2011 ANZAC Test: Kangaroos -V- Kiwis

[Jesbass]

Australia Kangaroos -V- New Zealand Kiwis​

-V-

​

Game Thread:
* This is a game thread only. Only game posts can be made here - team lists, substitutions, and articles.
* Any other posts may result in loss of points and is at the discretion of the referee.
* Only original articles, not used in previous games, will be marked by referees.

Naming Teams:
* 5 -V- 5 (+ 3 reserves)
* No 'TBA' or changing players named
* Captains must stick with original teams named

Rules: http://forumsevens.com.au/rules.php
Official Word Counter: http://forumsevens.com.au/wordcount.php

Kick Off: Sunday 8th May 2011 (2100AEST)
Full Time: Saturday 14th May 2011 (2100AEST)
Referee: gorilla
Venue: Skilled Park

 

[LeagueNut]

The Kiwis march onto Skilled Park with a slow steady determination (mainly due to a few hangovers).

-----------------------------------
Team:
LeagueNut (c)
madunit
Jesbass
RHCP
Willow

Bench:
byrne_rovelli_fan82
Hallatia
rayroxon
-----------------------------------

Ringa pakia
Uma tiraha
Turi whatia
Hope whai ake
Waewae takahia kia kino

Ka mate, ka mate
Ka ora' Ka ora'
Ka mate, ka mate
Ka ora Ka ora

Tēnei te tangata pūhuruhuru
Nāna i tiki mai whakawhiti te rā
Upane... Upane
Upane Kaupane
Whiti te rā

Hī!

 

[madunit]

madunit for the Kiwi's

Charlie’s Last Test

He’d overcome everything life had thrown at him. In fact he was used to it by now; but it never weakened his resolve or passion for his country. Nor did it dampen his desire to be the best.

Growing up, he was always a big lad; it was almost a natural progression that he’d end up playing Rugby. Like many Rugby players of his generation, he was an avid boxer. However he soon realised he was more than an aficionado, he was genuinely gifted.

He progressed seamlessly through the amateur boxing ranks to attain the New Zealand Amateur Heavyweight Championship. It was of no surprise that he was regarded as one of his generation’s best prop forwards in Rugby.

However, one fateful day in 1910, he was alleged to have kicked an opponent in a maul. The prefects running the game looked down on this behaviour sternly and subsequently suspended him from the game for two years.

Never one to give up, he crossed codes to the new professional game; Northern Union. Within a year of plying his trade in the 13 man game he was invited by the Australian Rugby League to join them on their upcoming tour to England, at the end of the 1911 season. He happily accepted.

Charlie Savory wasn’t the only Kiwi touring England with the Australian Kangaroo’s. He was joined by fellow forwards Arthur ‘Boller’ Francis and George Gillett, and by halfback Frank Woodward.

On the tour Savory was a delight, widely praised for his singing ability as much as his rugged, no-nonsense, tough play on the field.

Upon returning home from the tour, Savory became a leading prop forward in the New Zealand local competitions. But his constant run-ins with the judiciary tainted his reputation, so much so that he was mistakenly identified as kicking an opponent in a game in 1912. The Auckland Rugby League promptly banned him from the game for life; however he was granted an appeal by the New Zealand Rugby League and was exonerated.

Still, he forged on. In 1914 he made his test debut for his beloved New Zealand against England. The Kiwis lost 16-13, running out of time as they fought their way back from an 11-3 deficit at half-time.

But his toughest test was just around the corner.

Again, playing against a crafty opponent on their home ground, he knew once again he would have to lead the way for his team mates, as he had done in every contest prior.

The journey to the fateful battle was slow and cumbersome. It was cold and wet. The sky was bleak. Even Mother Nature was against them.

He’d been here many times before. He wasn’t about to let it get the better of him now.

He looked at his team; they were all silent, committed, ready for action. He’d never seen the boys so intense, so focussed. He knew they’d be giving their all. He couldn’t give any less himself either.

The journey ended and they all disembarked their taxi and made way for the field.

The damp footing grabbed his attention first; things couldn’t get any worse surely.

He looked ahead with a grim determination, preparing himself for another bruising encounter. In what seemed like no time at all, it was game on.

He could hear the cheering, jeering and buzzing atmosphere all around that broke an almost eerie silence which had encapsulated them all just moments ago.

Unnervingly, he put his hand up to lead the way, his prized possession right now, sitting firmly in his hands as he charged forward at great speed. His large muscular solid frame intent on causing some hurt.

Then the defence hit him from out of nowhere. He didn’t feel the pain at first, just the oxygen being sucked from his lungs.

He kept trying to run but his feet felt stuck in the heavy earth. Then they hit him once more, bringing him down.

Never before had he been dominated so easily in a physical encounter, these were truly worthy adversaries.

He rolled onto his back, his mind willing him to stand up.

He rose to his knees, slowly regaining his feet. Then the pain began rapidly infecting his body. As he clutched at the pain in his chest and looked down at his bloodied hands, he was shot again, for the last time, in the head.

Lance Corporal Charles Savory died at Gallipoli that day, May 8, 1915.

