MINOR SEMI-FINAL (2008) TITANS v EELS

[Willow]

Forum 7s - MINOR SEMI-FINAL - 2008
*WINNER TO PRELIMINARY FINAL, LOSER ELIMINATED*
GOLD COAST TITANS v PARRAMATTA EELS​

-v-

​

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 each 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: Wedneday 10 September 2008 at 9pm (Syd time)​

REFEREE: Pistol
Venue: The Front Row Stadium​

**The Referee Blows Game On!**

CLICK HERE FOR OFFICIAL WORD COUNTER​

 

[bartman]

The Parramatta Eels F7s team minibus arrives at the Front Row Stadium for some more sudden death semi-final action. The top three Titans will be formidable F7s opponents, and the Eels writers emerge from the bus in their blue and gold livery with looks of steely determination, pens and keyboards at the ready...

Dean
bartman
miniHINDY
MarkInTheStands
eloquentEEL
- - - - -
Goleel
Prince Charles

 

[Titanic]

The Gold Coast Titans, keen to shrug off the "chokers" tag, gargle four litres of Listerine each, polish our tonsils with Ajax and face up to the slippery dippery river Eels whose entire team and bench have us "packing it".

GOLD COAST TITANS

The Run-on Team
1 Amadean
6 tits&tans
7 Titan Uranus
8 bgdc
11 Titanic

The Bench
9 Robster
12 Coaster

 

[Titanic]

The Titans' Titanic rears from the deep, riveted knees screeching in protest, shakes off nearly a century of seaweed and spews out half the icy north Atlantic waters only to find that he left his false teeth below. Back to Davey Jones he dives to borrow a set... you must look your best for a do or die semi. (750 OWC)

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Rules for Dummies

Rugby League! Just the very name conjures up images of sweaty torn jerseys, mud-smeared shorts and groups of gap-teethed, mashed-nosed men, merrily singing unprintable lyrics to well worn tunes. Ah, yes, the last bastion of the male of the species.

Certainly there are female members within the League community, playing necessary, albeit subservient, roles for their lusty men folk, such as canteen workers, laundresses, chief cooks and bottle-washers. Men dominate the code, as it should be.

Born in the working class mines of northern England, carried to the far reaches of the larrikin antipodes and entrenched in the folklore of brawling mate-ship and legendary heroics, Rugby of the League variety epitomizes the struggle of rising from the pit. Its ideologies are simple, its appeal shrouded in the emotion of tribalism and its supporter base rooted on the common.

Yet nowhere does the spirit of League manifest itself more rigorously than in the living room of the average suburban house. Here, man is still king of his castle. The stress of mundane employment is locked out and the natural order returns. Here are my house rules without which there is no order:

1. From February to October, the television is mine, at all times, without any exceptions. The remote control will be fingerprinted each night. If I discover any sign of your fingerprints on it, all shopping trips will be cancelled for a month. A second offence will result in the dismemberment of your credit card.
2. If you have to pass by in front of the TV during a game, for an important reason such as preparing snacks or getting some more beers, I don't mind, as long as you crawl along the floor… quietly.
3. During the League season, read the sports section of the newspaper on the internet so that you get the feel for the competition. During the games I will be zoned into the match. You cannot expect me to listen to you, open the door, answer the telephone, it won’t happen.
4. It would be a good idea for you to keep at least 2 six packs in the fridge at all times, as well as plenty of things to nibble on, and please do not make any funny faces at my friends when they come over to watch the games. In return, you will be allowed to use the TV between 12am and 6am, unless they replay a good game that I missed during the day.
5. Please, please, please! If you see me upset because one of my teams is losing, DO NOT say ' get over it, it's only a game', or 'don't worry, they'll win next time'. If you say these things, you will only make me angrier and I will love you less. Remember, you will never ever know more about football than me and your so called ' words of encouragement' will only lead to a break up or worse.
6. The replays of the tries are very important. I don't care if I’ve seen them or I haven't seen them, I want to see them again. Many times without disturbance.
7. Tell your friends NOT to have any babies, or any other child-related parties or gatherings that require my attendance because: I will not go, I will not go, and I will not go. However, if a friend of mine invites us to his house on a Sunday to watch a game, we will be there faster than you can cook instant noodles.
8. You’re welcome to sit with me and to watch any game. You can talk to me during halftime but only when the commercials are on, and only if the score is pleasing me. The Rugby League highlights, the Rugby League section of the news and the Footy Show are just as important as the games themselves.
9. Don’t even consider saying “but you’ve already seen this...why don't you change the channel so we can all watch?” No. no. no. “Like what?” I could ask in an inflammatory way but I won’t, unless you ask first.
10. Finally, please swallow expressions such as: “Thank God the season’s over”. I’m immune to these words, because after this comes the RLWC, ESL and endless replays of forgotten games.

A litany of lethargy, heralding man the hunter, however, apply these ultimatums at your peril or risk joining me on my throne alone while the “trouble and strife” is visiting her mum for an indefinite period.

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[bgdc]

bgdc for the Titans, hitches up her skirt and enters the fray... fray you say? I told mum to fix that, "just wait ref I'll have to stop that before it gets any worse, hold on I'll be back in just a minute". (Officially 750 words between the stars)

stars-stars-stars-stars

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I Don’t Like Mondays

​

Nearly thirty years ago Bob Geldof and his Boomtown Rats released the song that, its chorus at least, has given voice to millions as they claw their way to another week of toil. “Work”… that four letter word that drives some to fortune, others to fame and still others to distraction.

​

At the time of its release Fraser was Prime Minister, Wran was NSW Premier and Sir Joh was doing his thing north of the border. Jack Newton won the Australian Open, “Deek” was pounding road miles and Heath Ledger was born. The Sharks got some silverware, smashing Brisbane to win the Amco Cup and St. George’s George Grant kicked four goals to pip the ‘Doggies and win the NSWRL Premiership.

​

Yet time waits for no man, or woman for that matter. Now, we have a Chinese speaking PM, Newton’s boy has grown up and is playing ESL while Ledger is just a sad memory. The Amco Cup has faded and the NSWRL has been relegated to the benches in favour of the unholy partnership called the NRL. Yet, in this year of celebration, in this time of high-tech living, some unwanted archaic remnants of bygone eras still permeate and genius the development of Rugby League.

​

This year, there have been many well-documented transgressions by our elite players. It is neither my intent to dwell on any one of those nor do I wish to cloud the F7’s with any more negativity. I offer a solution to the problem and a voice on the side of reason for those who don’t seem to be able to distinguish between the role of the “park” Rugby League player and that of an NRL player. My title states “I don’t like Mondays” but unlike millionaire one hit wonder Live Aid Geldof, it’s not that I don’t like Mondays per se, I don’t like NRL Mad Mondays!

​

Mad Mondays: hangovers from the days when League was steeped in traditions such as applauding your opponent or tipping your hat to the coach’s wife. A time when our sport represented the battler playing for his beloved community and nobody begrudged him earning a few Rhodes scholars for his efforts. How times have changed.

​

Mad Mondays were a celebration of the season past, a gathering of part-timers that had trained together and played together. This group would seek permission from their employers and if they couldn’t get that leave pass then they would take a “sickie”. They would gather at their local pub or club and enjoy the camaraderie that had developed over the season. Often this would be to a background of revelry (binge drinking) and pranks (outlandish behaviour). Their purpose was, win or lose, as community rallying exercises.

​

Mad Mondays still have a place in the semi-professional League environment that is often the very heartbeat of a community in the “bush”. There, little has changed and each year many rural towns still rally around their teams, finding a job and supporting club raffles to entice a “name” import to join their pride and joy. However, it must stop there.

​

The distinction between the type of Mad Monday I’ve described and the one that offends me is demarcated by professionalism. Unlike their lower strata counterparts, NRL players have a very different status. Professional players “work” together seven days a week, eleven months of the year playing League as much as paid entertainers as elite sportsmen. Their need for end of season jaunts has gone the way of vinyl records and floppy discs.

​

The message that NRL Mad Mondays sends to the general public is outrageously outdated. Rich young men behaving badly, do nothing for the image of the sport that offers them a lifestyle, way in excess of their wildest childhood dreams. Yes, they have rights, yes, they are under an unrepentant media spotlight, and yes, they are often ill-equipped to deal with the stress of expectation. However, they can’t expect to have their cake and eat it too.

​

Is it such a quantum leap in logic to recognise that these players, once their season is over, deserve a vacation? They don’t deserve a monumental celebration, unless of course they’ve won; they’ve just being doing their job. They don’t need a bonding session; they’ve been living in each others pockets all year.

​

They don’t deserve public ridicule either; so let’s vanquish NRL Mad Mondays to history, where they belong, and allow these professionals to just hang out a “Gone on Holidays” sign.

​

stars-stars-stars-stars

 

[Amadean]

Amadean leaps forward for the Titans, stretching for the line with his last ounce of strength as the kick-off blows.


693 below the bar


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Metaphors: A Mixologist’s Carol Sheet



First Day of Finals


On the First Day of Finals League gave to me:
A kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Second Day of Finals League gave to me:
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Third Day of Finals League gave to me:
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Fourth Day of Finals League gave to me:
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Fifth Day of Finals League gave to me:
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Sixth Day of Finals League gave to me:
Six sausages spurting,
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Seventh Day of Finals League gave to me:
Seven subs a-sprinting,
Six sausages spurting,
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Eighth Day of Finals League gave to me:
Eight captains posing,
Seven subs a-sprinting,
Six sausages spurting,
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Ninth Day of Finals League gave to me:
No new Nine announcers,
Eight captains posing,
Seven subs a-sprinting,
Six sausages spurting,
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Tenth Day of Finals League gave to me:
Ten countries cupping,
No new Nine announcers,
Eight captains posing,
Seven subs a-sprinting,
Six sausages spurting,
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Eleventh Day of Finals League gave to me:
Eleven Leaguies leaving,
Ten countries cupping,
No new Nine announcers,
Eight captains posing,
Seven subs a-sprinting,
Six sausages spurting,
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny.


On the Twelfth Day of Finals League gave to me:
Twelve months of News limiting,
Eleven Leaguies leaving,
Ten countries cupping,
No new Nine announcers,
Eight captains posing,
Seven subs a-sprinting,
Six sausages spurting,
Five gaping rings!
Four forwards fondling,
Three throats a-throwing,
Two wingers w@nking
...and a kiss from ole Wayne Benny!

Good King Gallop


Good King Gallop last looked out
On the Final’s evening
With the Raider’s plans spread out
And their players leaving
For they’d injuries to spare,
And the moron Carney,
Who, despite his brother’s sense,
Was pissed-up and barmy.

With only 16 players left,
After wounds and woollies,
The Raider’s treasury bereft
Of the golden goodies.
“Please Oh Gallop can we ask
Special dispensation,
Take salary caps to task
For our sh1t location.”

King Gallop: “Who gives a damn?
Shut up and stop your whining
Pay your players, have a plan
Incompetence is undermining
The goal to bring League national
Needs to have sound fiscals
Injuries, players irrational
Shoots that down with missles.”

So Raiders went to South Queensland
Where the talent’s true
For with men you can ever depend
On a Brisbane crew.
There they begged....


Ah, shove it. You’ve got the general idea and I can’t in good faith force further abysmal poetry upon anybody. League is not served well by innumerable sex, booze and drug scandals from over-paid, under-educated and over-praised morons. League is not served well by incestuous media relationships who eternally take without giving. League is not served well by clubs who cannot stick to a budget, nor by those who run out of revenue-creation ideas quicker than cash into a pokie.

We could discuss central areas of issue: lacklustre administration, poor grass-roots development, the sole focus of teams of players upon cash and decreased interaction between fans and clubs.

We could discuss those, but it wouldn’t do a goddamn thing. When running up against powerful vested interests, the little guy is pretty much screwed.

So, once again, but this time with feeling!

”Five gaping rings!”

 

[Titan Uranus]

Despite suffering from crippling stomach cramps all week (really) TU manfully strides on to the field for the Titans with the aid of a Dutch proxy - I said proxy - Chinese internet still not loving f7s.

749 words all in
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Player Education​

It is said that newsstand owners in London in the 1970s would have a headline reading “Tube to be hit by industrial action” on permanent stand-by. If one had to make suggestions for Australian newsstand owners today one couldn’t go too far wrong with “NRL player accused”.

As time goes by you would think that the league would become better and better at dealing with and preventing such incidents. However, whether it is an actual increase in such activity or just the development of telecommunications (e.g. SBW on a camera phone) more and more cases seem to come to light each year.

It’s no great puzzle as to why we see such things happening so regularly. Those at the centre of all these stories are young men at the height of their fame, popularity, fitness and riches. It’s not surprising that many begin to think that if they’re above everyone else in all of these categories then there’s no reason to them why the same shouldn’t be true for the law or anything else.

Another is that if you’ve been focussing on your goal of being an A-Grade player throughout your childhood you’re both very likely to neglect other aspects of personal development and to do whatever is necessary to fit in.

Quite a few of the incidents involving players from the Bulldogs (the club with more than most) have occurred as a result of initiation “exercises”. It was also a Bulldogs player who in 2004 stated that gang-banging is nothing new to the club or to league.

When that’s the best a player can offer by way of defence it shows that there is something intrinsically wrong in the culture of modern day players who have scruples far removed from you or I. They clearly need some help.

Some may disagree with that and that we are holding these players to unfairly higher standards. Even if this were true I would not think that that was a bad thing. Anyone who chooses to go into a career that’s in the public eye whether they be a sports star, actor or politician is essentially agreeing to be held to a greater level of accountability than others.

As it is I don’t think that NOT: committing sexual abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, drink driving or imbibing so much that the police refer to you as the drunkest human being are particularly high standards to live up to.

For nearly every off-field incident involving an NRL player there is one common factor: alcohol. The help that I mentioned earlier must certainly focus on this. If no one is going to tell these guys when to stop then they’re going to have to learn to do it themselves.

As the most troubled NRL players have difficulty knowing when they have to stop then any women in her right mind should steer well clear of them. If they don’t, and later find themselves in trouble, they’ll have no one to blame but themselves, right? Wrong.

Anyone with this kind of view is only supporting the abusive and misogynistic culture that pervades the sport. A true fan would never do this. Put simply “no means no”. There are no exceptions. There are no grey areas here it is simply wrong. The fact that players and so-called fans of football support such actions by referring to the women involved with a derogatory term (e.g. skags) only highlights the need for a massive rethink of the culture that revolves around the sport.

As fans we can help to change this by letting clubs know that we won’t stand for our sporting heroes being allowed to get away with such actions – rather than giving tacit support. Telling women to steer clear of these guys is not a solution but more misogynistic nonsense. Furthermore, it only attacks the symptoms not the cause of the problem.

I would also temper this with the fact that there will always be those seeking to exploit NRL players by accusing them of this or that in the hope of 15 minutes of fame or a large pay-off. This behaviour must also not be tolerated. Nevertheless there would be less people trying such things if it wasn’t so likely that they’d be believed.

The NRL needs to provide its players with help and the sooner in their careers it happens the better it will be, for the players, the game, the fans and not least for any potential future victims.

 

[eloquentEEL]

eloquentEEL for the Eels
__________

Good as a Holiday

The NRL are not alone. Metathesiophobia is actually quite common. In fact, a Google search for “fear of change” returns 1.8 million results.

The media has a tendency to blow things out of proportion with a plethora of “GAME IN CRISIS” style headlines, but even taking that into account, it is still painfully obvious that the NRL fears change. Changes in the structure of the competition. Changes in the number of teams. Changes in the playing rosters. These propositions all seem to send shivers down the spines of the game’s administrators (or at least the central channel of the body where the spine should be).

Yet, is change such a bad thing? After all, they say a “change is as good as a holiday”. If someone did not bother inventing transport and society did not adopt this change to how we move around, then the only people watching the game would be those within walking distance of the ground. Without the introduction of television then most fans would not be able to watch their team play. But that would all be quite acceptable, as there would be no point playing because St George would still be continuing a dynasty (now spanning several decades) and besides, they would be playing with 15 men on each team. Thank the footy gods for change!

Change is actually inevitable. Philip Larkin published the following lines in a poem entitled Here:

“Here leaves unnoticed thicken,
Hidden weeds flower, neglected waters quicken”​

This suggests the failure to adapt to change in suburban England back in 1964. Since then, the pace of life has increased exponentially with technological advances and globalisation. So much so that it has spawned the necessity for specialists in coping with change. Change Management is now a recognised discipline in graduate and postgraduate study; a profession in its own right. The evidence of not keeping up with change can be found in league itself. Parramatta are a perfect example of what happens to teams that do not adapt to change, both on and off the field. On the field, Parramatta were almost invincible in 2001 only to have a poor 2002 after failing to adapt to rule changes and the increased use of gang tackling. Off the field, they have been using the pokie tax as an excuse for continued cost cutting whilst other clubs based in NSW have moved on under the same conditions.

To be fair, it is not change itself that the NRL fears. They actually did very well handling the introduction of the Gold Coast Titans into the competition. It is uncontrolled change that they fear. They fear expanding too quickly without solid research and a franchise that will match all the right criteria. They fear changing rules without a strong understanding of the full impact. They fear losing the marquee players they do not want to lose. Sometimes however, even losing the marquee players they think they want to “keep” ends up being a positive. For example, $BW walkout on the Bulldogs has seemingly galvanised the whole league community, whilst the player in question is injured again and the Bulldogs have unearthed the next big thing in Jamal Idris. For a sporting code that uses an oval shaped ball and where the rules are at the whim of the referees’ interpretation, it is surprising that we have so much trouble coping with uncertainty.

The NRL is too conservative and moves too slowly. Without change, rugby league will continue to fall behind on the world stage and within the Australian winter sports landscape (as evidenced by statistics such as the relative salaries of NRL players against other football codes). A good starting point would be a change to the “unique” structure of our administrative bodies. This structure is currently so restrictive that it would prove a challenge to the world’s best change champions. Apart from the multiple layers of administration, decisions on changes in the NRL itself are handed back to the clubs (who then block any changes that may be detrimental to themselves). It is a wonder we see any change at all, so a change here would pave the way for other changes that are necessary just to keep up with the Eddie Jones’es.

My team is now out of the running for the premiership so it is time for a holiday. Hopefully it will be as good as the next change in the NRL!

__________

742 words

References:

Google search (“fear of change”): http://www.google.com.au/search?hl=en&rlz=1T4HPAB_enAU219AU219&q=%22fear+of+change%22&btnG=Search&meta=

Larkin, P. (1964) The Whitsun Weddings

 

[MarkInTheStands]

Mits carts it up with

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Are we just trying too hard?

For many years we have heard that the AFL has a greater “atmosphere” around their game.

The pomp and ceremony of the Brownlow and the pageantry of their Grand Final Week leading up to Grand Final day with its televised Breakfast and all day media bombardment are to some minds supposedly superior to league. While most league traditionalists will tell you that the AFL is compensating for a poorer spectacle of a game it is obvious that some people yearn to have that same atmosphere, pomp and pageantry around our own finals series.

Over the last few years these events have started to creep into the Rugby League experience. The Dally M Awards are now shown live on Fox Sports with a fashion parade on the red carpet. The partners of league’s leading players are asked “who they are wearing?” or “who are you dressed by?” This sort of coverage is all an attempt to make the Dally M’s somewhat comparable to the Brownlow that has been doing this for years.

Instead of being held on the morning of the Grand Final, the NRL’s Grand Final Breakfast gets the players and staff together to honour them with a munch on the league’s sponsoring cereal on camera of a Friday morning during peak hour - what serious league fan is watching? None! We’re all on the way to work.

The AFL has a battery of functions during the whole week. Events to pick which club will wear their “away shorts” attract major scrutiny. Then there is the Grand Final itself, with a pre-game show that tries to be a rock opera with kids in choir outfits singing the clubs song as the club flag is raised on the temporary stage.

But this is where League has come to the fore. League in 2001 went to a Night Grand Final and that was the end of any comparison between the codes’ grand final entertainment. The AFL, with some aging pop stars or an Australian act trying to do something they don’t do all the time anyway, on a stage with the fans over 50 metres away in day light. No matter how you cut it. There is no excitement, no thrill.

Taking a leaf out of the NFL Superbowl’s “Half Time Show” the NRL’s Night Grand Final has had rock acts being rock acts to entertain and excite the crowd. Rock acts set to a night-time or dark setting, complete with light shows and fireworks. Even with Billy Idol’s unfortunate power outage that was entertaining for its comedy value, the rest of the show that was not televised was exciting, fitting, and purely rugby league.

The players’ farewell is far more publicised in AFL circles but the league has really stepped up its own ceremony. Diesel singing “We Can Be Heroes” while projections of the retiring players are shown on a large sheet on the playing surface with the players doing a lap of honour in the back of a Holden Ute (or indeed now a Toyota Hilux) is what rugby league is all about - a show that the working man can relate to.

And that is what rugby league is about - maybe not the lowest common denominator but about everyone having a good time and enjoying it. I can’t see the working man sitting through a finals week function to dictate the colour of a team’s shorts? The same as I can’t see a big business man wanting to pass the ball at a fan day. I can’t see the league having a ticker tape parade down George Street, purely because this is footy and footy happens when the workers and the bosses can get to it.

So while I am happy for our code to trial all these things, there are some things that are just not league, and we should stop trying too hard to be something we are not. We are Rugby league, and Rugby League is one thing to everyone - rugby league is fun.

So to hell with the fashions walking in to the Dally Ms, screw the thought of Grand Final parades, and if there is a Grand Final Breakfast, make it on Grand Final day! Let’s not try for pomp and ceremony - let’s just have our rugby league grand final, with a rock band to rev up the crowd. With a couple of league games beforehand and then, most importantly, the best sporting product that Australia can produce.

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748 Words.

 

[tits&tans]

tits&tans arrives on the field for the Titans wearing his freshly starched and pressed kit and a big dumb grin on his face...

750 words from OWC

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Scientific Squandering

​

Whilst rummaging though old match programs in my cupboards, I came across an article I had cut out and mounted on card. I scanned through it, trying to recall what had incensed or impressed me enough to save it. As I reached the third paragraph, I soon remembered.

Rugby Research

They believe they have cracked it. They have finally unravelled one of civilization’s and, indeed, the universe’s most confounding mysteries.

Today, scientists from Cornell University claim to have solved a seemingly unsolvable problem that will cause gasps of astonishment, delight and relief from League fans all over the cosmos.

Originally from Australia, this 5–strong eclectic group of researchers sought each other out whilst dealing with the tribulations of academic life in the United States. Through typical antipodean mateship and a mutual love of League, this unlikely bunch soon formed a social club. This club then developed into a formidable research group with its main goal being to investigate the “most important scientific issues of our times”, in the words of Judy Price, the group’s self-appointed leader. The group, known by other members of the campus as the “Nerd Research Laboratory”, but correctly entitled the New York State College of Human Ecology, wanted to focus their talent “on solving a problem that would do the greatest good to the most people – scientific utilitarianism.”

From varied backgrounds – microbiology, quantum computation, nano-engineering, molecular gastronomy and sports science – they struggled to make the initial decision: which problem to throw their collective intellectual weight behind? After discarding crucial world-changing issues such as the proposed salary cap and the introduction of a video referee and ignoring cosmos-rocking topics such as contract breaches and code switching, they decided upon a winner: the perfect way to remove grass stains from League shorts.

After extensive testing in laboratories with multiple chemicals, these researchers found the perfect combination to remove even the toughest of stains:

- dab with banana oil (CH3COO(CH2)4CH3);
- dab with dilute detergent and water;
- dab with dilute ammonia and water;
- dab with dilute vinegar and water;
- sponge with alcohol and water;
- apply dilute vinegar to get rid of excess chlorine. Add water.
​

League players can now stop fretting about whether or not those terrible stains will actually come out in the wash. Relax boys, help is here. They can finally fully concentrate on getting dirty and crushing their opponents.

At the same time, another announcement across The Pond is causing a stir in the sporting and scientific communities. In an extraordinary twist of fate, scientists at the UK’s Institute of Food Research, researchers have solved a related and most perplexing problem: Why does beer in plastic cups lose its head at the footy?

Scientists can easily explain the nature of bubbles and their relationship to the proteins and carbon dioxide in beer. These bubbles constitute the beer’s head, which can be destroyed by the smallest amount of fat. But where do these lipids come from? Prepare yourselves for an earth-shattering revelation: these fats come from you, the drinker. Whether from your mo’ oil, remnants of your lippie or face paints, droplets of sweat or the crumbs of chip spray, trace amounts of fat can ruin your head.

After tens of thousands of pounds of research funding, and hundreds of man hours, the IFR has established that to keep the head on your beer at the footy, you should avoid refills in plastic cups, shave your beard and forgo face-painting.
​

The amount of money floating around the current Rugby League world is, quite frankly, astonishing. Today’s large sums from sponsorship, foreign clubs’ interests and media investment dwarves the salaries of players from bygone eras. This does not even mention the money fans spend on tickets, merchandise and travel and doesn’t include the money spent on training sessions, equipment and clothing.

I can accept people spending money on this beautiful game and I bear them no ill will. It is, after all, their hard-earned cash

But what I can’t accept is the scandalous waste of valuable research money and time that is poured into, what can only be described as, inane issues.

Grass stains and beer froth?!

When there are truly important concerns throughout the world (e.g. AIDS, poverty and cancer research) that require financing and research, I find it outrageous that such trivialities are ousting these critical issues.

Do we really need to fund this research?
Let’s take a step back and adjust our perspective, shall we?

***********************************
http://www.news.cornell.edu
http://www.ifr.ac.uk/public/

 

[Dean]

Dean runs onto the field with his shorts on backwards, screaming "I am the lizard king".



Frustration in E Minor. (I have no idea what that means)


Sitting in an ANZ stadium seat, six and a half months ago, I watched the Parramatta Eels storm home from a twenty-two point half time deficit against the Bulldogs. With five minutes left on the clock, the bulldogs pressed one last time onto the Eels’ defensive line, twenty metres from the try line. As I watched the events before me unfold, adrenaline started gushing out of my nostrils and the nerves in my body forced the blood vessels in my eyes to explode from the very thought that Parramatta might reel in a seemingly insurmountable deficit and then relinquish their hard fought lead within five minutes of the final siren. At this point I uttered these words whilst I watched this possible train wreck through the gaps in my fingers. “Why do I bother watching this stupid game?”

And so it dawned on me. I hate rugby league.

I have probably been aware of this for quite some time, but it took this anxious moment of clarity to finally draw the words from my croaky throat.

This game, this sport, this hobby and past time has become such a part of my life, that to recognise it as anything other than a burden would be naivety to the extreme. I reached the “Have you ever loved someone so much it hurts” moment in my relationship with rugby league a long time ago. Now the shoe is on the other foot and the bastard won’t stop stalking me.

It’s history that Parramatta won that gripping first round match against the Bulldogs, but the feeling of euphoria that came from such a glorious victory lasted approximately twelve hours, or the time it took me to sleep off the hangover on the following morning, read the daily newspaper and begin that anxious, weekly wait for the next game to arrive, at which point the Eels went about destroying an off-seasons worth of expectation by getting rear ended by the Warriors.

And that’s another thing. Expectation.

Whether it’s winning the whole thing, making the top four, or scraping into the finals by the skin of your finger nails. Every team and supporter has a certain amount of expectation for each coming year, and unless you started following St George way back in 1956 and died in the summer of 1966 then you’re a chump like the rest of us. It’s like the thrill of waiting for an orgasm and being lucky enough to reach that mind blowing climax once out of a hundred times. How much fun is that?

Yes, I can here the bleating now. Typical Parramatta supporter.

Well, I have never been a part of the boo crowd that frequents Parramatta stadium on a regular basis, I frequently visit Parramatta stadium, even though I know before hand that it will probably be a dismal night both weather wise and result wise, and against all of my better judgement, I love Daniel Wagon and all the other ordinary players that have remained loyal to the blue and gold, even though dear Daniel hasn’t passed a football since that fateful Christmas morning when his father said , “Here Daniel, this is a football. You might want to play with it someday.”

No, I don’t necessarily blame Parramatta for this new found hatred. Yes, they have kept me and a few thousand other chumps waiting for a night when we can sing Queen songs until we’re horse in the throat, (my childish and unreliable memory of 86 was of Ray Price scoring the winning try) and just last year I pleaded for a friend of mine to follow another team after the semi-final loss, because it was I who swayed him towards the Eels ten years ago. Oh, the guilt.

No, to blame the Eels would be a failure to recognise the bigger picture. They are simply a small cog in the relentless and monstrous machine that is rugby league. For now at least, the only nerves that might bubble to the surface are the ones that are programmed to activate when Manly have a slim chance of winning the premiership.

So in a way I am glad for an off-season of respite, but I know, oh how I know, that the vicious cycle will continue soon enough.

Cheers.

............................................................................................................

738 words.

 

[bartman]

Bartman catches a hospital pass for the Eels, closes his eyes and hopes the Titan defenders show some signs of mercy...

- - - - -

Lives Outside Football


I often wonder when it will all come to an end...

I mean, it must end for everyone at some point? We're all mortal, and our bodies just can't keep doing this forever. Our minds won't always stay motivated and focussed on the task at hand.

The people change, the places change and the faces change. Even the venues change. Our own feelings change over time as one season blends in with another. One day we might wake up and the thrill of it all will simply be gone? Past tense, history - merely a memory.

That's why I've come to kind of hate this time of year. September or October - the final game played, the final whistle blown and that hollow empty feeling of the end of another season, of hopes and promises unfulfilled. Saying our farewells to one another and wondering just who might have traipsed out of this stadium for the final time.

Perhaps hate is too strong a word? It's more like a fear that lives deep inside... A growing fear of change and uncertainty as each year ticks steadily by. Knowing that your time is running out but not really knowing what happens beyond all that in the future? Worries and concerns creep in where once we were carefree and bulletproof!

Didn't it used to seem so easy in our younger days! There was a routine to the week and football was our entire way of life, couldn't get enough of it. Everything was laid out in front of us in our mind's eye, this exciting working life full of opportunity and possibilities. We had the talent to burn, and couldn't even imagine this sporting lifestyle ever ending or changing.

We never gave a single thought to how things might be once we hit our thirties...

Yeah, these thirties are a difficult age where for the first time perhaps some of our dreams seem to be slipping away from our grasp rather than getting closer? We start to notice more doors shutting rather than opening, the world and its youthful possibilities start to shrink and - depending on our nature - we might start to feel a little claustrophobic, or even a little bit melancholy at times.

Lucky we've got each other mate, guys that know the score and can help get each other through these things. I mean, what did you do once you realised you were on a downward slide with footy? Where did you find the motivation to keep going? What's that... Oh, you've got the missus and kids, of course. Yeah, who needs to worry about their footy too much when you've got the loving family to come home to. How are they doing mate?

You might have noticed my bird hasn't been around this season? Yeah mate, we bit the dust a year or so ago. It was a bit sad, but we'd been butting heads the last few years, and it's probably for the best. I mean she would come to the footy and say she enjoyed it all, but you could just tell, you know? It wasn't really her thing, no matter how hard she tried over all those years. She just seemed to be distant whenever I'd talk about the games at home, and we just couldn't connect about it? And there were other problems too, so yeah, flying solo again at the moment mate.

There is a girl on the scene though... well kind of. Nothing's happened yet, but if she can see anything in this old worn out toiler with no real propsects then I've got a feeling it might just work out! She's ace mate, the loveliest person I've ever met. Not sure if she's that into footy though, but I'd almost think about giving it all up for a chance to pin my future with her, if she'd have me. Do you know what I mean? Sounds crazy, but when I'm spending time with her I don't think about the game, or about the team or anything. She opens my world right up, shows me what's possible in life and how I can live it. Yeah, so maybe I can find one of these... lives outside football, after all?

OK, thanks for the chat mate, we should do it more often! Oh, and if you see the Coach out there, mate can you tell him I might have to get back to him a bit later about those plans for next year...?

- - - - -

749 words between the lines

 

[Willow]

 

[bartman]

Well 4 out of 5 ain't bad for this tired old Eels outfit :lol:. What a struggle of a season! Can we hit the drinks yet?

Congrats to the Titans, who have kept up their record of posting perfect 5s so far this year, and thoroughly deserve to advance here.

Good luck to all in the referee's final decisions.

 

[Titanic]

Great effort Titans, as those in the know will know, the internet in China has been "throttled" after the Olympics so posting has some very serious issues.

Eels, with the quality of your postings, I am secretly pleased that you only got 4 in.

Pistol we throw ourselves on your mercy.

 

[Pistol]

I do believe I have a match to mark.

marks will distributed sometime after lunch when I've had good feed

 

[Pistol]

Titans

Titanic with Rules for Dummies = 87

Misogynism at its finest. Reminds me of my uncle who used to say “pulling in to Donovans, leaving off wife, ignoring pleas for money..” Well written, descriptive and thought out.

Bgdc with I Don’t Like Mondays = 85

Geldof’s song I Don’t Like Mondays wasn’t written as a theme for those who hate going to work on Monday but rather it was written after Brenda Spencer (16 at the time) fired shots into a playground, killing two teachers and injuring 8 students. When the police apprehended her, when asked why she did it her response was “I don’t like Mondays”. The writing was solid without being outstanding. Overall a good effort. (That picture almost looks like Adam Copeland)

Amadean with Metaphors: A Mixologist’s Carol Sheet = 84

Creatively unique but reading it I feel I had to wade through all that whimsy to get to the real meat of the article. Kudos for the effort though.

TitanUranus with Player Education = 88

Straight, to the point, good direction, well written and a good flow.

Tits&tans with Scientific Squandering = 86

Science was a snooze for me in school but you have given me a good idea to get those unsightly grass stains out of my cricket whites. Well thought out and a good presentation.

Eels

EloquentEEL with Good as a Holiday = 84

Change is often a concept that many people hate to embrace. The writer speaks of that here. A decent dig. Some paragraphs could have been fragmented better but a top effort.

MITS with Are we just trying too hard? = 88

Indeed. The NRL showing people having a meal and dressing it up as “honouring the players who made the decider” is way beyond me. Who really wants to sit down and watch people eat or who gives a rats what dress the wife of a player is wearing? I know I don’t. Well done on a good effort and well written article that hit the nail on the head with frivolous events.

Dean with Frustration in E Minor. (I have no idea what that means) = 83

There are a few Parra supporters where I work and one of them said to me that Parramatta are one of the most frustrating teams to watch or support because he feels that they aren’t delivering on their potential. You aren’t alone in that boat. A gripe post that felt a tad rushed but a good effort.

Bartman with Lives Outside Football = 81

Started off well but lost direction after that. Seemed rushed as the mid to end part seemed to go off on a different tangent. It was a good effort though.

Titans defeat Parramatta 430 – 336

POTM – TitanUranus and MarkInTheStands

Well done to all and a special kudos to the Eels, who were down to the bare bones. You were valiant in defeat.

 

[Titanic]

Titans... the dream continues... you are dreaming! Eels, thanks for the memories and see you all next year. Pistol, prompt marking, poignant comments 10/10.

It's off to see the Warriors, the wonderful Warriors of course... deja vu.

 

[bartman]

Well done Titans, and congratulations on your tight discipline and not having missed a post all season. Best of luck in the rematch against the Warriors.

Cheers for the marking and comments Pistol.

Eels, it's been a long 2008 season for all of our squad :lol: But we made something of it at the end anyway and have earned our session in the hot tub, clubhouse bar, and a responsible Mad Sunday :crazy:. And then time to recoup and think about how we're placed for next year...

 

[Jesbass]

Well done on a great season, Eels, especially considering your difficulties with numbers!

Not too sure about wishing the Titans luck against the Warriors, though... :lol: