2011 ROUND 3: Panthers -V- Dragons

[Jesbass]

Penrith Panthers -V- St George Dragons​

-V-

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

Naming Teams:
* 5 -V- 5 (+ 2 reserves for the visiting team, + 3 reserves for the home team)
* No 'TBA' or changing players named
* Captains must stick with original teams named

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

Kick Off: Sunday 10th April 2011 (2100AEST)
Full Time: Wednesday 20th April 2011 (2100AEST)
Referee: Non Terminator
Venue: CUA Stadium

 

[Big Mick]

Penrith team to take on the Dragons:

1. Azkatro
2. Madunit
3. RayRoxon
4. Leaguenut
5. Glockers

RES:
6. Didgi
7. Big Mick
8. Tigers Gold

 

[_Johnsy]

Dragons side to take on the experienced Panthers.

1. Drew-sta - Captain for the return of the Dragons.
2. Muzby
3. DragonPunk
4. Johnsy
5. Jason Maher

Res
Cheesie

best of luck to you and the Panthers Big Mick.

 

[Drew-Sta]

Donning the (C) for Johnsy and charging in for the Saints!!

---

Human need

My stepfather in-law passed away on Friday afternoon after a 5 year battle with brain cancer. His wife, Caroline, my wonderful mother-in-law, was by his side. Ron didn’t know much towards the end, but he knew her hands and he knew her touch. He held on to her right to the last breath. It was a tear jerking scene. I am a man afraid to show signs of weakness and emotion but such is their story that my heart is melted.

Caroline is grieving. A woman in her late fifties, she has the patience of an angel, the love of a saint and a heart of pure hold. She would be horrified if she found out I was writing this and would not appreciate my words, but I think her testimony needs to be given in light of recent events.

Caroline gave up everything to support Ron. As he gradually succumbed to the disease, the cruellest of killers, he slowly lost bits and pieces of what it was that made him Ron. The last thing was his smile. He had the softest, gentlest and most amazing smile of a man I have ever recalled.

But in her effort to support him, things got hard. Ron eventually lost the use of his legs and needed to use a wheelchair. His memory suffered and various things in the house would go missing and pop up in strange places.

As he continued to deteriorate he needed help moving too and from the bathroom. It was a humiliating experience for Ron, yet Caroline helped him through it with a smile. Ron was a person that was truly vulnerable to another yet Caroline made him feel loved and valued. He was the love of her life and she was willing to sacrifice it all. He was totally vulnerable and totally loved at the same time.

I listened to a tape recording of Caroline singing to Ron on the last day before he stopped being able to speak. Towards the end of the tape, as Caroline was looking to turn it off I heard Ron speak slowly, as best as he could.

“I love you very, very much.”

I pulled to the side of the road and bawled my eyes out for a good few minutes as the tape finished.

It is events like this that make me think about what is wrong with our current footballers. We make them visit hospitals and schools and nursing homes to visit sick people and kids. We do this to try and keep them grounded and realise the position they’re in. We do it to keep them ‘real’.

I’m not longer convinced, however, that they suffer from a lack of ‘realness’. To me, that’s not the issue anymore. The issue is they’ve forgotten what it is to be weak and have to rely on someone for things they themselves can no longer do.

When they’re out on the paddock, the Anthony Watts of the world are told to be strong, to be the best they can and perform. They’re told to use their strength and their footy instincts. And for that, they’re rewarded with an emotion they think is love from fans, coaches or administrators.

But when it comes to needing someone, to require the affection every human needs, to be vulnerable for the love of another – This is something no amount of training or skill can attain but comes from the heart. And so when the chips are down and people don’t respond the way they want, they resort to what they’re conditioned to do and use physical force to get it.

As strange as this may sound, I cannot help but feel compassion for Anthony Watts. For certain, what he did is wrong. But unless he changes he will never really know what it is like for someone to sacrifice it all for them; to feel totally vulnerable and totally loved at the same time. He will never have that one person give it all up like Caroline did for Ron.

It is the one part of a human being that aches to be filled the most. No grand final, no medal, no recognition or accolades will ever fill the need for him to feel loved at his weakest. And it will only be when he is at his weakest that he will learn this lesson.

And that is more tragic than anything else I could imagine.

---

741 words. Names were changed for privacy sake.

 

[_Johnsy]

Johnsy hits the field with a heavy heart after getting a small but precious glimpse of another mans soul.

750 words
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"Accredo usquequaque una"​

Thargomindah Thunderboxers Rugby League Football Club
Press Release, Dated 17 April 2011.

The Thargominda Thunderboxers are a proud rugby league club. We take our responsibility to the code very seriously. The Thunderboxers have a long and proud tradition of extensive community work, as a result of that unwavering commitment our name is synonymous with integrity in rugby league.