Lest We Forget

748 words, including title in the OWC

Sources:

Hawera & Normanby Star August 16, 1915
Poverty Bay Herald August 17, 1915
The Kangaroo's - Ian Heads
The Kiwis - Bernie Ward and John Coffey

 

[Titanic]

Resplendent in their green & gold, here come Australia:

1. Amadean
2. Azkatro
3. Joshie
4. Titanic
5. Tittoolate

6. Non Terminator

“Whether you’re on the Cricket Ground, Lang Park or the bush,
You’ve still gotta run, you’ve still gotta tackle,
And the scrums have got the same ‘push’.
You give it some and you give some more
And you really give your all,
Writing about rugby league football, it’s the greatest game of all.”#

# with apologies to Danny McMaster
​

 

[LeagueNut]

LeagueNut makes an appearance, posting in the right thread for a change...


LeagueNut (Kiwis)

The tills are alive

It was one of the most shocking events to ever hit the game of Rugby League. It brought down a dynasty and pointed a finger of criminal accountability towards a number of administrators and even some of the games leading players. They were truly some of the darkest times for our great game.

It was only natural that such a piece of sporting theatre would one day find its way onto the grandest stage…

Coming this winter to a theatre near you – an explosive tell-all musical journey of the biggest scandal to hit Rugby League this century:

Join a cast of amazing players, crooked administrators and incompetent auditors as they sing their way through the deception that took us all by “surprise”.

It starts deep inside the Melbourne Storm management offices. Stung by the loss of so many players to other big-spending clubs, their frustration boils over and becomes the trigger for their evil plan of corruption. Maybe we can use all this News Limited cash to dish out a few extra payments? Surely we can set it up so that no-one finds out?

Brian Waldron’s rendition of this classic tune captures the scene perfectly:

We’ve lost sixteen, going on seventeen
Players are caught by greed
‘Cause we have made them
Why can’t we pay them
Anything that they need?

If we fudged and diddled the contracts
Maybe they all could stay
Pay them some extra
They won’t request ya
To prove that it’s all OK

His idea catches on, and soon others in the club are caught up in his scheme. Craig Bellamy provides an insight into his own thought process with this little tune:

Keeping my players so they don’t desert me
Winning each game by a margin of thirty
Putting the Melbourne Storm onto the map
That’s why we rorted the salary cap

Every Grand Final will be a great victory
My coaching achievements will be legendary
The money is falling from an endless tap
That’s why we rorted the salary cap

When they ask me
If I’m cheating
I won’t be too sad
I’ll simply remember my Premierships
And then I won’t feel so bad!

The climax of the first act is a rousing number performed by the whole club. You’ll be dancing in the aisles when they break out this classic song:

Dough – the cash we need to hide
Pay – us in brown paper bags
Me – the one’s who aren’t guilty
Fa – lou needs a million grand
So – what if we bend the rules?
La – the name of someone’s boat
Ti – rophies are all ours
That will bring us some more Dough!

But their evil ways are about to come to an end. Ian Schubert provides a dramatic twist by swooping in and showing his vocal talents with his rendition of this timeless Austrian tune:

Melbourne Storm
Melbourne Storm
Now you’ve lost all your titles
You got caught
Now you’ve nought
You can never outsmart us!

Distraught, disgraced and disparaged – the Storm are a shell of their former selves. The final insult comes when the club is forced to shed a number of their stars, exactly the outcome they were trying to avoid right from the start. The whole team gathers around to provide a rousing send-off the only way they know how – through song:

ALL: So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, goodbye!
Dallas Johnson: It can’t be true, it simply must be lies.

ALL: So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, adieu!
Brett Finch: They paid me in teeth, now what am I to do?

ALL: So long, farewell, goodbye, auf weidersehen!
Craig Bellamy: Shaddup the lot of ya’s, we’re all innocent, f**k f**k shit f**k bollocks.

ALL: So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, goodnight!
Greg Inglis: The rain’s too hard, I’ll have to miss my flight

But what has become of the architect of all the deception?

The conclusion finds Brian Waldron hiding out in the foothills of the Austrian Alps. He’s joined a monastery to try and find some inner peace, but his self-reflection is powerless against the evil that dwells within him. We close as Brian sits in his dark room, peering through the barred windows into the lush green fields beyond, and he bursts into song:

Win every title
Bring in the green
Fill all the pockets
Then you’ll find your dream!

726 words (including the title and the words in the image)

 

[Amadean]

Amadean for the Aussies displays the fullest of his respect and admiration for our Kiwi cousins with 749 below the belt

---------{=-----------


Kiwi Fruits

Recently I was fortunate to avoid a trip to Auckland. I was particularly happy not to go to Auckland as it meant I did not have to go anywhere near New Zealand. Not going near New Zealand is one of the key constituents of an enjoyable week.

I have mentioned my strong emotions regarding New Zealand travel several times in polite company and am consistently surprised by the surprise of those to whom I mention it. There seems to be a large contingent of otherwise intelligent Australians who see New Zealand as something other than a soggy, sand-fly infested pit where we keep unsuccessful League teams and some spare sheep.

This baffles me.

I ask them, politely, how the hell they became so stupid as to think a country whose nose-rubbing denizens are belligerent, opinionated and eternally damp constitutes a pleasant place to visit. I inquire, with due respect, whether poor education or severe foetal alcohol syndrome caused them to confuse a meaningless backwater that's never won a premiership with a worthwhile destination. I rarely receive a coherent reply. Perhaps coherence is too much to expect from people who willingly visit New Zealand?

