Round 5 (2008) Dragons v Panthers

[Willow]

Forum 7s - Round 5 2008
ST GEORGE 'BOBONGIE' DRAGONS v PENRITH PANTHERS
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Game Thread:

* Please note - This is a game thread only, therefore only game posts can be made here (Teams, 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:
* 5v5 (+ 2 reserves for visiting team, 3 reserves for home team)
* No 'TBA' or changing players named
* Captains must stick with original teams named​

ALL THE RULES & REGULATIONS: http://f7s.leagueunlimited.com/rules.php​

FULL TIME: Thursday 22 May 2008 at 9pm (Syd time)
REFEREE: Pistol
Venue: Kogarah Jubilee Oval
**The Referee Blows Game On!**

CLICK HERE FOR OFFICIAL WORD COUNTER​

 

[_Johnsy]

The dragons take the field, full of confidence after notching up their first win in 2008, last week against the 2006 F7's premiers, the eels.

The side to take the field:
Dubopov
Preacher
Ribs
Dragon Punk
Johnsy
*****
Saint Dragon

 

[_Johnsy]

Johnsy leads the dragons out, knowing full well the 4 that follow will do the mighty red V proud. Last words before we take the field. "Life is short boys, make this one count."

733 words between the stars.
*********************
Do you realise that life is short ?
At some point in your sometimes uneventful life, you’ll hit a speed bump. You will not see it, but rest assured you will feel it. I won’t lie to you, it will hurt. It may come in the form of a personal tragedy, the loss of a family member, or a close friend. Regardless of what form it takes, your stomach will drop, and you will more than likely shed a tear and not be able to move. You may even not want to eat for several days, and feel like you are running on automatic pilot. You will be somewhere and all of a sudden you’ll stop and think, “how did I just get here?” You will have no recollection of the preceding 45 minutes, not one footstep.

During these testing times we will often reassess our own lives, and say “Life is short”. You will promise yourself that you will take every opportunity that presents itself, and more importantly, you’ll make a promise to yourself “I will make the most of everyday”. So, what does this really mean, and how does it apply to you? An even more intriguing question is, How does the phrase “life is short” apply to the greatest game of all, Rugby League?

Life is short. Once a season cheer, and applaud players and teams that you hate.
Life is short. Don't let fantasy league competitions replace the real game.
Life is short. Forgive John RIBOT, Paul MORGAN and Rupert MURDOCH for what they did to the game.
Life is short. Stop comparing every young brilliant player to RAPER, LANGLANDS, BEETSON, MENINGA, STERLING etc.
Life is short. Celebrate knock on’s, stupid penalties and missed tackles.
Life is short. Support your local competition.
Life is short. Think of Dally MESSENGER once a week.
Life is short. Appreciate GASNIER, THURSTON, INGLIS and INU each time they play.
Life is short. Listen to an old man propping up the bar to tell his footy stories.
Life is short. Don't write hateful columns about The Roosters.
Life is short. Don't wait for the perfect Grand Final to "save" the sport. You do it. Support it.
Life is short. Play footy in a park with total strangers once in your life.
Life is short. Don't hate iconic teams.
Life is short. Let the players play.
Life is short. Bet on the Knights 13+ at least once a season.
Life is short. Be a referee for one game.
Life is short. Try and see Willie MASON’S side of things, at least once.
Life is short. Support the club you first fell in love with as a child, before the new teams arrived. Adopt them as your number two side.
Life is short. Stop thinking the Raiders are not for real.
Life is short. Bet against the favourites.
Life is short. Let your son or daughter put 6 tries on you in the backyard.
Life is short. Don't struggle with who was better between LEWIS, JOHNS, STUART or KENNY. Just be happy knowing you got to see them play
Life is short. High-five an opposition fan on the way into the game.
Life is short. Don't be a lovable loser, lose with hatred and passion.
Life is short. Try saying Fui Fui MOI MOI after having a dozen beers without laughing hysterically.
Life is short. Say "Melbourne are worth persisting with" three times after they spank your team.
Life is short. While watching a game on Foxtel/Austar say “Jeees I love Lozza’s hair”.
Life is short. Stay up late to watch a game when two teams you hate are playing. Especially, when both teams are no chance of contesting the finals. You may well see some of the best attacking footy that year.
Life is short. Play flick footy in your hallway with your son. This is one version of rugby league we cannot afford to let die. You have a responsibility.
Life is short. Stop waiting for some superstar to fail or not live up to expectations. Enjoy what the next batch of stars are about to do.
Life is short. Smile when they deliver “that” moment, even if it means your side has just been beaten by it.
Life is short. Stop comparing generations and eras, and who would have beaten who.
Life is short. Watch every game like it could be your last.
*********************