As our club members are aware by reading the monthly Thundeboxer newsletter, our current Chief Executive Officer, Danny Bopovernick attended the annual black tie event, the Community Rugby League Awards. These awards are the pinnacle of the rugby league calendar. The black tie event is held in the Goondiwindi Community Hall. Unfortunately, on each occasion during his tenure the Thunderboxers CEO had deemed the awards not worthy of his attendance. The current board decided that it would create an additional clause into his 1 year contract extension that he must attend the awards in 2011.

To Bopovernick’s astonishment the Thunderboxers had not been nominated for one solitary award. This flies in the face of the Thunderboxers increased community work, according to their CEO. He stated on the red carpet, minutes before the event.

“We work bloody hard in the community, and we only do this type of work for the recognition. It is all about the limelight, and the measure of a CEO’s worth is via awards he or she has on their desk. I am coming up for a contract renewal and I want my true worth, show me the money. This snubbing of my club, yeah that’s right, my club. The snubbing of the Thunderboxers shows that these craphouse, backwater awards are a complete farce. To be brutally honest I have no idea why I am bloody well here. It sh*ts me to tears, bloody board members. Three hours on a plane, and I even hired a suit, it cost me one hundred and thirty bloody bucks. Will that be refunded by the Community Rugby League Awards committee, I don’t think so they are a pack of tight asses. What the hell are you doing here anyway, this is a night for the blokes”.

Bopovernick petulantly stormed off in a cloud of self interest mid interview, leaving the very well respected ABC journalist Debbie Spillane in a state of shock. To say this outburst was an overreaction and a complete embarrassment to the Thunderboxers.

The Thunderboxers board held a conference call immediately upon hearing Bopovernick’s rant. The result of this conference call was an extraordinary board meeting was to be held first thing next morning. The meeting was held on the tarmac of the Thargomindah airport. The extraordinary board meeting lasted a total of three hours. Bopovernick whinged and complained about the injustices of a CEO’s life, the pressure, the lack of recognition and awards. The only time a board member was required to talk, was two hours and fifty five minutes into the meeting. That was to ask for each board members vote on the motion that Bopovernick’s contract be terminated , effective immediately. As each voting board member raised their hand, the vote came around to Bopovernick. The current vote count was termination seven, not to terminate nil.

Bopovernick stood and bellowed “This club’s nothing without me, you can stick this place as far up your ass as you can. The under 12’s strapper, the reserve grade trainer are leaving with me. I’m outta here”.

Obviously this process and subsequent voting result had to be ratified by the all club members, this can be a tedious process. After many weeks of turmoil, legal advice and the subsequent boardroom deliberation, the current CEO of the Thunderboxers, Bopovernick has resigned, effective immediately. It is important to note that the board of the Thunderboxers wanted to find a solution that would have no negative effects on the current side, club members, all past and present players and most importantly each end every supporter of the mighty Thunderboxers.

The board has decided the Thunderboxers need a new direction. The people who make our club great are every person who has any association (past or present), no matter how large or little. Such as our inaugural President and tuckshop lady Gladys, to our current under 8’s sandboy Banger McMuchos. We must remember why we became a club, and what we want to achieve as a club. As a result of this fiasco we are proud to announce the new club motto. "accredo usquequaque una" To believe unconditionally always as one.

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[LeagueNut]

LeagueNut charges forward for the mighty Panthers, ball in one hand, pie in the other....

LeagueNut (Panthers)

Glug glug glug

What is it with these hordes of brain dead meatheads who think its good fun to rock up to a Rugby League game and act like Neanderthals with lobotomies?

I may be getting old, but I don’t ever remember thinking it would be a good idea to get mindlessly hammered in a stadium grandstand. I don’t think any of the dickheads I’m talking about will ever read this, and even if they do, I reckon I’ve lost their attention span by now anyway.

But just in case any of you have managed to hold your functions together long enough and are willing to read on – what the hell is your problem?

Surely you’ve got enough scraps of intelligence to be aware of what you’re doing and how it impacts on people around you?

Or are you completely incapable of considering others?

Maybe you’re one of those “me me me” kids who expects the whole world to fawn all over their every move, whether they’re punching the cat or taking a sh*t. Sorry to break it to you princess, but the real world doesn’t work that way. If only you could see how ridiculous you look making louder and louder cries for acceptance – from a bunch of people who would quite happily pour you into the drivers seat to get home.

Or did Daddy not give you enough attention? Is that it? It must have been hard for him to hide his disappointment when he saw what you were growing into. It’s not his fault though, he tried his best – generations of slack-arse parenting aren’t going to be fixed overnight. His rejection must have been tough, but then again, I reckon you deserved it.

It must be great though to hide yourself behind an alcohol-fuelled mask. Most normal people can just have one or two drinks and be sociable, but you’ve got to have as many as possible as fast as possible. What’s the point? Are you drinking to forget what a miserable failure you are as a person? There’s not enough beer in the world for that, I’m sure of it.