Occasionally someone will mention the value of New Zealand’s contribution to League as a mitigating factor for its incessant rain and wine that tastes like Passiona. Such a person invariably mentions Stacey Jones, Fuifui Moimoi and that bloke who kicked a lot for the Bulldogs – I think his name was Bill or Harry or something. As I am fairly sure that Stacey is a girl’s name and that a quick Google search will reveal a Fuifui to be a type of Icelandic wildfruit (the berry is purple in colour, flowers May-June, has a flavour reminiscent of earwax and failure), I can claim no sure knowledge of any of these ‘stars’. Fortunately, not being able to recall the slight and worthless deeds of fleeting Kiwi footy ‘stars’ is a personal facet Australian girls find sexually attractive; I have not had cause to regret my ignorance.

For when it comes to League, New Zealanders have achieved great deeds on par with those achieved by Fremantle: there may technically be some, but no-one gives a flying rat’s arse. There are three reasons for this. The first amongst which is the sea, but I’ll work in reverse order and discuss the third reason first: ‘exciting football’.

‘Exciting football’ is a euphemism used by radio and television commentators, meaning “these idiots have no idea of how to put together a backline move and are just randomly hurling the ball around the field in the hope that a teammate will magically find himself with no defenders nearby”. Whilst ‘exciting football’ can occasionally be used in a non-insulting sense (in the sense of “I’m at least not watching a game featuring Jamie Soward&#8221 it is typically levelled against players who have more boot-studs than brain-cells. Incidentally, ‘more boot-studs than brain-cells’ is the descriptive accompaniment to ‘New Zealander’ in the forthcoming 2012 Macquarie Dictionary.

The second explanation of Kiwi irrelevance is, unsurprisingly, their accent. Whilst the Australian accent is warm and welcoming, informal and innovative, careful and comforting, the New Zealand accent resembles nothing so much as the sloshing of unmilked sheep udders. This is not a coincidence. New Zealand countryfolk frequently while away lonely winter evenings by changing their voices so as best attract innocent young lambs, for reasons dark and horrifying. Such bestial actions leave indelible marks upon their voice: a foreigner should not listen to a New Zealand attempt to say ‘six’, ‘fish’ or ‘shearing’ unless wearing a rain-jacket. Some scholars posit that the Kiwi inability to say ‘six’ directly causes their on-field inefficiency as every player wants ‘six’ and throws the ball around like a 5/8th.

But the root of all New Zealand failures - their disrespect, incoherent League playing and sheep shagging – is the sea. Whilst they can take no pride in their sling-the-ball-around-randomly football, the average Kiwi can name every sailor on their America’s Cup yacht. This is hardly surprising, given the country is constantly under air-borne invasion by the sea (it rains a lot) and the people smell disturbingly of halibut. Most telling is that any Kiwi of any talent (Benji, Crowded House, that Bulldogs bloke) immediately flees to the sea, and across it, to Australia.

So do not travel to New Zealand. Their accent is perverted, their League irregular and anyone worth meeting is already in Australia anyway.

 

[Tittoolate]

Tittoolate in virginal green and gold charges from the dressing room and punts this 750 words below the line

_______________________________

Off the bench

“Righto Mum, I’m off to training” I bellow, grab my kit and head for the garage.
[bloody hell I’m stiff from last weekend...
those Brissy boof heads are big blokes...
got creamed in a couple of hit-ups...
nailed that giant baldy headed twinkieh...
right under the ribcage...
the bloody coach was watching this time...
am I’m doing enough to get off the bloody bench?...
says me bloody defence is a bit weak...
bloody showed him!]

I roar off down the road in my beloved holden ute which, ok, has seen its best days. If I get a decent contract I’ll trade-in the old bugger quicker than a kiwi bachelor sprints to a packed shearing stand!
[bloody kiwis...
What is it with that nose rubbing...
and bloody sand flies...
mud...
sulphur...]

“Ok mate” I say out loud “focus is on getting off the bench so no slacking off at training”
[feel half in and half out being a bench player...
like I only half earned the celebrations last week...
it’s not ‘I’m OK, you’re OK’...
I’m just not quite OK...
always try too hard...]

I crunch the gears going around the corner.
[yeah, good aussie car...
not bloody Mediterranean Descendant set of wheels...
what is it with those blokes and chromed alloys?...
the chicks can’t go for that...
can they?]

