2013 Round 2 :: Ninja's vs Souths

Discussion in 'Forum Sevens Matches' started by Drew-Sta, May 20, 2013.

  1. Drew-Sta

    Drew-Sta Moderator Staff Member

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    [​IMG] v [​IMG]

    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 reseves for home sides; +2 for away)
    * No 'TBA' or changing players named
    * Captains must stick with original teams named

    Rules: http://f7s.leagueunlimited.com/rules.php
    Official Word Counter: http://f7s.leagueunlimited.com/wordcount.php

    Kick Off: Sunday 19 / 05 / 13 (23:00 AEST)
    Full Time: Monday 03 / 06 / 13 (21:00 AEST)
    Referee: Non Terminator
    Venue: Reliant Stadium

    [​IMG]
     
    Last edited by a moderator: May 31, 2013
  2. joshie

    joshie Live Update Team

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    1. Eozsmiles
    2. gUt
    3. Jamesgould
    4. Joshie - Captain
    5. Russel Crowes band

    bench:
    6. Edabomb
    7. Cobydelany
    8. Bunniesman
     
  3. joshie

    joshie Live Update Team

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  4. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    A fresh faced Souths team is keen as for their first hit out of the season, goooooooooooooooo Bunnies

    [​IMG]

    Monk (c)
    soc123_au
    Lambretta
    Horrie is God
    Tommy Smith

    Bench
    Marshall Magic
    Bubbles
     
  5. Tommy Smith

    Tommy Smith Coach

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    Tommy Smith runs out onto the field, making his Forum 7's debut for the Rabbitohs.

    _______________________________________________________________


    Standing on the Shoulders of Giants


    The sun was shining down intensely; scorching the dirt beneath their feet. “Stan! Yes Stan, on the inside mate!” “Go Jimmy, go! Take it all the way!” yelled Stan as his teammate crashed over the line unflinchingly; despite the dry, unforgiving ground beneath him.

    “Just like being back home in Newcastle, Stan.” his dear friend replied as the odd native looked on somewhat bemused as to what was going on. “Almost, Jimmy…except for the fact we’re about 9000 bloody miles away.”

    April 26, 1915. Just a few short weeks after leaving Cairo behind…

    “Keep your head down, mate! There’s hundreds of the bastards up there!” In the face of a blaze of bullets zinging furiously past their heads, the young men remained steadfast. “He’s been out there on the beach for over a day without food or water! I’m not leaving him out there to die!” “He’s almost 100 yards away Stan … we’re gonna have to run like bloody mad men!”

    Unperturbed, Stan responded fiercely, “Grab the stretcher, mate! f**k these bastards, we’re goin’ for him!” And with that, Stan and another stretcher bearer stormed across the sands of Gallipoli with reckless self-abandon. Racing over 100 yards under heavy fire they rescued the wounded Australian soldier, returning exhausted.

    Guts … mateship and sheer bloody guts!

    They would go on to repeat the feat three more times.

    This is the true story of Newcastle captain and Australian representative Stan Carpenter. He would later repeat his heroics during the Battle of Pozieres; where he continually went into “No Man’s Land” to collect and tend to wounded soldiers. Carpenter saw out the war stationed in England playing the game he loved in an inter-country rugby league tournament.

    He was just one of many famous rugby league players who proudly served during the Great War having previously lit up the football field; electrifying thousands of fans in the process.

    These included former Australian representative Bert Gray, who wrote in 1917 that he had “just come out of the stiffest and hottest part of the whole campaign … I can tell awful stories of the Menin road stoush”. Gray later added that “we had a game of football here just among ourselves. I often get the ball out now and have a go, as we are in a pretty quiet place.”

    Then there was Glebe’s Fred Saunders who wrote that he had played “some football in the vicinity of the trenches.” Sadly, Saunders was later killed along with ex-Newcastle player George ‘Pudden’ Hardy at Pozieres.

    Away from the front, many Australian soldiers played rugby league while camped at Bapaume in June-July 1917, which was integral in maintaining the fitness and high spirits of so many men. Private Alex Baird wrote in 1918 that the 1st Battalion “have the champion Rugby League team in the AIF and I think would give any representative team in Australia today a solid shaking, if not a drubbing.”

    Not far away in England, Australian representatives Jimmy Devereaux, Viv Farnsworth and Tom McCabe were part of an Australian military team which toured England and Wales in 1916, boosting morale of local civilians. Another member of the team, Glebe’s James ‘Tony’ Redmond, wrote that “I had a bad time at Gallipoli” but joked that “I am making up for the club matches I have missed at home.”

    Many of these men were some of the greats of rugby league during the game’s primitive years. But they were also sons, fathers, husbands; brave young men who helped chart the narrative of what it is to be Australian for the generations to follow.

    Take for example the story of NSW Rugby League representative Percy White, who left our shores for England with the Australian Imperial Force in July1917. After leaving for France in November, White formed a rugby league team which won nine of its 10 matches.

    Prior to the war, White was a foundation member of the Eastern Suburbs Roosters, having played 89 games and winning three consecutive Premierships in 1911, 1912 and 1913. But he was also a master-builder from Paddington; a loyal husband and father to a young son; and a great Australian.

    Sadly, on April 24 1918, Percy White died of shrapnel wounds to the lower body during the Second Battle of Villers-Bretonneux.

    He was just one of many young men who honoured the stripes of our favourite teams on the football field and the flag of our country on the battlefield.

    Lest We Forget.

    _______________________________________________________________


    750 words.

    Reference:

    Rodney Noonan (2009): Offside: Rugby League, the Great War and Australian Patriotism, The International Journal of the History of Sport, 26:15, 2201-2218.
     
    Last edited: Jun 2, 2013
  6. Lambretta

    Lambretta First Grade

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    Lambretta runs out for the Bunnies once more - 748 words according to Microsoft Word

    Welcome to the future

    Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Play my Wii Box 2150 Virtual Origin series broadcasting to you live on Sports Channel 8,746. Organisers of this year’s series are expecting a massive viewing audience of one hundred thousand people or .01% of the national viewing total. Of course with the modern Origin series now in virtual reality everyone gets to feel as if they are actually at the ground..... if indeed there even is one.

    This year the series returns to its spiritual home in Sydney just a mere stone’s throw from the old stadium in Homebush. Sadly the stadium was bulldozed to make way for public housing, but the players will be linked to their consoles half a kilometre away – that’s less than an hour’s drive. The venue even has some seats and air conditioning and as it’s indoors, none of the players would get wet even if it did rain for the first time in ten years.

    Let’s introduce some of the stars – firstly for New South Wales. Born in Uganda and brought up in London before fleeing to Sydney at the age of twenty-eight is the New South Wales captain Nelson Mbuku. Even though Nelson lost both his legs and two fingers in a bomb blast as a child this has not stopped this console-hero from leading out his adopted State for the third time.

    At full back, weighing two hundred and eleven kilograms is Mohammed Abbas. This sixteen year old has a vicious right thumb and will be a real danger providing he can last more than thirty minutes without having to stop to refuel. With that body mass he’d be an amazing proponent of the shoulder charge; if any contact were legal and if he were able to move without a mobility crane of course!

    At half back, is Felicia – this Brazilian beauty from Sao Paolo is the pin-up of the game with a huge fan-base thought to number in the hundreds. Felicia, the only girl in the team actually born that way, is famous for her ability to overcome the biggest of obstacles including sexist comments referencing Queensland’s banana crop.

    Of course this year sees the introduction of additional breaks every five minutes to allow our players to cope with the added stresses that sitting down and pressing buttons repeatedly can have on them. Player safety is at the forefront of the code’s thoughts; after all, the mums out there won’t let their children take part in our code if they think their children might skim the skin off one of their fingers or even worse break into a sweat. We certainly don’t want our players breaking anything.

    Remember this season also sees the introduction of special “bounce suits” to allow the players to walk around the arena during break times without risking injury by bumping into hard surfaces. Last season you’ll remember Timothy Fluff tripped over and actually ripped off a false fingernail in one of the worst injuries we’ve seen since Tammy Uberknuckle got a bruised leg five years ago. I’ll never forget that night! Remember, player safety is paramount at all times.

    Now we turn to the stars of the Queensland side; winners of the past one hundred Origin series who are “coached” once more by Mal Meninga’s pickled corpse. Suggestions that Mal doesn’t have any input into this Queensland side are hotly refuted by everyone North of Hornsby.

    The Queensland captain Mi Long and his conjoined twin sister He Li have gotten special dispensation to be counted as one player even though they can play two positions at the same time. The tribunal was obviously convinced by Mi Long’s argument that he was the only one of the pair that had full use of his joystick.

    Queensland’s outside backs Sling Greig and Lama Drain hail from Germany and were visiting family in Perth when they received their Queensland call-up via qualification under the anagram rule on the condition that they fly to Sydney via Brisbane and buy a “my parents went to Australia and all they got me was a place in State of Origin” t-shirt ...

    Of course back in 2013 I pray none of this nonsense eventuates. Rugby League must remain a physical contest played under honest conditions by outstanding athletes. Rule changes should enhance the game without destroying its very fabric and if a mistake is made I hope we have the strength to reverse it, starting with the shoulder charge rule!
     
  7. jamesgould

    jamesgould Juniors

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    For the Ninjas.

    Assassin

    I hunched down over the rifle and took aim. From the top of the grandstand, there was a perfect view of the field, and good enough cover that nobody would know where the shot came from.

    I took one final sweeping look around the park. It was a sunny winter’s day. There was a brisk chill in the air, but it was pleasant enough. Narrowing my field of view, I centred on the lanky outside back. Standing on the wing, he was a fair distance from the ball. Moving up and back each play in anticipation, he wasn’t going to be a difficult target.

    Grasping the rifle in my hands, I pulled it close and lined the player up in the aim. I slowly pulled the trigger tight, and the shot echoed around the field.

    Pulling the gun down, I could immediately see the shot had hit its mark. The player had collapsed into the turf, and his limp body had blood running from the back of his head, slowly changing the surrounding grass from green to red.

    I sunk back out of view of the field, and got ready to stand up. As I did, I noticed a small piece of barbed wire had become caught up against my shoe. Expecting it to pull off easily enough, I got to my feet. Hunched over, I pushed my shoe off, but the barbed wire was much more strongly attached than I thought. I fell over, making a loud clunking sound as the rifle hit the corrugated iron roof.

    I went to get up again, in the rush coming into full view of the field. Despite the chaos, the spectators had heard the noise, and I could see them pointing at me as I made my escape.

    I headed for the steps down the back of the stand, but could see a crowd assembling at the bottom. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as clean a getaway as I had hoped. I could sense this starting to become an incident as well, which is the last thing I needed.

    Rushing down the stairs, I reached the second to last turn in the flight and leapt over the rail, over a fence, into the carpark. As I flew through the air, my ankle caught the fence. My body flipped and I lost all control of my momentum. Head first I tumbled towards the ground, hearing a large thud as my forehead cracked into the concrete. I tried to pull myself up, but an initial sense of dizziness only got stronger, and I slumped down as darkness enveloped me.

    ***

    I came too sitting in a chair. I groggily looked around. There were no windows, a small table directly in front of me, and a lone lightbulb hanging grimly from the ceiling. The walls were concrete, painted white, no doubt to cover up decades of graffiti.

    I waited there for several minutes, maybe half an hour, until the door finally opened. In walked a gruff looking man. Tall, with a distinguished, worn looking face. He could barely disguise the look of disgust on his face as he glanced towards me.

    “What’s your name.” he barked, bluntly. It was more of a demand, than a question.

    I couldn’t answer, of course. Knowing a false answer would probably only heighten his anger, I kept quiet.

    “I see, so it’s going to be like that.” he replied. “That guy you shot in the head? He’s dead. So you’re looking at a long time before bars. You’re only going to make that even longer, if you don’t start talking. So I’ll repeat, what’s your name?”

    Again, I remained silent.

    He continued, unfazed. “What possible reason could you have for shooting a guy in the middle of a game of rugby league. A guy with a mum, a dad. Plenty of friends ... a young guy making a real go of his life. Why did you want to end all that?”

    I stared back at him, blankly.

    Something seemed to snap at him, and he came at me. He grabbed me by the shoulder, his forearm pressing against my neck.

    “What sort of scum are you that you won’t even explain why you did it!?” he yelled. His face was reddening by the second.

    Barely able to breath, I wheezed out “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

    “WHY?!” he roared.

    Gasping for air, I struggled to say: “Because ... I’ve come ... from the future ... to kill ... John Ribot.”



    750 words
     
  8. gUt

    gUt Coach

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    750 o.w.c.
     
    Last edited: Jun 3, 2013
  9. soc123_au

    soc123_au Coach

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    Laurie’s Folly
    It is that time of the year again, Mate against Mate and State against State. We all know it has been a long time since the Mighty Blues held the trophy aloft, and the army of NSW supporters are hoping 2013 is the year we break the drought.

    Much has been written and spoken in the past about Queensland and their strategies regarding loyalty and team selection. We, the Blues, have spent considerable time and money trying to find a way to duplicate the success of the Maroons. Although we don’t have the luxury of having “the big 4” to don our Jersey, there are some simple things we do not do.

    The Maroons are big on loyalty; those that have performed well in the past are pretty much automatic selections. New faces are generally selected due to incumbents being injured or reaching the time in their careers where they are unavailable for representative duties. History has shown that this strategy works, many times a player seemingly down on form at club level pulls on the Maroon Jersey and becomes seemingly super human on the field.

    NSW have seen this and tried to duplicate this strategy in recent years. The problem is we do it wrong. Before a ball was kicked in 2013 our new coach declared our number 7 Mitchell Pearce was an automatic selection. Pearce has a few Origin campaigns under his belt now, so to the casual observer it would appear that NSW are taking the right approach. One problem with this approach is Pearce has for the most part been rubbish when faced with the might of the Queenslanders. His defence is sound, but he fails to provide the attacking spark required if one wants to outscore the Maroons.

    To counter the lack of creativity from Pearce the selectors had a plan. It was decided to remove one of the most gifted attacking halves in the game in favour of debuting Maloney into the meat grinder that is the NSW number 6 position. Sound logic though as he partners Pearce at club level. In another twelve months he will be close to having as many games beside Pearce as the incumbent has. Maloney has another string to his bow though, he kicks almost as well as Carney and misses many more tackles. Apparently this will confuse the Maroons into some sort of false sense of security.

    It is OK though, the selectors have a plan to counter this; all they need to do is ring Gids. another Blues mainstay that has led us to winning nothing. Gids is a handy clubman, a jack of all trades if you will. Sadly he is a master of none. Luckily for Blues fans when Gids found out he had received another call up he was so surprised he dropped the phone on his foot, ruling him out. NSW fans breathed a collective sigh of relief as the selectors were given the chance to right one wrong.

    The buzz amongst Blues fans was that Tim Grant would get a call. If Tim was a Queenslander he would have been pencilled in as starting front rower until at least 2022, based solely on his first hitup in a Blues Jersey last year. Sadly Laurie and his advisors felt indecision would be a better outcome and decided to choose two rookie five eighths instead. Outstanding idea really, it is not as though the Queenslanders have ever dominated through the middle before.

    To complete the comedy that has been Game One selection 2013, both spare five eighths were announced as winning the final bench spot. Luckily Laurie spotted Josh Reynolds heading back to Belmore in time to let him know to go and turf Sutton’s suitcase out into the carpark.

    Meninga and his mates have no doubt spent the week pissing themselves laughing over a few cans of XXXX. Hopefully in their merriment they have forgotten to train and work out a game plan. Even still, given the time these blokes have played together they don’t really need to.

    In a few short days the result of Game One 2013 will be etched into the history books. When Pearce and Co take the field, we may well think them Gumby's, but they are OUR Gumby's. Hence, we will cheer for them lustily and when they lead the Blues to victory, we will gulp down our humble pie as if it were the finest meal we'd ever eaten!

    747 according to the counter.
     
    Last edited: Jun 3, 2013
  10. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    Monk runs onto the field. Beanie atop his head. What? It's cold bitches.

    749 Words according to our mate the OWC

    +++++++++++++++++++

    It is but a Rhyme.

    “Who’s ready for nursery rhyme time?”

    The crowd of toddlers rushed over to the teacher, their eyes widened as though the prospect of singing their favourite rhymes fulfilled their innermost desires in life. The teacher looked into many of the toddlers’ eyes and saw an incredible innocence, while they all sat there wearing a variety of jerseys, unaware of what each club had been through. For some of them, it was just as well.

    “Let's sing Five little tigers first!” shouted the two boys sitting side by side, each wearing a Tigers jersey with Marshall’s name on the back.

    The entire group of children agreed it was the perfect rhyme to start off their afternoon, and without a cue they all started singing in astounding harmony.

    “Five little tigers went out one day,
    Over the hills and far away.
    Mother tiger roared “Let’s hit the sack!”
    But only four little tigers came back.

    Four little tigers went out one day,
    Over the hills and far away.
    Mother tiger roared “Let’s hit the sack!”
    But only three little tigers came back.

    Three little tigers went out one day,
    Over the hills and far away.
    Mother tiger roared “Let’s hit the sack!”
    But only two little tigers came back.

    Two little tigers went out one day,
    Over the hills and far away.
    Mother tiger roared “Let’s hit the sack!”
    But only one little tiger came back.

    One little tiger went out one day,
    Over the hills and far away.
    Mother tiger roared “Let’s hit the sack!”
    This time no little tigers came back.

    Later that night mother tiger found,
    News of her cubs had spread around.
    “Listen here” one tiger remarks,
    Your cubs have become Tiger-Sharks!”


    The toddlers clapped with delight. They had no clue about the hidden meaning behind the song. The teacher however struggled to hold back tears as names and faces of the players lost in the raid were withdrawn from the dark depths of forgotten memories. Would the Tigers be crippled forever more?

    “Can we sing the Parra Matta rhyme now please?” a small girl asked. She wore a tattered Eels jersey with Jarryd Hayne’s name barely visible on the back. The teacher didn’t need to say anything, as once again the toddlers sang together.

    “Parra Matta sat on a wall.
    Parra Matta had a great fall.
    All Ricky’s horses and all Ricky’s men,
    Couldn’t put Parra together again!”


    The sadness of Parramatta’s collapse did not seem to register with any of the students. Their minds immediately thought of the next song they wanted to sing.

    “Can we sing the Souths trophy song now?” yelled a girl whose neck was wrapped in a Cardinal and Myrtle scarf. “My daddy is always singing it around the house so I know all the words, I promise!”

    Once again the students excitedly belted out the lyrics, aside from one small boy wearing a Roosters hat – he didn't seem all that keen to sing along.

    “If you go out to the game today,
    You're sure of a big surprise.
    If you go out to the game today,
    You'd better go in disguise.

    For every fan that ever there was,
    Will gather there for certain, because,
    Today's the day that Souths take home their trophy.

    Every Souths fan, that's been good,
    Is sure of a treat today.
    There are lots of wonderful things to see,
    When you watch the Bunnies play.

    Beneath the posts, where they are the most,
    They'll run and kick ‘till they get sick.
    Because today's the day that Souths take home their trophy.

    If you go out to the game today,
    You'd better not go alone.
    It's lovely out at the game today,
    But safer to stay at home.

    For every fan that ever there was,
    Will gather there for certain, because,
    Today's the day that Souths take home their trophy.”