Actually it’s probably the only way you can get any sort of physical human contact. Get drunk enough so you don’t know what you’re doing, and force yourself on anything with tits until one of them relents and lets you past. You’d be a perfect match – she’s probably just as empty as you. In fact she’s probably at home with you now, recovering from her latest abortion.

There are thousands of decent people visiting stadiums all around the country each and every week, and a small handful of ignorant pissheads like yourself. What gives you the right to try and ruin it for everyone else?

Lets get one thing clear – I’m not talking about the majority of fans who are there to have a good time. There’s a big difference between throwing bits of rubbish and empty plastic bottles in the air, and throwing half full bottles directly at peoples heads … or tipping beer all over a kid … or throwing up on the back of some poor bastard sitting in front of you … or bellowing like an elephant on heat for twenty minutes straight, only pausing to have another bloody drink.

I bet it makes you feel like a big man when little kids start getting too scared to even look up. You probably get a semi when the young families head for the exits well before they wanted to, solely because you drove them away. That must be a great power trip – you must be so proud of yourself.

I’ve got to wonder why you’d even bother showing up in the first place. You’re clearly not a sports fan – you’re far too drunk to know what day it is, let alone what teams are playing. I can only assume you’re trying to mask the scared little coward inside you, playing “safety in numbers” with a bunch of equally brain-dead alcoholics.

I don’t know if karma is real, and I don’t know if you’re ever going to feel the slightest remorse for your actions. In fact I’m pretty sure you’ll be back next time, just as pathetic as ever.

Do us all a favour though. The next time you’re sober and the reality of your pathetic life starts to sink in, don’t open the fridge. Go for the kitchen drawer instead.

You won’t be missed.

739 words in the official counter

 

[madunit]

madunit for the Panthers

Golf Day

Thank you for all coming boys. Today we will be playing golf. The player with the lowest score wins.

Anthony: Oh good!
Kevin: Someone took my favourite club.

Surely you have other clubs to use?

Kevin: Yeah I guess.
David: I don’t like golf. I don’t want to play

Why? What’s wrong David?

David: My cat died, I’m too sad to play

You have more cats though don’t you?

David: I have 17 other cats, but this cat was my favourite.
Des: Oh shut up, you’re always sooking! WHY CAN’T ANYONE BE HAPPY FOR A DAMN CHANGE!!

Calm down Dessie. Where’s your clubs?

Des: oh…uuummm, they broke. I was having a practice and they broke when I put them in the bag.

How could they break?

Des: The wind.

Riiight.
Tim, what’s wrong with you? Are you okay?

Tim: I hurt my foot…

How did…

Tim: ...and my hand. Some of my clubs are broken too.

Are you okay to play? How did your clubs get broken?

Tim: Yeah, I’ll be fine. I have some spare clubs from the back of the shed. Some are left handed and some are right handed, but they should all work

You’re a trooper Tim.
Where’s Wayne?

Wayne: Over here. Just organising my caddie

A caddie?

Wayne: Yeah, Nathan insisted. He even has a golf cart for me to use.

You’re not using a golf cart, or a caddie.

Wayne: But I’m so much better than everyone else. Surely I can get some sort of privileges?

Sorry Wayne, you don’t.
Has anyone finished a hole yet?

Craig: I have, I scored a 2.

On a par 5? That’s impressive Craig, well done

Stephen: He cheated! I saw him hit the ball 9 times! It’s not fair! I only have one good club and he has a bag full.
Craig: No I don’t. All my clubs are average

Craig, you do appear to have too many good clubs. Give some of them to the other players

Craig: Here you go John; you can have my Big Bertha oversize driver. It’s the best club
John: WOOOOOW! I’m going to win today!

Matt, why haven’t you hit your ball yet?

Matt: I just can’t seem to pick the slippery bugger up! Does anyone have a ball that isn’t slippery?

Come on Matt, concentrate, it’s really not that hard.

Matt: But it is, it really truly is! I have no idea how you guys do this.

Now Neil, how are you going? You weren’t very good last year.

Neil: This game is sooo easy, it’s been years since I played this well! I got one of Craig’s old clubs and it’s working a treat.

That’s great news! Glad to hear you are enjoying yourself

David: Wish I could enjoy myself.

Stuart, how are you going?

Stuart: Okay, I’ve had 3 eagle puts in a row, but every time I had to use the putter, I’ve hit the ball another 4 times and it ruins my score. I think Craig tampered with my clubs, and the course, and ….

Okay, that’s enough of that. I haven’t heard from Brian or Ivan yet. Where are they?

Anthony: Brian was around the back of the clubhouse

What is he doing there. I better go find him.
Brian! What are you doing?

Brian: I was thirsty, so I wanted a drink.

You can do that with the rest of us

Brian: Yeah but then I needed to go to the toilet, but I couldn’t find it.

It’s out the front with a ‘TOILET’ sign on it.
Are you drinking red cordial?

Brian: No! It’s blackcurrant juice.

That’s red cordial! Did you tip that out here hoping I wouldn’t see?

Brian: No, that’s where I went to the toilet.

Right, you’re going back on the bus! Oh stop crying!

Brian: *sobbing*I’m not crying, I’m relaxed and happy. *sniff*

Ivan, what are doing? Why aren’t you on the course?

Ivan: I can’t play without Stacey

You have most of Stephen’s clubs, surely you can do something with them.

Ivan: They don’t work, they’re all duds

Just have a go. I’ll be there shortly.
Carty? Why are you still on the bus?

Carty: There was some young hoodlum down there and he scared me. Young people scare me.

Oh.
I see you have Kevin’s favourite club, can you give it back to him?

Carty: No, I’m keeping it.

Why do you lot take something easy and make it complicated?





746 Words, including title, in the OWC

 

[Azkatro]

Azkatro posting for the Panthers.

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

Failed form slump remedy

The players of the local Wombats rugby league team ran out onto the field. They’d lost five on the trot now and were desperate for a win. Robbo, the team coach, had given them a solid game plan and the boys were pumped up and ready to execute it to perfection.

Raymond, the captain and halfback, had been given particular instructions. He was classy player but had been going through a noticeable form slump. But he had also been trying everything he could think of to get his game back on track.

He grabbed the football in order to kick it off to the opposition. After tipping a bit of sand onto the turf, he placed his hands over it and moulded it into a mound at just the right height for placing the ball on. It struck him how warm and soft the sand felt under his palm. He pressed down firmly on the tiny hill he had created to make sure it was packed in tight, and he couldn’t help but run his fingertips lightly down the sides.

“Are you gonna kick it off today or what, mate?”

Raymond snapped out of his train of thought. “Oh yeah, sorry sir,” he stammered in reply. He grabbed the ball and placed it vertically on his little sand hill. As he was pressing the ball down and watching as the mound collapsed at the sides just a tad, the perfect arc that made up the side of the football caught his attention. He had both hands placed firmly on either side. It wasn’t obvious to anyone looking on but he couldn’t help giving the curvaceous rubber a little squeeze. The pressure of the air contained inside the ball collapsed just a little under the insistence of his strong hands. Raymond sighed longingly before jumping to his feet, backed up a few steps and kicked the ball.

The game proceeded as usual. The forwards were aiming up and Raymond made a few tackles. After bringing down the left centre, he couldn’t help but notice how smooth the skin on his legs were. Raymond had a hand on his calf to prevent him from springing to his feet, and they felt especially smooth and soft - even creamy. “He must use moisturiser,” Raymond thought to himself. “Bloody metrosexual.”

Then he heard the referee’s whistle pierce his ears. “Penalty - holding down.”

A few plays later, the opposition scored the opening try of the match. Raymond’s teammates gave him a cursory death stare for giving away the penalty. As they gathered in a huddle behind the line for the conversion, he addressed them. “Sorry boys,” was all he said, before he noticed a particularly attracted blonde girl sitting a few rows back. “We need to …” he started to say before realising she was looking directly at him. He couldn’t help but notice. He tried to formulate a sentence to deliver to his expectant teammates but nothing came into his head.

One of his teammates decided to help him out. “OI, Ray, we need to what? Give away more f**king penalties and invite them to score a few more tries?”

Raymond shook his head and cleared his throat before responding. “We just need to talk more in defense. I want you all to scream at each other. More attitude boys!”

It was a throwaway remark and the players knew it. The captain was off his game again and the writing was already on the wall. After delivering his mini-speech, Raymond couldn’t help but glancing back at the pretty blonde. It frustrated him that he was getting so easily distracted.

The match went on and the Wombats continued to struggle. They were down 24 points to nil as they ran off for half time.

In the dressing room, nobody was spared. Coach Robbo let loose with a tirade that would have made a sailor blush. After he finished laying down the law, he took Raymond aside for a quite chat. He only had one thing to say.

“Raymond, I’ll be honest. I don’t think it’s working.”

“It is Robbo, I swear! It’s keeping me hungry, I need to persist with it!”

Robbo looked him square in the eye.

“Ray, listen to me. You’ve lost the plot and we’re losing matches. We gave it a chance, it was good in theory, but it’s just not happening.

“The time has come to put an end to your self imposed sex ban.”

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747 words. Liftoff!

 

[Jason Maher]

Jason Maher returns for the first time in 2010... er... 2011. Charges onto a long ball from Johnsy, and promptly gets bundled into touch. Probably needed another week in reggies.

715 words

Please Read Responsibly


Like most normal human beings, every Friday night I like to flop down in front of the telly, having put the kids to bed, and enjoy a couple of games of footy back to back. With any luck, the missus will be at work and I won't have to watch it on the small telly in the bedroom.


Size of telly aside, I have found my enjoyment of the weekly Friday footy fest slipping in recent times, and the main culprit is the constant live updates of betting odds by the commentators during play, on top of the updates during ad breaks, before play, and at half time. A constant refrain of “please gamble responsibly” doesn't make it any less annoying.


Now sue for me for a wowser, but in the dark old days of 5 years ago we got along quite fine without these constant updates, and I'm quite sure those who enjoy partaking in financial activities with a negative expected return on investment over time were still able to partake to their heart's/wallet's content. So why is there now the need for those of us who prefer to get something in return for forking over our hard-earned (like a beer or a Big Mac) to be constantly bombarded with the latest in-game odds? I sincerely could not care less how much Brett Morris is paying for first try scorer, I just want him to score the bloody try, and hopefully a couple more to go with it.


Now I realise that sporting contests and wagers have always gone hand-in-hand, since time immemorial. The so-called “Sport of Kings”, for instance, would not exist at all if not for the associated gambling. Fair enough. I expect to be inundated with betting information if I'm watching the nags or the dish-lickers. But I don't expect it, nor do I think I should have to put up with it, when I'm watching a game of footy.


There are a few reasons for this. The first is simply that I grew up watching footy without the constant gambling ads, and I preferred it that way. The second is that saturation advertising in general annoys me (hence why I've always preferred to listen to the ABC call instead of 2UE/2GB). The rest are a little more controversial. For one, I actually think problem gambling is a worse social evil than cigarette smoking, the advertising of which has been completely stamped out. But of course, repeating the “please gamble responsibly” mantra means we're not encouraging problem gamblers... Further, as a Dad who wants to encourage my kids to watch the footy, I really don't think it's a good idea to be giving gambling such prominence in our broadcasts. It doesn't send the right message to the little tykes, for mine. Finally there is the rather obvious sore point of match fixing. It think the saturation advertising of gambling creates a bit of a jarring image alongside the NRL trying to stamp out match fixing and players gambling on matches.


Space prohibits me from a proper treatment of such issues, but let me make a couple of points in case someone reading this gets the wrong idea. First, I have a very good understanding of how gambling works, and it is in effect an investment with an expected negative return over time (short version: the house always wins). This is the main reason I don't gamble myself. Second, I have no objections to other people spending their hard-earned in this way, if that's what floats their boat. I can appreciate how it may be an enjoyable activity for some who aren't bothered by coming out behind in the long term. Third, I have no issues with gambling being associated with Rugby League. I just think the current level of promotion of betting agencies is way over the top, and not justified no matter how much they may be pouring into the game's coffers. Also, let's not kid ourselves that these agencies have the welfare of the game of Rugby League in mind. They don't.


So there you have it. My $0.02. Not much more than a rant really, but something that really does annoy because it lessens my enjoyment of the Greatest Game of All.

 

[glockers]

Rugby League Culture


Culture has been something discussed and debated at length in the newspapers over the last two weeks. Often the word culture is used when two extremes occur – either a team wins or whether a team is in trouble. In either instance media outlets will latch onto this intangible headline to push an agenda.

Recently the statement “Rugby League Culture” has been banded about by a number of publications however it was no surprise that recently it has been connected with the events surrounding Todd Carney, Anthony Watts and the Sydney Roosters.

Unfortunately, the first thoughts when reading the headline linking 'rugby league culture' with alcohol and criminal charges are entirely accurate when it comes to media representation and the image of the great game in the wider community. Basically the whole concept of 'rugby league culture' can be summed up by playing the game, training for the game and drinking at all times in-between committing criminal acts, according to today’s journalists.

However where this image falls short is that the publications fail to acknowledge the fantastic work players do off the field and within their communities. So often these endeavours are overlooked and essentially the community feeling of a club is so much more meaningful when discussing Rugby League Culture. However, the rumours, innuendo and witch-hunting which follow Rugby League players these days sell a great many more articles for the publications while also demeaning the greater Rugby League community.

Now, I could focus the rest of this piece on the injustice of describing football culture as just consisting of drinking and committing crimes, but this is ignoring the most fundamental of all inaccuracies peddled by cheap sports opinion writers like Richard Hinds.

The most terrible of injustices is sports opinion writers believe the word culture could be entirely linked to binge drinking. Consider Hinds' following words:

"You have to wonder, particularly, whether the game's culture has changed sufficiently to nurture such an obviously troubled soul."

Australia is a land where multiculturalism is part of everyday life, whether Pauline Hanson likes it or not, and to call rugby league culture essentially a binge drinking culture is demeaning to the many players that play our code the right way. How sports opinion writers get away with throwing the word culture out there lightly and cheapening it within a Todd Carney was drinking at 4am story is truly disgraceful.

Before you start thinking I am making too much of one word, these writers are professional wordsmiths and supposed to have a basic grasp of the dictionary. They are also supposed to understand how to use words in a way that goes within the context of a story and doesn't, in layman's terms, blow it out of proportion.

They get paid to write engaging, but also accurate copy for readers to gain knowledge and enjoyment from. Instead they are taking their pay by writing hyperbole.

Consider the first point made in that culture is essentially described in media outlets via two extremes. Only 10 months ago the media outlets around Australia were describing how the Roosters had turned the club culture around from the 2009 season in which there was turmoil. The Roosters had gotten rid of the bad influences and brought in structure and discipline through the structure of Brain Smith and CEO Steve Noyce. So what has changed in 10 months that is drastically different to enable journalists to say their culture has been disrupted? Could it be that in 2010 the Roosters team was a success and so far this year has suffered injuries and setbacks?

The fact of the matter is last year it was the journalists that were claiming that Todd Carney was reformed as a result of the changed culture at the Roosters. Now it is that same structure, same culture that is now eating away at him and not providing the structure required to save a tortured soul.

When Todd Carney decided to get on the drink with Anthony Watts it wasn't part of 'rugby league culture', at the same time it wasn't part of Carney's 'Anglo-Saxon' or 'Australian' culture. Linking drinking to a definition of culture is insulting to anyone who takes pride in their legitimate culture. It is an unacceptable practice by lazy sport opinion writers seeking sensationalist headlines and their byline on the back page.

It is poor writing in the end and instead of throwing words out lightly, they should concentrate on simple writing that engages their readers.

749 words

 

[muzby]

muzby looks down at his new dragons jersey, and moonwalks out onto the pitch, to the cheers (and jeers) of the crowd..

750 words, title to end..

Bad Boys

Early one Sunday morning, David Gallop is jogging around his local park when his mobile rings. To the strains of the Hoodoo Gurus belting out “That’s my Team”, Gallop takes his phone out, looks at it and thinks ‘Oh crap, not Gould. What the hell does he want at this time of the morning?’

“Good morning Phillip”.

“Hey Davey, I’ve just had the best idea!”

“Phillip, what have I told you about bothering me with your foolish thoughts, particularly at 6am?”

“I know, I know, count to 700 and then call you, but I did that. I’ve been up since 5am counting!” says an excited Gould.

“Well, what is it? I’m a busy man Phillip.”

“Davey, I had a brainwave. I’m sick of the AFL raiding our ranks and trying to muscle in on our turf. We need to strike back” said Gould, shouting with excitement.

“Phillip, I’ve told you before I’m not keen to take on the AFL. Andrew Demetriou scares me, and you know how I hate conflict. It makes me anxious and I bite my lip.”

Gould, not put off by Gallop’s nancy boy attitude, continued on “There is a player from the AFL who is keen to come across and play Rugby League. We can strike back!”

By this stage, Gallop stops jogging “Alright Phillip. You’ve got my attention. Who is it?”

“Fevola. Brendan Fevola” Says Gould. “Khoder Nasser tells me he’s sick of the AFL and I’m confident that we can sign him. In fact, Khoder has given me the heads up that he has brought him onto his books, so the job is half done.”

“I didn’t know Fevola was with Nasser?” Gallop replied.

“Yep Davey, Khoder tells me he signed him up”.

“But Gus, can he play?”

“Yep, I went and watched him kick, pass and tackle. He’s a big boy, and I think he’ll fit straight into any team.”

“Okay Phillip, let’s sort this out today. Come and see me in 2 hours”. He then turns and runs back home.

Two hours later Gallop hears a knock at the door. He looks through the peep hole, recoils back and throws up. Do not be alarmed, dear reader, he isn’t sick. It’s just a standard response by anyone seeing Gus Gould’s head through the convex lens of a peep hole.

Gallop opens the door and Gould steps over the mess Gallop has just made on the floor and the two head towards Gallop’s home office and pull out the telephone.

After seven rings, the phone answers and a voice says “You’ve got Khoder”

“Khoder!” Screams Gould, as usual a decibel or three too loud for the occasion. “It’s Gus here, ringing about Fevola.”

“Ahh, Gus my friend, have you spoken to that prick Gallop yet about taking him onboard?”

“Hi Khoder, it’s David Gallop here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry David. Gus, you should have said you had our wonderful friend Mr. Gallop with us”.

Gallop blurts out “Cut the crap Khoder, is it true you’ve got Fevola, ready to sign?”

“Yes, I have him keen to come to the NRL. He said he’s happy to play anywhere coastal.”

Gould jumps in quickly “How about Bondi?”

“No”, replied Nasser. “He said something about bad blood in that area. Can you fit him in at Cronulla?”

“Possibly”, Gallop replies “I just hope he‘s cleaned up his act. We’ve got enough bad boys at the moment.”

“He‘s no longer the man he was in his AFL days”, says Nasser, a smile in his voice “Just fax me the contracts for him to sign. I’ll meet you after the press conference and give them to you in person”.

By the Monday morning, rumours are flying around the media about a big name signing for the NRL, as a conference is called at Star City.
Gallop & Gould are patting each other on the back and shaking hands with a smile, the media start taking photos of the two who took on the AFL and won. The curtains draw back, the photographers at the ready. From the shadows a figure steps forward, wearing a Cronulla Jersey. The media gasp, and fall silent.

At first, there is one chuckle, then another, then another. Within 10 seconds, the whole crowd is laughing.

“You idiot Gould!” shouts Gallop. “That’s not Fevola, it’s bloody Willie Mason.”

Mason grins, puts his arms up and gives the assembled crowd the double peace sign and yells “Yeah Baby, Willie’s back in the NRL!”

 

[rayroxon]

Rayroxon making his debut for the Panthers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pride in the Colours

Todd Greenberg, CEO of the Bulldogs, recently said that loyalty within the terms of a player’s contract is the only form in which it still exists in the game of Rugby League. He was of course referring to the impending departure of Jamal Idris to Gold Coast Titans. Although the comments raised a few eyebrows, the truth is there for all to see. Players have been mercenary for some time and their loyalty lies in the terms of the contract and the dollar. It is this loyalty to the dollar, which is the main reason the Roosters are in the bother that they’re in.

The Roosters have long been a pet peeve of mine. After being a closet Panthers fan in the early 90’s, I treated their signing of Fitler with disdain as he was my closet guy during the ‘91 Grand Final. I still enjoyed watching him play, however it wasn’t with the same passion. The nail in the coffin though was the 2002 Grand Final. Watching the same, albeit older, Fitler steamroll my beloved Warriors and take away a deserved premiership is screamingly one eyed I’ll admit, but also heartbreaking. Since then, they’ve been as dead as Manly to me. The fact that they brand themselves as a glamour club, are flashy, and their players are ridiculously good looking are, on the surface moot points but when you dig deeper, this is where the rot starts.

The Dragons are proud of the history and the symbolism of the Red V. So proud are they in fact, their Jersey hasn’t changed. Ever. Their storied history of premierships is unprecedented in sporting history and even their Raper’s are respected. Jersey switching is not a Roosters centric problem; however you’d expect a bit more stability in the jersey of a foundation club.

South’s in their Cardinal and Myrtle have been that wronged by that many people, they thought they better put it into a book. Despite the Hollywood off field machinations of their ownership, you still get a very real feeling of the history and pride in the jersey. The way the Rabbitohs treat their history is endearing not only for themselves but the rest of the league.

When compared to the Roosters though, you get a club who seem to be in it for themselves and a feeling the players are there for a good time not a long time. The success of 2010 can not be denied, but recent antics make it a distant memory. A change in coach wasn’t able to make a sustained difference and now you have a Brian Smith coached team, acting as if they’re a Freddy Fitler coached one. But again it’s deeper than that. I believe in essence, loyalty in the club and pride in the history stems from having pride in the colours. It starts with every player knowing what the Red, White and Blue means to the players who’ve worn it before and the fans who have paid their hard earned to live vicariously through it each week.

State of Origin camps have the right idea in getting past legends to talk to the current years squad about what it meant to them to play. It stirs the passions of those select few and offers a tangible link to the past. There is no reason that a club with the history of the Roosters couldn’t do the same. Conversely, players need to have their own awareness. When Anthony Watts arrived from North Queensland, he stayed with Todd Carney. Surely there were better options for Watts to stay with. Whilst on Watts, and his off field indiscretions, did he stop to think that he was joining the club with the longest continued representation in First Grade? Probably not, but that’s speculation and hearsay.

What is past conjecture though is that the Roosters are in trouble. Their off field issues have become an image problem for themselves and the code. The solution is bringing not just dollars but pride into a contract. The Roosters need to tap into their greatest resource which is their history and make players think about who their actions effect. Through belief in the jersey; through past player mentoring or through the childish recording of grudges, the solution is in making the jersey and the club that players are at right now the most important thing there is or at least until the next contract.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

740 between the ~~~'s

 

[DragonPunk]

After laughing at Muzby's moonwalk attempt, DragonPunk pounces onto his offload and bursts through the line for the Dragons

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

Enduring the barbs

It all started with a conversation, sitting down with a friend who I had known since high school during the off season. He wasn't much of a football fan but like many in Liverpool, found an affinity with the Canterbury Bulldogs. Being the only passionate Dragons fan at my high school, during the mid to late 2000s, I was the butt of jokes, when Canterbury usually defeated St George Illawarra.

Fast forward to 2011, going to university and more importantly in the football, St George Illawarra Dragons are riding high on the NRL ladder and had finally after 31 years of struggling and waiting, won the NRL premiership.

When Dean Young had crossed for the try that sealed the match and the premiership, the messages came flying in on my phone, from supporters ranging from every club, most along the line of I know it's been ages, congratulations and enjoy.

This warmed my heart, though we were foes during the season, when our teams clashed but they knew this might a lot to St George Illawarra Dragons club, team and the fans, highlighted by the many fans who were crying and hugging despite the rain pelting down during the whole second half.

It was a triumph of blood, sweat and tears but when talking to my friend, he brought up the point,saying “It must have been a good feeling to finally win one aye,”, of course I responded in saying it was one of my best moments. His response to that surprised me, he went “So I guess this means your done, you've got what you wanted and you'll just watch at home.”

That was shocking to me, it had never crossed my mind, to stop supporting a team because they have won the grand final. Granted a lot of kids in my high school would change football teams like they were spoiled underpants in school, dependant on who was doing well.

I was born into St George through my parents and accepted Illawarra into the fold, once they merged in 1998. Been through the highs and lows, the face-slapping, the Ben Rogers decision where he played over Jamie Soward on senior player advice. They all became worth it once, Ben Hornby lifted that trophy on the rainy night in October.

This is something a lot of people, seem to miss when I am constantly heading to games, sometimes they don't even involve St George Illawarra but there is always the deriding saying “You should be going to things other than football,” “There are more important things.”

The fact everyone misses though, is a rugby league team becomes like a religion or another child, you love them when they lose, when they win and even if they have lifted the premiership, it's not a case of job done, there is a premiership defence to contend with.

In the rain, hail, shine or long train trips which sometimes have me questioned my sanity or why I keep doing this to myself, seeing a long break from Nightingale, a flick pass from Gasnier or damaging run by Ben Creagh. These events all re-affirm why I do it and endure the barbs from opposition fans and bandwagoners like my friend, who just like to get under your skin.

While my friend will go about his life, only dropping in occasionally to remind me of the fact that the Dragons have lost a match somewhere during the season but disappear when they start playing well, making the comments from my friend even more laughable. Water off the ducks back, as I head out to scream for St George on ANZAC day.

*********************************************************************************************************************************
611 words between the stars

 

[_Johnsy]

5 from 5 from both sides. Congrats!!

Best of luck big mick & the Panthers.

To the dragons, bloody brilliant return to the F7's for the big red V. Love yous all.

 

[Azkatro]

A 5 on 5 contest. Not something I imagined when this match initially kicked off. Spectacular effort to the reborn Dragons and good luck to you!

 

[Jesbass]

The ref arrives after the players are shaking hands to signal full time.

 

[Non Terminator]

Dragons - 427

Drew-Sta - 86
A good read, it feels like it's an era too late to see these. I know people like Todd Carney's mother and the guy in Atherton are still proud, yet you've put into cases also that some aren't that lucky. Beautifully written too.

_Johnsy - 86
A good yarn regarding that local team, from the major viewpoint of the CEO - not something that you see written too often, especially in a larrakin sense.

Jason Maher - 87
Nothing like a rant to get the anger off the chest, and it's a point I'm sure nearly everybody agrees with.

Muzby - 87
I've always seen the comparison between the two. Never guessed you would've pulled this until you did.

DragonPunk - 81
Would've loved to see more games this year, yet I find myself putting other parts of life first. Would love to even it up soon. (NB: This article was penalised five points for being under the word limit)

Panthers - 433

LeagueNut - 87
After weeks of words against the alcohol abuse from players, I've never really thought about it against fans. Yet, you are spot on the mark.

madunit - 87
A humerous read, capturing the personality of the coaches extremely well. We've got great personalities there, I guess some of them must've come to you easier than others. (Even those whose personality relies on not having a personality).

Azkatro - 87
Temptation is a massive bitch, and this article not only parodies, but captures the esscense of that perfectly.

Glockers - 86
A great opinion piece on...opinion writers... In all seriousness, well written. It's articles like those we've recently seen that make me so much more eager to get into journalism.

rayroxon - 86
A good piece, and I personally would love to see players not only learn but value the history of the colours they wear. As the classic saying goes, "These Colours Don't Run"...or something like that.
I'm in Tamworth, so thought I might finish this up. What a round. First of all, congratulations goes to Penrith, the victors in a hard fought win. The Dragons, congratulations on a wonderful effort.

 

[_Johnsy]

Congrats panthers on a well deserved victory.

Thanks to NT for the adjudication, advice and positive comments much appreciated.

And more importantly, thanks to Drew-Sta, Jason Maher, Muzby & DragonPunk for getting the big red V up and running. IMO the best thing to come out of this return was the spirit in which they all played. top shelf effort boys.

Bring on round 4.

 

[glockers]

Just got out of journalism for politics, but good on ya if you want to enter the trade.

 

[_Johnsy]

Just got out of journalism for politics, but good on ya if you want to enter the trade.

???????

Did I miss something.