 

[Big Mick]

Panthers take the field for this important clash against the Dragons:

1. LeagueNut c
2. MadUnit c
3. Furrycat c
4. Azkatro c
5. The Piper c

6. Big Mick vc
7. Alehana

 

[The Piper]

The Piper
***

White Jersey Blue
“The Game’s Great Villains”

Rodger Corser as Constable Jarrod Sammut
William McInnis as Detective Matt Adamson
Tammin Sursok as Constable Amanda Flynn
Eric Bana as Mason Williams
And Gary Sweet as Chief Inspector Coach


Scene – Sydney Football Stadium

“This is not going to stop until you put Williams away,” shouted Constable Sammut.

The best of the best officers from all rugby league cop departments in Sydney had been selected to form an elite crime unit. This unit had been named Task Force Panther. Their job was to stop the unsavory activities of rugby league players on and off the footy field. There was one character that had eluded major punishment so far in his career and Sammut had no doubt in his mind serial troublemaker Mason Williams had it coming to him. Williams was known to the rugby league cops as ‘Fathead Boy’.

Constable Jarrod Sammut had been taken under the wing of Detective Matt Adamson when both were selected for this task. The two were mingling with the twenty-something thousand people who had filled the Sydney Football Stadium.

“We can’t make a move on him until we catch him in the act,” the detective reassures Sammut, before the young man gets carried away with eagerness. “If it takes us eighty minutes, wait until Williams stuffs up. He could scoff at the crowd. He could laugh at an opponent after they get smashed. He could use unacceptable language at the referee. Williams will do something, he does it every time. That’s why he’s known as one of the greatest villains.”

The booing was incredibly loud when Williams appeared out of the tunnel. Even at a home game, the away fans had found their way to the game, packed the SFS to the rafters and were giving to the guy. An impertinent smirk came across William’s face as he heard the jeers. A disgusted frown came across Sammut’s face. Turning to the senior constable, Sammut tried to show his disliking of Williams in words. Those words were not heard over the roaring of the crowd, as Williams put a great hit on another player.

There were some smart-alecky looks and remarks by Williams, but Adamson and Sammut would wait a few more matches to get this villain on a good charge.

***
Two weeks later…

Scene – Energy Australia Stadium

Adamson points up the back of the Andrew Johns Stand to indicate the pair should move. They made their way to a spot where they could hear each other over the sellout crowd in Newcastle. The battle between Fathead Boy Williams and his opposite number in the forwards had been much anticipated all week.

“The crowd was like this against the Bunnies last week, too. No less than thirty five thousand made it to ANZ. Like the game at the SFS as well, the majority of the crowd were talking about Williams. Now we’re here again,” Sammut looked around at the red, white and blue supporters of both sides. “It’s the same situation.”

Then Detective Adamson’s phone rang. After a serious of “yes…yes…” he hung up and turned back to Sammut. “The sting is off,” he said.

“WHAT?” screamed Sammut, but no one around him took any notice of his outburst, as they were yelling after a break by Williams.

“Chief Inspector Coach has told us to quit,” Adamson explained. “He said if you can’t realise why, take a look at the crowd. Look back at those last few weeks’ crowds. The fans are coming out to see Fathead Boy play. The supporters of his team want to see him bash and barge their adversaries. The supporters on the other side want to see Williams get bashed. This villain is pulling in numbers; getting people to watch rugby league.”

“Dare I say it,” Adamson said with a shake of his head. “Maybe the game needs some villains to keep the game exciting.”

Sammut didn’t know what to say. The chief inspector was right. “Maybe this is why he’s known as one of the greatest villains,” he added.

The pair walked away, watching the big screen. Williams had scored. Williams stood on field, watching his own try on the screen, too. The smirk was clear to see by all.

Will the new Penrith boys gel by the end of the season?
Will Mason get his comeuppance?
Stay tuned to find out the exciting conclusion of White Jersey Blue

***
740 words says the official counter

 

[LeagueNut]

LeagueNut - Panthers :crazy:


Paul’s Story
Part Three – The Mistake

Despite the number of people hanging around, a dressing room can be a strangely empty place. Some players have the ability to tune everything out in preparation for the upcoming match – and Paul had mastered this art well. Others would look at him and see a man in deep concentration … a man in top form mentally preparing himself for another five-star showing … but the real story was quite different.

Paul was sitting with his head in his hands, desperately going through his instructions over and over again. He’d been working with Mack for about a month now, and the deception had been coming off without a hitch. His only problem was the list of demands that kept growing by the week.

In the beginning, Mack only asked for the first try-scorer to be arranged. But once Paul became more comfortable with his on-field play, Mack began to ask for more and more. First try-scorers were a norm, but now there were other things to consider – such as the halftime score, the fulltime score, the last try-scorer, his goal kicking success rate, and when he was to kick 40/20’s.

“Paul!”

“Sh*t, sorry coach.”

Paul snapped out of his trance and joined his team-mates for a final huddle before taking to the field. His home town crowd roared when his name was read out, but they were all invisible to him – the only person in the crowd Paul could see was Mack, sitting in his usual spot near halfway with a crooked little grin on his face.

Within five minutes Paul’s team had positioned themselves hard on attack, and Paul was about to set up a prop forward to chase a grubber kick through the line. He received the ball from his dummy-half and it ‘pulsed’ a couple of times – which was his signal for action. He kicked it through and it curved beautifully past the goal-posts, completely confusing the opposing fullback, and the prop was able to score the opening try. Paul let out a huge sigh – it was always a relief to get the first part done.

His next task came in the shadows of halftime – he was to throw a long cut-out pass for his winger for a try in the corner. Mack caused the opposition to fumble the ball in the right spot and a scrum was called. Once again the ball pulsed as Paul took it to the scrum, so he gave a nod to his winger and prepared for a set play.

“So what happens if it doesn’t come off?”

“You don’t want to know the answer to that”

Paul shook off the flashback and walked to the scrum. “Focus boy, focus. Let the ball do the work”

Paul took the ball from the back of the scrum and raced up to the defensive line, checked that his winger was in place, and threw the pa……

*CRUNCH*

The crowd gasped as Paul was his in a bloody good tackle and the ball spilled forward. To make matters worse, one of his forwards raced up and kicked the ball away – so Mack couldn’t set up another chance.

Paul lay on the ground for a while – not hurt, but scared. He’d never been told about the consequences of a missed opportunity, but he’d worked out that Mack was deadly serious about what he needed. The trainers arrived, thinking he’d been injured, but Paul quickly jumped up and tried to shake off the stress.

Soon afterwards he jogged off the field for halftime, and didn’t know whether to look into the stands or not. Curiosity got the better of him though – so he glanced up to see a very distinctive empty space where Mack should be.

Paul froze.

“Oi, shift your arse!”

“C’mon Pauly, get inside”

His team-mates jogged around him while Paul tried without success to spot where Mack had gone. He couldn’t hear a thing and he couldn’t see a soul – and eventually he walked from the field looking whiter than a ghost.

“Mate, snap out of it, you can’t pull it off every time you know”

His captain’s words were lost in the vacuum around him. Even the halftime rev-up from the coach had no impact. Paul knew he just had to get on with it though, and tried to fire himself up as they ran onto the field for the second forty.

To be continued…


749 words including title

 

[Willow]

From the F7s management forum:

Referees, captains and players please note that due to the State of Origin night clashing with the F7s, fulltime for the F7s has been extended to Thursday 22nd May 9:00pm for this round only.

 

[madunit]

madunit for Panthers

Unleash The Fury

The game is full of sooks, wimps and fairies. The game needs to unleash some fury!

Once upon a time, Rugby League players played the game for fun and bugger all coin. They played with passion, they played for their suburb, they played with their hearts on their sleeves and they played for no more than two teams in their entire career. They were loyal. For all you NRL players, it’s in the dictionary, look it up!

These players had full time jobs away from the footy field, they trained for three minutes a week, they didn’t have weights or any sci-fi exercise equipment or hyperbarometric chambers, or whatever they’re called. They lived by the motto “Bones mend, injuries heal, pain goes away.”

Nowadays, the softies have to get clearance from sixteen marketing people and a further seven player managers, twelve advertising executives and of course, mum. That’s before they even run onto the field!

They put gel in their hair, they aren’t allowed to spear tackle, attack heads, fight, push in scrums, grab arms, nothing. It’s fast becoming a rough version of touch football. If anymore body contact rules are omitted the game will become AFL.

Back in the days when men played the game under man rules, one competition wasn’t enough. They’d have a pre-season or end of season competition as well as a mid-season competition, while playing sixteen interstate matches, tour games against touring nations, a country carnival, test matches, and every three or four years, a forty match tour of England which would last eight months. They’d get home just in time to do their three minutes training and run onto the field for round one in the pre-season cup.

What did they get paid? The equivalent of about forty eight cents a year, in comparison to today’s incomes. They played after serving their country at war for four years, carrying fragments of bullets and grenades inside their bodies throughout the rest of their lives.

These blokes were tough.

In comparison, the player today is wrapped in cotton wool, to ensure he doesn’t strain his neck while playing tonsil hockey with one of the seven lingerie models wallowing around in a hot tub with them. They get manicures, then sit in gyms for thirty hours a week to try and look bigger, better and stronger than their predecessors. No amount of weights and hair gel will give these wimps the heart the men of yesteryear played with.

This is the centenary year, this should be the year that Rugby League goes back to some old school rules. Referees should only be there to blow the whistle for kick off’s, to award tries, half time and full time. None of this video referee crap that caters to the sooking players who cry because someone trod on their little toe when scoring a try, which consequently impeded them from making an effective grope ... sorry ‘tackle’.

Interchange is another thing that should be removed. Between 1908 and 1950 only five players played from the bench, they replaced men who had died on the field after fighting off Japanese planes while trying to field a kick restart.

No more reserves. There’s no war near our country so there is no excuse for these ladies to require coming off the field prior to full time.

Get the five yard rule back in play as well. We’ll see just how great a player these modern ‘legends’ are when they have the forwards all over them like a dodgey vindaloo kebab all game.

No player deserves to be sent off or even sin binned. These guys are athletes, they’re big strong and athletic, if they can’t get out of the way of a swinging arm or misguided elbow, then they deserve to be hit.

How many players from the games past were male models? None. They had their noses splattered across their faces, ears chewed and ripped, teeth missing. These blokes had heads so ugly, they’d make Rebecca Wilson look cute.

That is proof enough how hard the game was, and how soft it is now.

The game needs an overhaul before it becomes a parody. The first step should be snipers around the ground. Any sign of a player acting like a sook will get shot in a limb, and forced to continue playing.

Otherwise we face the threat of becoming a game with less body contact than under 7’s netball.

743 Words, including title.

 

[The Preacher]

Preacher for St.George "Bobongie" Dragons.

The Loss.

My father passed away last September, and naturally I think of him a lot. It's amazing how many of those thoughts revolve around rugby league.
The first game I remember attending was a competition game between Newtown and Wests at Henson Park. I was about 3 1/2, and it was bitterly cold in the King George V Memorial Grandstand. I remember I was wearing a black and white striped beanie, matching my older brother's, and a big thick coat. Wests won.
I've thought of when he took us to the 1965 Grand Final and we sat on the stair platform of the lower deck in the M A Noble Stand. Mum had dressed us in red and green, but my cousin had put Saints rosettes on our knitted jumpers. I'd never seen so many people in one place before.
Sitting on the hill at Pratten Park for a Magpies v Manly game is another scene that has come to mind. Dad with his mate Cliff from W.A. and each of them with little foam 6 pack esky's, my brother and I sharing our first full block of Caramello chocolate.
I remember Dad being behind the goalposts when I kicked my first conversion in a grand final victory for St.Christophers Panania U/8's, and moving up the sideline in another game, raising his arms and clapping his hands indicating where my penalty kick for touch should be aimed.
I've remembered the smile on his face when I'd come off the field knowing I'd had a good game, and he'd look at me and say, "What about the bloke you missed down the blind". then he'd rub my head and say "Good game son".
I played with lots of kids whose parents didn't bother going to games, or even drop their kids at training, but it never happened to me, Dad and Mum where always on hand, no matter what time or where I was playing.
He even arranged with the boss Nun at school for us to go to a game between Balmain and the touring Poms during the week. Luckily Sr.Marie loved the footy.
She was the one that really started St.Christophers, and was presented with a set of huge rosary beads after we won our first comp, as Dad reckoned she'd prayed the others down to the string.
Boots were something that Dad and I disagreed on from an early age. Adidas cut-downs were all the rage, the days of high-cuts were coming to an end, with everyone it seemed except Dad. No matter how much I begged, it was full-length Featherweights for me. "While I'm buying your boots, you'll wear what I think's best son". At 16 I finally got my low cut boots, I paid for them.
I've thought about us sitting on the lounge watching old games and disecting them. Dad pointed out who to tackle like, who to run on the burst like, and "Don't turn into a mug like him" advice about a player he didn't like.
When I was 17 I was offered a trial with what you'd now call an NRL club, but Dad said I was too young, and to wait another year. I was devastated, but he'd never given me a "bum steer" before so eventually I accepted it. The next year I was called up to grade, and a prouder man I hadn't seen.
I must admit he found it hard to comprehend that after all those years, I didn't take it as serious as necessary, mainly due to females and Tooheys, and grade only lasted two seasons.
He dropped off his support a bit when I went around in park footy again with little dedication, but back it came in '83 when I joined an A grade side that was choc full of ex grade players and coached by Warren Snodgrass and trained by Bobby Jay.
Training was full-on and we did everything as a team. the "old man" liked that and back came the encouragement, tips and attendance at games.
I've remembered his words when I went up to the Territory in '84. He took me to the airport, just the two of us, shook my hand and wished me luck, gave me a "sling" and said, " Make sure you keep in contact with your mother". I've remembered his face in the window just as I was boarding the plane, it was a dad's love for his son.
13 years later I returned, and it was back to the lounge room watching games together again.
These images have been bombarding me since his passing, sometimes bringing a smile, sometimes brining a tear. It's been eight months now, but everyday thoughts return, and most of the time it involves footy.
He would've loved last nights game, and I reckon Matty Cooper defence would've made him smile.
Gone but not forgotten, I love you Dad.

 

[[furrycat]]

After an absence, Furrycat returns to the field for the Panthers with a hope of some redemption

I’ll be your BEST friend, if you pay me!
My next door neighbour just officially announced his divorce. I can’t say it surprised me; the last six months I’ve heard their small arguments over petty things erupt into an all-in brawl that always ends in tears.

You could blame the breakdown of this relationship on many things, but it all because of one thing: Money. She was upset he took a job that paid considerably less than what he was earning previously. It meant she couldn’t live the lifestyle she felt she deserved, and decided to use the ‘get out’ clause of her marriage contract.

Now, he is left with nothing. The wife has taken the car, the kids, and many other material possessions. What’s he left with? An old carton of Winnie Blues and his dog, Jackson. Jackson will always stick by his master. His master has been loyal to him and treated him very well. Jackson, a 5 year old ‘Jack Russell’, knows that he shouldn’t bite or betray the hand that feeds him.

So what does this have to do with rugby league? You’re probably thinking ‘oh here we go, he is going to jam some propaganda down my throat proclaiming that Jesus is coming to save us’, but hear me out because it has relevance. You may remember I once broke the story that your everyday canine was smarter than Willie Mason, because a dog would pee on an electric fence, get the shock, and know not do it again. Our good friend Willie, however, seems to enjoy the feeling in his genitals and continues to pee on it over and over again. After a long legal battle, I can now reveal the other part of this story. You see, there was another dog present on the day Willie continued to test his luck against that electric fence. This dog didn’t engage in the activity, but he sat and watched as his good mate kept trying. I’ve respected, even idolised, this dog for years. Not long after, Willie left his kennel and joined a bunch of c0cks, leaving his best mate behind. I spoke to this dog, who has expressed his desire to remain anonymous, the day after we broke the story on Willie, let’s call him “Mr S.B.Williams”... no wait that’s too obvious, let’s just call him Sonny Jim. Sonny was disgusted, and ‘lost a lot of respect’ for Willie because he left the kennel. He publicly revealed his disgust, and genuinely looked hurt that his friend had left him. My first impressions as to why he left was because he was lured away by a strange man into a gingerbread house, or he couldn’t quite spell the word ‘loyalty’. We couldn’t reveal why at the time, but reports suggest that Willie joined a bunch of c0cks because they wanted to pay him more to be their friend. Despite the fact that Willie and Sonny Jim had been great friends with him for years, he took the money and ran.

So what is stupider than a dog that urinates on an electric fence, gets shocked, and then continues to do it? A dog that watches another dog urinate on an electric fence, watch him get shocked, express disgust, and then go off and do the exact same thing himself. Maybe I’m just a traditionalist or naive, but you simply can’t express disgust at someone’s actions and then do the same thing yourself. All those new words that Sonny Jim learnt over the past year such as “drink drinking = bad” and “you shouldn’t urinate in public” have pushed out an important word out of his vocabulary: Loyalty, and doesn’t the rest of the kennel, and his girlfriend, know it...
This kennel has stuck by this dog despite his run of consistent injuries and off field dramas. They have stuck by him and done everything they can to make him feel comfortable, even by making him one of the highest paid players in the National Rugby League. It was only a few weeks ago that this dog barked about loyalty, and how money wasn’t an issue. How times have changed. All of a sudden that electric fence is looking mighty tempting to this dog.
Put it this way, if I had to ask for life changing advice, I’d be asking:
Jackson, the Jack Russell
A bag of dirt
Willie the c0ck
Sonny Jim the dog

You’ve lost my respect Sonny Jim...

745 Words. W00f

 

[DragonPunk]

DragonPunk for the Dragons.

****************************************************************************

My First Game

Nothing can compare to the feeling of going to your first NRL game, the rush, the excitement of seeing your first game in the flesh. My first NRL game was special, it was the first game of the 2004 Origin series between New South Wales and Queensland. I was going to the game with my Mum, my brother, my two little cousins and my Aunty all going for NSW. The whole week leading up was a blur, i remember being excited and couldn't wait to get to ANZ stadium (then known as Telstra Stadium).

The day of the game at school, i was jittery and just waiting for the bell to go for the end of the day especially since i had a pass out to leave early. When the day was finally over, it was time to head back home to get ready and set out for the stadium. The ensuing train ride from Liverpool to Lidcombe was one full of blue jerseys and even the odd maroon one.

We ended up getting off at Lidcombe because you had to change there to get to Olympic Park. The whole train ride was one full of excitement and chanting from the blues supporters and boos for supporters. After a 10 minute ride, finally we were at the stadium and i was in shock with just how many things there were to do there. There was the road train, people handing out freebies and a TAB stand where there were last minute bets but most importantly was the merchandise stand because before that i had no Blues memorabilia, so my mum bought my brother and I, a flag and those foam fingers.

It was inching ever closer to kick-off as finally, we got into the stadium and into our seats and it was only 20 minutes away from the kick-off. The stadium was rapidly filling up, with a lot of sky blue coming through the gates and the stadium was becoming loud with a weird group of supporters with blue wigs and sky blue shirts chanting and getting it and there were the sparse chants of "New South Wales" and "Queenslander" although any attempts were drowned out by boos.

Looking at the screen it was 8pm, the announcer was going through the team line-ups, first were the Queenslanders which were very hard to hear due to the masisve boos every player got nut this all changed when the Blue's players flashed up on the screen, each was met with a cheer, some of more than others but a cheer none the less because they were all united from the different clubs they came from to form the New South Wales Blues.

The following 80 minutes were filled with Boos, cheers and crys of "New South Wales" to rally our team to overcome those dirty Queenslanders, in all it was a dour game with the scoreline reading 8 all at full-time, i was expecting that to mean the game was a draw and both teams were going to Game 2 up at Suncorp 0-0 but no there was this new rule to come into effect. The same struggle continued into Golden Point but after three minutes, an unlikely hero from my favourite team, St George Illawarra Shaun Timmins booted a 37 metre field goal to give NSW the victory and sent the crowd into raptures. I was hugged by a stranger as the whole crowd chanted "New South Wales" in unison one last time. Finally we headed home, tired but happy.

My first NRL game was an experience i will never forget but it has also compelled me to go to many more NRL games when able to and im hoping this story inspires another forumer to go out to an NRL game this weekend, it'll be an experience you'll never forget.

*********************************************************

643 words before the stars.

 

[Ribs]

Ribs in for the Dragons, best of luck everybody.

679 words below the line.


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Consistency of Effort and Where the F*ck do we Dig?

As a rugby league supporter, the one most frustrating thing is seeing your team capitulate on any given day with little or no explanation as to why. The usual response of "we just didnt turn up today" really doesn’t cut it any more from a fans perspective. The ability of a team to turn up or not always makes me wonder where players find the effort from in the first place. I mean, what do these guys need to lift themselves and why cant coaches find the magic bucket of effort and enthusiasm and get stuck into it just before kick off?

We’ve all seen teams look like a bunch of ‘win at all costs’ lunatics where self preservation goes out the window one week and those same teams look like hand bag waving pensioner groups the week after. Even during games you can see a sudden shift in effort. How many times has a team been behind by 10 points with 10 minutes left on the clock and suddenly start to fire up? I mean what the hell?! Why didn’t they play like that for the first 70 minutes? Such a lift in intensity and desire to win all of a sudden always leaves me absolutely perplexed. As does the term ‘dig deep’. Dig deep? Dig where and dig for what?

My team St George Illawarra is a perfect example of the weird science of team effort. Which St George team is going to turn up today? I hear that every single week and for good reason. One week they look like the finest team in the comp and the next week they couldn’t win a game of park footy. So I have to assume that the boys from Kogarah are a long long way away from discovering the magic bucket and more to the point, have probably never heard of it.

The human brain is obviously complicated but given we have been competing with each other in a variety of sports over the last however many thousands of years (or a few less years if you're a churchie) you would think that we would have discovered the magic bucket by now.

In the lead up to Origin 1 this year I was thinking the very same thing when I read, for the thousandth time, about the Queenslander’s ability to do whatever it takes to win Origin matches. That’s it, I thought, perhaps Queenslanders were the first humans to find the magic effort bucket. Every year they wheel out the “Queenslander” chants and the usual tripe about a Queenslander’s special ability to play against the odds and lift when it counts most.

So surely the answer lies north of the border. It seemed feasible that all those last ditch, backs to the wall (apologies for all the clichés) Queensland performances were related to something other than mere folklore. But then I gave it a little more thought. Isreal Folau was born in Minto and Minto is very much in NSW. Sure, he plays for Queensland but if he too has found the effort bucket, where and when did he find it? Was it only when he joined the Queensland State of Origin camp?

And where was it all last night? I watched pretty closely and I couldn’t see any evidence of any special effort from anyone in the Queensland team. Not that they didn’t have a go but when you really expected them to tap into the juice of effort, they just didn’t. Have they lost the key? Did they give it to the NSW team last night in an act of reconciliation? Probably not I’d reckon.

The reason for the inconsistency of effort most likely lies in something extremely simple, like shifts in momentum and confidence but that doesn’t help the average league fan understand why and certainly doesn’t offer up any solutions. I think I’d prefer to believe in the magic bucket of effort and dream that one day, St George will f*cking find the thing.

 

[Azkatro]

Azkatro for the Panthers.

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Melbourne – the new Brisbane?

In 1988 the Winfield Cup competition was expanding, and the Brisbane Broncos gained entry into the premier rugby league competition in NSW. In a wave of publicity around the new venture, the marquee signing was Queensland great Wally Lewis, with the coach being the esteemed Wayne Bennett.

Initially, Brisbane were forced to overcome the stigma of Wally and in a radical move, the coach wrangled him out of the club. Many feathers were ruffled but hindsight shows us that Brisbane went from strength to strength after freeing itself of the shackles of the Wally Lewis enigma. It became a beacon of professionalism, and as the game lengthened its offside rule to ten metres in the interest of attracting a wider audience, it was Brisbane that took advantage of its bustling talent to win the 1992 and 1993 premierships.

From that point to the present day, Brisbane has not failed to reach the finals series and has firmly established itself as not only a team that competes strongly each week – and year – but also as a professional, profitable organisation.