I pull up at the ground
[on time this week...
can’t give me shit again]

and head to the sheds where the forwards have gathered.
[playing “spot the IQ”? ]

I walk past, marvelling at how they communicate by grunting. And farting. That apparently is important. No-one says anything, or even farts, as I jog in. Grogan gives me half a nod. I almost trip but manage to return the acknowledgement.
[shit, they didn’t take the piss...
the start of acceptance?...
or just grief delayed?...
be cool...
be alert...
the dog turd that time took ages to get out of my runners...
ho frickin ho...
so bloody funny]

I jog onto the field, see reminders of earlier games. Sprig marks in the mud, bits of torn head tape. I look down into the corner and involuntarily cringe. I did take my eye off the ball, favouring the Nudgee pack with a quick glance. Yes, the coach was right to be pissed. Only myself to blame, I had time if I focussed.
[dammit, couldn’t control it...
looked back up...
the ball so near...
bloody thing popped out and bounced over...
must get more practice with high balls...
bloody Coach gave me a roasting...
Dad says everyone has dropped it one time or another]

“Righto, gather round”. The coach. How’s his mood? Can’t be that bad after a win away last week! Still I fancy he models himself on Wayne Bennett. Figures smiling is a sign of weakness.
[won’t share that observation...
can’t afford to be on the outer...
smart mouth not an advantage according to Dad]

I mingle with the backs and the skipper says “G’day junior, how’d you knock up after last week?”
[shit, still doesn’t know my name...
but he spoke to me!...
what does that mean?...
go on dickhead, say something]

“Yeah not too bad thanks, felt great to have a win away, ey?”
[was I cool but friendly enough?]

“Shut up Junior and pay attention” says the coach. Why, is it always me? Just because I’m 6’3” with bright red hair and a flappy jaw?
[bloody red hair...
bloody stands out]

The coach proceeds with his post mortem, highlighting some pros and cons. It was a good win.
[ha!...gives the prop heaps for lounging out in the centres!...
don’t smile...
that’s how the dog turd happened]

“Junior, good to see commitment in the tackle”
[wha?...Me...Ok!]

”Thanks coach” I respond with a nod. Trying not to blush I mentally drift off and focus on the team. Fair dinkum I want to be on the run on list. Sitting on the bench week after week hoping for a dash before full time is not what it’s about. I’m made to be part of a team.
[the guys eyes slide over me when getting revved up before the game..
not quite in, not quite out...
the older blokes do give me a bit of a go at least...
I need a break...
I can do so much more...
but I’m just that bit too nervous...
I need the confidence that comes with a run on slot]

“Now Smithy has a cork, so Junior I want you to...”

 

[Azkatro]

Azkatro for the Kangaroos.

---------------------------------------------------------------

The Dragons - best defensive side ever? Not even close!

Recently there was a discussion on the Front Row Forums asking which the "best ever defensive team" is. Like most topics, it was more of a statement than a question, given that it was started by a Dragons supporter in the midst of a superb defensive run of form by St. George/Illawarra.

But as a statistician, it did get me wondering how I might be able to determine where the current Dragons side sits in the all-time list of great defensive teams.

There are quite a few considerations when talking about "all time" when it comes to rugby league, however. The change from unlimited tackle counts to 4 and then 6 tackles per set is one, with another particularly significant change being that from replacements to interchanges. To a lesser extent, the mid-season switch from a 5 metre defensive line to 10 metres would have also had an impact on the overall ability of a team's defense.

So it quickly becomes evident that comparing sides from different eras is often a fruitless excercise. But I was keen to come up with a way of comparing apples with apples.

Instead of comparing how many points were conceded by teams throughout the years, I decided to convert it to a percentage. But a percentage of what, exactly? It couldn't be a percentage of the number of points they scored, because a great defensive team might have a mediocre attack. It had to be a percentage of the overall average number of points conceded in that season. By definition, an average defense concedes 100% of the overall average number of points conceded per match, with good defense conceding less than 100% and poor defensive teams conceding more than 100%. The lower the percentage, the better the defense.

Using that calculation, here is the top 10.

Souths 1909: 35.16%
Balmain 1917: 38.13%
St. George 1963: 42.91%
Balmain 1915: 43.43%
Manly 1996: 45.12%
Souths 1908: 45.74%
Easts 1937: 46.32%
Newtown 1910: 47.21%
Souths 1937: 47.98%
Souths 1929: 50.46%

The 1909 Souths team, statistically the best defensive side in history, has phenomenal stats. The average number of points conceded per match for 1909 was 11.67, and Souths conceded 4.1 per game.

One notable modern-day performance is that of Manly in the 1996 season, ranked 5th in the all-time list. In a competition where an average of 19.24 points were conceded per game, the Sea Eagles kept their average to just 8.68 per game, giving them a factor of 45.11%. One concession you could possibly give to Manly's 1996 achievement is that the competition had 20 teams, meaning the talent in the poorer clubs was spread rather thin - thus helping reduce Manly's overall average number of points conceded.

A few other recent examples, aside from Manly in 1996, are Manly of 1995 (53.51%) and Canberra of 1995 (55.02%). And despite the black mark against their name, the Melbourne sides of 2007 and 2008 also figure prominently in the all-time list. In 2007 they achieved a mark of 54.06%, while in 2008 it was 54.58%.

To find an effort comparable to Manly's achievement of 1996, you have to go back 33 years - St. George in 1963. They managed to pull off the third most dominant defensive performance in a season ever, culminating in the side's 8th consecutive premiership.

The St. George/Illawarra side of 2010 conceded 12.46 on average with the competition average being 21.17, giving them a percentage of 58.86%. As outstanding as this effort is, it places them at 38th overall in the list. After 104 seasons of first grade (including the 1997 Super League competition), there are 37 teams throughout history who, statistically speaking, were defensively better.