    As the children were awarded their carton of milk for a great job singing that afternoon, the teacher couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. Is it too much to ask a child to understand the emotional trauma and significance which suffocates the words as they fall off the tongue? Maybe it is. The Children are yet to understand the harsh realities of supporting a team. As they grow, their innocence and delusions are cast away much like the scrums of old. All that's left is a bitter shell to wear the cold shackles which bare the colours you chose all those years ago.
     
    Last edited: Jun 3, 2013
  11. eozsmiles

    eozsmiles Bench

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    Eozsmiles lurking around the ruck for the Ninjas
    750 official word counter including title



    Winners Versus Losers



    The sounding of the final siren is polarising.

    For the winners, the sound is sweet. The winners will tell you that winning is better than any drug. They'll tell you that the emotional feeling of winning a big game rivals the monumental moments of their lives. The anticipation of reliving this feeling will drive them through pre-seasons. The camaraderie of achievement will bond men for life. When teams are winning, their off field woes are momentarily forgotten. Voices rise in muddled harmony through the team song. The coach will tell jokes, and people will laugh. The winning dressing room is the reason people play the game.

    For the losing team it will mean that everything invested and spent has been for nothing. The stress on the body and the mind is worth nought. The time spent away from family and under the scrutiny of strangers was worthless. Playing football takes a physical toll. It causes pain. Adrenalin fades faster when you lose and bruises hurt more. The coach won't mention their failings now. Not while his troops are at their most vulnerable. Sometimes when you lose, it will break your heart, too.

    This contrast is never more evident than in State Of Origin.

    State Of Origin squeezes the life of a season into seven weeks. Hype, propaganda, and hyperbole are shifted into overdrive. The media created fervour is matched only by the appetite of the fans. The teams are chosen ten days before round one. From then it's six weeks until the grand final. It is twelve months before redemption should this chance be lost. Young players will be warned not to blink. To be slow out of the blocks in a State Of Origin series is to miss the race.

    The players see this frenzy and feel every bite. All players were once fans, too. But by now they know the difference between this beast and club football. They know that in the club competition they will lose some games, and they know they can regroup. They will be forgiven. They know they can feel their way back to form and that they'll get an easy kill somewhere along the way.

    None of that exists in State Of Origin.

    Those selected to play are already victorious, but only in the first battle. The sand dunes, rehabilitation, ice baths, extra training, and lectures have all paid off on a personal level. To play rep football is the goal of every player, old and young. Competing against the best holds a great honour, but also a personal risk. Because the excitement of selection is over almost instantly. Of course the joy of phoning Mum and Dad will last forever. But this is only the beginning of a dream. No player ever dreamt of just playing State Of Origin - they dream of winning it.

    The euphoria of reaching this level can be swallowed in a moment by failure. Just a single moment of indecision or ineptitude by an individual can kill the dreams of sixteen others. Being chosen to play carries the burden of responsibility and the pressure of proving oneself again. Feelings will be mixed upon receiving a jersey for the first time. Satisfaction intertwines with trepidation, relief with dread, expectancy with uncertainty. Players have dealt with these feelings earlier in their careers when they have stepped up to a new level. They will hope the experience holds them in good stead. If the desire to win is so great and the prospect of losing so real, the psyche can become a hurricane.

    When playing for their state, the expectations on players are immense. They are expected to play the hardest and fastest game of their lives. There is no question of wilting. This is the arena where the greatest are assessed. Names like Lewis, Fittler, and Beetson will be used more than once over the coming weeks. So will words like "hero" and "legend". The players know this, and they know that their chance of staking a claim are limited. History remembers the winners.

    Like two desperate card players, the teams will put everything they have on the table. For a bounty this large they are willing to bankrupt themselves of strength and wit. But winning is the only proof of this effort. The aftermath can be seen on the turf following the final whistle of the deciding match.

    Some men from both teams will be crying. But only half of them will want to remember why.
     
    Last edited: Jun 3, 2013
  12. Horrie Is God

    Horrie Is God First Grade

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    I won "Kid Lotto"..

    I was barely 6 years old when i started the job,but the memories of the time are as vivid as if they happened yesterday.I was one of the lucky kids.I was a first grade ball boy.

    The smell of liniment,the sound of steel studs tapping on concrete,the touchy tapping on the dressing room door with his flag,and the taste of freshly mixed Staminade are all triggers that take me back.

    It was the 1970's and 80's,and the sights,sounds and smells would not be seen anywhere near a shed circa 2013.

    Cigarette smoke wafting through the change rooms was 'de rigueur' for the day,and post game the sheds would look like a Las Vegas stage before the magician reappears,and smell like the pokie room at Souths Juniors. These were the days when Paul Hogan was telling us "Anyhow,have a Winfield",so the nation did.Smoking was considered beneficial to your health,so footy players weren't going to miss out.Pre-game,half time or post game,it did not matter.The boys were getting their smoke on.

    After game hydration was a completely different kettle of fish to today's isotonic drinks and intravenous drips.The guys would give it all on the field,and post game hydrate with the Gatorade of the day,beer.Gold cans of KB and silver bullets of Reschs would seemingly emerge from nowhere ,and as the players filed back into the sheds they were handed the amber nectar.From the moment the coldies were cracked it was time for a young kid to shut up and listen.As my heroes relaxed and imbibed,the stories would flow,some true,many,many more myths.But all were important parables on what it took to become a man.

    These were the days of the 'softening up period',and i was lucky enough to see the unbridled brutality of players like Terry Regan (the man Matty Johns' Reg Regan was based on),Steve Bowden,Charlie Frith,'Rambo' Ronnie Gibbs and John 'Dallas' Donnelly.Fearsome,borderline insane alpha males,who would just about rather fight than fornicate,and were permitted by the officials to sort out the physical side of the game,allowing the little guys to play footy.The 5 yard rule meant there was nowhere to hide,and the Darwinian side of the game,where it was survival of the toughest (or meanest),prevailed.Men were men.And the hairier the better.

    Putting fuel back into the machine was done differently too.Today's players tuck into protein bars and gel supplements.These are great for recovery,but they neglect a very important part of the body,that of the taste buds.The 70's and 80's man would never make this mistake,and crates of Sargents pies and Chico Rolls would flood through the doors for all and sundry to devour,and the tomato sauce flowed like the blood from a Boyd Cordner head wound.When they were all gone the club doctor would call for the mini sausage rolls and curried egg sandwiches.On white bread.

    It was a charmed life for a rugby league mad young kid.I got to observe some of the greatest players to have competed at our great game,from what could be considered 'the best seats in the house.'I got to run out onto the ground to the thunderous applause,or deafening boos,of the crowd,and imagine that one day i'd be going to war for my club,just like my heroes were about to.I got to hold onto the leather game balls and run out the sand for the kicks for goal,and was the envy of all my mates.And i loved every minute of it.Except when we lost.

    With all these advantages you would think i'd be able to make it as a player myself.

    Well,as i tell my kids,i had everything you need to play for Australia.

    Except for ability.
     
  13. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    Fulltime is here. No more changes can be made.

    [​IMG]

    Over to you Reffy's
     
  14. Horrie Is God

    Horrie Is God First Grade

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    The above is 672 words according to the Official Word Counter thingy..
     
  15. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    Some awesome articles posted by both teams, great job Souths. Special mention to Horrie for pumping out an article when he had some crazy IRL things going on. That's awesome dedication man.
     
  16. jamesgould

    jamesgould Juniors

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    Good work on the win Souths. No idea what is going on with the Ninjas atm ...
     
  17. Lambretta

    Lambretta First Grade

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    Shame it wasn't a five on five contest - your article deserved that much as it was an absolute cracker
     
  18. Non Terminator

    Non Terminator Coach

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    It's a being marked now.
     
  19. jamesgould

    jamesgould Juniors

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    Oh, thanks a lot Lambretta, that's very nice of you to say! :)
     
  20. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    Hope you got that fancy new Coffee machine I sent you NT :sarcasm:
     

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