Many Sydney pundits despise the professionalism of Brisbane, but few can argue with the success of its model. It is a far cry from the traditional Sydney teams who profited from the poker machine boom, and are now dangerously reliant on those funds which are now drying up. They have largely disregarded the Brisbane organisation north of the border, but it will be hard to ignore a similar success story on the other side of the state – this time in Melbourne.

The Melbourne club entered the competition with much less fanfare than the Broncos in 1998, ten years on. But without the burden of a Wally Lewis-like figure in the side, coach Chris Anderson guided an otherwise unfashionable team to a premiership win within its second year. However Anderson was an erratic figure and moved on unceremoniously in 2001. Mark Murray filled the gap for the next two seasons, and then Melbourne appointed Craig Bellamy in 2003.

Like Brisbane coach Wayne Bennett, Bellamy is his own man. And just like Bennett he proved an astute tactician who could get the most out of his side. In his first three seasons at the club, Melbourne reached the second week of the finals each time. And in a situation not entirely unlike the Wally Lewis saga at Brisbane, Melbourne’s first-choice halfback Matt Orford was not retained after Bellamy’s third season as coach. As a result, Melbourne made it all the way to the grand final.

With a blistering 2006 regular season behind them, Melbourne was widely expected to take the game by storm. But it was Master Bennett who taught apprentice Bellamy a coaching lesson.

Despite the loss, Melbourne had become the premier team in the competition and Bellamy claimed the Dally M coach of the year award. Melbourne also demonstrated its ability to scout the best up and coming talent, with several superstars making their name at the club – something Brisbane had previously been noted for.

Melbourne went on to win the premiership the year after losing the previous grand final to Brisbane. It was a similar achievement to that of Brisbane in 1998 – a dominant team coached to a near unstoppable premiership win. Melbourne have also taken over Brisbane’s typical dominance of representative sides in 2008, with no less than nine of their players fronting up for State of Origin duties in game one.

So while both clubs travelled different roads, it seems that ten years after their inception Melbourne is in an eerily similar position to that of Brisbane at the same stage. Back in 1998, Brisbane had won three unified premierships, had arguably the best coach in the world and boasted 16 past, present or future representative players.

In 2008, Melbourne is in a strong position to win its third premiership. Despite losing Matt King, Clint Newton and Ben Cross in the off-season, there are still 15 representative players on the roster. This is also considering the fact that more of its current squad may still attain representative status in their careers. And of course it has arguably the best coach in the world at the helm.

So for those achievements, Melbourne must be congratulated. For the club has achieved what is has in not only a short space of time, but also in a part of the world that has little interest in either rugby code.

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747 words. Liftoff!​

 

[dubopov]

This computer thing sh*ts me ..my story was written. I did the Cont C Cont V thing .. went to post quick reply and I had to refresh the page because my sign-in had time out .. and the story disappeared..so I tried the Cont thing again a my story was deleted.. so much for user friendly ..

 

[Willow]

 

[dubopov]

WHY DID THE f**kING SITE LOG ME OUT WHILE I WAS TYPING MY STORY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

[Jesbass]

This computer thing sh*ts me ..my story was written. I did the Cont C Cont V thing .. went to post quick reply and I had to refresh the page because my sign-in had time out .. and the story disappeared..so I tried the Cont thing again a my story was deleted.. so much for user friendly ..

A little bit of helpful advice, (I hope). If you write your article solely in a word processing document, (such as Microsoft Word), you can save it as you go, and then you only need to log in, check the word count, and post.

Good luck for your next match.

 

[dubopov]

Thanks Jesbass .. I only know that I put stuff in the word counter ..wouldn't have a clue how to paste from word or whatever ..

 

[Jesbass]

Thanks Jesbass .. I only know that I put stuff in the word counter ..wouldn't have a clue how to paste from word or whatever ..

No problem, dubopov. I really wouldn't want your Forum Sevens experience to be ruined by this sort of thing.

The keyboard functions are the same for most programs in Windows, so the Ctrl + C (copy) and the Ctrl + V (paste) commands work in Word just as they do on the forums. So select all of your text in Word, then press Ctrl and C to copy it, click reply in the forums, and then press Ctrl and V to paste it all in, and you're good to go! :thumn

 

[glockers]

Good effort with five in boys!

I was enjoying it from the coach's box while negotiating with French Rugby Union.