After 10 rounds of competition in the 2011 season, the Dragons are faring even better defensively than they did in 2010. Following their 15-10 win over Canterbury, they boast an outstanding ratio of 48.29%. If they can maintain this kind of figure, they will displace the South Sydney 1929 team at number 10 in the list.

While this indicates that they aren't the greatest defensive side of all time as some have suggested, it is an absolutely outstanding achievement to be sitting at 10th of 1180 overall.

And I'm sure their coach Wayne Bennett will insist that there's still room for improvement.

---------------------------------------------------------------

747 words. Liftoff!

 

[joshie]

joshie makes his test debut

------------------------------------------------------------
Determination

It was 2006, the year Mozart’s 250th birthday was celebrated and a group of youngsters from Woodcrest State College pestered their HPE teachers to enter them in the schools’ rugby league competition.

They were told that since the Open team of that year had been involved in a series of on-field melees then Rugby League in the school had been banned. They copped it on the chin but satisfied their passion playing on the school oval during lunch breaks. Three of them were suspended that year, it was against the rules to play contact sports on the oval yet their enthusiasm wasn’t dampened.

Skip forward three years. By the end of their Year 10, rugby league was re-introduced into Woodcrest after the former offending Open squad had all graduated. Those same misfits were now to be groomed for the new Opens squad by coach Seiler, himself a former Roosters premier league player. before a hip injury abruptly ended his playing career. This misfortune launched him into the world of academia and after he finished is studies he became a secondary school business teacher.

That was no solace for the team. They had no coach. Like waifs they were abandoned and unwanted but still determined to play. They decided to coach themselves.

Round one: Redbank – their traditional rivals, handed out a 50-6 lesson. Round three: an 82-0 flogging by Bremer. The season was over nearly as soon as it began. The school announced that they would not fund a team that could only score six points while conceding 132 in just two matches.

So that was it, the team rallied and agreed that the rest of the year would be spent on training and training only. 2009 became a litany of masochism. Every Monday and Friday afternoon, to the cry of “be at the oval at 3!” Countless runs, complaints and sit-ups were the weekly fare. The team endured, sweating for the jersey that they coveted so proudly.

Season 2010, the core of the team from the old Year 10 days were now Year 12, well prepared to rip and tear. When the draw was announced the other teams laughed. “Too easy”, “the Cronulla Sharks of the competition” and much worse was leveled at them.

College’s first game was against their nemesis Redbank and was on them before they knew it. To further inflame matters, College’s star player was cowardly attacked the day before the game by Redbank players. Justice was served and the team secured a hard-fought win 32-22. Redbank were in shock and the almost-forgotten College war cry sent a warning to the competition.

The next game, the battlers were given the 5pm kick off, the main game of the afternoon. It was against Ipswich, the defending champions who boasted a brilliant halfback. The whole competition witnessed the slaughter as underdogs Woodcrest State College meted out an unlikely 20-6 pummelling. Victory followed victory and the players’ heads grew in direct proportion to their successes.

As the season drew to a close, one more victory would make them a sure thing for the Grand Final. Only Bundamba, who had inherited their “easy beats” title, stood in their way. Woodcrest led 20-0 at half time but capitulated 20-36. Ipswich leap-frogged College on the ladder and captured the minor premiership.

The next game was virtually a semi final; win and play Ipswich, lose and hang-up their boots. Tipped to lose and more comfortable in their bottom-dwellers role the team re-focused, even sitting through a video of Bundamba mocking their war cry. SPC never stood a chance and were embarrassed 30-0. They had done it, their goal had been realised and the grand final beckoned.

It was Ipswich. Ipswich were on target for a three-peat while for College there was the chance to graduate high school as champions.

“Ippy” scored first, close to the sticks after a great ball from their half back put their prop over, 6-0. Five minutes later, College’s captain broke their line and after off-loading it was soon 6-6. After the break, the improbable happened and College scored their second try through their hooker and man of the match, 12-6. With fifteen minutes from time College crashed over again wide out, but at 16-6 they dared to hope. Not to be outdone, Ipswich scored and converted, sending a wave of fear through College’s camp.

But fate was on their side and College secured the title 16-10.

Caption: Woodcrest State College 2010 Champions (that’s me, backrow, 2nd from left)

 

[Titanic]

Titanic for Australia (750 OWC)
------------------------------------------
http://www.nospam49.com/images/articles/Trophy%20Bill%20Kelly.jpg

THE Cross-Cultural Challenge[FONT=&quot]

Every time there is some form of sporting contest between the east and west sides of the “ditch” a whole new level of combative rivalry is rolled out. Famous personalities have gone to extraordinary lengths to become a part of what to the rest of the world is a minor peeing competition in a very small pond.

Yet to all those who live under the Southern Cross, with or without the extra star, there is nothing like Trans Tasman rivalry to get the blood gushing and cheap shots, like sheep jokes, are fair game:

Binji and the Beast were coming out of a pub near Wanganui one evening when Binji spotted a ewe with its head stuck in the railings.
"Look at that bro, we cen’t muss a chence like thet," says Binji
So he walked up behind the sheep, dropped his trou’ and did the business.
Then he said, "Okay Beastie ut’s your turn nixt."
So the Beast dropped his trou’ and stuck his head in the railings.

All friendly banter aside, the relationship between the two South Pacific nations has always been in times of greatest need, one of unselfish comradeship. Great wars, economic meltdowns, political upheavals and natural disasters have all tried and failed to stretch the limits of the backhanded affection that each country feels for its “poor” cousin. Even in the hurly-burly of modern society, when foreign interlopers attempt to ridicule the playful jousts between these traditional rivals they are very likely to be faced with what is affectionately known as the ANZAC spirit. This is never more apparent than in the world of rugby league.

Since 1908 Australia and New Zealand have competed in rugby league Tests but it wasn’t until 1997 that the ANZAC Test, played on or around ANZAC Day, was introduced by Murdoch’s Super League.

The ANZAC Test was controversial as much for using the term 'ANZAC' which is legally protected in Australia as for its comparisons between professional sportsmen and soldiers. However, Super League dumped a barrel of cash on the RSL. Then RSL president Bruce Ruxton, never short of a word, starred in promotional advertisements for the inaugural Anzac Test, "Mark my words, Australia is still in grave danger from one of our so-called neighbours. The Kiwis were once our allies and now they’re on the other side - at least for 80 minutes".

In those parlous times as rugby league fought to regain its momentum, the Australian Rugby League was criticised for playing the Anzac match before the State of Origin series resulting in the Anzac Test being axed. In 2002 and 2003 Australia played Great Britain and New Zealand respectively. In 2004 the “Anzac” match was revived and officially renamed the Bundaberg Rum League Test, after its naming-rights sponsor. Media outlets sometimes still describe the game using its original name.

The 1997-98 Super League winners were awarded the ANZAC Trophy, which depicted an Australian slouch hat and New Zealand lemon squeezer hat. However, from 2004 the winner of the Bundaberg Rum League Test has been awarded the Bill Kelly Memorial Trophy, donated in 1996 by Gerald Ryan, a past president of the New Zealand Rugby League.

It is named after a New Zealander who played for Wellington, the Balmain Tigers, New South Wales and for both the New Zealand and Australian national sides. He also had a long coaching career with five different clubs (Balmain, University, St. George, Canterbury, Newtown) in the NSWRFL in the 1920-30s and the New Zealand Kiwis in 1932.

It won’t come as surprise to many that the Bill Kelly Memorial Trophy was stolen by several New Zealand men after Australia's victory in the 2006 Test. It was found several hours later on the awning of a nearby building which substantiates claims that there is nothing sacred when it comes to Trans Tasman rivalry…

In 1974, young journalist tracked down Bill Kelly in retirement at his Wellington home. He asked the old man what his nickname was and was shocked that Kelly went purple with rage and said: "See that line of houses over there? I built them all, but do they call me Bill the Builder? Do they hell! See those railway lines over there? I laid them all, but do they call me Kelly the Engineer? Do they hell! See that bridge? I built it too, but do they call me Bill the Bridge Builder? Do they hell! But, a long time ago, just once, I shagged a sheep."
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]------------------------------------------
[/FONT]References:
http://www.nospam49.com/print.php?type=A&item_id=47
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Ke...ugby_league%29
http://www.nzwarriorstribe.co.nz/stats/anzac.html

 

[Willow]

Willow | Kiwis

Crimson Avalanche

The room fell silent when Crimson walked in.

The team looked towards their skipper, waiting to hear what was important enough to delay their end of season celebrations.

"Thanks for coming lads... this shouldn't take too long."

Crimson looked a little tired. It had been a long year both on and off the field. He gingerly pulled some paper out of his pocket, had a quick read, then shook his head. The paper went back into the pocket.

"Look, there's no easy way to say this." Crimson hesitated.

"Just spit it out mate! Which of us do you want to sleep with?" Jacko got a laugh, he always did. It also brought a smile to Crimson's face... briefly.

"Well it's like this lads... you know I love this place, but all good things have to come to an end...

"I'm leaving."

You could have heard a pin drop.

It was Wally up the back of the room who finally broke the silence.

"What do you mean you're leaving? You mean, you're retiring!?"

"No Wal, I'm not retiring..." Crimson hesitated again before dropping another bombshell.

"I'm going to the other side."

Crimson came to the Dover Bay Devils 10 years earlier. In his first season he developed into the ideal rugby league centre three-quarter. Everytime he came near the ball, fans would stand up in anticipation. Crimson was a try scoring machine and he knew how to hurt the opposition in defence. Plus he was safe as houses, relishing the high ball. A match-winner and fan favourite, Crimson was the heart and soul of the team. His passion on the field was an inspiration to all. Crimson's nickname was coined by team mates - they said if you cut him open, he would bleed crimson and white, the club's colours.

For all intents and purposes, Crimson was the perfect clubman. So you can imagine the shock caused by the announcement.

"What the f**k do you mean by the other side?" It was Billy interjecting now.

"Don't tell me you'll be playing for those f**kers the Redbacks!"

"No Billy... it's not the Redbacks." Crimson replied, his head now lowered.

Billy jumped up. "Then who pinched you from us mate... we'll burn down their bloody clubhouse!"

"Billy, mate, they didn't poach me. My manager approached the other mob. Truth is, they came back with an offer that was just too good to refuse."

"I've cleared it with the CEO, I've been released.

"He just sent me down here to let you all know."

Disbelief permeated the room, mutterings followed by sadness until finally Jacko stepped up.

"Well skipper, you've been a champion around here since Adam was a boy. Congratulations mate, I can't speak for all the lads but you have my best wishes." Jacko gave Crimson a firm, warm handshake.

Then Billy, Wally and the whole team came forward, patting Crimson on the back, shaking his hand with well wishes all round.

"Thanks boys, this means a lot to me. I was pretty concerned that you wouldn't take it well." Crimson was clearly relieved.

"That's OK Crim, you'll always be one of us and we'll always be here for you." Jacko then led a chorus of 'hip, hip hooray' which could be heard across the suburb.

With the beer flowing, the men sang the team song for the last time with their mate and captain. Then Billy pressed on with his earlier question.

"So Crim, what's the deal? Who's the lucky team?"

"You sure you won't mind?" Crimson replied.

"No worries mate... even if it's the bloody Redbacks I'll still say good luck!"

"Ah... well you see lads, it's none of the teams in our comp..."

"What... you're off to the UK?"

"Nah... hey, this will make you laugh..." Crimson gave a chuckle and guzzled down half a stubby before continuing. His team mates now hanging on his every word, all eager to hear which club had snared their champion mate.

"Well here it is boys...

"I've been signed up to play Aussie Rules!"


Later that night Dover Bay police were called when neighbours reported a 'violent disturbance' at the local rugby league clubhouse. But the officers received no confirmation of a disturbance from the players or management. The function room in the Devils' clubhouse was a mess. The Club's CEO however, informed police officers that it was due to 'exuberant celebrations'.

The next day, the local newspaper reported the mysterious disappearance of the player formerly known as Crimson.

Words | 750

 

[LeagueNut]

Substimatution

OUT: RHCP

IN: byrne_rovelli_fan82 \\\\/

 

[LeagueNut]

This is byrne_rovelli_fan82's article, being posted by proxy (731 words including title)

Whipping boy no more!

The annual ANZAC game between one time rugby league world champions, the Australian Kangaroos and their whipping boy, the New Zealand Kiwis, whom have now transformed into world cup champions and Four Nations winners, was played out for 2011 at Skilled Park on the Gold Coast. The relevance of the great rivalry between the two countries on the sporting field played out like it always did – Australia jumping on their chances early and looking fearless and un-stoppable while the Kiwis stuttered around attempting to find their feet under bright lights. For once it was the Kangaroos looking not as fluent as they used to be with many uncharacteristic plays not seen from them in all their years of dominance.

Although it was the Kangaroos team to come away with the points the feeling hanging in the air was one that hasn’t been felt for a long time when the two teams collide. There was a confidence and excitement for the Kiwis, for the first time in a while they had a bit of the upper hand on the Kangaroos and it was them not the Aussies with the trophies while on the other hand the Kangaroos had questions needing to be answered.

In the mid-year test of years past spectators have come to bare witness of the Kangaroos extracting painful, unbearable and embarrassing score lines on the Kiwis with one game standing out the most.

It was the weekend where Trans-Tasman rivalry was at its absolute highest, the Kiwis facing of against the Kangaroos, then the All Blacks facing off with the Wallabies (where whipping boy is in the reverse order). The Kangaroos with a score of 52-0 flattened the Kiwis and the papers the next day draped the humiliating defeat all over their front covers. When ‘the other code’ played out their own rivalry there was the feeling of ‘normality’ returning to the order of sports achievements’.

A lot has changed since that devastating night; the teams have gone through a few changes over the years, although the Kangaroos strong hold as the ultimate force remained untouchable. The Kiwis however have caught up very quickly on the Kangaroos, as the end of year Tri Nations proved in 2005 in England, followed up three years later in the 2008 Rugby League World Cup in Australia and of course the Four Nations in 2010.

Australia has had no choice but to move on; the World Cup and their chance to take it back is coming up again as will the Four Nations opportunity, in the mean time they need to accept they aren’t as brilliant as they once were, so to quote a young Storm fan from last year:

‘Suck it up princess!’

Even Phil Gould mentioned in the pre-game about how much it hurt to say the Kiwis are the world champions, even when this crown was decided 2 years ago.

If there is one bright spot for the Kangaroos they still have the ability of appealing to young footballers to come and play for them as was seen in the one-off test match; though the Kiwis have their own answers to this puzzle churning out talents of their own. The way the Kiwis have emerged they have shown patience is the way to go and it isn’t all just about winning everything in one go. They have worked out a game-plan timeline targeting specific goals they want to meet and when they want to meet it by, and this is evident by their achievements since 2005. It’s been a slow progress from there up until now and the trophies tucked away safely at Kiwi headquarters are the perfect testament to their steady climb up the ranks.

While New Zealand does still lose the odd game or two to Australia, this is quite acceptable since nobody can continue to keep winning but the gap that had been in existence for several years has closed significantly in the last seven years and the Kangaroos have to take the Kiwis seriously now. No longer is the little brother afraid of the ‘big bad wolf’ and no long will they accept being beaten by heavy score lines. The days of being Australia’s whipping boy are now over. The day of Kiwi rising has emerged and is a force to be reckoned with, a dominance that will reign on Australia’s parade.

