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.

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.

vs Dynamo Tehran (Loser’s Semi-Final)
9-2 Victory
CB 4, DC 3, EC 2, TW, CG, TK

(To be read aloud in the style of a pirate or a swashbuckler)

Ole Big Burly Chest wasn’t there

It didn’t matter

Cos we was

There.

Oh yes we were, we were there with bells on,

Raining goals down upon them

Like a rainstorm,

An unholy tempest.

Nay we were.

’tis the truliest thing i ever spake.

Ay.

Dat’s roight.

Oh we won it.

We won it roight up in ’em.

Ah we did.

Left me happy all the next day.

Happy as a lark.

As sunshiny as a new born son.

All happy and squelchy and shiny.

Dat’s roight.

We beat ’em good nar.

Vs jalãpeno chinos
4-4 draw
Cb 3, dc 1, tw, rh, jh, cg, tk
Cb mom

“It’s a win!” pronounced the captain immediately following tonight’s game. “A draw is a win for us!” he enthused.

For the chinos it seemed more like a loss. Having been recently demoted from div 1 they didn’t seem too happy to be shaking the hands of the nannas as equals on their descent.

We certainly had to fight hard for it. They had some skills, some fitness and they were motivated. But they were up against “ole king lion” at his wiliest. And you need more than just skill, fitness and motivation to wrestle a victory from the giant maw of the king. You also need structure, vision and guile.

Where the nannas lack fitness and occasionally skill, we make up for it with structure, old man wiliness and nearly two decades of experience!

Plus our not so secret weapon. The ultimate goal stopper, the firewall, the Gillkeeper. The keeper of the gill! Sucking oxygen from the atmosphere, the mighty gill feeds its own need for oxygen while depriving the lungs of the enemy. And snuffing out their attacking firepower.

It’s supernatural. The enemy lines up a shot, smashes it in, perfectly weighted, perfectly placed. It is surely unstoppable. No human could stop that ball. But then. Dah duh-duh-duh! The Gill wobble- stretch-leaps like a jellyfish-spider-leopard in all its glory scrubbing the ball from its velocious trajectory and then landing teddy bear like, angelic, in a louche resting pose and patting said ball affectionately and with great pride, a genial smile warmly spreading across his face like the feel of urine in your own pants.

Meanwhile, the anger and frustration cracked the manly masks of the chinos leaving them whimpering and subsiding into pre school paddies and bitter “not fair”s and anguished “that shoulda gone in”s.

A draw! A mighty draw!

vs Lieutenants

lost 2-4

CB, DC 1, CG 1, TW, AW, TK, RH, TH
MOM: CB/DC

The Lieutenants are at the top off the table but we gave them a pretty good run for their money.

In French, the word Lieutenant means place holder. That is, the person who stands in for the captain. The English pronounce it “Leftenant” because they want to distinguish themselves from the French. While the Americans pronounce it “Lootenant” which is actually closer to the French pronunciation.

But. What do I remember from the game? I remember Kondo doing a lot of powerful running. I remember Cocky scoring a phenomenal goal. Oblique angle and slotted like he really meant it. Even the ref was seen nodding his head appreciatively. I remember Gilly scoring a goal. He threw the ball down the court and their keeper tried to pick it up but it snaked between his legs and into the back of the net.

I remember feeling like I had burnt through my fuel, cracked into the reserve tank and then burnt through that. I had to go and open the external door to let some cool breeze onto my overheated system. Then I had to crush up little bits of my soul into pellets and burn those.

I would have been happy to not go on for the last two minutes and let Rhian stay on. But Coach was yelling at me to get on. And so I did.

Tao got a stitch too. So we must have been really pushing it.

I was walking through Docklands this week on Wednesday when I saw a familiar burly chest heading towards me. It was the burly chested guy from Dynamo. We both slowed, recognising each other. I knew he was. He was struggling. Thrust his hand at me and I shook it. “Jarrod” he said. “Soccer” I said. “The Nannas”. And kept walking. Didn’t give him my name.

After the game we took it to Uncle Joe’s. We got the booth. They were serving some archived remnants of Four Pines before they sold out to some big tax avoiding shareholder corporation. It was tasty. And the vibes were good. I remember a lot of laughing. And a lot of advice for Self Help. Gilly was in fine form.

