Willow Cup Final :: Ninja's vs Souths

Discussion in 'Forum Sevens Matches' started by Drew-Sta, Apr 8, 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:
    * 3 -V- 3 (+ 4 reserves for Both sides)
    * 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 07 / 04 / 13 (6:00pm AEDT)
    Full Time: Monday 22 / 04 / 13 FT (2100 AEDT)
    Referee: Non Terminator & LeagueNut
    Venue: The Front Row Stadium
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 9, 2013
  2. joshie

    joshie Live Update Team

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    Ninjas run out hoping to secure their second Willow Cup in three years!

    Eozsmiles
    Jamesgould
    gUt

    Russel_Crowe's_Band
    Joshie - captain
    Edabomb
    Cobydelany
     
  3. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    Souths are looking to go one better after their Willow Cup Final loss to the Panthers last season.

    [​IMG]

    Marshall_magic
    Bubbles
    soc123_au

    Bench:
    Monk (c)
    Horrie Is God
    byrne_rovelli_fan82
    Lambretta
     
  4. gUt

    gUt Coach

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    673 owc
     
    Last edited: Apr 19, 2013
  5. Bubbles

    Bubbles Juniors

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    Bubbles on for Souths...

    Goldicoqs... a Fairytale

    Once upon a time there lived a maiden called Goldicoqs who dwelt within her tower of ivory, sipping lattes, adorned in finery of red, white and blue. While to the casual observer Goldicoqs’ life appeared to be one of refinement and wealth, Goldicoqs was greedy. A creature of lavish ambitions and lofty aspirations, the sight of her old silverware tarnishing with age mocked her from a cabinet that appeared to her half empty, rather than half full. Past glories seemed so distant, while the future held no joy as far into it as Goldicoqs could espy.

    Then one day a Prince of the realm returned to the kingdom, having been off fighting faraway battles under the banner of faraway foes, to a cacophonic chorus of trumpets and a rapturous crowd. Commoners threw themselves before him, genuflecting, their faces pressed into the muck and filth. Local nobility greeted the Prince with arms wide open and puckered lips, a symphony of sickening sycophants. Heralds shouted his triumphant arrival from the rooftops and scribes applied quill to parchment with a speedy spidery scrawl, wrists cramping throughout the land.

    Goldicoqs was unmoved. The grovelling hoard nauseated her with their gushing geyser of gregariousness. Her stomach churned and her throat convulsed as curdled cynicism caught and choked her. The Prince himself inspired nothing but dark disdain in Goldicoqs, her own horse being of such lofty height that he appeared but a mere ant below.

    With a bow to his adoring fans and after an awkward and embarrassing monologue, the Prince took to the games field for the first time in an age. On and on the games played out on the fields below Goldicoqs’ tower and after some time, her stomach growled its desire, reaching a crescendo too difficult to ignore. Goldicoqs went to her larder and from it removed the first pie.

    The coagulated gloop dripped from her chin as she took her first bite. At once her face screwed in distaste and she pushed the offending half-masticated pie from the table, where it landed with a satisfying squelch on the marble floor. “Yuck!” Goldicoqs exclaimed “This pie is too sour!”

    Pouring herself another latte to deaden the bitter aftertaste, her eyes were unwillingly drawn to the Prince Regent as he flexed his athletic prowess to the delight of the swooning masses and the heralds, whose voices were reaching new heights of pitch and fever.

    Still ravenous, Goldicoqs returned and removed the second pie from the larder. With suspicious nostrils and hesitant taste buds, she screwed her eyes tight and chomped into the gooey pastry. “Ick!” Goldicoqs cried “This pie is too sweet!” emitting lusty gagging noises as the cloying saccharine clung to the cleft of her mouth. Another swill of caffeine and the taste was banished, not to mention her pupils were dilated and darting.

    Back to the field of battle, mock that it be and there the Prince stood in all his towering glory, illusion of other mere men of flesh, blood and puny biceps beside him. His move from left to right, missile soaring in a graceful arc to artlessly and artfully find its target, brought the crowd to its feet and raised rapturous vocals to the heavens, so as to seek attention from the gods themselves.

    Driven by an insatiable appetite, now more need than desire, Goldicoqs drew out the third and final pie. Sighing, loins still aquiver after the last period of on-field action, she bit through the crust, teeth slicing and gnashing. “Mmm...” Goldicoqs eyes widened in delight as she whispered “this pie is juuuuust right!” Manners thrown asunder, etiquette be damned, Goldicoqs snavelled and snarled her way through the remainder of the pie and was not done until the last remnant of glutinous goodness was licked from her fingers.

    Stuffed and sated, Goldicoqs raised her eyes to meet those of the Prince Regent’s, his face in full technicolour before her.

    “This humble pie is by far the sweetest and most succulent of them all” she said, her eyes lowered. “Alright, I surrender, I succumb; I will admit defeat” Goldicoqs grovelled before the Royal. “My Lord Williams, I am but your humble subject and yes, I concede that you can indeed play football” she muttered, her eyes drawn with avarice towards the cabinet, now but a cavernous space to be filled. Fervently, Goldicoqs squeezed shut her eyes and with all her heart wished for the happy ending that this fairytale surely deserves!

    The End...

    OWC 749 words
     
  6. soc123_au

    soc123_au Coach

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    Irrational

    Sometimes feelings regarding a particular personality can cover every emotion from admiration, indifference, love and hate. These feelings can also bounce from one extreme to another and then back again.

    For me no person has pressed my emotional buttons like Phillip Ronald Gould.

    My first memory of Gus is when I was eight and he was playing for the Panthers. He seemed to be in every other packet of Footy cards I ever bought. I remember spending a good part of 1979 trading Phil Gould for pretty much ANY other card. Being a Panthers supporter living in Penrith, I was also fortunate enough to be able to attend most home games during Gus’ time at the Panthers. I recall being impressed with his talents as a pretty skilful forward in an era where playing in the finals for us seemed the impossible dream. I also remember quite a bit of fanfare when he became our youngest ever captain. Sadly Gus spent most of his final year at the foot of the mountains injured, before leaving for greener pastures at Newtown.

    I was disappointed with Phil for going to Newtown. I couldn’t understand, in my 10 year old mind, how he could play for the team involved in the scrum that had left his team mate John Farragher paralysed in 1978. I still remember the 1981 Grand Final between Parramatta and Newtown like it was yesterday. I was well and truly on the Eels bandwagon and I recall that was partly to do with a certain red-headed second rower that had left the club I loved. My emotional rollercoaster ride with Phillip Ronald had begun.

    When Gould ended up at Canterbury after the Grim Reaper waved his scythe at the Jets my feelings shifted from dislike to sympathy, as poor old Gus had a horror run with injuries. Once he went to Souths he was pretty much off my radar, as players like Greg Alexander and Brad Izzard held much more interest.

    When Gus was appointed coach of the Dogs for the 1988 season my interest piqued again. I felt I was mature enough to be interested in the game as a whole and to not be so one eyed. Besides, the media was buzzing at the prospect of what may be in store for him, as he was to lead the ‘family club’ at such a tender age. When they won the Grand Final that year I felt a sense of pride as Gus was inked into the record books. A Penrith boy made good.

    The anticipation that followed the announcement that Gus would be calling the shots at Penrith beginning season 1990 had me jumping out of my skin. We were on the rise and he was the Man that could take us all the way. The heartbreak of the 1990 decider was washed away in 1991.The job was done and Gus had delivered our maiden premiership. And we loved him for it.

    After the highs of 1991 we hit the tragedy that was 1992. After the death of Ben Alexander my feelings toward Gus headed back to sympathy as he tried his best to hold the team together. It proved the impossible task. I held no grudge when he left mid season in 1994 to join the Roosters; he had delivered us a premiership and the shambles our club had become was beyond his control.

    In 1995 my recently discovered maturity went out the window. When it became known that Brad Fittler and Matt Sing had been lured to the Roosters to join up with Gus, my sympathy turned to rage. Then from rage to pure unadulterated hate. I despised him with everything I had. During those years I think I cared more about the Roosters losing than my own team winning. My only solace was that he never coached them to a Grand Final victory.

    In 1999 when Gus stepped down from coaching my hate receded to a casual dislike... until he tipped the Panthers for the spoon in 2003. The hate was back. When we won in 2003 the victory was even sweeter as it felt like a nice big “Up yours Gus!”

    Fast forward to 2011 and Phil is back as our General Manager. Two years later and we are yet to see any success, however I have faith in the plan and the love has returned. I just hope that nothing happens to reignite the loathing...

    744 words
     
  7. Marshall_magic

    Marshall_magic Coach

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    Marshall on for Souths
    --------------
    Fantasy Reality
    AJ Mass is a fantasy sports expert for ESPN. He wrote a book about personality archetypes that make the best reality sports league; there are 12 archetypes in total, one of which incorporates two people. Mass has since applied these archetypes to other competitions (both sporting and other). These archetypes are said to create the best interactions due to the differing mindsets and how they interact with one another.
    With 16 coaches in the NRL it's not possible to assign the roles to every coach, but with Elliott spending time away from coaching and Robinson and Potter yet to establish their own personas, the remaining 13 can easily be assigned.
    1. The Diplomat: The diplomat is a person who can get along with anyone, is respected by all and can bring people together. The most respected and experienced coach in the NRL earns this archetypal title, Wayne Bennett.
    2. Marriage of Convenience: This refers to two people who work well together and have some kind of common interest or goal that forces them to maintain a good relationship with one another. In 2012 Toovs got his first crack at coaching with the defending premiers assembled by Des, who at his new club had a great relationship with the playing group he left behind, both having achieved short term success.
    3. Captain Loophole: A person who knows the rules back to front, and will always be looking for a way to exploit them. They may not be popular amongst the competition for their questionable tactics. The best NRL coach at exploiting rules successfully is Storm boss Bellamy.
    4. XX Factor: Named XX as it normally refers to the female in a fantasy football league, but not restricted to this, it refers simply to someone who has an overt difference. With coaches having a reputation for being hot tempered and volatile, Ivan Cleary is the XX Factor and often needs to be checked for a pulse.
    5. Old Reliable: The person who will usually go deep in the competition, and does a great job, but never actually wins it, nor inspires the feeling they ever will. The NRL coach who is consistently thereabouts but has never been to the big dance is Neil Henry.
    6. Mad Scientist: The person who just can’t stop thinking about the League. Even when they do not need to come up with a crazy scheme, they will still give it a crack. Souths boss Michael Maguire’s wheels are always turning, even when the game is over, constantly trying to think of set plays and tactics for the next game.
    7. Idiot Savant: The person who overachieves and when you look back, you merely think “Okay, how are you doing so well?” One who makes questionable decisions which come off better than they should. David Furner has had some awful performances and worse selections during his tenure, yet has still made it into week two of the finals on multiple occasions.
    8. Loose Cannon: Someone you have no idea what they are going to do next, and the only predictability they possess is that you can count on them being completely unpredictable. The coach who seems to make the most insane decisions is Carty, with some interesting player comings and goings.
    9. Narcissist: Someone who believes their ideas are the best and nobody else can come close to them. All the good things achieved are because of them, and all failures are clearly not their fault. This archetype belongs to Sticky, with no explanation necessary.
    10. Cheerleader: The person who just wants to do what is best for the league, and is never overly self-interested. At times is the nice guy who finishes last. With a drug farce rocking the code, the one man trying to unite the code against it is Flanno, even at the expense of his own side.
    11. Ninja: The one who nobody ever sees or hears from, completely out of sight and out of mind. The ninja among NRL coaches is Anthony Griffin, a man nine out of ten diehard NRL fans could not pick out of a line up.
    12. Fresh Meat: The person completely out of their depth. In a fantasy football league, it is the friend who plays because he can, but never actually watches any games. The NRL coach most out of his depth in 2013 is Steve Price, who inherited a premiership winning side and has struggled to make an impact with it.

    -----------

    Source: AJ Mass, How Fantasy Sports Explains the World
    747 words between the lines
     
  8. jamesgould

    jamesgould Juniors

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    For the Ninjas:

    Skipper

    Every good tale has a collection of memorable moments. Presented here, for your enjoyment, are the best from the Group 17 grand final day of 2003.


    6:03pm

    Skipper pulled his weary body up onto the victory dais and shook hands with the dignitaries. He grasped the trophy and proudly hoisted it above his head, a huge grin sweeping across his face.

    He felt a pang of pain in his back, but after what the battered warrior been through, he couldn’t care less.


    4:00pm

    Skipper led the side out onto the field. He felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. There was no doubt about it - just one look into his eyes and it was obvious he wanted retribution.

    As he broke into a jog, he winced in pain. His back ached with every stride, but there was no way he was going to let that stop him.


    3:30pm

    There was half an hour till kick-off, and there was still no sign of Skipper.

    “Where the hell is he!?” the obviously stressed coach yelled. “Listen, Joe,”, he gestured to a trainer in the dressing room, “You go out, drive around, see if you can find any sign of him. He might be close, you never know.”

    “Righto.” Joe replied, as he raced to his car.


    12:30am

    The few teammates remaining at the pub took their glasses back to the bar and turned towards the exit. Nobody had overdone it - the last minute bonding session had been a success.

    “Alright lads, I’m glad we did this.” Skipper told them. “None of us could have slept if we’d had an early night, anyway.”

    “Yeah, it’s been good to think up a few more ways we can beat those bastards!” a teammate replied. “Have a good one, boys. See you tomorrow!”

    The players strolled off to their cars. Skipper headed to his boot to throw his training bag inside. Inside it, he spotted a lone beer rolling around. Wouldn’t hurt to have one more, he thought.


    3:35pm

    Joe shot past the local pub, but out the corner of his eye, he spotted Skipper’s car. He slammed on the brakes, did a u-turn and headed back.

    Once there, he jumped out of his car and headed to the seemingly empty vehicle. He heard a muffled thumping from the boot. Wandering around, he noticed a set of keys on the ground. Trying a few, he got lucky and the boot popped open.

    Inside, Skipper virtually erupted out of the cramped confines. “Thank god! Where have you been?! Have I missed the game?” Joe simply scratched his head in disbelief.

    “My back is bloody killing me! All I had in here was this damn beer.” Skipper pointed to the well-clawed non-twist top.


    12:35am

    Skipper reached for the beer. At that instant, he was jumped from behind, and bundled into the boot, which slammed shut almost as fast.


    4:20pm

    Skipper made another tackle – he was racking them up early on.

    “Sleep well, Skip?” the opposition player chipped.

    Skipper immediately saw red, coming down on the tackled player with a forearm to the head. As the blood began to spurt out, Skipper looked up to see the referee give him his marching orders.


    6:05pm

    As the Skipper left the stage with the trophy, a chorus of boos echoed around the park. Never one of the local competition’s more popular players, today’s send-off had lessened his stature even more-so.

    “Argh, to hell with ya!” he yelled back, gesturing obscenely towards the crowd.


    4:50pm

    As the opposition came off for halftime, Skipper emerged from his dressing room and pinned one of them to the wall.

    “You think it’s funny to lock someone in their boot?!” he yelled.

    “What are you talking about?” the opposition spat back.

    “You asked how I slept!” Skipper roared.

    “Yeah, I was gonna say - must’ve been lonely considering I was banging your wife.” was the reply, as he twisted out of Skipper’s tight grip and headed to his dressing room.


    6:02pm

    As Skipper headed to the stage, his teammates huddled around.

    “Can’t believe we put in the hard work, won the game, and he’s gonna get all the glory.” one muttered.

    “I know ... he’s such a loose cannon. If he’s at this club next year, I’m not.” replied another.

    “Should have driven that car into the forest after we got rid of him. Can’t believe anyone found him in that boot.” came the final, resigned reply.


    750 words
     
  9. eozsmiles

    eozsmiles Bench

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    Eozsmiles
    sneaking in the corner in the final moments
    Ninja
    672 OWC

    A Tale Of Two Tours - The Seasons Of 1941/42



    In 1941 Frank Hyde was at the peak of his playing powers. Hyde went on to become a legend of our game and was THE voice of Rugby League for a generation. He made his name as a player during the years shaded by the second World War, and as a centre/three quarter represented City and New South Wales. It was a time when people shook hands over contracts and played for jumpers and pride rather than money. It was also a time of rations, blackouts, and bare playing rosters. For men that grew up during the depression, the Kangaroo tour was the most prestigious individual reward for a player. In 1941/42, a Rugby League team representing Australia was scheduled to leave on a tour of England. For many, it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to not only represent their country, but perhaps see the world.

    Despite both countries being firmly entrenched in the Second World War, sporting administrators were encouraged to continue playing and indeed plan for the Kangaroo tour. Communities were ravaged of their young men by the war effort, but Australian Prime Minister Sir Robert Menzies encouraged those at home to continue playing and supporting sport. As an avid sports fan, he saw the value it held in the Australian way of life. During the war, competitions in Rugby League, Rugby Union, Australian rules, and Cricket were held throughout the country. But although people's fervour for sport remained, their minds and hearts lay elsewhere. Australia was fighting a war on two fronts and Britain was at breaking point.

    Frank Hyde had been tentatively named as captain of that unnamed 1941/42 touring party, the first time he would be selected to represent his country. But optimism would give way to reality. No team would officially be named. The tour would be abandoned. Sadly that ship would never sail, and Hyde would never play for Australia.


    In 1941 my late father was deployed overseas to serve with the Australian military. He was sixteen years of age and had used his brothers birth certificate to enlist. He spent his final teenage years far away from the sporting fields he should have been gracing. Swapping hooped jumpers and white flannels for khaki was not his sacrifice alone. It was the norm, not the exception. For thousands of young Australian sportsmen, their first tour would be their last.

    "Sarty" Christensen had made his debut for Glebe as a seventeen year old. A playmaking five/eighth and leader, he went on to captain Balmain and represent Queensland. 1942 signalled the fall of Singapore to the Japanese and the enslavement of some fifty thousand prisoners. Around 850 men perished there. Syd Henry Albert "Sarty" Christensen was one of those, passing away on the ninth of February 1942.

    The season's of 1941/42 were significant in the lives of these three men, all lovers of our game. Hyde, who was employed on the home front due to his communications training, would have gracefully accepted that his loss was of minor consequence. Men and women of that era are all too aware of the sacrifices made by their friends and families. My father was lucky. He returned to spend his winters as a wiry fullback and his summers as a brilliant cover fielder, and taking up his love affair with the Newtown Blubags where he left off. Both he and Hyde were allowed to continue with their joy of the game until their twilight years.

    All three men wanted to tour that year but only two did. Regretfully, one did not come home.

    It's because of people like my father and so many others that we can enjoy football on ANZAC Day. We'll take a moment to thank and remember those who returned, raised families, and introduced us to the game. We'll remember those from Australia and New Zealand who represented their country on tour and never came home. The men like Syd Christensen.
     
  10. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    Thar she blows.

    [​IMG]
     
  11. Drew-Sta

    Drew-Sta Moderator Staff Member

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    I'm about to PM both NT and LN.

    If neither respond by the morning of the 25th, and if both captains agree, I'll happily step in and ref.
     
  12. jamesgould

    jamesgould Juniors

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    Great game, both sides. Looks like it's going to be a close one!

    How does the two refs work? Do both post their scores separately, then they get totaled once the second ref has posted his marks?
     
  13. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    I've already spoken to NT on facey and he said he'll get it sorted, he will post his marks once Nutty sends him his.
     
  14. LeagueNut

    LeagueNut First Grade

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    I'm here, will get my part done either tonight or tomorrow morning.
     
  15. Non Terminator

    Non Terminator Coach

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    NINJAS 521

    GUT : DOPING FALLOUT - NEW EVIDENCE EMERGES
    LeagueNut: A well written and witty commentary on the ongoing drugs investigations. An enjoyable read.
    Non Terminator: Interesting read on the topic.
    LN 88, NT 87
    175

    JAMESGOULD : SKIPPER
    LeagueNut: You are fast becoming one of my favourite writers. Another excellent read with so many twists.
    Non Terminator: I was once told doing these kinds of articles was always very risky. Well, you sort of invented a new kind there, very well done.
    LN 89, NT 89
    178

    EOZSMILES : A TALE OF TWO TOURS - THE SEASONS OF 1941-1942
    LeagueNut: A much more sombre read than the other articles in this match – but still a very good lesson in history and a very poignant article to be reading today.
    Non Terminator: An appropriate article, so many stories can be found from the first World War too, amazing links all round. Incredible men.
    LN 83, NT 85.
    168

    RABBITOHS 500

    BUBBLES: GOLDICOQS...A FAIRYTALE
    LeagueNut: A very imaginative tale but somehow it left me with more questions than answers.
    Non Terminator: This had to take a few reads, your usual quirkyness involved however.
    LN 80, NT 81.
    161

    SOC123_AU : IRRATIONAL
    LeagueNut: A look back at the footy career of Phil Gould. I enjoyed this one but I think you were hamstrung a bit by the word limit – it seemed a bit rushed at the end.
    Non Terminator: Enjoyed this, just like the Manly fans of the present. But not from the Matthew Elliott fans. Because there are none.
    LN 81, NT 83.
    164

    MARSHALL_MAGIC: FANTASY REALITY
    LeagueNut: I completely agree with your assessments. I think Matt Elliott will slot nicely into the Mad Scientist category someday too.
    Non Terminator: Fantastic, sport can always give us the characteristics to fill this sort of thing, but you've written it well.
    LN 88, NT 87.
    175

    WILLOW MEDAL: JAMESGOULD

    Sorry this writing looks a bit rushed, but congratulations to both sides.
    Would love to get feedback for the new system.
     
  16. jamesgould

    jamesgould Juniors

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    Woohoo!!! Well done Ninjas, and bad luck Rabbitohs! Pretty stoked with that! :D Ninjas first trophy since 2011!

    Thanks for the quick marking, I reckon the two refs works really well ... amazing how close the marks for everybody were, though.
     
  17. eozsmiles

    eozsmiles Bench

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    Well played everyone. Some top reads from both teams.

    Thankyou to the refs as always.

    Good on you Ninjas and especially James for winning the WM. Great work!
     
  18. gUt

    gUt Coach

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    Good game guys. I was furious someone had pipped me for the WM... but then I read it lol. Great stuff James.
     
  19. Monk

    Monk Referee

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    Awesome game guys, Souths trophy case remains empty... for now
     
  20. soc123_au

    soc123_au Coach

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    Well played Ninjas. Eozsmiles, loved your article mate, bought a tear to my eye. Thouroghly deserved victory.
     

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