Nannas 6 plays Harchester United 4

Att: CB, CG, JH (5, MOM), RH, AW, TW (1)
DC (Arse Coach)

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.

Explainer

Thursday 1st August 2024

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 on the 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 the  the 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 their  MOM 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 Lieutenants  and 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 operate  the 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 on  the MOM Voter. Rhian’s defensive work  also 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

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/article/2024/aug/03/why-big-seven-tech-companies-hit-ai-boom-doubts-shares

Att: CB (1), DC, CG, JH (MOM, 3), RH (1), TW, AW

Nannas 5 play Lieutenants 6

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.

Nannas 3 plays Sporting Kunse 5

Att: CG, JH (3, MOM), RH, JM, AW, IZZY, TW

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.

Nannas 4 plays Exports 9

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!’

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.

ABKIT.

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.

Sol, Chas, Andy, Jim, Gilla, Frasay, Cocky (2)

8 – 2 Nanna win (via forfeit)

MOM to Reacharound

“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.

THE NANNAS vs DYNAMO TEHRAN

4.        v.        4

DC (1), RH (2), CG (1), TW, JM, CB

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.

Nannas were brave, some say braver than others.

Nannas 5 play Harchester United 2

CG, JH: 3, TK, TW 1, Prince, Jerry

Playing with the Nannas last night was like slipping into an old forgotten glove: at first glance it looked old and wrinkly but felt so smooth once slipped on.

And the question came to me on my long drive home last night, are the Nannas ageless?

Admittedly when playing indoor, the court is small. Like infinitesimal in comparison to eleven a side. The distances travelled miniscule, the ball, flat and heavy, a reflection that to move too far in one direction you’re soon likely to reach a sideline or the end of a court.
Still, there’s lots to be said for operating in small spaces, seeing tiny expanses stretch before you, from which the scope of play is measured in half yards.

While the Nannas might not be able to zip through these half yards like youngers anymore, they know how govern them like men in their prime, with puffed chests, feet still large and moving in the correct direction to intercept any through ball, and sculpted legs spread at just the right angle to display loins potent but far past procreation.

The first half was even. The Prince found himself down the left hand side early on and made it count.

The Little Green men responded soon after, with their best player beating Jim down their right to place a sideway firmly erect shot searing past Gilla.

The Greens as I recall them were a better bunch than what they turned out last night. Their best player is still there, long red locks and all, but their other threat from the days gone by absent. He was tall, with dark hair and good foot skills, and could shoot too.

Apart from the dude with the long red locks, AKA their best player, no one else in their team seemed capable of much. In fact, the brother of said red locks, AKA their best player, seemed to provide as much trouble for his own side as red locks, AKA their best player, was a plus. The brother could pass, but that was about it. For the most part he concerned himself with trying to push Nannas over and subsequently fighting with the ref, and getting chewed out by his brother, red locks, AKA their best player.

Anyway, we found ourselves starting the second half, and I did think, would the Nanna wilt like had happened so many times before? Our second halves post 40 years of age not a strong point.

The answer: a polite no.

We went on to score four, while Gilla at the back continued to defy time, his creaking back and any assault on his goal. Three times he pulled off multiple saves (one that turned into a goalmouth scramble), which a much lesser keeper would have had trouble getting a finger nail to the initial strike.

As to the goals. I got the mighty, most hallowed hattrick.

The first from a free kick, blasted past the marker and keeper. The second from some lovely crosscourt passing between Jim and the Prince, with Jim finishing. And the third from Jim, from the right moving onto his favoured left, squeezing his shot onto the inside of their back post, which turned in from the rebound (a truly lovely and most satisfying goal).

And then there was Tao, ageless, wrestling with the Green’s best player over the ball close to their goal. Like he so often does, he won the battle, and then all he had to do was toe poke under their keeper, which he did with ease, for a fine goal.

They got one late, but by that stage the Nannas knew they had it won, Gilla wisely letting them have one to let the Greens think there was something in the match, but in truth there was only team that was going to win.

In6-4 Win
CB(2)   EC(1)   DC   CG   RH(2)   TW(1)
Mom Hinkley

First game back for the captain after an injury plagued summer, and what a way for the Nannas to welcome a captain back. The big take-away from the game being that some moves need practice, it is an often quoted line – “practice, makes perfect” and in the case of the Look Away Backheel In Attack (LABIA) it could not be truer.

In the past I have come under some criticism for being too LABIA focused, too quick to go for the LABIA when the circumstances haven’t possibly been appropriate. Team members have talked about more conservative approaches, asked me to put the LABIA away and focus on the team game more. Thursday night was my validation the night that I could unveil the full beauty of my LABIA under the dim and gentle lighting of the Brunswick High School sports Arena. I will quote the perfumed and eloquent words of Chris Gill in the description of how the LABIA unfolded as he was best placed to see it in its entirety.

“Then it happened. Ball start in the center Dan gave it to Chassy. Then the captain ran all along the right flank streaming towards goal. He looped from near the sideline to directly in front of goal. Chassy saw the opening. From the center he slid a ball towards the captain that was perfect, the Cappy did not break stride, in fact he did a look away as the ball came to him.
He was gracing across the goals and was looking up over the refs head but his foot was all business, producing the BACKHEAL LOOKAWAY !!! The goalie was wrong footed and could only look on in helpless slo mo as the ball curled into goals in a painstakingly slow manner. Continuing, Hinkley did not break stride as he didn’t even look behind him, knowing exactly what was happening he jogged slowly back to the half again,
People roared. People cheered but every member of their team applauded. It was brown poetry. Never to be forgotten. Etched in the minds of all present and now in the folklore of Tapatalk…… the tome of truth.”

But in truth this was a true team affair. Gilla super strong at the back, on his knees, on his arse, on his game, saved several one-on-one scenarios, delivered some beautiful long balls including one to the captains head that resulted in the opening goal of the game. The Crooks duo lit up the forward line with some exceptional cross court ball movement, putting the family back in familiar. Chassey ran like a gazelle across the Savannah, spurred on by his young buck on the sidelines and Tao avoided tangling with any saplings on his way down the well groomed Brunswick slopes. Goals to Weis, Brown and Crooks(junior) with a brace for the captain.

The evening was followed by a simple dinner of burgers where the Walmartin surfaced with some inciteful critiques of the melbourne gelato scene.

vs Harchester United

5-4 Victory

CB, SB 2, CG 1, SG 1, TH 1, DC

SB MOM

On thursday we may not have had all the numbers, but the nannas commited to the game and each and everyone of us wore our hearts on our sleeves we played immaculate futsal, with hard dedication, great passing and several finesse finishes. It was a great game and we won by only a few goals but those goals mattered the most.
Chris Gill scored an amazing finish. I scored 2 great goals, Si scored 1 good goal and Tom scored 1 goal as well. Overall it was a really fun game and i think its safe to say everyone really enjoyed the match.

The Nannas v White line Fever

4 v 3

SJG, CG (mom), DC (2), CB (1), TW (1)

One of the greatest victories of these tight Brown fucs.

Not a sub in sight, so fear not, the Nanna’s didn’t. First half was not our finest. They turned us, they burned us. They got two in the whole hole. We stood in the half time huddle at 0-2 and yet the Nannas were calm and realised we were still in this.

Si was TREMENDOUS. His ability to be the last defensive touch was outstanding. So many times his little toe was in their way. It was a physical affair, played in good spirits and I must say, from my point of view, everyone was smiling. Chassy was using his arms as his clearing zones, sort of like a snow plough, but with arms. The ref, Stan, agreed that it was all above board. Dan was a powerhouse up forward using his old man cunning to outwile those younguns. Tao kept running all games, he was like Rob De Castella without the Commonwealth Games medal around his neck.

After the abominable start I think we got four goals in . It was pretty fine. Then with 5 minutes on the clock they started to press. Their baby legs had all the energy. We were like erotic sloths.  Being extremely conservative in judging when we would run. There were not many times in those last five minutes that we did run, at all. We had no subs. We nearly didn’t make it. There was an absolute avalanche on our goals in the last two minutes and I’m quite sure used my face right on the line to stop their last shot. I think I kissed it off.

special mention to the Nannette’s too. They always provide constant belief in our sort of abilities.

Si saved me and Tao from going to another pub for dinner with his reference to Howler’s asian fusion menu. Howler decided that tonight was BURGERS ONLY. But it was enough, even though our opposition dinned there as well. We were winners that night.

Nannas 3 plays someone 5

Att: CB, DC, CG, JH (MOM), RH, TH, TK, AW (MOM)

A night of nostalgia. That’s what it felt like looping in with Gilla for the 8:40 game. The drive from north to south was hot. There was traffic too. Gilla skirted it with ease (something I am not sure he would have done 15 years ago). We crossed the Yarra, feeling like it could have been 20 years ago (has it really been that long?).

Then we arrived, not at the Pits, but at the Maori Chief (would have done it the other way around in the past?). It was open (though) at that time of night, so we took pictures to send to our brothers in arms, and walked in. The place was the same, albeit, it had more screens, and less people (not sure how it stays open). We ate (steak sandwiches), we drank (well, I did), and played pool (I took the first game, but from there it was all downhill, as Gilla sensed himself challenged and firmly rubbed that challenger [me] into the dust).

So, we got to the Pits, about half an hour early. It was hot and still, and the moon (half mooned) hung cold and distant in the sky. Underneath, little groups of mixed teams hung around (it could have been 16 years ago, and a Sunday).

Other Nannas arrived in dribs and drabs. First Chas and Kondo, and then the riders: Cocky, Coach and Captain. We had ourselves a team (I am remembering it like it was 17 years ago, except for the loss and greying of hair). We kicked the ball around, we bought gatorades and sugary snakes, talked shit, and waited for the game to begin (definitely 17 years ago, but without the butterflies we had back then). And, and, Andy, turned up late (pick your date) but didn’t play.

The game started at 8:40, seemed like an appropriate time for the Nannas given our history, except now, most of their children can look after themselves, our wives/partners (mostly) aren’t eagerly awaiting our return (to help with said kids), and (most) Nannas aren’t exhausted from getting up at 5 am each morning.

Yet, inexplicably, some Nannas appeared exhausted, disinterested even (no timestamp here). They were statues, standing, rooted to the spot for the most part (I won’t put a time stamp on this, as this has been happening forever). Chassy said afterward, well I think he said this, that on court he is constantly aware of his surroundings, and where everyone is, so he can move in accordance with the game and be ahead of it (well, that’s what I took him to mean).

As Dan Carlin would say, Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, but the Nannas would do well to follow his perception.

We were better than the opposition. I don’t remember them really getting the better of us, in terms of their skill or their play or tactics (sort of like the Nannas, pick your date). Yet, they hustled and bustled (the Nannas of five, maybe ten years ago). They took their opportunities (sometimes, sometimes not for the Nannas). They also were constantly after us, locking us down (again, sometimes, sometimes not for the Nannas).
The Nannas on this night wanted to play with smiles on their faces (timestamp here is on and off, as this is not really the Nanna way, unless we are winning). But the question should be asked, does shit football make you smile? Oh my god, I am so sorry, but there was some pretty shit football out there. We really should have done better.

On recent previous occasions (that I have played, at least) we have had possession and used the ball well (no time stamp here, as this is relatively new for the Nannas), we have had cohesion, even teamwork (multiple timestamps here, as backing our Brown Brothers has never been in question), we have even played skilfully (intermittent timestamps here). Not on this evening.

Maybe the heat had overcome us. Maybe the directive to play with a smile on our face was making us feel fake. Maybe the inherent anger that would be our lot if we offered (offered is probably not the most accurate word) a teammate criticism (even if there was also congratulations and encouragement mixed in with this) was overcoming us, clouding our judgement. Maybe it was Tao, who didn’t want to play (because, apparently, he had been so angry last time and needed to go have a long, hard look at himself), had made us feel like we were missing something, something from our past (fierceness, ferocity, fury perhaps)?

Sure, we have to temper (pun intended) that and him (and me alongside him), but just saying, outright and arbitrarily, to always play with a smile on our faces, is just stupid. We are Nannas with emotions, especially on court; it’s how we use these emotions to our best advantage, or bring them back from negativity, is the trick.

Anyway, after, we tried to go to haunts of times past, but the Chief was shut and the Railway was shutting, as was the next place. It did seem like the Bars/Pubs of Melbourne were saying to us, ‘you have too much history, we can feel your dark, downtrodden, mixed feelings from here,’ and closed their doors to us.

Nannas 3 plays Copa Cobana 5

Att: CB, CG, JH (MOM), RH, TH, TW

So, 5:30 pm and we were waiting for Otis. He needed a haircut but, wait for it, he was late. A teenager late, to his own haircut, I hear you say. Fuck off! No, it’s true.

Gilla was looking at his phone, looking at me, looking up the street, scrutinising every tram but where was he? Finally, he figured out what the communication device in his hand was for and called his tardy son. Soon enough, walking like Sarah down the street, the young man arrived.

He sat himself in the chair, as Gilla instructed the hairdresser: 20 minutes, you’ve got 20 minutes, OKAY! Well, 15 minutes was all she needed to bring out a left leaning rats tail and a young man befitting his station.

After he was dusted off and the cut hair removed, we piled into the Emasculator, as Gilla wound it and himself into a frenzy. Speed humps: he doesn’t slow for them. Oncoming traffic: ever heard of Chicken? Sidestreets, tight squeezes and chances: he took ‘em. Drivers going at least 20kph below the speed limit: he got up their arses. Yes, my heart rate was raised by at least 30 BPM, and we almost collided with at least three cyclists.

When we got there Phil, the moustachioed one, wandered into the bathrooms whilst Gilla was in a stall, doing his business. The door was ajar, and as he stood to pull his strides, the moustachioed one looked in. Well, all that was heard were: ‘I can see your penis! I can see it!’ He was visibly shaken.

Obviously not shaken and stirred enough, or maybe he was rising to the occasion, if you take my meaning.

Either way, the Nannas should have done better.

Jim in the first moments had the ball at his feet, with only Joel in front of him, stranded, feet rooted to the spot in goals. Both Jim and Joel thought, fuck! Jim kicked it into the post. It came back to him. He kicked it again, directly at Joel. Cocky said the second ones are always the hardest but he should have buried the first one.

Jim, though, did redeem this lapse, slotting the first for the Nannas, when the opposition were loose at the back, and he did swoop and shoot truly, this time, from an acute angle.

As the game progressed the Nannas were finding space. Every time I looked up I saw a Nanna running, without an opponent in tow. I remember hitting Hinkley, Coach and Tao in such a fashion. And there was a moment when Tom was one out up front, where I had the ball from a side kick in, but he refused to turn his head back to see if he could get on the end of it. I yelled at him (sorry about that).

There were other chances too. I spurned a second one. I found myself out left and in on goal. I toe-hacked (see Hinkley!!!!). It came off the post and back to my right instep. I hit it again, it bounced off one post, off another, and then back onto first one (told you so, Hinkley). I’m pretty sure it went in (just like Andy Wong in the good old days). I thought the opposition was going to concede. The goalie whacked it out. A second one called play on.

In fact, this was a pattern of the game. We had the better of it. We held the ball well. We passed and created chances but couldn’t finish. Gill was right. He said pre-game Cocky was a big loss. So it proved: Tao was off colour; Chas and Hinkley regularly hit side betting; Gilla, although low (no Andy not low like that), blasted wide again and again.

Maybe Cocky is the ballast that keeps us upright, maybe he steers the ship, leading us through the choppy waters of Division 2 with hair that all Nannas recognise as suitably Cock-like. Whatever it is, we truly missed his two, or three on this particular evening.

Afterward, Gilla and I sat on a step and contemplated how h!gh we could get in five minutes, and then we went ate Greek, listening to Tao complain of a busted rib and Jim talk of a working bee.

Att: CB, DC, CG (2), JH (1, MOM), RH (1), TH, TW

Nannas 4 plays Harchester United 3

You had that feeling that we were better than them, that they weren’t going to rip us open.

It felt like we were on top right from the get go. They had the solitary dude who has something and the angry geezer, he held the ball well.

We held it better. There was Nanna work there tonight. Very strong Nanna work. They hardly went around us, through us, over us.

We went past them, through them, over them on a number of occasions. This was the most in control I have seen the Nannas, in terms of holding the ball.

We passed, we ran, we found space (mostly).

Cocky showed us the way. He was our man in mid-field. He ran the lines. He ran the middle. He held the ball up and then duly delivered time and again. He was unlucky not to get one, two. His full, elongated beard, an inspiration to anyone that sighted it.

Chassy, the immense Chassy. Cocky’s co-pilot. The prowler of mid-field. He got there first a lot tonight, coming from behind (no Andy, not like that). Those surprising long legs, that he’s able to get like, high. He was a cat, pouncing, scratching, purring, meowing, lapping, hissing.

The Captain has regained his speed over the first ten to fifteen. His bum still hangs down but when it’s wound up, slugging away , as his legs pump forward, there is no better sight in world football. His work down the right, with the Cock, getting on the end of one, was a great team goal.

Gilla is bending them, from range too. Twice, twice, after some gentle coaxing (he does take encouraging to ping from distance), he plied his skills, striking twice, twice from halfway. Low and hard, that’s what they call him, low and hard (no Andy, not that kind of low and hard).

Tao likes getting in people’s faces. No really, and he’s fucking irresistible. Hard, doesn’t cover it. Competitive, just a word. Crunch, sort of comes close. Smack, almost gets the job done. Thump, very close.

Tommy, the immovable object, Howie, again showed us his awesomeness, how the greatest player ever to play goes about it. He didn’t score this week but he could have, if he had accepted my invitation. I laid it on a platter for him but like the true gentleman he is, he left it for me.

And so, onto me. I was surprised to get a full eight votes (seven and a half would have been fine). Was it my toe hack from the sideline, squeezed in tight at the back post (Andy, if only you had been there, you would have appreciated the angle, the penetration, and how quickly it happened)? Was it my running through the angry guy right on full time provoking him to throw the ball in my face? Was it like the Coach last week but only it was this week, and everyone appreciated how in the zone, on top of the world, like Superman on steroids I was?

Who knows. Chassy said it was a mercy fuck. I’ll take it.