Peace out and keep avoiding massive bolide collisions.

ps. Ok. I have just looked at Cocky’s match report and he reckons we scored three and that I got one of them. Mmm. Wish I could remember.

pps. And Tommy played! Funny, I only remember him coaching. No offence Tommy. I think I mixed some memory tinder into my soul fuel pellets.

ppps. Did anyone see the SBS show on extraordinary people? There is a woman who can remember the details of every day of her life. That would be handy.

vs Harchester United 2-4 loss

TK, TW 1, CB 1, SB, TK, JH

Mom: SB

It was an exciting and fun experience and I had lots of fun. They were pretty chunky and big but I didn’t get bashed up too much. It was a pretty intense day because I didn’t have school cause of district athletics and then I had soccer training where we played against the under fourteens (lu’s team) and then I played for the Nannas.
Tao and Chazzy got the goals. They were both quality goals. Gillie did some great saves and was unlucky when they went in.
The squad on Thursday was;
Tao, Sol, Gillie, Chazzy, Jim and last but not least Kondo. After the match I got a steak and pepper pie from the seven eleven and it was bloody five bucks. It was revolting and had lots of fat and not much meat, I had mustard with it. Huge mistake, it made it even worse than it already was.
Kondo got shoved from one of the biggest dudes. They were really rough, fortunately they weren’t rough on me thank god. Kondo had a bit of a swollen knee. (By Solomon)

vs Lieutenants loss 4-9
CB 1, DC 2, TK (gk), AW 1, RH , TH

Well, we lost. Let’s say it loudly: NINE GOALS TO FOUR!

But like Anish Kapoor’s Vantablack (a pigment so dark that it absorbs 99.96 percent of light), this scoreline was not at all reflective (of the match). The scoreline reflected perhaps .04 percent of the true nature of the match.

And like Anish Kapoor’s Vantablack (a material so dark it makes crinkled aluminium appear flat), the scoreline of this match has obscured the vital details and quality of this sporting contest.

Until now.

In retaliation against the malign influence of this truth absorbing scoreline, let us dig a little deeper. Let us reach around behind this eclipsing result and reveal something of the true nature of the competition.

Within the first few minutes of the game the opposition had scored three goals and the Nannas were perfectly placed to come from behind (if you will). And come from behind we did. CB nutmegged a player and slotted a low corner goal. Soon after AW converted another with a lovely finish in front of goals. DC slammed one home and we were back in the game at 3-3. Just before the end of the half we conceded another goal. 3-4 at halftime.

We knew that all we needed to do was get back on the court and slot two quick goals and we would be in the lead. Unfortunately the opposite happened. Lieutenants slotted two quick goals and suddenly they were ahead 6-3. Then a couple more: 8-3. We clawed one back: 8-4. Then they whipped our undies off and made it 9-4.

But we could have beaten them. They kept getting their goals by running a 1-2 off the side kick and getting into space and having a free shot at goals. We kept forgetting that when we are blocking the side kick, we also have to be ready to turn, run and mark the player who has just taken the kick. At least three of their goals were scored in this manner.

And so it was to Mr Wilkinson that we took it for the post match festivities. And they were wholesome and involved Jenga and good ale and a late and welcome arrival from the Endangered Gilby. The Jenga really primed me for some awesome fire building action the following weekend while camping at Kinglake with Sol.

lost vs Harchester United
5-3

CB 1 MOM, TW 1, RH 1, DC, AW, TK, CG gk, TH coach

Ist half 5-1
2nd half 0-2

A second half win!

Or a 1-1 draw when counting half victories.

Perhaps I’m grasping at straws. We lost. 5-3. Against Harchester United. A very physical side with some excellent pace amongst their ranks. Recently relegated from Div 1 (according to them).

Their were hugs pre game as Nannas greeted each other after long absences at beach houses, camping and overseas. First game back for 2017. February. Holidays over. Children back at school. Warm days. Warm hugs from Nanna brethren.

The first five minutes of the game it felt like we could match our opponents. But then they got a couple of goals in quick succession, capitalising on micro moments of Nanna hesitation. The game started to slide away from us as they pushed out to 5-0 and their defences seemed impenetrable. Their goalie’s seal slapping style was unequivocally ugly yet effective. Gilly was pulling out some epic mid air saves and the score could have got a lot worse.

Near the end of the first half I buried a left footer after a perfectly placed corner by Rhian. Half time and words were spoken. Gilly said “whatever you guys are doing in defence.. ahh.. please do something different.” Coach said “Chassy, don’t do it all by yourself up front” and other things I don’t remember.

The second half began and so did Nanna intensity. We started to win the 50-50 balls. There was fire in the bellies. And goals came. A free kick from Tao hit the back of the net. Then Rhian scored one too.

We came away exhausted, defeated but upbeat. We had given it a good go. We had shone for moments. Perhaps just glimmered. But there were some sparks. We’re not dead and buried yet Nannas. There’s still gas in the tanks.

Peace out from the Chaswegian.

vs RMIT

loss 4-12

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

We lost, respectfully, to a team of skilful and fit young men who were prepared to sprint constantly for the full thirty six minutes. The only thing they lacked was more than a decade and a half of shit-talking, planning, meeting, beach boxing and many other bonding activities too numerous to mention. And that is why I have it on good authority that not only did they not have their AGM that night, they have never actually had one. Their win-loss, our loss-win.

Jim had geared us up for a game of gentle talk and positive reinforcement. And it probably was the mellowest we’ve ever seen Taozza so it must have worked. We got four freaking goals man! What can one say? They whipped our arses. But. Not without a challenge. We made them work for it.

And then we took it to the Pinnacle for the inaugural “Pre- dinner drink”. Followed by the TH (Thomas Howie) Tramway Hotel for some tasty yet overpriced junk food and over flavoured beers. But the real item on the menu was of course the Annual General Meeting. The AGM. Which also sounds a little bit like “Gay Jim”.

I was laughing quite a bit so perhaps it should fall to the more grim faced Nannas to report the true minutes of the meeting. There was talk of new uniforms, prepaid Nanna subscriptions and “wanking ring-ins”. It was noted that there was considerable pleasure to be had in voting for things. The act of raising the hand and declaring “aye” or “nay” is even more fun than voting in online polls.

Tight is right and tight is out.

7-3 loss to a very skilful team

RH 1,TW 1,GUIDO 1,JH , CB, DC,PHIL (GK)
Mom RH,CB

It was good to have Phil in the rear. He’s just so good back there. His balls are great too. No disrespect to Gilly and Kondo, who are also tremendous back there. It’s just a bit unusual to have Phil back there so it adds a little sparkle.

Guido stepped up too and really helped the Nanna cause. Not quite enough to make victory, but certainly steered us a little closer than we would have been without him.

Special mention goes to the Cocky support machine and the full family cheer squad.

There was no going out afterwards which much be some kind of record for lameness. Cocky was dragged home (not exactly kicking and screaming.. perhaps just silently and inwardly whimpering). Jim ran away to “catch a train” (whatever that means). Hinkley choreographed himself out of the picture. Tao and Guido were talking up a beer at Tao’s. I assume that got out of hand. I had to go “learn some lines” (whatever that means).

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

CB MOM

vs ??

Lost 2-4

I think all of the Nannas rode to the game except Cocky who flowed there in his maxi turbo diesel (of which he is so fond) and Gilby who fluttered in in his Emasculator (of which he is so fond).  Possibly JimBOB came on foot. It matters not.

I joined the peloton of hard, riding hard-riding Nannas as they slid down Glenlyn Road in Brunswick. Always a pleasure to be in the saddle beside one’s brother Nannas, if only to prove to the general population that it is possible for middle aged men to ride bikes in a pack without wearing lycra and looking like a Nut Bagging Sac Fucker. It is in the Nanna DNA to find small ways to subtly and grossly subvert the mainstream paradigm in which we paddle.

We arrived at Brunswick Secondary College to find the gates locked. Phil. When he arrived, on instruction from Gilby, we rewarded him with a slow golf clap for his tardiness and he responded by tossing sachets of hot chocolate? from his vehicle.

The game itself was not hugely memorable nor outstanding. The captain boxed a pair of goals. Straight to the wank bank.

Cocky was looking super straight and wide awake from the sobering influence of professional art angst.

The writer found that his left foot wasn’t able to allow the right foot to kick the ball unassisted. Instead the left foot kept popping in for a little nudge while old righty was in midswing. Unfortunately due to the poor processing power of the over holidayed writer, the message that the ball had moved didn’t reach said writer’s central processing unit until after the resultingly ignominious kick.

At which the straight as a die cockpillow was compelled to pronounce upon the writer’s ineptitude. To which the over holidayed writer could only seethingly retort through the stifling clouds of his own humiliation.. “I didn’t do it on purpose buddy!”

Tao was there and he looked bloody purple at the after match so he must have put in. Jimbino skerricked away post match still sporting his “compression bandage”. The coach was dynamic.

We lost but we looked dangerous when we were working the diagonal cross court angles. They got some very good goals. Gilly was huge in goals and as committed as always, even requiring an embrocation of liniment mid-match.

There was an unprecedented post match mutiny. The writer was designated cook and after informing the Nannas of his venue (Dojo Ramen), the People rose up and squashed his idea flat. They complained that it was too inexpensive and instead we should go to Mess Hall and have a banquet. It was actually pretty good (the food), although with a few jugs of IPA under the belt and inhibitions shed, we realised that the interior design was a bit crap.  The main criticism: trying too hard.

And then all the Nannas went home to bed except for the two Nannas who bear Christ in their names. These two brave souls took it to Belleville and witnessed an absolutely outstanding performance by Mara TK. Yeah!

vs Men in Black (lost 4-7)
CB 1, DC 2, RH 1, AW, TH, CG(gk)

Birthday week.
Not just me.
Paul, Fiona, Me, Alice, Jim.
Consecutively.

Anyway. I drove. Picked up the tropical coq and ventured through the industrial badlands of Outer Coburg to the shiny new venue. Hells yeah! Soft and slippery that vinyl. The viewers are a little removed from the action lending a more gladiatorial feel to the court. Just players and the ref. Not even subs on court unless subbing.

So we were up against the Men in Black. A couple of them are as young as they are portly. One of them is as old as a Nanna, while looking older than a Nanna (though he did manage to outsprint this Nanna down the wing and score). For the record, dude is 43.

Ref blows his whistle. Men in Black kick off. It’s on. It’s nil all. For quite a while. Then they get a goal. Then Gill tries to rearrange his nut sack and inadvertently pulls his calf. Full flagellation of the veal. He’s whimpering. He’s limping. Wait! He’s doing a zomby impression. Or is it a new dance? The Nannas avert their collective eyeballs. It’s embarrassing. Or is it? Is it funk that is so deep, so raw and so nu that it can’t be perceived yet? The forward funk? The future of the forward?

Umm, no. None of the above. Giller is actually injured. He leaves the court. Nannas are down to 5. Coach steps into the goals. We concede more goals. Then we get some. I pass it to Cocky and he finishes it cleaner than a box of dishwashing powder. Cocky passes it to me and I get a delicate little whisper of a shadow of a flicker of a touch to the ball and it goes in! Oui! Oui! Oui! There was another goal and another and you know what? The scoreline is 4-5 to them. It’s close, very close. Close like Glenn. But then. Oh then. Dang it to the very rim of the anus of Fiona Craig’s cow Lola; they scored two more goals. 4-7. Men in Black have rinsed the final chunks of faecal matter from their collectively victorious bowel with the brown cleansing enema fluid of Nanna defeat.

So then we took it to the local. The Post Office Hotel. Wagyu burgers all round. Apart from Tom who was having too much fun and decided to bring it down a notch by having a blackbean burger. And Gill who was delirious, thought he was at the Embassy and ordered a ham and cheese sandwich. And Cocky who needed the belly of the pig. All washed down with Coburg lager. True.

But later. The next night. The real Nanna A took it to the forum to see Steve. And then to Mr Melville to have hugs with Steve and let him suck the vape. Cocky had the first lips-on-vape after Steve so he pretty much kissed Flylo. But I hugged him. Shio took us there. She is part of Nanna A now. Best gig this year fools! If not ever!!

Peace out>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Bitch.

vs Coconut Soldiers
won 13-12 (on aggregate and after extra time)
score 8-10 (for the single game)

TW 1, RH 3, TH(GK), CB 1, DH 3
CB MOM

First, we didn’t think we had a team. For a final! This beggars belief. Once upon a slice of time there were an abundance of mighty Nan-men tendering their good qualities to upper management for the chance of making the hallowed company of the magnificent seven. But now we don’t even have five starters. Then mighty D-HEN stood up so tall he put a hole in the roof of Carolina.

Second, I put my hand up to play goalie due to my unmentionable genua. It was a desperate situation, I had no choice. Then old man T-HO gets on the blower and pours all manner of sweet nothings, slippery commendations and honeyed words into my ear. The upshot was: “you’re not playing keeper son”.

Third, Tao and I are upstairs getting changed. Kamahl asks to join the Nannas. He says he finds our teamwork inspiring and he just hopes that he can be as….

lost 3-5 vs Spartans?
CB MOM 2, RH 1, TH, TW, GF, CG

Yo people, we had a game that we lost. Let’s have a closer look. The final score was 5-3. They scored 5 goals and we scored 3. Here’s the thing. We started at 0-0 and in the first half of the first half (the first quarter if you will), it was like the Nannas were not quite fully on. You know the low power consumption fluorescent globes we all have these days. You turn them on and they seem a bit dull and not very bright and then may be 10 minutes later they are significantly brighter. As bright as you would hope a light should be.

So this is the Nannas. The game starts and we are on. We’re definitely ‘on’, but we’re just a little bit dull and dim. And while we’re in our slightly dim state the opposition score a couple of goals. Now, the opposition are a team that the Nannas have not played before and they have a style of play that is quite different to what we are used to. They are delicate and gentle with the ball and don’t go in for big body contact. They have footskills, they have fluidity. They’re not whip crack sharp but they’re slightly bewildering. Their style is something new.. a fusion of other teams’ styles that we have played. I call it the ‘banana style’. It’s slippery, delicately flavoured and it has the potential to make a cake out of the Nannas.

But. The big but. Somewhere around the first quarter mark, the gradual brightening of the eco-Nannas has suddenly reached its zenith. And we are on. We are bright. We are glowing. We begin to decode the bewildering banana. It no longer goes around us. Perhaps the Nannas can make a cake out of the banana instead of the other way around. The writer gets a goal. Which the writer can actually remember for once. Perhaps the online brain gym is actually working for the writer. Ok here it is.

“I get the ball.. I’m in front of the oppostion’s goals yet quite far to the right. I line up the shot. I see the bottom far corner of the goal. It looks good. It looks open. I’m thinking.. I’m gonna put it there, right there. And then I shoot. The ball hugs the floor, crosses the goal mouth and goes right into that bottom corner.”

At half-time we are 3-1 down. We pretty much repeat the pattern of the first half. Start dim, lose a couple of goals, brighten up and then fight back. The second half is actually a draw 2-2. The writer gets another goal (which he can’t really remember) and the Captain also gets one (which unfortunately the writer cannot really remember either.. suffice to say that it was awesome and banging and a classic captain’s special).

Personal apologies must go out to Tao. Sorry for calling you a name Tao. There is no excuse for it and I will try to be a bigger man this week.

After the match we took it random styles to the Thornbury Local. The Captain was happy with the reduced hipster factor but equally dismayed by the wall mosaic and the feral factor. There was live music. The label mogul shook his thing but remained seated. His impassive countenance revealed little and it seems unlikely that there will be any new signings. He did think about photographing the Dr Poppy sign until he realised it was an ad for ganja. Speaking of ganja, Coach and the funky nanna were seen departing the Thornbury Local for some unknown purpose and later seen re-entering the Local with noticeably reduced bombast.

PS A note on passing and shooting. (Basic tip #1)

I have been thinking a lot recently about the importance of looking at your target before you shoot or pass. And after a lengthy discussion with Tony Brown (head of coaching at FC Clifton Hill and no relation) on the subject, I feel sufficiently vindicated in my personal musings to bring them to the table of basic tips.

Here is the sequence.

1. Look at the ball.

2. Look at your target.

3. Look back at the ball. Kick the ball.

This may seem quite straight forward and simple but it can make a huge difference to your aiming. Often what happens is one sees the target/ person they are passing to in their periphery and then attempts to make the pass or shot.

YOU MUST EYEBALL THE TARGET

This enables your eye-brain-foot calibration to work. It’s a wondrous thing.

vs South Melbourne
loss 5-10
CB 2 MOM, JH,DC 1,TW, TK(gk), AW, GF, TH (coach)

Tom set the tone with his excellently selected tie. Papou came along to support us.

We started the game with a little jolt of confidence as we appeared to be holding the opposition well. This little jolt is actually not what we need because it weakens our resolve and opens up our vulnerabilities.

So there we were with our vulnerabilities gaping wide open and telling our homeboys we were scoping. And that was enough encouragement for the frenchy opposition to take us to school. And not in a walking bus.

One day we will win again.

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

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

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

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

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

vs United Nations FC lost 12-2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was 3 all at one stage.

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

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

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

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

We lost and it was close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

vs Hampton FC

lost 1-0

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

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

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

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