 

[Jesbass]

With a sombre tip of his hat to the fallen, Jesbass takes to the field for the Kiwis.

***

Letters From The Front (Row)

When the Australian Rugby League and the New Zealand Rugby League recently signalled their intent to have the annual ANZAC Test played in Turkey in 2015, they harked back to the dawn of the ANZAC spirit.

One century after the landings at Gallipoli, they declared their aim to play the match just a few hundred kilometres from where 11,221 Australians and New Zealanders breathed their last.

Among the lives that were so tragically lost were rugby league men.

Edward Larkin, a former secretary of the New South Wales Rugby League, was shot by machine gun fire on the first day of the campaign. Harold Cavill’s war memoir Imperishable Anzacs cites Larkin as having waved on stretcher bearers, saying “There’s plenty worse than me out there”, but when they returned, he had succumbed to his injuries.

New Zealander Charles Savory, surrounded by controversy during his playing days, was credited for his bravery in the final moments before his death in early May during the Second Battle Of Krithia.

James Williams, a first grader for Newtown, was killed the very next day.

The first fullback for Western Suburbs, George Duffin, was slain during the charge to claim Hill 60. His body was never found.

The ensuing anniversaries of the landing have always been occasions of remembrance. Once a year, on April 25th, Australians and New Zealanders gather to commemorate ANZAC Day.

Men of a gallant era are joined by citizens who wish to show their gratitude. Veterans from other wars stand with children too young to understand why they had to get up before dawn.

And then, about two weeks later, the Kiwis and the Kangaroos do battle on the rugby league field to honour those courageous souls who fought and died so that we might not have to.

My great-grandfather, Joseph Bear, wasn’t an ANZAC but he did fight in the war that gave birth to the name. His battallion served at the landing of Cape Helles on that fateful April day in 1915 when the futile campaign was launched.

He served with the British because he was from the motherland that called these brave soldiers from throughout the commonwealth to do their bit for king and country.

While reading through the letters he later wrote to his wife from the trenches of the Western Front, I was struck by how mundane the content was.

I'm not sure what I'd expected when I first started to sift through them, but if I had been hoping to discover gory details of a gruesome war, I would have been sorely disappointed.

In stark contrast, I read very typical – and stoically British – comments about the weather and the eggs the soldiers had eaten for dinner the night before.

Part of me wonders if the content was kept strictly civil, both in content and in tone, for the purposes of military intelligence. The rest of me - the majority - suspects that he was just trying to protect his wife, Annie, from the horrors of a conflict that was the first to experience tanks, air warfare and poison gas that only caused ever bloodier stalemates.

What these courageous individuals experienced is simply too far removed from us to understand fully. But we honour their memory by keeping it alive.

When the Warriors entered the then ARL in 1995, I was fortunate enough to perform in the opening ceremony. My part was simple: walk to the halfway mark dressed as a choirboy and mime to a recording.

But the men who followed after me had travelled a much harder road to get to the sideline. They were veterans of the Korean and Vietnam Wars – Australians and New Zealanders united first in conflict and now in peace.

The Auckland-based club being welcomed into what was until then an exclusively Australian competition was seen as a continuation of the same spirit that had carried men up the hills from the shores of the Dardanelles.

The National Basketball League, with its champion New Zealand Breakers, and the A-League, with the Wellington Phoenix, are enabling that spirit to continue across different sporting disciplines.

We honour them by remembering them, be they from Australia, New Zealand, Britain or Turkey.

As for my great-grandfather? He died of wounds in a German military hospital in 1918. As was his way, his last letters to Annie assured her that he was doing well.

We shall never know what those men experienced – but may we never forget to remain grateful.

***

749 words between the stars.

Sources:
www.cwgc.org
http://media.dailytelegraph.com.au/multimedia/2011/04/roll_of_honour.pdf
http://www.rl1908.com/Rugby-League-News/anzacs.htm
http://www.smh.com.au/rugby-league/...-forgotten-20110422-1drcz.html?skin=text-only
www.wikipedia.org
Imperishable Anzacs, Harold Cavill
The Kiwis: 100 Years Of International Rugby League, John Coffey and Bernie Wood

 

[Jesbass]

The referee signals full time, as referees are periodically wont to do.

 

[Jesbass]

I'm not renowned for mathematical prowess, but that looks like 5v5 to me. Well done to both teams!

Over to you, ref.

...ref?

Oh dear. It looks like I'll need to find a ref...!

 

[Titanic]

and as happens when there isn't a ref, sanity prevails and both teams retire to the clubhouse to relive the 80 minutes of competition and swear fealty to the rugby league gods.

great game all concerned (and those only partially concerned and even those who don't give a hoot).

**As there was no referee to ask for dispensation, and as there are no competition points riding on the outcome, could I ask the community to consider replacing Joshie's link (which is obviously not the picture) with his picture? And here it is... perhaps one of the mods could insert it where it belongs (no pun intentional).

 

[madunit]

Jesbass should be ref

 

[Hallatia]

Jesbass should be ref

I like this idea

 

[Jesbass]

I like this idea

Can I issue life bans to anyone who disagrees? :sarcasm: :crazy: