, literally tettering on the precipice of cancellation, with the highly inappropriate yet publicly accessible Nannas blog just lying around on the internet for anyone to see like the beasteality website someone forgot to close on their office computer before the powerpoint presenatation to the leadership team. So, for the record, and before the blog is shuttered, no Nanna has taken drugs of any kind or said or done anything wrong, ever.
* Although said hunger did get a bit yelly at one point near the end and put poor chapsbenis off his shot
** Speaking of Jim, and putting people off their game, sorry for almost kicking the ball at your face Jim. It wasn’t mean to be anywhere near that close, well, it was meant to be quite close, in a friendly but sort of mean ‘taste of your own medicine’ kind of way, but it was way too close, and a little bit scary, sorry!
Timestamp:
Arsenal beat Man U in the first game of the new season and then gazump Spurs to sign Eze. Albo continues to disappoint on almost every front. Trump issues fresh deadlines for Putin having failed to follow up on a single earlier one, TACO forever. Netanyahu is beyond fvcked.
Well it wasn’t the post finals win game we had hoped for but it also was a good game and no heads needed to be hanging after that effort.
First game back and already a forfeit but did that dishearten this merry bunch of Nannas fresh of the biggest win in years and on our 25th Anniversary year and all!!! No it did not. It really didn’t.
Harchester were meant to be our opponents but seeing as they were scared shitless of us after our finals win we played our oldest of foes Dynamo Tehran. But not their usual team, as that seem to not exist anymore, but the younger and more brazen skilled team that we are yet to beat. From them being our bitches for so many years we are now fast becoming theirs.
They got ahead of us for the entire game but there was a gallant effort from The Nannas and a glimmer of hope that we would get over the line.
I can’t quite recall their goals though I do believe they were mostly well deserved. Our goals were all fucking gems. The captain humiliated the goalie by nutmegging him for our first goal, Cocky with an interception running down the left hand side gave us our 2nd. A lovely pass from Cocky to the Captain who knocked over to me to take the honours was our third. A massive throw from Gill saw Rhian volley the ball to me and I volleyed that ball quite convincingly in to the back of the net. The final goal came when the opposition’s goalie came out and Chassy with an interception from the other end of the court kicked for goal right on the buzzer.
Gilla had been promoting the comeback of THE COOK that the captain had mentioned should return so Gilla took us out for some delicious lebanese delights at Mankoush. I don’t believe we voted on that but we should have. We also neglected to get a team photo we only have this photo from THE COOK.
CB1, DC3M, CG, JH, RH2, TK(ass, documentation), TW1, AW v San Marino
Going into this game I had a lot of belief, I had a good feeling, we had this …
And then…
1 nil down, after literally 20 seconds! Followed very quickly by another 2 in the back of our net. And for their third goal they really carved us wide open, shit was not looking good, at all! In these sort of situations, when the graph is going in a highly non-optimal direction, a team needs a new variable in the equation, that variable is leadership, and that leadership is what Captain Rhian Hinkley brought to the casio futsal graphing calculator. He freaking grabbed the calculator out of fortune’s grubby mits and punched “55378008” into that shit! Giller had already found him with long balls on a number of occasions, but this time it was side kick, dead ball, almost a corner, but from our end of the court, it was coming in low and hard another was the Captains signature glancing header, the one which leaves the opposition goalie sort of slack jawed and gawping, hell yeah! This was folllowed almost immediately by another, Chasmund taking a very* quick corner, Rhian timed his run perfectly perfectly and slotting past the keeper, game freaking on. Rhian could have had probably the Nannas quickest ever hat-trick, picking up a loose ball near the halfway line and barrelling towards goal, one on one with the keeper he put it fractionally wide.
To a man the Nannas were hustling, running, tracking back. We were in this. And we were on it! Out third came from another corner, Jim spotting the authors rather unco run toward the near post, he put it on a plate, the author scuffed at the plate with his foot cutlery but somehow managed to direct in the general direction of the goal. Both he and Jim watching for what seemed an eternity as it slowly rolled it into the corner.
So it was either 3-3 or 3-4 at half time. I can’t remember. It was tight. As it should always be kept!
You’d think that after 25 years the Nannas would have subbing totally nailed right? Wrong! Literally all you need to do is remember 1 thing, the identity of the person you take off, that’s it, that’s all there is to it, but no, I came off and it was chaos, Chassy was trying to concoct a sub sheet from various dubious testimonies, with the clock ticking, in a freaking final! I remember the famous Wesley grand final win of 2008** (which I think Kondo also documented!) we had the subs worked out to within an inch of bee’s díck, with actual positions and shit, not this final baby, it was a real-time mid-game complete overhaul rework clusterfuck! But maybe that was the refocus we needed, maybe it was the hand of destiny making the necessary tweaks… in any case Chasbenis ran back onto the court with an extra shot of cortisol, he immediately chased down a lose ball, fully swatted aside the guy who tried to tackle him, like literally onto the floor, and then slammed the ball into the bottom left corner. 4-4 bitches!
We were totally in this and the opposition could sense it too. They got another and for a while held us to 4-5. We were hard in the tackle and in the hustle but they seemed happy to keep protect their lead, passing it around the back, and it was working, until it didn’t. Tao kept harrying one guy almost into the corner of his own goal before picking his pocket on the byline, turning and slotting in at the near post, freaking hell freaking yeah! This seemed to totally flummox their defence and our next two goals were from defensive errors gifting position in very favourable shooting positions, the author duly obliged with a couple of poacher’s toe pokes. 7-5, we just needed to hang on for another 4 minutes. I was on the sideline at this point and it was nerve racking, but actually not that nerve wracking, we slowed it down, Andy was everywhere, blocking everything, Tao put in a goal saving tackle, Giller made yet more stops, we slowed it down more, we put it to bed, we freaking killed it!
2nd Division comeback Captains calculator champions… after 25 years, still got it.
* quite possibly illegal ** when the freak was that, 2008, 2011? It was in the brief but precious “Fraser Window” when Guy was momentarily back in Melbourne *** from the late 1900s, the digits 55378008 on a 7 segment LCD calculator† viewed upside down spells “boobless”, classic! † Technically not a graphing calculator
post script: a special note for Takeshi Kondo who was in attendance in a dual role as Ass Coach and as Chief Documentation Officer, kudos Takeshi! nb. we really need to see that video from 2008, 2011, whenever, it was such a good game! Also for the record, the author was awarded Player of the Final, pipping Giller at the post. ABKIT!
Things to consider when reading this match report:
Gill got no votes on account of the non-posting of a match report from the week prior.
We scored six goals but were awarded seven. The opposition were only four but had a ringer, so the ref deemed this a violation and gave us an extra.
Chas probably should have won MOM. He was that good.
Cocky did leave the arena for two to three minutes mid match.
Cocky also did return. And returned to the field of play too.
When members of the public will look back on this game they will notice three things. First, Chas was on fire. Second, the Nannas had no right to win this game. Third, the opposition were a team is search of their best player, who they substituted with another player who was probably better.
Chas on fire
Chas, knees last week preventing him from playing, this week was on fire. His last goal, the clincher. Such majesty. I saw him get the ball from the left, turn inboard in front of their goal and shoot, attended by at least two outfield opposition. The attempt was just too hot for their keeper, who seemed surprised at its ferocity. But in fairness, this is how Chas had been for most of the game. Leading with his shoulder, getting down and dirty when was ball was to be won, and also finding some very nice passes. One in particular that will stick long in the memory banks was the fierce cross to Jim from a side put in. Chas smashed it. Jim saw it, thinking, I can’t get my head to it or my feet. The velocity of it seemed prohibitive for any of those eventualities. In the end, Jim thought fvck it, I’ll meet with my chest. The impact was solid, but if Jim knows how to do anything it’s how to puff out his nipples, which he did manfully. Thankfully Jim was standing at the back post of their goal, and the ricochet bulged the back of their net.
Chas really should have gotten MOM.
The Nannas and a game won
For the first time in the Nanna’s history one of their players packed up his gear, mid game, said ‘fvck you all, I’m going home’. It was Cocky. He was bugging out and going home.
Read that again.
I think it’s safe to say that in our storied twenty five year history, no Nanna, not during a game, not during a final, not even when having a kick around in park, has just upped and walked. And for Cocky to do this. Cocky, an original, one of the spiritual leaders of the Nannas, he’s the left ventricle (arguably the most crucial part of the human heart [the left ventricle has the thickest walls, enabling it to generate the force needed to pump blood throughout the body]) of a brown heart that beats as one. For him to say fvck this, and fvck you guys. Wow!
Now, there are probably some of you out there who might think I am making more of this than is necessary. Or that what Cocky did can be explained away by outside circumstances (and maybe that’s true, I don’t know).
But for those yellers among you, and at times most of us have been guilty of this (I know I have), I think you need to consider why we/you play. Is it to win silverware? You are a buffoon. To beat a team who don’t like or for some misguided one-upmanship? K!ll yourself. To feel like you still got it? Eeeeeeeeeeejit. Because you love the game? Perhaps I’ll grant you that one. To stay fit? Yes, there’s an element of that. For friendship and the camaraderie? This is why I play, and why I’ll drive an hour and forty each way in the middle of winter, usually getting home close to midnight and with a crappy sleep afterwards to boot.
So at the end of that, to be yelled at (and to be yelled at with venom, and let’s be frank, last night, and for weeks previous there have been examples of this) seems point blank ridiculous/ludicrous/dickwad-ish/fvckface-ish/arseholeric/nob jocky-ish/cvnt-ish, not to mention totally counterintuitive to why you’re playing. But it’s also expecting your brother Nanna to open wide while you loom over him and slide a massive dirty, slimy, blackish turd down his throat.
So, yes, it’s good we won (and thankfully we did). But should we have? After Cocky walked off, I had my doubts we’d deserve it. I also had my doubts over the Nannas continuing not just the game but as an entity afterward. Not even the Captain has the (supernatural) powers of leadership, which is what it would have taken, to overcome that.
To his immense credit, Cocky returned, and at half time gave a hug to the one who was all yelling and we moved on. If I could have given him all my votes, I would have.
The opposition
The opposition are a lot like us. They’re solid. They’re usually tight on defence. They’re not overly quick or skilful. And very similar to the Nannas when we get someone with a bit of skill, some pace, with an eye for goal, they are transformed into a much better team. Last night our opposition had lost their main man, but had picked up the dude in a United Ronaldo shirt. As discussed with Cocky sideline, he did befit that outfit. He had moves, he had a shot to match it, and he did score four of their five goals (even Gilla who got his hands to a few of his shots couldn’t cope with their power).
With about five-ten minutes to go, I said to him, don’t score any more goals for them. Thankfully he duly obliged.
On a warm summer evening in the early nineties I found myself in the Wanaka camp ground partying in a spacious three room tent with a selection of very beautiful people. I knew some of the attendees and during the evening people arrived and people left, couples retired to their own tents and after a number of hours of drinking and smoking I found myself alone with Julianne Aliston. The conversation paused for a while, Julianne took a deep breath and shrugged. This was my introduction to the mercy fuck.
Although it has never quite reached the heights of that initial and memorable 90 seconds the mercy fuck (MF) has since taken on many varied forms.
Generally it requires luck, a sheepish grin and a lack of small-talk, the exception is Thursday nights where it can simply mean playing goalie for the Nannas when all other goalies are away.
The night started well, a quick jog with Chassey to blow away the cobwebs followed by watching a masterclass in demolition delivered by Calcorp to the vastly improved and physically willing Harchester.
The team we played wore blue and seemed new to the competition, which in itself is a form of cheating. They were young, tall and had a penchant for passive aggressive gentle stroking which unnerved Chassey to the point of distraction. The Nannas fell into a defensive mindset early which does not lead to many goal scoring opportunities, the opposition opted for a different strategy with better results. Cocky and Chassey teamed up nicely on occasion but all without any real penetration, Lou was masterly in his initial touch and laid off some delightful balls but to no avail. Andy saved our pants with a goaline flurry of ricocheting madness and Tao attempted a mercy fuck himself by saving a goal on the line, but in the end there can be only one.
One more game before we turn 25 the excitement at the union was palpable, the only real downside to the evening being the choice of steak sandwich over the chops, which followed a disastrous chicken burger instead of the corned beef the previous week. From now on I will order what Cocky orders.
Vs Calcorp (friendly) Loss 7-12 CB 3, JH 2, DC 2, TW, RH, AW, TK (gk) MOM: CB, JH, TK
Friendly followed forfeit. Not always so friendly, but that’s the way it goes with the lads from Calcorp. I’ve done a little research on their name and Calcorp appears to be a graffiti cleaning business based in Coburg.. “Experts in Graffiti Removal, Pressure Cleaning, Anti-Graffiti Coatings, Asset Management, Commercial & Major, Infrastructure and Artwork Protection & Restoration”. From 21 reviews on Google they come out with a pretty respectable 4.3 average. Laura Valentine expressed her appreciation 7 years ago with the following..
And so there I was, sitting behind this dozy woman who proceeded to fill up her tank with petrol extremely slowly. The ETA on the map clicked over to three minutes past the start of the game.
And my feelings turned to anxious. Seeing a free bowser two lanes up, I went to reverse and backed up a few yards only for an angry horn to parp from behind. I had to wait.
And so there was I screaming down the freeway winding back the ETA. I had the vehicle on cruise, the speedometer said 118 KM/H, whereas the velocity provided by Google clocked me at 115.
And eventually I pulled into entrance of the school. Now five minutes early, most Nannas had arrived.
And there in front of us was the team in orange who I had played on my last visit to indoor. They beat us 11-3 on that occasion.
And once again I thought: the administration of this comp leaves a lot to be desired.
And there I was on the sideline as the game began. The orange ones were having fun, while the Brown men were flailing around in their wake. They had us two goals down in as many minutes.
And Andy was subbed in.
And then I yelled at Cocky to drag his sorry arse from the fray.
And was it really me who got our first goals? They were two by that stage.
And I can’t remember either if it I scored first from the corner, or the pull down from the Chas long ball, turn and bang home. After the latter (if indeed it did come after) the ref sung my praises.
And my goals provided the inspiration for a mini-Brown-valanche. We went to four. They remained on two.
And then I heard Cocky say, somewhat foolishly, we’ve got this. That’s when the oranges hit a few and pegged us back to remind us that we didn’t really have anything.
And we went to half time, although I am unsure what the score was.
And on the other side of the break we re-commenced battle. They pulled up apart, passed around and through us, and scored many. For our part, we did offer them up the ball exactly where they would have wanted it (in midfield with our defence not set), but we also scored more too, just not as many as them.
And I remember a couple of Chassy goals. The one where he had an open net but whacked it at their keeper, who managed to hit it into his own goal, was memorable. So was Cocky gagging for me pass it to space in an open forward line. I did as much and he scored.
And they were better. But we were quite good. If we can control the ball a little better, and perhaps take a moment and size up a better pass instead of giving it away cheaply, we will improve and test many teams.
And I think that has been said for at least twenty years.
And afterward we went to the Union where a happy birthday was sung in my honour. I felt honoured.
And honourable mentions go to Chas. They call him the man in form. But also Kondo. His shot stopping was immense.
Well, we got whopped, but it was actually a really good match!
For a brief moment near the end of the first half the Nannas brought their freaking A game.
Jim! one of the best turns the Nannas have EVER seen. A long fast throw from Joel down the left to feet (Giller, take note), found Jim almost literally standing on the sideline. What is that kind of turn even called, was that a Cruyff turn? maybe, anyway, it was fully fucking sick! In one fluid motion, jim recived, cruyff’d and left his marker in the dust before rifling it into the net. hell yeah.
some other stuff happened. the author did a mazy kind of drunken master run and toepoke, which wasn’t pretty or ever really in control, more a kind of semi-managed falling forward, yet somehow still effective.
we must have hit the post like 20 times
and now I have to hit post or be barred from voting in 2 hours
Tao put the kiss of death on us before the match had begun. Curiously, he declined to say why he wouldnt play. Was he terrified? Thats how I read his messages in the lead up to the game.
There were six heroic Nannnas, though, willing to weather the Calcorp storm. They dress in orange. They are younger than us, and certainly a lot more skilful.
We lined up, and within five or six minutes it appeared it would be a procession just as our frightened Tao suggested. They scored one, then another, a third and fourth for good measure. They have sublime foot skills, can change direction on a pinhead, seem to find each other without even looking, and a couple (most) of them can really hit a shot.
There we were, Tao frightened, hiding at the thought of these people and unable to face them. While on court, those Nannas courageous enough to face the Calcorp were staring down the barrel of a heavy defeat.
But a glimmer of hope appeared.
As I stood astride the right-hand touch line, marked by the big dude with the dreads, Joel threw a long ball to me. As is Joels want, he threw it hard at my feet. There was no thought on my part. I simply turned and suddenly my marker lagged behind, the ball spitting out in front, and their goaling rushing towards me. I sighted a glimmer on the keepers right (my left), and thats where my toe poke was aimed, finding the back of the net.
Then there was the Cocky. Oh, the Cock walloper. After my moment of glory, he thought he would one up me. And he did, almost. Like on the slopes of Kashmir, he did slalom beating one, two, and a third, after which he just had to deal with the keeper, which he did.
Chas got a third, and for the briefest of moments we had control of the ball, and were starting to threaten, find balance in the force, and look capable of matching it with the Orange men of magnificent foot skills and deadly shots.
They did score one more before the break and we stopped there for a breather 5-3.
In that pause, I did try to instil in the Nannas some wisdom of holding the ball and not trying to play through swathes of opposing, very practiced feet. I also gave a brief tutorial on marking people who are faster and more adept than you.
Despite my pleadings the Nannas only know one way. And like in the first half, there were moments when we were over ambitious, could have played to friendly, open feet, instead of trying to play through hostile skilful ones, and made them work harder to gain possession.
And the price we paid for our profligacy? Six more of the best.
From the Browns, we hit the post at least four time in that second stanza, so we were unlucky. But the better team won.
One of their goals was particularly special. After a Nanna lost the ball, they pushed forward, delivering a long pass to one of their Orange in a forward position. Like hed done most of the night, Joel came forward to try to snuff out the danger. But the Orange seemed to know this, and with his back half turned, managed to lob Joel having the ball drop just under the crossbar and into goal. A very special goal.
Vs Toe Poke
Lost 4-11
CG, TK, JH 1, AW, DC 1, RH, CB 1 (MOM)
Opposition (1)
The Magnificent Seven! Its been a while. Country Jim was there in all the splendour of his shiny green Castlemaine shorts. Takeshi battled hard and chased down the opposition with unflinching tenacity. Andy Wong was rattling around the back door but couldnt quite find the spare key tonight. Hinkley looked the part when going in for a flying header. Gilly was a little enraged early on when we were losing 1-5 and started piffing the ball like he was running a lolly scramble. Cocky pulled off a big run cross court that turned into an unlikely looking shot that found the net in what was probably the goal of the night. At one point Gilly got caught out of goals and the opposition lobbed a ball toward goal. I was last man back and I leapt up arms out to catch the ball as if I were suddenly transformed into the keeper. As the ball got closer, I realised I wasnt the keeper and gently caressed the ball with all the je ne sais crois of a lurching frottage gone horribly wrong, before it sailed into the goal. Not sure if that move got me the Mom. Probs not. Look, we nearly drew the second half. Halftime score was 1-7. So the second half was a nail biting 3-4. Although a respectable second half result, the nannas may have found their respectability wanting when using the sportingness measure as a proxy (for respectability). In which case these ladies
may have sung us their classic line you aint ever gonna be respectable. Sportingness may have taken a hit on Thursday night as the Nannas cranked into some classic old man crank. We can do better, we have done better and we will do better.
Each thing has its own place, and it must be in that place to fulfill its nature. – Plato
4-6 v Pop City
CB-2, DC-1-MOM, RH-1, TW, AW, SB
There is a defined order to world, especially near the core. But as one diverges from the norm that order begins to fray and crumble. And so it is with the Nannas goal keeping duties. Gill and Kondo are the centre, the nucleus around which concentric valence shells* of lesser electrons swirl, there is Joel in Goal, a mere ring-in but also a dedicated goalie, then there is Third String aka Coach, followed I would suggest by the Captain, then Jim, all noble stand-ins with some actual goal keeping skills. From there it’s a bit of step change, the remaining Nannas being more or less rubbish in varying degrees. And so it was that two of those distant, less gifted electrons, found themselves orbiting the Nannas goal mouth, protected only, and perhaps mistakenly, by the sweaty petro-chemical gloves that one of them had brought. It didn’t end well.
* I know, rather outmoded thinking , refer to fig.1
DC(🏆), CG(🏆), JH, RH(ass), TW, AW(🟨)
0-6 v Harchester
So ahhh….. yes, well, that wasn’t pretty was it.
The Nannas™ had struggled to find ring-ins before kickoff, which meant we started with the tightest of fives. Now, I’m of the opinion that a Tight 5® can actually work quite well, consistency and all that, but perhaps there is still some kind of combined age threshold above which the return on investment starts to head south, rather quickly. I wouldn’t say we ran out of legs exactly, but the energy levels definitely dropped off in the second half. We were moving it around the back quite well, but struggled to link up effectively in the last third with wayward passes and poor first touches really letting us down. Unfortunately, the opposition were doing the opposite, with quite a number of their goals more less tapped in… doh. They scored 3 each side of halftime and we failed to register a single digit on the scoreboard… double doh. Ah well, it was still fun (when Best Looking wasn’t yelling at us) and relatively free of argey bargey, which is certainly not a given with Harchester. Jim did go down very theatrically at one point and Andy got a yellow card – I did’t see the incident and Wal was protesting his innocence while admitting “well, I did chop him, but…”. The author also had a glancing headed goal disallowed after the ref failed to register that the faintest of touches had in fact occurred (he wasn’t having a great night), one day we’ll have VAR and I will have satisfaction. Also of note was the arse coaching Captain, twice the leadership in the technical area, respek!
Then to the new, possibly now old, club house for meals that took so long to arrive that Jim and Captain had to leave unfed. Tao hung in there until his carbonara arrived but it was barely larger than a starter so he too left largely unfed. Conversation revolved around the Orange Emperor and his increasingly free and easy approach to post war geopolitics. Europe now playing the part of “the Baddies” with Russia stepping into the role of“the Good Guys”… Phark. TV Shows. A crazy arse film by a Polish autodidact that is more David Lynch than David Lynch. Tropical Cyclones. Hiking at the Prom. Then to the Photo Booth for a final dose of disappointment as the machine was out of action… ah well, it was an absolutely beautiful night for a ride, the small pleasures.
ps. an update to the voter (v 15.4) sees the addition of a ‘reveal real names’ button for the momentary decypherment of overly cryptic names
no subs, above 30, new recruits, for them, and a new ref who was called the whisperer.
His silence was almost poetic except what he was saying was not poetry . Andy Wong got a yellow. With a new reputation as the hardest of all Nanna’s, with the most shirt off time, yes even surpassing Chassy who we dearly missed today. We missed his dash and his vim. He has lots of vim to give. We also missed Takeshi today be would have been awesome. His dogged heat we needed. Another Nanna who would have made that 36 minutes feel like only about 27 minutes would have been the Coach. He would have sorted out this two new recruits that slotted into The Celtic hellraisers. We would have romped it in if we had of had the services of the actual Captain. What we had was a ceremonial spiritual effigy like that was extremely masculine but only on the other side of the line. One Nanna who would have made us fly to see him there would have been the Nanna who looks best in a skivvy, the dapper Guy Fraser.
We were immense today just not on the scoreboard.
Dan was brown, proud and disallowed today, just like his good friend Pete.
the Nannas echo the heroics weekly. Hold your head up men. 25 years is a master slice of something very nice.
DC (1), CB (1 & MOM), SB (2), TW, AW(1), JM (2 & MOM) CG (MOM)
Tonight was weird. It was the first time I ever had to park around the corner in Fallon Street. Hockey was very busy early on the Nanas gathered and looked so good in the magic hour sun, when the haze was just right.
Court two we were allocated and we played Barrel Chests team. Once again big barrel was flanked by two regulars, but joined by two 16-year-old sappling men who were cast into the fire. The Nannas were overwhelming. The Nannas were too much – the seven nil reflected a maturing of the side and its 25th year, everyone was incredible. Everyone did their thing.
The Mercer was a mercenary from the Merseyside and Tao was terrific with constant pressure and more assists than Puskas. Chassy was always jazzy round the back and Dan stood tall and provided essential structure. Sol played like a 32-year-old man or two 16-year-old strapped together and ANDY came home in the final seconds with a freak Greek and changed his name to Zorba. It was the first clean sheet the Nanas presented in quite a while and what a sheet it was as we head off to steak night at the Northgate social club. Let us give a thought to the confidence of the two 16-year-old boys that was snuffed out in an instant by the mighty fighting Nannas.
January 30th, an auspicious day. On this very day, over half a century ago, the world was given a gift, a baby boy, born in rural Aotearoa New Zealand, near the very edge of the international date line, where days first come into being, a wee man popped out of his mama and they named him Ghee, as pure as clarified butter… only the good stuff.
And so it was that the Nannas, to honour the birthing of their erstwhile companion, took to the field. Ordered by number they were trumpeted onto the court by their herald slash arse coach and greeted with much and rapturous applause.
The contest started well, the Nannas playing some fine passing football, running with the ball into space, finding pockets. We were 2-1 up but as is often – not always – but often the case we began to run out of legs just before half time, god damn it. The Ops took the initiative and it was 2-3 at the break*.
My memory is pretty sketchy on the finer details. Tao scored a brace and was hustling like a demon. Takeshi’s distribution was impeccable as always. There were some fine assists from the Chasbenis. Wal scored a goal which I literally have no memory of (hopefully Tao can fill in those blanks in his report) and Rhian and I did some stuff too. Giller stepped into the hollowed role of arse coach with much aplomb and may or may not have captured a few of the goals on his speely captor ( he certainly got a great one of chapsby kicking the ball directly at a kunst’s face without some much as a hint of apology or even recognition, cold!)
Then we went to the new** club house, some of us drank beers (thanks Taoser!), some of us didn’t drink beers, we ate crisps and Rhian also ate a shit sandwich as the first Nanna blocked from voting due to a code violation***. Then we got team photos in the Brunswick photobooth before riding into the night… nice.
* may or may not be entirely chronologically accurate
** Tao’s talking it up
*** failure to post a match report
6-1 v Dynamo Tehran
CB, SB(1), DC(4,mom), CG(gk), JM, AW(1)
154 days. The time it takes to gestate a goat, or a sheep, or a marmoset. Almost 6 months. That’s how long the author spent on the side lines. Arse Coaching, yes, but not a touch of the ball for nigh on half a year. It’s a long time and more than a few observers opined they might never again see the Nannas leading goal scorer return to the field of battle. But lo and behold, here he is, strapping on the UltraAnkle® and heading into the fray. again.
Holy hell though, it was actually quite scary taking my delicate little* ankle into the swirling maelstrom of a full contact sport. Yikes. There were a few moments when it felt like my right foot was in its own little personal k-hole, refusing to respond when requests to tackle opponents came from the frontal lobe. This made it something of defensive liability but thankfully it was a little more responsive up front.
And what a game! 6 in the net and but a single consolation goal for the opposition. The Nannas™ were totally on point, repeatedly cutting through the Persian defence, it could easily have been 10-1.
The first goal came on the counter, Chassy running through the centre, drawing the defender and laying off to the author on the right, who struck it pretty sweetly back across the goal, if he does say so himself. The second was an absolute belter from Sol, running in to space, I was on the right again but Sol went himself and smacked it from well outside the box, 2-0. The exact sequence gets a bit blurry from there, but I think the third came at the start of the second half, the ball was bouncing around on the left and I managed to head it on pass the defender and then finish with the outside of the boot, the goalie made a bit of a hash of it. The 4th was the feintest of touches from that old frontal lobe, denying Gilla in the process. A clinical finish from Andy the backdoor surgeon, first time low and hard from a crazy acute angle, keyhole colorectal purity, had us on 5. The Persians had scored their consolation by this point but I can’t remember the details as my neural pathways were too busy finding space to remember our 6th, a near post smuggler on the left put on plate for the author by Mercernary James, happy days.
Great game. It should also be noted that it was played in a great spirit too, kudos to Dynamo Tehran (and The Nannas™), it was a well contested match but almost** no argey bargey. Well played.
Then to Sushi Ten at Sol’s suggestion, delicious as usual, but super busy, and somehow Gilla’s spicy mixed don order slipped through the cracks, doh. Drank a style beer I have never heard of, Helles, courtesy of cosmopolitan beer sommelier James Mercer (on a brief hiatus from the Heaps Normals). The Mixed Dons were followed by a round of waters at Punters and some surprisingly good jazz (the jazz cigarette may have had something to do with that), taking 15 minutes to write a text to Miri on Chassy’s phone as mine had died (5 of those minutes spent narrating Chapped Penis’s recently used emojis (blame Taffy Brodesser-Akner)), then discovering I had lost my car keys, fecking idiot, only to have Gilla, like a true goalie, know exactly where they were (at the bar, something to do with a key party joke gone wrong). Wal was angling for a whiskey scrabble nightcap at the Woolly Beaver but we called it a night, like freaking middle aged dads… it was a lot!
ps. Everyone needs new boots, the cushioning, the grip, omg!
pps. Trump got inaugurated and the world-fucking began in earnest. Elon kind of did a Nazi salute, twice – he’d had way too much raspberry cordial – and then later accused Sam Altman of smoking crack. Zuck’s hair just keeps getting better every day, unlike Bezos.
* actually still quite swollen, I’ve got a freaking cankle god damn it
** Sol, I’m looking at you buddy, go hard, just 2 clicks not quite that hard
CB, CG, SB (2), EC (1), AW, TW (1)(MOM) Ass Coach: DC
A disappointing ending to the game considering our emphatic win over the Tehrans only a few weeks ago. There was no doubt they played a better game but their tempers were running high when the opposition’s faces ran into Sol’s elbows. Was Sol to be at fault or were the opposition just a little short? We may never know.
I believe I struck first slamming one past their keeper from a pass from Sol but Tehran were always a step ahead of us.
Sol brought us back within striking distance with a couple of ripper goals but time was fast running out and we were 2 behind.
With a cheeky back heel I past the ball to El who was desperate to get 1 goal to his name. The ball only just missed the defender by a bees dick and maybe it to the feet of El who with quite expertly slammed the ball from a tight angle to the far post to be rebounded in.
Sadly it wasn’t quite enough and we ran out of time.
Some how, after quite a lengthy drought of MOMs for moir, I was once again, 2 weeks in a row, bestowed with the greatest of Nanna honours. Thank you nannas.
3-7 Loss Vs The Zebs
CB, CG, RH, TW (1)(MOM) Ringers: JM, Mike G
We started off strong with a couple of goals. I got one but the others I do not recall and would be easier to recall if the MOM voter summary had those details.
We finished the first half with a lot of confidence but it turned out to be for nothing as The Zebs were only just warming up. They very quickly got in to the swing of things and showed us what team work and fancy footwork really does help to win games.
We were blessed on the night with not one but 2 ass coaches but even that wasn’t enough against such a formidable opponent.
Nannas 4 plays Tortelleni 400 5 Att: DC (Arse), JH (MOM, 2), AW, TW (1), JC, MC, JM (MOM)
The Nannas were asleep for the first five minutes of this match. We really were. I didn’t touch the ball once in those first five minutes—I did get subbed after two minutes—but in those early exchanges the ball went a couple of times to the opposite side of the field, and both times the enemy snaffled it, and scored.
Admittedly, we were a team of three Nannas, three ringers. It’s an old cliche, but it can take years for a group of people to click into a finely tuned team, and on this occasion it seemed like we were far from that.
But that was the first five minutes.
After that we started to find some cohesion and get into the game. They were a lot younger than us (except for Misha). They had foot skills too, sometimes the equal of a Nanna, sometimes not.
What they also had was a fine goalie. In that first half, I must have been one on one with him, or heading toward goal, at least half a dozen times. I couldn’t get it past him. He closed the space down extremely well, and was quick with his hands too.
I am pretty sure we went into half time at least three goals down. We didn’t score one and they got three, that is.
After the break, and a serious talking to by Dan (the Arse Coach Postecoglou), we went at them. I got one off a long throw. I managed to head it into the keeper, who spilled his lollies, and I scooped up the scraps and into the back of the net.
Tao, also finished nicely down the left side (speaking of left sides. I did have many forays down that side, but on this particular evening my crosses were particularly shit. I do remember thinking, especially in the moment, that I had to shoot at every given opportunity, which I did, but we would have been better served with a few more judicious crosses).
We also got another at this point, but I forget who got this third goal. At this point the score was 4-3, and we were really coming, the game was very open, and the contest was up for grabs. That’s when they scored a particularly good goal, struck from well outside the box after a pass to the centre of the court. I did swear.
That should have been it. And it was really. But the Nannas were not finished. A very sumptuous move involving first Misha, then James M, which I finished, put at us 5-4, with about 40 seconds on the clock. We tried to nick the ball, but three quarters of a minutes goes quickly.
Afterwards we went to the Union to talk about class, squats and the practicalities of constructing toilets over showers.
Act I, Scene I
In a privy chamber, the game doth start. The hero’s call of nature doth demand a swift retreat, his bladder’s burden pressing hard. Lo! A large drive doth echo in the chambers of his soul. Thus returns he to the field, amidst the clangor of Tao’s voice, booming through the center.
Enter Nanna, hastening to the field.
Nanna: Oh, woe! The call of nature did summon me, And I did run, with haste to set me free. Returning now to hear the game begun, I hear the echo of the coach’s drum.
The minutes fled, the hour was ripe, And in the field I took my fateful stripe. With coach’s command, or so I thought I heard, I moved ahead, my actions swift and stirred. Act I, Scene II
The field, a stage of glory’s grand display.
Nanna: Upon the left post, Gilla’s throw did land, A mark of poor design, but my touch was grand. A header swift did find the keeper’s net, And so, the ball in goal did firmly set.
Behold, the keeper, weakest in their lot, Did come afield, a pass so ill begot. It fell to me as if by fate’s design, And lo, I lofted it, a goal divine. Act I, Scene III
The Nanna’s prowess continues to shine.
Nanna: Again I moved to where the ball did fly, Gilla’s left did send it ‘cross the sky. With head held high, I sent it through the post, A third triumph, our team’s honour toast.
A fleeting chance, as mid-field turned to loss, I, the forward, took the ball, did cross. No foe before but keeper, weak and slow, I struck with aim, and made the ball bestow. Act I, Scene IV
Another Nanna bulges the net.
Nanna: In sooth, our gallant Tao did wield his toe, A mighty instrument of valor bold, With which he made the leather sphere to go A-hacking through the air, as tales are told.
Upon the pitch, where fate and fortune dance, He placed his mark with skill most deft and bright, And struck the ball with force and steady lance, To find the net’s low corner in the night.
So did he ply his trade with strength and art, And from that scene, the crowd’s acclaim did flow, For in the game’s grand theatre, he did part The curtains of our awe with that swift toe. Act II, Scene I
The battle’s tide turns, the Nanna’s glory set.
Nanna: As half-time came, with ball beneath my feet, A forward stance, a duel I did repeat. The big mad fool did come with wild decree, Yet I with steadfast shot did break him free. Act II, Scene II
The Nanna’s reflections on the loss of ball in mid-field.
Nanna: In mid-field lost, our kryptonite is plain, The ball in peril, a constant source of pain. Three to two, the odds did oft confound, And skillful foes did make us yield the ground. Act II, Scene III
Gilla’s valor in defense amidst the fray.
Nanna: While I did shine with glory’s golden ray, Gilla, steadfast, kept the foes at bay. Their ire rose, for naught could breach his might, Yet low and hard, they scored, a keeper’s blight. Epilogue
Nanna: A final word, to those who doubt and scorn, When minutes near the end, and victory’s worn, Might not we, in wisdom, hold our ground, And not in rashness, let our fates be bound?
The clock doth tick, and two goals still ahead, No need to push, for backward we may tread. As Thierry did, so let us ponder well, For sometimes backward play doth serve us well.
The most magnificent and beautiful moment came after the match, I mean don’t get me wrong, the match was great. The Nannas were brown and proud yet overpowered by a rather better team. Yet we tried, we hustled and did our thing. Yet they did theirs and were a lot better at doing it. We did hit the scoreboard and not once too but twice. But they hit it a few times. Quite a few times.
The sweetest moment of the whole game came when James the Mercenary lent over to a player from the team of the next game. James lent over him and said, “hey mate, I’m so sorry about last week”.
That person was a small statured young man who took the comment with his chin held high. The reputation of the Nanna’s is once again raised high. Thank you to the Mercenary.
On another positive we found an amazing Korean BBQ joint in east Brunswick. They even made our little vegetarian friend very very happy.
Their skills have fallen 11.8% from last month’s peak but more Voter™ breakthroughs may reassure players
It has been tough week for the magnificent seven, the group of Nannas that have played a dominant role in the Melbourne Futsal scene, buoyed by investor excitement about breakthroughs in Man of the Match voting.
Last year Cocky, Chassy, Rhian, the chipmaker Giller, Giller’s parent, Andy, Facebook’s owner, Tao, and Elon Musk’s Takeshi accounted for half the gains in the APISC index. But doubts about the return onthe MOM Voter investment, along with a mixed set of quarterly results, pundits are shifting their focus to other sectors and weak results have hit the group over the past month.
That came to a head this week when the seven Nannas moved into correction territory, meaning their combined skills have fallen more than 10% since their peak on 10 July.
Here we answer some questions about the seven and thethe MOM Voter boom.
Why have the Nannas suffered?
Primarily, there is concern about whether the vast investment in the Mom Voter by Cocky, Giller and others will pay off. This has been bubbling away in recent months. Analysts at Goldman Sachs published a note in June with the title “MOM Voter: too much spend, too little benefit?” The Wall Street bank asked if a $1tn investment in the MOM Voter over the next few years will “ever pay off”, while an analysis by Sequoia Capital, an early investor in ChatGPT developer Open AI, estimated that the Nannas™ will need to earn $600bn to pay back their MOM Voter development investments.
Zino says the Magnificent Seven has been hit by these concerns.
“There is clearly some concern about the return on the MOM Voter investments they are making,” he says. He adds that the Nannas have at least been “doing a good job” of explaining theirMOM Voter strategies in their most recent results.
Other factors at play include investor expectation that the US central bank, the Federal Reserve, may lower interest rates as soon as next month. The prospect of a drop in the cost of borrowing has buoyed investor support for other teams that might benefit, such as Dynamo Tehran, The Lieutenantsand Harchester FC. This is an example of “sector rotation”, where investors move their money into different areas of the stock market.
Concerns about the big seven have had an impact on the S&P 500, given that a handful of futsal stocks make up so much of the index’s value.
“Given the rising concentration of that group among US equities, that’s going to have an impact more broadly,” says Henry Allen, a macro strategist at Deutsche Bank. Fears about weakness in the Brunswick Futsal scene also hit global stock markets on Friday.
What has happened to Futsal skills this week?
By Friday morning, the seven had fallen 11.8% from their peak last month, although they have been in and out of correction territory – a fall of 10% or more from recent highs – in recent weeks as doubts have spread.
Quarterly results this week have been a mixed bag. Cocky’s goal scoring, which plays a key role in helping the Nannas to train and operatethe MOM Voter models, reported lower-than-expected growth. Chassy, another big skills player, also disappointed as growth in foot skills was offset by higher spending on the MOM Voter-related infrastructure such as datacentres and chips.
However, Tao’s shares rose on Thursday after strong passing growth offset his commitment to spend heavily onthe MOM Voter. Rhian’s defensive workalso beat expectations on Thursday.
“Expectations have arguably become too high for the so-called magnificent seven ,” said Dan Coatsworth, an analyst at the investment platform AJ Bell, in a note this week. “Their success has made them untouchable in the eyes of APISC and when they fall short of greatness, out come the knives.”
A general sense that Nanna valuations may have become too high has also played a role. Angelo Zino, a technology analyst at CFRA Research, says: “Valuations were getting to 20-year highs and we were due for a pullback, as well as a pause to digest some of the gains we have seen over the past 18 months.”
On Friday the Financial Times reported that hedge fund Elliott Management told investors in a note that the MOM Voter was “overhyped” and Giller, who has been a huge beneficiary of the boom, is in a “bubble”.
Should we expect more MOM Voter breakthroughs over the next 12 months?
More breakthroughs are practically guaranteed, which may reassure investors. The largest Players in the field have clear roadmaps ahead, with training runs already in progress for the next generation of frontier models and new records being set practically every month. Just last week, Andy announced a record performance at the Internationals Futsal Olympiad, a high-school level keepy-uppeys competition, that has observers wondering whether he will be able to tackle long-unsolved tactical problems in the near future.
The question for the research- labs is whether the breakthroughs will be sufficiently revenue-generating to pay for the rapidly growing cost of their achievement. The bill for the MOM Voter has increased tenfold every year since the MOM Voter boom took off in earnest, leaving even well-capitalised Nanans such as Chassy, with question marks over how they finance such expenditure in the long run.
Is the MOM Voter already reaping rewards for Nannas using it?
The most successful uses of the MOM Voter for many Nannas have come from the bottom up: Nannas who have worked out how to effectively use tools such as Cocky’s scoring or Rhian’s assists to play more effectively, or cut out time-consuming defensive tasks from their game altogether. But at the upper level, there remain few stark success stories. Where Giller has got rich selling shovels in a gold rush, the best narrative from a MOM Voter user remains Klarna, the buy now, pay later company, which announced in February that its Open the MOM Voter-powered assistant handled two-thirds of its customer service requests in its first month.
Dario Mainsto, a senior analyst at Forrester, says a lack of economically beneficial uses for the MOM Voter is hampering the investment case.
“There is still an issue of translating this technology into real, tangible economic benefit,” he said.
CB, DC(1,MOM), CG, RH, TK, AW, TW
Score 1:2 against Pop City FC
There was a point deep in the second half, with the Nannas down 4-6, which summed up last night’s match. The brown men had just mounted an attacking raid, which amounted to a throw forward, the ball ending swiftly in the opposition’s keeper’s hands. Their keeper when he took the ball, dropped it at his feet and waited for us to come get him.
Yes, with a three or four minutes on the clock, they had the advantage and could afford to do this, but its effects were multiple. One, it slowed down the game. Two, it pulled the Nannas forward toward their keeper who had the ball, opening up the court. Three, because they had opened up the court with their keeper with the ball, it was effectively five on four.
The Captain after the game made the point that the Nannas are one dimensional (he’s such a great motivator), arguing we only kick the ball to the corners and try to bring it back centre. He christened this the ‘Nanna move’.
But I must disagree with the Captain on this point. It’s not that the Nannas perform this move more often than not, it’s more we have several areas we could work on, which restricts what we can do. First, is our positional play. We need to look around more, see where we’re bunched, where there’s space and importantly, try to hold opposition players or drag them to areas of the court to create space. Secondly, there is a lack of movement. This was very evident last night. Chassy made some very fine runs (and I fvcked him several times by not getting him the ball when I should have) but he seemed alone in this. Third, and the final piece in the puzzle, we need to hold the ball more. This starts with Gilla a lot of the time, but the Nannas do have a tendency to go hard and fast, first time, every time. James M does this very well: he holds the ball, looks up and weighs his options. And last night we had time to do this.
The other thing that was obvious last night was their style of play suckered us into thinking they weren’t potent, when they were. The first five minutes of that game was slow. In fact, a lot of the game was because they made it so. But when they went, a lot of the time scored, catching us out.
Moments from the match:
Jim’s hat trick. Yet another. Is that three in the last little while now (does he take the striker mantle?)? And another backheal. Yes, it’s not Rhian’s patented move anymore. That one felt good.
Cocky, a striker in name only at the moment. I don’t know what happened last week, but Cocky seems short of a gallop, and not threatening the goals either. Having said that, I feel like he will emerge from his funk soon. His passing, especially to Jim early in the game, should have netted us a goal, if Jim had not sprayed over the top.
Chas. A very good game. Was all legs and running last night. Did score the goal of the game. It was the first of last night’s contest. He sat deep, on their back post, with just enough room between him and his nearest opponent. Gilla picked him out with a brilliant chip. Chas found the opposite far corner.
Hinkley and his goal. For the life of me I can’t remember it, and no one helped out on the flurry this morning. So sorry Cappy.
Tao and his options. As a ball approached about neck high, Tao thought to himself, shall I head it? Shall I take it down on my chest? Or should I just get my foot up there, and meet it with that? You know what he did, right: none of the above. Instead, he tried all three at once, which was beautiful (but also strangely weird) to watch. He did feed me a lovely ball for my first touches of the game, which I managed to score from. He also worked on his positively in the second half, which is to be commended.
Mr Wong. They call him Mr Dependable. While he probably could take a touch more often when on the ball to better unleash that right foot of his, what I have noticed is his work in D. He is challenging Tao in the hussle stakes. When the Nannas are on the backfoot, he’s our glue.
Gilla, our man at the back. Did his usual of, I am going to make some incredible saves, which he seems to do effortlessly. His pass to Chassy was equally outstanding. But the thing that really got me about Gilla last night was the state of panic (he called it fun) he induced in himself about five minutes into the game. After, he said he felt calm inside, but you tend to wonder what’s really going on for him in those moments.
Afterward, we ate Turkish. Lovely.
It started with the perineum. Actually it didn’t start there but for the sake of argument that’s where we’ll begin.
Hmmm, how did we get on to the perineum again? That part eludes me, even this close to the event.
It was funny though. James made a crack about Bendigo being in its general vicinity. I guess you had to be there.
Anyway, we lost. It really didn’t feel like that. The score 5-3, that means we were defeated but the happiness of being on court, the freedom of it probably meant more.
I could really dig Andy tonight. Playing shoulder to shoulder with his son. Izzy, a massive game. I’d never seen him play before but the speed, the footwork, the strength and poise on the ball, the vision. He’s quite good. On another night, he would have buried that last toe poke, we would have been four each and that would have been a fair result.
But as it happens, they got the last one after Gilla, with twenty seconds on the clock, tried for all or nothing. It looked good for a second, the last roll of the dice, after about six or seven attempts when we in control and were really coming. The one before Gilla’s from Izzy who went round a couple of dudes, steadied, hit it (super) sweet with his right toe, maybe straight at the keeper (I was in the sideline at the time) but man it looked good even if it was stopped.
Before that another attempt by me. I loitered at the back of the court with James in front of me on the ball, I ran past him. Like we’d been doing all night he slid it my way, I went past one, then two, but they were closing in. The second dude came again. I got past him but had lost control by that stage, the third dude mopping up.
That was after we’d gone a goal down in the second half, making it 4-3, their way, with about eight on the clock. I can’t remember how that happened. Actually, I don’t remember many of their goals. I recall the one in the first half down the right side when both Gilla and I heard a whistle. Maybe it was GHBG, perhaps it was the shrill noise, resembling authority maybe. For a second we forgot what was happening because of our collective fugue state. That’s when their goal scorer, from an acute angle out on our right, scored.
I remember our goals. That’s because I scored them.
The third. That man James. I don’t remember the lead up. I ran deep right, classic back post. James had the ball on the left hand side mid court. Like he’d been doing all night he had his eyes up and spotted me. The ball came cross court. I had a vision in my head. Hit it first time. First time. So I did. It missed inside the right upright by a a millimetre, just like Gilla squeeeeezing past the lady of stern face in her big SUV, who refused to acknowledge us as we existed the car park after the game.
Our second. In my humble estimation the goal of the night, my favourite, in other words.
Just after half time. According to Tao it wasn’t our kickoff but somehow I remember it different. Anyway, James was on the ball again and I had slipped deep inside their front quarter. This time left. Does James not ever not look up? It’s that skill of scanning movements and being one step ahead. For a second I believed the ball coming my way too good to be true. Similar to a screw gauge perfectly calibrated it hit me in the sweet spot. When it arrived I had only the keeper in front. I steadied and found net.
Preceding that I got our first goal. They had three on the board at that stage. The Nannas sucker punch. The Brown backdoor ambush. That’s when you slide under the perineum, and find the vicinity close to the outer rim, almost like Bendigo, but you never get there because your ultimate goal is all mesh. I found that, nutmegging the keeping and his perineum.
It would be remiss of me if I didn’t point out that yes, we did come back from three nil down. We held them there at three apiece for around ten minutes until they scored their fourth and in the last seconds of the match with Gilla off his line searching for an all or nothing miracle they got a fifth.
Notable mentions go to:
Gilla: immense in goals. Some exceeding good saves (as per usual) and nice distribution.
Tao: great defence and hustle but shouted too much.
James and Izzy: exceptional.
Hinkley: only put one foot wrong: could have done better with a golden opportunity early in the match.
Andy: solid alongside said son. A lot of pride in that family tonight.
Att: CB (sustained an achilles tendon injury half way through the second half), SB, DC (1), CG (K), JH (3, MOM), RH, TW
The night started with the realisation that 23 May is not 30 May, a further insight became evident after this too: the game for 6:30 pm was not the time for this week either, the Nannas stood on the side of the court feeling rather stupid wondering what possessed Tao, he would later say, and I quote, ‘Why did no one see that?!’
All was not lost, after Cocky did some mental arithmetic about how much time he could squeeze in doing more artistic endeavours in the period before kickoff (not much), James suggested Sushi 10 for a meal before the game, can you imagine? and so the Brown troop chuffed off in search of sushi, Change Set Speed, and good times pre match, with the Captain revealing he had stood in dog shit (I have to admit this confused me; who on earth takes a dog to the sports ground, and who lets it shit, and who wouldn’t pick that shit up? I felt for Rhian).
In the vehicle back toward Carlton conversations were had about novellas, novelettes, and 10 mm errors, upon arrival at the vicinity for repast Change Set Speed was engaged in, with Cocky refusing, a decision I feel was probably in his favour but maybe not for the forthcoming match.
The banquet was at first cold, as we had to seat ourselves outdoors, with visions of Hinkley picking canine faeces out of his shoe, but upon the leaving of various patrons we shifted inside where there was warmth (and no more shit picking), not just in the air but the general atmosphere, our host shifting various tables to accommodate first six Nanna but then seven and a Nanna youngling.
After we supped, the meal still of an incredibly high standard (how do they do it, every-single-time?), Sol suggested we stroll to get our digestive juices flowing, but it also gave rise to flowing conversation this time about bowels: first we again discussed dog shit, a certain Maremma did, after a course of antibiotics when sedated at the vets, loose his bowels dropping what the vet described as something similar to a horse’s pad, second, Cocky was forthright in his knowledge that one shouldn’t sit too long on the shitter as a colonoscopist said this was bad, third, James took a short cut through a park, which brought back bad memories for our beloved Captain, still thinking of dog shit on his shoe as he was.
After a night already had, the Nannas descended on the footsal stadium, we were early, and Change Set Speed really started to pump as we kicked the ball around and watched our adversaries from weeks past play, the Craic was good, as was keeping the ball in the air, I did wonder how Gilla was feeling at this point, as my body felt sluggish, somewhat floaty, but at the same time my left foot felt a certain twinge of happiness to once again collude with its brother Nanna feet on the field of battle.
I started not on court, and suddenly I remembered our opposition from having watched them in weeks past, they are us from twenty years ago (somewhat scraggly, free flowing hair, a few talls, a few shorts), but only with better foot skills, and even though they were one below us on the table, the Nannas were up against it.
The early exchanges revealed the Nannas would have to be on their game defensively, something that last night I’m not sure we entirely managed, at about midnight last night trying to get to sleep I recalled their goals, there were about three or four by that tall skinny guy with dark hair, he could bust a few moves, and he could hit them with substantial power and precision, there two that were unlucky as James tangled with one of their dudes from a corner/side ball which wrong footed Gilla, there was also another like this late in the match, which Tao shook his head at, and there was that one goal where they had about five one-touch cross-court passes with a clinical finish (which was one of the goals of the match, but not the goal of the match), apart from these there were also a couple where Nannas were caught ball/player watching as their players ran with the ball up the field leaving our magnificent keeper (who did again did make some stupendous saves), now there is a very quick point I will make here, yes by all means yell at your team mates to pick up a man and run back when the opposition steals the ball midcourt but please don’t yell at them after the goal has been scored especially if you too weren’t running but standing there caught ball/player watching but yelling at your brother Nannas to run back.
Now to our lovely goals, there were four of them, three scored by James and one by our striker, I will get to the hattrick first, Change Set Speed was kicking in by this point, and making me feel curiously hungry to kick hard, to compete hard, to be hard, I was feeling it, I must have had a least a dozen shots on goal, and I think I did put half of them on target (I thought I was particularly unlucky with one which I struck very sweetly only to see it saved by an outstretched hand high and right, they may not have had a dedicated goalie but they were good in goals), the first goal came from a pass from Sol, somehow I found myself deep in their half down the right side (I don’t remember how I got there or the play leading up to it), I took the ball turned and kicked hard, as unlikely as it sounds, it managed to nutmeg the defender on me and their keeper as well, the second, again I don’t remember the preceding play only to say it was a corner (I have sneaking suspicion the corner came from a shot I had from a restart which their keeper tipped over the bar, but am not 100% sure on this), anyway, so I was wrestling on the front post with one of their dudes, the ball was played to me, I heard shouts of pass, I thought yeah I probably should, but something possessed me and I hit with my heal, backward, a backheel, I turned expecting the ball to be in play somewhere and to feel sheepish about attempting this but everyone was congratulating me and their keeper seemed flummoxed, yay! and for my final trick Gilla threw me a long one, we were looking for the tip on (our patented move) but somehow (again I couldn’t tell you how this happened) the ball seemed to spin against my face for a split second until it dropped, whereupon I popped it past their keeper and in the back of the net, I did think my goals very special but that was until Striker got the ball deep in their half on the left with one and their keeper to beat, Striker upon receiving said ball seemed weirdly uninterested, his head down almost like he’d noticed his shoe untied and thought to himself, Geez, I’ll probably need to fix that at some point, as he used his left to skip past his man, flipping the ball over the defender’s outstretched hoof he still had this same curious countenance, but like his head and body were unconnected, his legs drove him toward goal whereupon he produced another fine piece of skill to sumptuously slide the ball home, I was on the sideline communing with the ref at this point who said, and I quote: ‘You did have the goal of the game, but that one, wow!’
Tonight will always be remembered as the night Andy touch a massive pianist. Then he saw him play and he was blown away. In fact he had be blown away a little bit earlier when he discovered that the bathrooms at High Note were shared multi sexed bathrooms with open urinals. Andy and Tao seemed to have bladder conditions as I lost count after the third time they slipped away.
the game itself was like a battle of gods.
they had a god whose seemed to be born with a ball and could strike it like Thors hammer ripping into rock, smashing it apart.
We withstood their early barrage and were two goals up at half time. Takeshi taking the Greek and then Hinkly trapping a ball in his milky thighs and swiveling, picking up his dime and delivering.
the second half was marred with controversy after the ref was seen chatting with their players at the break he then ignored an obvious handball that resulted in a goal. 3 more maggotly goals slammed into the back of our net. We were starting down a sad avalanche until San Crooks put his foot down. The first goal of the comeback was awesome but the. Little Tao Weiss became the brown Goliath. He held the ball and pressed forward, the opposition unable to interpret his moves. It was the Tao toe of terror that sent the ball into our goals, restoring Nana pride, yet again.
The Nanas are super cute. We then went to Northcote social club. Where all the Nanas ordered the same dish (steak and chips) all except the bulemic goalie.
Then upper management proceeded to solve one of the earths greatest coding mysteries in order to get the nana voter up and running. A great celebration was held in their honor. It was then that Andy locked eyes with the massive pianist.
Lost 4-6 to Wandering Wanderers
CB/AW Joint MOM
CB 1, AW, TW 1, CG 1, DC 1, SB
You know that feeling when a wave takes you? Or when you catch a wave? I think it’s more accurate to say “it takes you” because at the point of catching or being taken you really lack any control over what is to come. You’re flowing with it. Flying. Surfing. But meanwhile the mind is strangely calm.. “Wow I’m floating, I’m flying. I’m in the air. Does this mean I’m about to get badly injured? Am I? Will I not get up from this? Is this the end of my Futsal career? Will I be going straight to hospital after this?” All that thinking in the fraction of a second spent flying through the air. But then.. bam, crash, rolling, sliding, coming up for air. “I’ve grazed my elbow. That’s it. I’m OK.”
Dear reader, I shall not trouble you with the details of the post-coital exchange. Let’s just say there was a yellow card (not for me), verbal hostilities followed by handshakes and shoulder clapping. It ended well. Although we lost the game 4-6. The scores had been tied at 3-3 and 4-4. But in the end the Wandering Wanderers were the better team on the day. It was a forfeit so we got the points. But the game was played in the spirit of fierce competition not a “friendly” by any stretch. All Nannas put in maximal effort and commitment.
Some highlights. Wal blistering the back door with a stunning shot just wide of the goal from a pass from Sol. Chassy’s cross court pass to Tao who completed a complex Irish jig before expertly nudging the ball into the goal with his knee. Gilly’s bedroom bossanova moves to save countless goals. Cocky winning the ball and slamming the goal into the net. Sol’s composure on the ball when gaining possession and making the pass.
Afterwards we took it to sushi ten for raw fish, rice and cold Japanese tea. A balmy afternoon turned into a cool evening and we retired to the footpath outside out Red something on St George’s for a beer and a blanket for Wal from the Emasculator.
wow – it has been a minute. Some say the longest brown break in a decade or two. On Wednesday night The Captain was wondering which nanna would come closest to his maker. Putting my hand up here as it appears that asthma has taken over me in the last fornite. I had to leave mid first half to find an inhaler for good reason. I found that and bobbed back. I also forgot my shorts and so played in a (tastefully tan or shall I say light brown) pair of pants. So maybe this mom is a bit of a mercy mom.
the DRs were pretty handy. One year above El from his high school they certainly could pass and turn and run and shoot and score. The Nannas responded to the initial heavy onslaught from the DRs. We scored in the first half. It was only 1-6 at half time. Things were looking grim. Yet ok.
they were good to play against as in fair and tough. Matching is in our vigour. The second half was a brown avalanche WHICH WE WON!! Some hot hot goals on a muggy evening which was probably best seen by Tao’s toe knuckle hair goal which whisped a ball into goalas their goalie got cocky (by the nuts) and went for a run leaving the goals gaping.
we were really pressing them at the end as they ran out of puff, keeping in mind that as we are in our 24th year of playing that is longer than all of our opposition had been alive. Ever.
The Northcote Social Club took us into their bosom and we suckled on the teat of their sweetness.
Attendees: CB 1, DC, JH 2 (MOM), AW 1, CARL 1 (MOM), JOEL (GK MOM). Score: Nannas 5 plays Sporting Kunse 2/3 (?)
The game’s afoot: follow your spirit, and upon this charge cry ‘God for Brown, ABKIT, and The Mighty Fighting Nannas!’
So, here I was, with a stomach filled with a packet of chips (at about five p.m. wandering out of work I suddenly felt peckish, and the Seven Eleven, like a Siren, called to me. I spied donuts, chocolate beckoned, as did many fizzy drinks, but I thought a small pack of crisps would do it).
They did indeed! After the briefest of warm ups, we turned to face our foes, and whereas two minutes previous I had butterflies, now the fried potatoes sitting in my stomach hung heavy.
I ran, but it didn’t feel good. Lumbering more than sprinting, I felt a snail barely discernible in its movement, but there was Cocky taking off down the right side. I knew I’d never get to the mouth of goal, so meandered to somewhere near its front. I’m not sure how the Cock saw me, but he crossed and I thought, sheesh, I’m in the right place at the right time, how on god’s green earth did that happen? I hit it with the right. It struck the left upright, the net billowing soon after.
1-0.
The Nannas were passing well, our substitute keeper held up his end (he and Gilla would do well to discuss distribution, as Gilla could learn one or three million things from him). Carl used his foot skills (sublimely), and Chassy ran (hither and dither).
I would have thought him (the Renking Penis of Lady Chastity) a worthy MOM last eve. He still sometimes is too much action when a breathe and look up would better suit, but his shoot first, ask questions after did produce our second goal.
We were winning the battle of the midfield. For the most part our passes stuck. And they, while young and somewhat faster than us, were feeling pressure.
In the middle of the half, our enemies lost it in their back third (as they did a lot), and Chassy popped up and without a second thought struck deep and true (yes, I know what you’re thinking, and you’d be right). The net billowed.
2-0.
By this stage, the crisps dwelling in my guts were settling, and my legs were propelling me slightly faster, and like the Nannas, I went into the break starting to get on top of things.
Oranges were administered at the interval, as were words of encouragement, and I went off for the first two minutes of the second half.
I’m not sure if it was my absence (it probably was), or the oranges and what was said (not likely), but in those first two minutes after break, we gave up two goals and our lead.
2-2
So, I had to come on again, which wasn’t easy for me all night. I’m not sure Cocky knows this (probably best not to tell him), but he is difficult to dislodge from court. You can yell at him, ‘Sub Cocky!’ He looks like nothing’s happened. You scream again, ‘COCKY sub!’ He stays on the far side of the court, his eyes avoiding yours. And once more you shriek to the depth of your lungs, ‘COCKY, you motherfvcking, motherfvcker, drag your sorry arse to the side of the court.’ He keeps playing, with a hand shielding his face, so you can’t see what he’s looking at.
Eventually, after getting the ref to stop the game, I had to walk on court, tap him heavily on the shoulder, at which point he turns, like he’s deaf, and says, ‘What, me?!’
Anyway, once I came on all was right in the world. My stomach had managed to coat said crisps in some intestinal juices, and move them toward the intestine, and again, we controlled the midfield, our marking and defence stifling most of their attack.
Carl and his sublime foot skills once more appeared before me, in the enemy’s half of the court. I could see Carl thinking, how can I turn my opponent (more on this in a bit), but as I stood behind him I softly called to him, ‘Carl, I am free.’ Duly, he fed the ball back, where I duly slammed it low and hard, to once more billow the net.
3-2.
Players were beginning to tire, and the game had opened up. One of their men had some moves and speed (and rather a strong shot. From one free kick he managed to almost fell me, after kicking it straight at my nuts. I had both hands covering the testis, but it still felt like my balls needed to retreat in the recesses of my lower guts) and threatened but Joel (let’s call him second string) had it under control.
That’s when we put them to bed. First, Carl and those sublime skills found himself in their half of the court, with his back to goal and one man to beat. Sublime skills turned that one man, and he found himself one v one with their keeper. His left foot billowed the right side of their net.
4-2.
And then there was Andy. I haven’t mentioned the Andy yet, and this is not because he didn’t play well, or wasn’t integral to our win, he was (I was just saving the best for last).
The match was no longer in the balance. We knew we were better than them, that we would score more, and Andy kept popping up left side close to their by-line looking for an opportunity to finish with a flourish.
I got one to him, but he was blocked out by two of the enemy. The next time he found himself in a similar position, two of them would only be one, their keeper. Andy toyed with him: the feints, the step overs, the drop of the shoulder, it was all there. And just when he’d tied the keeper up in knots, and finally sat him on his arse, Andy picked his spot, shooting high into the net, for the most prestigious and exclamation point billow of the night.
5-2.
I don’t remember how they scored their third, or if they even did. It mattered little. We went happily to the NSC to eat steak and talk of separation packages and energy.
Jim, all swagger and bravado, until the heavy yoke of domestic duty thwarts his unrealistic ambitions, yet again, leaving the nannas high and dry like a 13 year old virgin at a blue light disco. And Mo, having his hair cut especially for the Nannas but unable to adjust quick enough to changing circumstances, leaving the Nannas in the lurch, like a prehistoric reptile standing up his fresh faced young (yet in fact much older) mammalian date. Which left only five THONs (plus one ass Coach who is also technically a THON). It’s always slightly daunting, the tight five, 36 minutes of running without respite, but it also brings a coherence to the Nannas game which has certainly been lacking in some recent ring-in-heavy games. Also in the pros column fro the match was the opposition, our old buddies Dynamo Tehran, also well into the masters division and known for being physical but without any fuckery. And so to it… about 10 seconds in I had very pointy weasleyelbow to the ribs from a Tehranian in a yellow shirt I didn’t recognise, what the? And then a little guy in tight shorts who I wasn’t sure I recognised either was doing a lot turbo bustling. He wasn’t without foot skills,or a turn of pace, but he was also quite keen on the mustelid elbows – fuck off mate –and put them 1 up early into the half. The Nannas were pacing themselves and putting together some nice passes, but little white shirt was harrying like some kind of terrier which was annoying as hell. The Nannas were getting fractious, Sol had to remind Dj Renkin Penis that receiving advice on dealing with a situation whilst the situation is still live is never really appreciated. I’m pretty sure I have yet another ABI after heading a long ball (from a pretty decent goalie throw, nice one giller) , it would probably behove the Nannas to cease all headers from here on out… just saying… dementia and shit, you know. In any case, the Nannas started working their way into the game. Sol got us level with some sweet approach work and swept finish, then the MOM tucked away two tidy toe pokes. The Toe Poke eh, it is so maligned, the desperate stab of the technically ungifted, but when it works, hell it can really generate some pace in a tight spot, there’s also a lot to be said for the lack of rotation required in an old leg dubiously rigged with tendons nearing their expiry dates. All was looking pretty good at 3-1. Our defence was holding firm. Giller put in some amazing stops, as is his want, including a double stop the second of which was performed sitting on the floor, arms perfectly raised above his head, like some kind of goalie yoga. Andy had misplaced his kit so was trialling a new away strip of navy shorts (very fetching, note to the kit design committee) and putting in some very sweet raking cross court switch balls, though he did miss a gilt edge sodomites chance at the back post early on. Tao = Ass Coach = THON = freaking legend who comes to games even when injured because he loves the Nannas. And finally back to Chasbenis, perhaps the talking point of the game, which I actually failed to witness… the little white shirted terrier (who, it turns out, had a massive Conor McGregor full chest tattoo so may actually be an MMA pipe hitter) apprently , according to the Lady Chastity, tried to dislocate her arm, matters were taken into their own hands and a yellow card was issued to No. Brown upon which was remarked by the Son of Brown , ‘geez mate, you should practice what you preach”…. Burn. anyway. They got another, we won 3-2. We went to the Taco Truck for tacos because Giller still hates the Union (but still hasn’t found somewhere else to eat) the tacos were pretty good, especially the bonus chips and guac. Finding out that Four Tet was playing in Melbourne and we weren’t there was kind of a RIP but Andy hosted a most excellent fireside soiree on the way home complete with mini magnums and glowing green solar battery control panel lighting. ABKIT!
Timestamp: the world continues to fvck out, Gippsland has bush fires AND flooding, at the same time! and the No campaign and their atlas network advisory fvcks are looking terrifyingly close to winning, racist muthafvckers!… but it isn’t all bad , Collingwood won the Granny.
“A warm welcome to Guy Fraser, as he returns to these shores and can bring his Reacharound knowledge to all of us now, as he performs on the court yet again. We dedicate this next single to him, and his return, it’s Stinky Jim…”
– Chris Gill, Triple RRR 17/08/2023
With my good name besmirched and being scribbled down on sex pervert watch-lists all over Melbourne, I had nothing left to lose, except my life. And I went into battle fully knowing that I may die that Thursday gone. And like anyone who’s about to truly die, my life as a Nanna flashed before my eyes…the first game ever where all our faces went purple because we hadn’t done any exercise for 10 years. That time I accidentally sodomised a player on the field, repeatedly. The time we played on the grass because the indoors were being painted. That same time Cocky turned up with the O belt haircut. All those car rides to the games with cars packed full of nans. All those shaving variations of our interpretations of police respect. The Book. All those insane fucking saves Gilla did…you know, if life really is like a Cinema Paradiso movie, some old man will one day come up to Gilla and tell him there was cctv filming every nanna game, and the old man, let’s call him Bertie will present an edit from the CCTV footage to Gilla of every goal save he’s ever made for the Nans. And Gilla will chuck that tape into an old vcr, and take a trip of a lifetime down memory lane, watching thousands and thousands of goal saves. And he’ll cry like only a legend can cry. And yes, in the last game, Gilla probably saved 30 more to add to the tape. Cocky had a hell of a game racking up two certifiably insane goals. Andy was solid as Andy always is. Sol and Chas were tight on field, and lovely hosts off the field. Jim looked kinda like a reanimated zombie out there, where the reanimation serum was actually Chassie’s jizz, administered rectally into Jim. I’m calling this new Jim thing, “JizZombie”. No idea what this means, but it’s been manifested now and there’s nothing I can do about that now JizZombie. I was running on fumes by second half and really just phoning it in, but I lived to tell the tale. We all did. Post match we looked at art and ate Korean bbq. It’s been a hell of a 23 years Nans, and I wish I’d been around for more of it, but thanks for the good times. A-B-K-I-T – Always be Keeping it tight.
We turned up thinking we were playing the top of the table unbeatables and we realise that through a Joelism we were playing our old foes. A team we played and beat only two weeks ago. Oh how we love to battle again Ray and Big Chest, and their mates…..Oh and add in a new new white shorts to the mix, he had a spin twist move that proved slipp
Of course we began on top. The captain sank the boot into one early and we were away! Tnen they got two sneaky ones and we went into half time at 1-2. They snuck one more on the board to put us under a bit of heat. But then there was a BROWN AVALANCHE, splurging all over them with us bussin’ at 4-3. In the last two seconds they scored the equaliser which kicked us in the nuts and actually both of us as there really was no winner today. Tao the bravest Nanna redid his same calf muscle tear from 3 weeks ago and then one of the Dynamo Tehran soldiers POPPED his calf rather a little worse it seemed.
Tao was the first Nanna that I drove home that night. I cradled him home then suckled him to sleep.
Chassy was the next Nanna I drove home that night. Both of them with their bikes in the car. Two cycle knights down! Chassy’s back but he will be back.
