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.