REP MATCH (2004): AUSTRALIA vs REST OF THE WORLD

[Anonymous]

AUSTRALIA
v
REST OF THE WORLD

Game Thread
Please note - This is a game thread only, therefore only game posts can be made here (Teams, Articles).
Any other posts will result in loss of points and is at the discretion of the referee.
Only original essays, not used in previous games, will be marked by referees.

REPRESENTATIVE CONDITIONS:
Captains to name a total 10 players for each team.
Each team shall consist of 7 players + 3 reserves.

Full Time: Wednesday 28 July, 2004. 9:00PM AEDT (Sydney time)

Venue: The Front Row Stadium

Crowd: 24,030
REFEREE: antonius

**Referee Blows Game On!**

 

[Anonymous]

The Kangaroos have arrived at the Front Row Stadium...

Willow (Bluebags) (c)
roosterboy60 (Lions) (vc)
Everlovin' Antichrist (Lions)
Colonel Eel (Eels)
Mr Angry (Sharks)
frank (Bluebags)
Goleel (Eels)

ParraDaze (aka DvdHntr) (Eels)
Azkatro (Panthers)
skeepe (Souths)

 

[El Coconuto]

Rest Of The World Representative Squad:

1. El Coconuto (Cronulla-Sutherland Sharks) (c)
2. Thierry Henry (Coos Bay Pirates) (vc)
3. Yakstorm (East Coast Rhinos)
4. Ozzie (Easts Roosters)
5. El Garbo (Cronulla-Sutherland Sharks)
6. Clevo (Souths Rabbitohs)
7. eels2win (Parramatta Eels)

8. [furrycat] (Penrith Panthers)
9. Paul-The-Cowboy (Penrith Panthers)
10. Big Mick (Penrith Panthers)

Good luck to both teams!

*El Coconuto proceeds to lead his squad in a multicultural rendition of the haka with the thousands of fans in attendance chanting along in excitement. And now, let's get this show on the road!

 

[Everlovin' Antichrist]

EA proudly takes the first hit-up for the Kangaroos.

Oh when the Saints…

I am a Wests Tigers supporter and I used to be a Parramatta supporter. My allegiances changed when I had a few years of not following Rugby League due to having a young family. I moved with my family to the Campbelltown area the same year that the Wests Magpies moved to Campbelltown and my interest was re-ignited. Over a couple of years, I became a firm Wests supporter and have been ever since.

Not big news and hardly a secret, but I do have a secret regarding my allegiances, a deep, dark, foreboding secret that at times concerns me; it feels right but at the same time awkward. Fortunately, I have always kept it in check and I always will. But its time for me to out myself, metaphorically speaking.

I like Saints. I like to watch Saints and if they’re playing anyone but the Tigers, I cheer for Saints.

There, I said it. I feel better already.

The reason for the soft spot for Saints runs much deeper than just watching Football itself or enjoying the brand of Football offered up by the Saints.....

Many years ago when I first met my wife-to-be, the usual baggage i.e. “Her family”, came as part of the bargain. My wife’s sister was married to a gentleman named Peter. Peter was a great bloke but he had one particular failing; he was a rabid Saints supporter. I mean this guy was as mean and cantankerous when it came to talking about Saints as anyone you can imagine. Skull was a pussy Saints supporter compared to Peter.

Walking into his home at any time was akin to walking into Saints Leagues Club. Bloody red and white everywhere. The walls were painted white with a red border, posters and streamers hung from the roof and he had even painted a red V on all his household appliances. Christmas time was a nightmare for anyone that ventured into Peter’s abode around that time, twice the normal red and white and the tacky bastard even had a cheap-arsed white K-Mart Christmas tree adorned in nothing but red ornaments and red tinsel.

At that time, I was a Parramatta supporter and Parramatta were in their glory era of the early 1980’s. This was very difficult for Peter to accept. From day one, whenever we got together for a family barbecue and the discussions invariably ended up about Football, I would laud it over him like a complete prat. He hated it but took it with reasonable good humour and would chant repeatedly in answer to my taunting, “It doesn’t last forever”. And he was right, Parramatta faltered later in the 1980’s but Peter always knew that Saints would be back on top again soon. For Peter, it was always just a matter of time.

Over the years, Peter and I became best mates and Football galvanised that friendship. Even though were not supporters of the same team, we both loved Rugby League. We went to many matches together and a heap of Saints v Parramatta matches together. Saints won a few, Parramatta won a few and later on with Wests and Saints we kept the rivalry going. We had a standing bet that the loser would wear the other team’s colours out of the ground. I hated wearing his hat and scarf and I wore them a lot.

Saints time almost came again in 1992 and 1993, but they were bounced in the final match of the season, much to Peter’s chagrin and my relief. He was unbearable when Saints were losing; I couldn’t bear the thought of what he’d be like if they actually won the competition considering what I’d done to him when Parramatta won the comp. His revenge would be very uncomfortable.

But Peter never got to see Saints merge, and he never got to see them almost grab League’s Holy Grail again in 1999. Peter passed away in late 1994.

Which brings me back to my original point, my soft spot for Saints. Ever since Peter’s passing, I have missed him terribly. I miss the arguments, I miss Peter’s blind red and white worship, and I miss Peter like someone would miss their own brother. And although I could never dismiss my beloved Wests Tigers for Saints; watching, enjoying and even cheering for Saints dulls the pain of losing my best mate if only for a couple of hours each week of the season.

Go marchin' in.....

748 words

 

[El Coconuto]

El Coconuto checking in for Rest Of The World...

Thank you, Phil! Now was that so hard?

Assuming you didn't watch the news or read the papers, what would your opinion of Phil Gould be? No, wait! Don't tell me, I think I know this one. Simply put, you think he is a good coach right?

Before I dive head first into this, I should disclaim that three years ago I pledged never to do three things;

1. Become lazy enough to fail a mathematics examination.
2. Purchase any Justin Timberlake material.
3. Defend Phil Gould for any reason whatsoever.

Opting to put pride aside for the next few moments, I'm going to invalidate pledge number three. Stop the press! Am I really about to defend Phil Gould here? I guess so, but perhaps now's also the time where I confess to have already broken pledges one and two in the past anyways, easing my motivation for writing this.

Class has little room inside minds that save space for spin and justification. It's much easier to twist a tale than provide truth and humility. This is a magic act that the media has perfected and, being so fixated with sales figures, everyone in the press was too preoccupied to send 'Gus' Gould off in a tasteful and professional manner.

It would've been so easy to have done so. Two simple words could've brought an end to an era in a way it so rightfully deserved.

'Thank you'

Thank you, for providing this state with many years of fond memories. Thank you, for fuelling the Queensland desire to win. Thank you, for turning our culture into a winning one.

Now, was that so hard? Would it have pained the press to have set aside a small column or two second time-spot to say those two simple words? Apparently so. In fact when I opened the papers wanting to read about Brad Fittler's fairytale farewell, all I got was another Gus Gould media bashing, again.

Being a g-rated article there is no need to reiterate Gould's exact remarks here, but I can't dislike him for making them. I'd be both lying and hypocritical if I said I did. Like myself, when you ask him about whether or not he thinks he was in the wrong by recently using inappropriate language, he gives you that disgusted look as if to say "I just won you lot State of Origin and gave you something to write about tomorrow. You're all bloody welcome." So bold are his actions, it's as if he stubbornly adapts to The Lord of the Rings dwarf character Gimli's approach to battle; 'certainty of death, small chance of success...what are we waiting for?' Again, I can't dislike him for it.

Phil Gould is everything that I, and probably you envision a good coach to be (although lets not confuse the difference between a good coach and a good person). Often accused of being bias, all he sought after in his team selections was total dedication. You'd think that having taken the blues to six 'and a half' series victories, that fans and board management would at least congratulate him, but instead mass media criticism still sweeps his email inbox.

There is an old boxing saying that 'styles make fights'. Pitt two friendly states up against each other in a three-match series, and its pretty good. But, throw an arrogant and controversial coach to add fuel into the equation, and it's going to be pure magic. Where am I taking this?

Gould made Queensland want it more, and is criticised. He made every player want to dedicate themselves to greatness, and is criticised. He made Origin football fun again, and is still criticised?

Now, I don't need Gould to tell me what he does and doesn't deserve, I'm not that naïve. But don't try and coax me into believing the man doesn't deserve that little something called respect either; he does. You know it, and I know it.

Know this: one day the media will wake up in a cold sweat one morning with nothing to write about. No controversies, no steamy press conferences all because there is no Phil Gould. Oh I can already imagine the look on Paul Kent's face when he has no one to slander anymore. 'Come back Phil, please!' is the chant all media outlets will rave in the more 'professional' era after Gus.

Alas, if the media won't give into common decency, I will.

Thank you, Phil.

We had fun.

Thank you very, very much.

Words: 750

 

[Anonymous]

*Willow runs on for Australia...*

Don’t move

“Don’t move!”

”huh?”

“I said, don’t move… stay down.”

I tried to get up.

”For f**k’s sake mate, just don’t move!”

It was then I realised on was flat on my back. My team mate, ‘Spiro’ was looking down at me. The referee came into the picture and then moments later, the coach came over to declare he was the best person qualified to decide on my condition.

”What happened…?”

”He went down like a sack of potatoes… trying to tackle Rosco.”

”Oh right… Willow! Look at me… look at me son! How many fingers do you see?”

”Umm… two.”

”Close enough… look Spiro… let’s get him off!”

I was then hoisted up and as they say in the classics, I was ‘assisted from the field of play.’

Concussion is an odd feeling inasmuch that it is no feeling at all. Being knocked out probably contributes to the sometimes popular notion of Atheism. I mean, everything just goes black… the lights go out. Zilch, finito, over… there is no sensation whatsoever.

I’m lucky because I remember the details of the day. I’ve been told that in some cases, it’s hard to remember the events surrounding a head knock and in extreme cases, the memory banks are severely wiped.

But I was lucky.

When Rosco came towards me, I saw him and knew I had to take him low. He stood at six foot-something while I was five foot-something… so a head-on assault was out of the question. Tackling being a precise science, I decided to move in towards his hip with the plan to unsettle his stride and then drop to his legs, thereby bringing the big bloke down. But he saw it coming and as I approached, he stepped into me. My head came into direct contact with his hip and after that, things became a little blurry.

For the record, I have been knocked out three times in my life. Rugby League and Rosco provided me with my first experience. The second time was courtesy of a gnarly surf at Cronulla… and the third time was thanks to some nutcase in Riley Street, Darlinghurst. All of which occurred in the space of five years, and while I was a relatively more reckless individual.

Despite the stories that Rugby League is a dangerous sport, I can tell you that there are far nastier things in the world than getting the timing wrong in a tackle. The fact is, I stuffed up. I saw Rosco and he saw me… I went in and was beaten by a more experienced player. It was never his intention to hurt me… it was my poor execution which saw me out of the game. That’s life… you don’t get away with much and you learn a lesson.

Nevertheless, concussion is no laughing matter.

According to research, the brain is composed of soft, delicate structures that lie within the rigid skull. Surrounding the brain is a tough, leathery outer covering called the dura. Within the brain are cranial nerves (hence the word ‘cranium’ and for some, ‘Richard Cranium’). These nerves are responsible for many activities including eye opening, facial movements, speech and hearing consciousness as well as vital activities, such as breathing. The brain is cushioned by blood and spinal fluid.

A sudden knock causes the brain to bounce against the rigid bone of the skull. This may cause a tearing or twisting of the structures and blood vessels. Because of this damage, brain signals are interrupted.

There are three main categories of concussion:
1.) Mild concussion occurs when the person does not lose consciousness but may seem dazed.
2.) The slightly more severe concussion occurs when the recipient does not lose consciousness but has a period of confusion and does not recall the event.
3.) The classic concussion in its most severe form. This occurs when the person loses consciousness for a brief period of time and has no memory of the event.

Well I lost consciousness for a brief period and still have memory of the event. What do doctors know anyway?

The good news is that apart from a few nervous twitches, I made a full recovery. My team mate Spiro is now in charge of his Dad’s trucking business and the coach bought a share in a pub in Campbelltown.

Rosco, now senior constable Rosco, went on to a successful career in law enforcement.

*735 words*

 

[Clevo]

Clevo, in his international debute attempts to dig deep into the pits of the stuff legendary footy players find when they need to dig deep...

Clevo for the Rest of the WORLD
-------------------------------

The Good Hate

Hate is a tremendously powerful emotional feeling. It’s high up there in the power stakes and sits along nicely beside Love. Hate cannot exist where there is no Love.

We’ve all heard of romantic love, brotherly love and motherly love. For every love there is an equal hate. “Hating” is a fundamental given amongst all supporters and is commensurate to the feelings of love, loyalty and passion one feels for their own club team.

Footy Hate fits somewhere between the hate we reserve for Mondays and the ugly hate we are capable of as humans to be at our most evil and destructive. Interestingly, Footy hate does have a tendency to produce an ugly side that we rarely read about in our newspapers compared to say, English Soccer League. Nor do I believe us Aussie League supporters will ever let it get that bad.

So what is this Footy Hate and where does it come from? The answer is as complex as it is simple yet intrinsically difficult to explain. Much of it is bluff, trend, misconception and transference of feeling for lack of any decent explanation for your team’s slump but there’s more to it than that. On face value that’s a glib answer to some real hate out there which magically disappears or gets upgraded at State and National Test matches where we collectively love each other and display some hate to the common enemy.

Balmain supporters have generally hated Souths supporters ever since the 1909 premiership. Saints supporters hate Souths supporters because you just have to. Roosters supporters claim Souths supporters hate them because of their current success which doesn’t explain why we also hate Manly. Sharky supporters have always had it in for the Dragon Fans. Parramatta versus Penrith. We start to see a pattern and a lot of it has to do with tradition.

Tradition is taught, regurgitated, sowed, passed on and promoted. You become conditioned to dig up long gone incidents to win a point in an argument. At the same time instilling even deeper love as you are embroiled further into your club’s traditions and roots. Thusly, developing a one-eyed fanatical outlook where your club, in your mind, remains righteously and Godly superior to all others. Super League brought many a traditional based argument tumbling down; giving Souths the biggest edge ever. Lose tradition and it’s going to take a heck of a long time to get it back.

Let’s face it; Footy Hate is a display of the one-eyed love for your team. In combination it puts bums on seats at the grounds and keeps us interested because it’s the emotional pledge we put into our club colours that keeps us coming back for more. Footy Hate is surreptitiously marketed by the powers that be. The traditional Saints versus Souths at the SCG, Anzac Day Games stir the colloquial emotions and any game promoted as the Local Derby are meant to get those tribalistic emotions stirred into action. At its highest levels we have the State of Origin and the stolen Ashes Test Series concept. All designed with just the right amount of Footy Hate to entice families to the game.

Footy Hate is alive and well. It should be embraced, coveted and carefully nurtured. Its growth means more Footy Love. The flow and movement of these emotions conjuring pagan symbols of Ying Yang, Gnostic dualism and cosmic confluences as natural as the waning and waxing of the moon. Footy hate is organic. It touches something within and gives the supporter, in many cases, a life long anchor that makes us feel steady and comfortable through the troubled waters of Real Life

Footy Hate is proof that you are a real supporter. Especially when you can recount the minutiae of a long gone incursion and recite it with an air of rightful dignity smiting all retorts in one fell spray. Footy Hate is gorilla chest beating at its best, bringing us closer to our primeval instincts. Wise men spend years meditating to reach what us Footy Hate enthusiasts achieve in eighty minutes of heaven.

There’s no place in footy for that hippy pseudo-philosophical proposition that Footy Hate has no room in the modern era of the game. A tough sport deserves some tough emotional stakes and nothing is more emotionally charged than the Adam and Eve of emotions… Footy love, along with Footy Hate. There’s nothing darn wrong with it.

Footy Hate is the Good Hate

------------------------------------------
Word Count- 747 words between the lines.

 

[yakstorm]

*Yakstorm finds a gap in the field for the World XIII*

What ever happened to the Rest of the World?

It has been a long time since drinks, in fact it was last in 1997 that Rugby League put a ‘Rest of the World’ team on the field, a last ditch attempt by the Australian Rugby League to honour an agreement it had with it’s players that they would be allowed to play international football.

Now understandably that concept received a relatively lukewarm reception drawing only 15,000 at Lang Park in Brisbane, however under the circumstances that wasn’t a bad crowd. At the time Brisbane were very much fans of the whole Super League concept at the time with their premier team the Broncos being part of the new competition. Throw in also the fact it wasn’t a true ‘Rest of the World’ team with players from New Zealand, England, PNG and French competitions all ineligible cause they were signed with Super League, meaning the ARL had to draw from its own competition, making it a very difficult concept to market. That said the match was an entertaining affair with the final result being Australia 28 – 8 Rest of the World, with the World leading 8 – 6 at half time.

It was certainly a concept that could have been built on, however that has been said many times when the Rest of the World team has made its appearances in Rugby League. The Rest of the World concept first took the field in 1957, at the conclusion of the second Rugby League World Cup. The concept was cause the tournament had no final, the conclusion would be celebrated by having the champions take on a combined side involving the other three nations best players. Australia won that clash 20 – 11 in front of over 30,000 at the SCG.

Based off the huge success of the inaugural clash, it was repeated for the 1960 World Cup, however the winners, Great Britain only drew 3,900 to their clash at Bradford against the World side, winning 33 – 27 in a very tight match. Lack of promotion and support saw the concept fall apart there and not be repeated again till 1988 when Australia took on the World side as part of its Bi-Centenary celebrations..

Again it was another long break before the Rest of the World reappeared, with the ARL resorting to the idea in 1997. That said, just cause of its hap-hazard life, the concept of a Combined World XIII taking on the best team in the World certainly has a lot of merit. Just look at Cricket, the whole Cricket world is licking its lips at the moment at the prospect of a World XI taking on Australia in a test and three one day matches next year as a true test to see just how good the Australians are. The concept will receive huge crowds and huge TV audiences both in Australia and around the World, and there is no reason why a League equivalent couldn’t also be successful.

Why not with plans to make the Rugby League World Cup every four years, that in between that the best team in the World (so most likely Australia) takes on a Rest of the World side? So say 2006, 2010, 2014, could be the planned schedule, with the best Nation at that time to take on the Rest of the World side in a three test series at the venues of their choice.

The old Courtney International Trophy which you to be presented to the best team in the world over a four year period could be re-commissioned and handed out as the trophy for the event which would add some serious spice to the international calendar.

We all know it is going to take a long time before Rugby League can boast any more than four or five top nations, with at the moment three being of top quality (PNG and France may step up as they become more professional over the next few years), but out of the other nations there are plenty of outstanding talented individuals who in the future could definitely push for a spot in a World XIII.

You only have to look now, you have Brian Carney from Ireland, Hazem El Masri from Lebanon, Marcus Bai from PNG, throw in all the Pacific Islanders, New Zealanders and British players, plus maybe people like Guisset from France and you have a pretty strong side which could give Australia a run for their money.

Word Count: 746 (Including title)

 

[Mr Angry]

Mr Angry - Australia - waits until he sees a tiring forward, left foot step and......
*****

The National Coach – Position Description
I am of the opinion that if an NRL coach is expected to be a full-time employee, then the National coach should be too. Done properly and resourced sufficiently, all rugby league administrators, coaches, players and fans would benefit enormously.

In an ideal system, any graded player who is struggling to communicate with his club coach, for whatever reason, should have 2 alternatives (State and/or the National coach) in which he can confide and seek quality independent guidance from, should he feel the need to.

The National coach should also be available to all NRL coaches, who feel the need to confide in someone independent.

Any applicant to be considered for this position must forgo all existing employment agreements with current Rugby League clubs.

This position will create a coaching career path for all full-time coaches, as all will be able to step progressively throughout their careers as follows:

Get your coaching certificate
Coach a team
Coach Jersey Flegg or Premier League or Jim Beam Cup or Queensland Cup side
Coach an NRL side
Coach your State Side
Coach the National Side
Retire or become a Selector

Included in this concept would be the introduction of a new National top 25 elite squad. This squad would be reviewed at the end of every season. Players not originally selected for the squad, still have every chance of being selected for individual matches should their form warrant it.

These 25 players would all receive extra payments from the NRL to supplement their salary capped club payments. This is aimed at the elite top echelon of players who are targets of rival codes and these payments would not be included in any clubs salary cap accounting.

This in turn rewards clubs that produce quality players by encouraging them to remain in their current clubs, knowing they will receive an extra payment due to their good form with these clubs. Inevitably the clubs administrators will benefit, as they will not be required to expend exorbitant amounts of money attempting to retain a quality player they have already invested in throughout their development.

Based on that theory here is the job description I would propose for the National Coach.
____

Australian Rugby League (ARL)
POSITION DESCRIPTION
Position Title: National Coaching Director
Location: Australia, travel required
Reporting to: The ARL board of selectors
Approved By: NRL Chief Executive Officer
Salary: $neg + Audio Visual equipment

POSITION DUTIES AND SCOPE:
To ensure the development of all graded rugby league players
To be available to all graded players in a mentoring capacity
To oversee the development of the national elite youth squad (under 20’s) selected each season
To coach the national elite youth (under 20’s) team
To oversee the squad of 25 elite players listed at the beginning of each season
To coach the national elite team
To ensure all confidential communications between the players and the coach are kept confidential
To promote the game of rugby league

OCCUPATIONAL HEALTH & SAFETY RESPONSIBILTIES:
In conjunction with the ARL chief medical officer, ensure the safety of the players for the duration of matches

POSITION TASKS & RESPONSIBILITES:
Coach the national elite squad
In conjunction with the ARL selectors, select the national elite squad of 25 players
Coach the national elite youth squad (under 20’s)
In conjunction with the ARL selectors, select the national elite youth squad (under 20’s)
Watch every NRL game
Watch every Jersey Flegg game
Watch every international rugby league match
Provide career, technical and psychological advice to all graded players as required
Attend all ARL approved regional rugby league carnivals
Promote the game of rugby league

POSITION REQUIREMENTS (Skills/Training):
Mandatory
ARL level 2 coaching certificate or equivalent
10 years experience in coaching at the NRL/ESL level
Preferable but not essential
2 years of coaching at the State of Origin level
15-20 years of coaching
Coached a premiership winning NRL team
Played at NRL level or equivalent
____

With the NRL being a multi-million dollar entity these days, I see no reason why they cannot employ, and pay well, a full-time National Coach. As this positions primary role would be the well being of all the NRL players, surely it is in the interest of the NRL and worth investing in.

I would also be calling for similar positions and squads to be created within the structures of the NSWRL and QRL.

*****
WC 730 between the stars

 

[eloquentEEL]

-> eels2win - Proudly supporting the ROTW defensive line since 2004 <-

Pride

I'm feeling great! I've just had a nice wash and now I get to dry off in the warm sun and daydream a little. I can't wait to feel him beneath me. I can't wait to hug him, and glide over his awesome, hard pecs and bulging biceps. Of course, I'm hoping that he takes me in front of all those bright lights and flashing cameras. Somewhere nice and public. I don't particularly care for the dirty stuff, getting covered in mud, tugged and pulled at (although I don't mind a bit of a pull every now and then), but I just love it in front of all those people cheering and screaming. Okay, so they are mostly screaming his name, but a lot of them are screaming out my name too. It's tattoed across my back and I'm proud to share it with thousands of others. If you haven't guessed it yet, I'm a tight, body hugging Eels guernsey and I'm proud.

I'm getting on a bit now. I've been through a few reincarnations (which by the way, is so much easier for a bit of fabric like me than it is for you human folk) and survived a few assassination attempts in my time (from both opposition players trying to rip me apart, and opposition fans trying to burn me in flames), but there's plenty of time for that later. Right now, I want to talk about my first time. It was my dad who introduced me to it. When I was barely more than a bundle of fibres, he prepared me, and gave me the opportunity to be donned by the great Ray Price. Dad made the ultimate sacrifice, literally falling apart at the seams. You see, he knew that this would be Ray's last match, and even though it meant missing the '86 grand final, my father, bless his threads, sacrificed himself so that I could experience even 80 minutes with the great man.

I remember the laundry lady. She almost broke down when dad disintegrated in her hands, but there I was sitting in the corner, all bright and new. I remember having dad's number slapped on my back and being handed over to Ray... Mmmm... what masculine hands he had; a bit rough, but a really good, firm grip. I remember being in the dressing room before the big match. There was certainly a spark, a sense of awe when Ray pulled me on over that lumpy head of his. That feeling was briefly interrupted when I brushed his beard... that tickled. I felt sorry for some of the others in the room. They looked like they were about to make some kind of mess in their shorts. One poor guy certainly made a mess in the showers. However, amongst all that anxiety, all I felt from Ray was a strong and steady thump....thump...thump from his chest. When he spoke, everything went silent. I had the pleasure of being the first to hear those words which prepared those men for battle and led the gladiators onto the battlefield.

The match itself was a bit of a blur, but I remember loving being out there in front of all those adoring fans. I could put up with dirt on my collar, and being grabbed by those dogs, but they really crossed the line (thankfully not the try line) when I got stained with some of Ray's blood. That's when I really bonded with Ray and knew that dad was right; life as a rugby league guernsey was the only way to go. I looked out for Ray a couple of times during the match, pulling him down underneath a couple of swinging arms. The tough guy repaid me well, allowing me to take centre stage and share in the spoils of victory.

Now, I've heard that Ray had a lot of pride in my dad and me, but I'll let you in on a little secret; that's nowhere near the amount of pride we had in that tough little bugger. It's a two way street, this pride thing. I haven't been too proud of some of the performances the current crop have offered, and they've been accused of not showing much pride in me. Still, they say you're only as good as your last performance, and the boys did show a lot of ticker last time round, so I'll say it loud and I'll say it clear: I'M AN EELS GUERNSEY AND I'M PROUD!

-> 750 words <-

 

[Goleel]

Gol runs on with pride in his rep debut, shedding a tear Greg Dowling style as the Australian national anthem is played.

===

Passion

I believe I’m a very passionate rugby league fan. I have a broken TV remote and $100 ‘seat breaking’ fine from Parramatta Stadium to prove it, not to mention a lot of great memories of fine victories and heroic performances. I show a lot of emotion for my football team, I rarely leave Parramatta Stadium with a voice, and when events like last weekends tragic loss to the Storm occur, chances are my short temper will see me break something, hence why my television is now stuck on Fox Sports.

I’m also a fan of American football, and seeing the crowds even underperforming teams can draw in the NFL, and the passion displayed by their supporters, I get a little jealous. It annoys me that I was witness to one of the greatest football seasons in the clubs history in 2001, but have never seen my clubs home stadium sold out. I hate that we can only draw 10,000 people to matches against our traditional rivals. And I really can’t stand that a pre-recorded chant has to be piped through the stadium just to get the crowd cheering on their side.

So why do Australian’s just refuse to get out there and ‘fall in love’ with their football teams? Population would have to play a big part in it. When New York, with a population itself as large as Australia’s, has only two football teams to support, chances are they’ll sell out a lot more games than Parramatta, who have a mere few hundred thousand in their local area, and a wider area that is covered by no less than three other teams. A fair enough point, but with television ratings at an all time high for rugby league, and a new found resurgence in the sport, there seems to be no problem getting people to watch the game, its just getting them to the ground that is the problem.

Perhaps we are spoiled by television coverage. Every game, every week, we can see with little, if any, delay, and more and more people say they prefer the television coverage to being at the game live, thanks to the insightful (at times) commentary, great camera angles and close up view of the action. When friends of mine say they’d rather watch the game at home than get out there live because of the ‘better view of the action at home’, it makes me sick. Has football atmosphere declined so much that going to the game is simply a matter of ‘having a good view of the action’?

Have people forgotten that the reason fans have for years packed the hills and stands behind the posts with the poor view and cramped seating is not because they like the view, but because they love their team and want to be there in the euphoria of a last minute victory, share the heartbreak of an agonising defeat, be able to yell and cheer and know the players can hear you voice your approval of great plays. That being there lets you boo for offside penalties and influence the referee, and get emotionally involved in the game, has that been forgotten? Has the average rugby league fan forsaken their chance to feel as if they are part of the club and the team through their ups and downs, so they can ‘get a better view’?

Sure, watch and analyse the game all you want. It’s replayed two or three times throughout the week, there you can see your great view, listen to Phil Gould rant on and watch Sterlo with his Bundy Rum telestrator. But don’t forget, that isn’t football. Football isn’t a television show, it’s a sport. A sport where the fans are just as much a part of the game as the ball and sidelines. A sport where you can go out and sit with thousands of like minded people, all united in a common cause, to support your team. Sure you can yell and scream at the television all you want, but Nathan Hindmarsh isn’t going to see me throwing my TV remote in disgust, but he will smile and say ‘cheers mate’ when I congratulate him on another great game as he leaves the field.

Show some passion, rugby league fans, and get to the game. Yell, scream, and support your team. Wear your colours with pride, cry tears of joy and tears of agony. They are your club for a reason. Don’t let them down.

===

748 by my count.

 

[roosterboy60]

Roosterboy60 on the field, for the first time ever in a Australian Jumper.

Fans want choices.

In late 1999, the National Rugby League announced that radio station 2GB in Sydney would be the only commercial station to commentate Rugby League, meaning that every other station would have to wait until at least the start of 2003 to commentate again. Although as it turned out, this would be longer.

At the moment Ray Hadley’s Continuous Call Team is on 2GB, but up until 2002 there was a long saga with 2GB and 2UE, involving Radio Personalities like Ray Hadley, Peter Wilkins, John Gibbs and Daryl Brohman.

The awarding of the radio rights to 2GB was a disaster for 2UE as their commentary team had been calling since 1987 and it caused a major break up, with John Gibbs and Daryl Brohman going over to 2GB after they had said only a week earlier they would be staying with Ray Hadley’s team on 2UE.

So in 2000 the saga began with 2GB having Jon Harker, John Gibbs and Daryl Brohman calling the Footy, while at 2UE they started a new talk show called Talking League with Ray Hadley, Steve Roach, Greg Alexander, Bob Fulton, Peter Frilingos, Laurie Daley and Tony Megahey.

That continued over 2000, 2001 with only one change, with Peter Wilkins taking the jump to commercial station 2GB to replace Jon Harker.

The Live Action Team has it was called, did the best job in a long time of covering football, by providing commentary of all the Saturday matches, the Sunday match of the day and in between talking about all the issues in Rugby League. Yet they still couldn’t win the ratings, up against Ray Hadley’s Talking League Team.

All throughout out that year there had been speculation that John Singleton would sign up Ray Hadley’s team for 2GB, and late in the 2001 season it was confirmed that they would be departing 2UE.

All but one member moved to 2GB, Ray Hadley, Steve Roach, Peter Frilingos, Bob Fulton and Tony Meghaey would be the Continuous Call Team, while over at 2UE Greg Radley, Greg Alexander, Daryl Brohman, John Gibbs and Ray Chesterton made up the new Talking League Team.

Ray Hadley’s Continuous Call Team won the ratings hands down in 2002. At the end of 2002 the commercial radio rights were up for sale and most Rugby League supporters were hoping that any station could commentate. But NRL boss David Gallop awarded exclusive rights to 2GB again until the end of 2005.

That put an end to the Talking League Team, with 2UE replacing them with a talk show on weekends. So 2GB were the only commercial station doing Rugby League in Sydney.

We have now skipped a year and a half and we are in the middle of 2004, where 2GB still have the commercial rights, but are accused of not providing Rugby League fans with the service they deserve.

Now let me say, I did not once listen to Ray’s old team on 2UE, but I was told they talked a lot of Rugby League and consistently won the ratings. I also want to say I listen to the current Continuous Call Team on 2GB, and whilst I would prefer another Rugby League program, I don’t mind this one.

In saying that, most fans have been calling for them to talk more Rugby League instead favouring talk about trucks, taking calls on counselling and of course playing those songs every 20 minutes over and over again.

There’s also been criticism as to how many games they call on a weekend. Usually there are two games starting with the Saturday 5.30pm game with Andrew Moore, and the Sunday match of the day, which I think is pretty bad. Most people think they should be doing the Saturday 7.30pm game as well.

In closing I think the Continuous Call Team need some changes. Yes, have the fun because all shows need that. But talk a lot about the football as well just as they do on a Sunday afternoon after the game they call.

The exclusive rights end after the 2005 Season, and hopefully David Gallop and the NRL will see sense by letting anyone call League. But speculation says otherwise and I know a lot of people haven’t got their hopes up about that happening.

715 Words Including Title.

 

[Anonymous]

Captain hobbles over to referee:

"More please sir... Colonel Eel is out, Azkatro is in..."

 

[Anonymous]

El Garbo for RotW.
---------------------

Sun, Salt, Surf and Satire

‘Aloha, dude.’

The man sticks a ruddy paw out to me, gesturing for a handshake. I stare back, not moving – only digesting the sight before me.

The man is only of average height, his head straddled by a mop of shoulder length, bleached blonde locks. His blue eyes are almost hypnotic, and his bronzed tan offers a strong contrast against his tightly fitted white t-shirt. His massive smile is infectious – I offer a weak grin and lock hands with his rough grip.

‘Welcome to the hallowed turf of Toyota Park, mate.’

The place is mostly empty – there’s still another two hours until kickoff. I’m here to get a guided tour of the stadium before the game starts and the seats fill up. As it is, only a few hardy pockets of people dot the grandstands.

‘Let me show you the big screen, dude,’ says my tour guide, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me to the immediate right.

‘Ain’t she a beauty,’ exclaims Goldilocks as he motions towards the big, blank monstrosity suspended precariously above a major pedestrian thoroughfare. A slight breeze comes from the south, pushing the screen into a gentle swing on its bearings.

‘Isn’t it a bit of a safety risk?’ I query.

‘Oh, no way, mate! I mean, she did blow over in a gust of wind the other week, but nobody got hurt – the place wasn’t even open. But normally she’s as steady as a little nipper on an esky lid, mate. Totally bodacious!’

I don’t really understand the local lingo, but decide against further questions. It would only confuse matters. We keep walking.

‘This, my leather patched friend, is beer hill.’

He extends a hand towards a muddy patch of earth enclosed on three sides by steel fencing.

‘Why the name?’ I ask my natty-haired host. The answer I receive hardly surprises me.

‘After a hard day’s surf, this is where all the local lads get on the turps, dude.’

‘And why all the fences? It looks more like an animal enclosure to me.’

‘They’re there to keep troublemakers out, mate – to provide a safe drinking environment. We wouldn’t stand for any interlopers stepping in to muck around with our bunger throwing contests, the flag burnings and the occasional riots.’

I don’t bother arguing. His point may be a bit skewed, but it doesn’t matter – he seems to be a genuinely good bloke anyway.

He turns and points across the field to the grandstand opposite us.

‘That’s the ET stand, dude. That’s where all the trendy upper-class types gather to sip chardonnay and talk about their stock investments. Bit of a wank-fest, it is. Still, they’re good people, we’re all Sharkie supporters down here, mate – wankers or not.”

I pull a pair of pocket binoculars out of my leather carry bag and sweep across the grandstand with them. The only wankers in sight are a few blokes wearing tracksuits, drinking beer from plastic cups and shuffling through Big League magazines.

I don’t say anything. Instead, I’m dragged further along the path.

‘And this, mate, is our pride and joy! The completely unreal ET Family Hill.’

‘Who is ET?’ I ask, wondering why everything bears the name.

‘God,’ answers my guide without any sarcasm. ‘But look at this beauty!’

He stretches his arms out to encompass the whole scene.

A patch of yellowed grass punctuated by a concrete footpath and smeared with a lower concourse of seats. A few buildings stand towards the back, closest to a fence which overlooks a mangrove swamp below. And standing over it all looms a great monster of steel and wire – a massive power pole.

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ he asks.

‘It’s a power pole and a swamp,’ I reply dryly.

‘Dude – it’s the ultimate juxtaposition of the power of man and the power of God!’

‘You mean ET?’

‘No mate, the other God! Look at those mangroves – a haven of natural beauty, and this great piece of modern engineering’ – he gestures towards the power pole – ‘together in the one place! Nothing is more gnarley, dude.’

It looks like a power pole sticking out of a swamp to me. I don’t let on, though – the man is just too naturally friendly to disagree.

“Anyway dude, I have to run. Hope you enjoyed your tour of a small slice of God’s country.”

“You mean ET’s country?”

“Yeah mate!”

Ahh… I was finally starting to understand this crazy little place… and it was absolutely gnarley, dude.

---------------
Word count: A very bodacious 750 words, dude.

 

[frank]

Frank emerges from the tunnel, kissing the Coat Of Arms upon his freshly laundered green and gold strip.
He pays close attention to the emu, for he admires its beak.


----------------------------------------
Brandy


When I was a wee chap in short pants, my chums and I would partake in an activity by the name of ‘brandings’ or, for the less bourgeoisie among us, ‘brandy’.
For those unsure of what this particular game is about, it is an unpleasant past-time involving a group of mean-spirited youngsters and a tennis ball. Rules often varied depending on locality, but the version adopted at Cowra High in 1988 was structured thusly;

One person throws said ball against a hard, vertical surface; usually a wall.
Upon the rebounding of the ball into the throng, one lucky punter would have the opportunity to catch the ball on the full.
If the ball was caught safely, the recipient would then restart the process with another throw.
The game then continued in this fashion until a hapless individual fumbled the ball.
As soon as the ball was dropped, the dropper had the onus placed upon him to run towards the wall, their mission being to touch the wall and emit a cry of sanctuary, usually 'safe' or 'safety'.
Between the dropper setting off upon their run and their reaching the wall, all other participants had the sadistic pleasure of being able to pick up the spilled ball and throw it as hard as they could at the fleeing human target.
At close range, a tennis ball can have a bruising effect on the skin. If some spiteful person had thought ahead and removed all the fur from the ball, it could even leave a nasty red welt, or 'brand'.

What’s this got to do with Rugby League I hear you cry?
Lots.

Last night I had the occasion to be listening in on a radio interview featuring the marketing manager of a prominent NRL club.
Amongst other topics, he spoke passionately about the need in today’s game for ‘product recognition’ or ‘branding’ as it is sometimes known. He said that it was extremely important for the fans (that’s me and you) to be acutely aware of the Rugby League marketplace and the brands within it.
Yes folks, the Greatest Game of All and, indeed the clubs that we support, are now brands.

Now, I don’t know about you, but when I think of brands, my mind conjures up ‘Four N Twenty’, ‘XXXX’ and ‘Peter Stuyvesant’.
To my feeble, footy-fan way of thinking, The Canberra Raiders are not a brand. They don’t need to be sold to me. I don’t need some bloke with a ponytail and a shiny polyester suit to expend his days and brain cells coming up with ways to convince me that I need to support them.

I know who I support. I also know why.
They’ve got lime green jerseys (my favourite colour), Mal Meninga used to play for them (my favourite player) and they play out of Canberra (my birthplace).
They used to have a great big round badge with a Viking in the middle until some shiny-bum genius decided to ‘modernise’ it. It’s still a Viking but now it looks a little less scary. That’s progress.

I defy anyone to declare that they follow their particular team because of a fancy TV marketing campaign (the less said about the Raiders ads, the better).
I’m certain that fans are fans because of the reasons similar to my own examples which I’ve stated above.

Branding doesn’t stop there either.

I’ve noticed a disturbing trend over the last couple of years. It would seem that even TV and radio commentators have been bitten by the branding bug.
No longer do teams execute sweeping back line plays. Instead, we now hear of teams ‘playing an expansive brand of football’.
What the hell is that all about? Is somebody trying to sell us a couple of cut-out passes to the winger?
You’d better believe it.

I’m fairly sure that somewhere, in the bowels of an office building, the ponytails are currently working on a new brand of oxygen that can be pumped into football stadiums. They’re hoping that when the unsuspecting fan breathes this new brand, it will set off a chemical reaction in their brain, which will in turn convince them that they absolutely have to get down to the merchandise stand right away to unload some more hard-earned.

So be careful out there, Rugby League fanatics. Be sure to look over your shoulders.
There’s a lot of hairless tennis balls zooming around and just when you least expect it………….WHAM!
Branded, straight in the back of your head.


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

750 Words Between The -------------

 

[Anonymous]

Thierry Henry- Rest of the World

Who needs the rest of the world?

If international rugby league is to develop, then we need to stop making such a big deal about State of Origin- right? It makes no sense- apart from New South Welshmen, Queenslanders, a few Kiwis who have been brought up to idolise all things Australian rugby league, and probably the whole of Papua New Guinea, who can get passionate about it? Is it really something to brag about when your game’s showpiece event is between two entities that 99% of the world’s population (and yes, I did survey everyone in the world) have never heard of?

It’s fair to say that priorities in big time sport often have more to do with tradition than logic. Try making sense of the fact that arguably two of the world’s ten biggest football clubs, Arsenal and Chelsea, each represent an area of only a few kilometres, and are only a few kilometres apart, in a nation that struggles to make a real impact on the international scene. Consider that a team representing not American, not China, not Russia, but Detroit, is probably the most revered in basketball at the moment.

Perhaps we don’t need to have China playing America in the next World Cup final in order to feel positive about the state (excuse the pun) of rugby league globally. Maybe if it ain’t broke, we really don’t need to fix it. However, it’s certainly not surprising that the folk in Jakarta, New York, or Buenos Aires aren’t on the edge of their seats at the prospect of Parramatta playing Penrith, or Cronulla squaring off against Canterbury.

But it’s easy to poke fun. Much the same could be said about Tottenham v Fulham or Blackburn v Bolton, yet these games have an international audience. It’s really not the headquarters of the club that should matter, but what that club represents. Fans often ridicule opposing clubs for “trying to buy a premiership”, or “not having good enough juniors”, but this rather misses the point. It’s the Panthers that matter, not the Penrith- the Broncos, not the Brisbane. In much the same way, Arsenal means Arsenal, not a small area of North London that is home to virtually none of the club’s players, and a minority of its fans.

Perhaps an unwholesome obsession with the round ball is starting to rear its ugly head, but I feel it has relevance. Football has two things that most rugby league followers desire- international popularity and strong competition at an international level, combined with an emphasis on club competition and traditional rivalries. It’s instinctive to make comparisons with rugby union, but these are largely meaningless. Union has a strong emphasis on internationals, with a muddle of club competitions that serve more as international trials than a road to glory in themselves.

The club-focused psyche of rugby league fans is entrenched, and not necessarily a bad thing, as long as international competition is autonomous from club competition. Endless disputes over player availability will not go away, but rugby league would do well to take a leaf out of football’s book, where even the best national sides usually contain players from several different leagues. In contrast, the Kangaroos and (especially) Kiwis have displayed an embarrassing inability, and often unwillingness, to select players from outside the NRL. By the same token, Australia has failed abysmally in even retaining the status quo in international competition, maintaining a vicious cycle whereby players are encouraged to play in the world’s best league competition, and then having gained residency, encouraged to play for the world’s best league nation.

And that’s where we come full circle, back to State of Origin. Karmichael Hunt isn’t Australian by birth or parentage. Neither are Tonie Carroll, Brad Thorn, or Adrian Lam. Apparently, if you want to be a Queenslander, you must be Australia. That’s how it works; players think about Origin long before they think about their country. This means that Australia retains something closely resembling a monopoly on fans and players, prospective new rugby league nations have no international competition to motivate them to improve, and potential overseas fans have no one to cheer for, and no reason to expect that they will anytime soon. But is this necessarily a problem? League’s core fan base remains Australasian; what more could we ask for, then an Australian club competition, complete with a token Kiwi team? Who really needs the rest of the world, anyway?

742 words

 

[ozzie]

out walks Ozzie with his Guiness in hand and takes a bow - go ROW
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

THE BEST CALLER OF ALL – MR FRANK HYDE

Listening to the raucous voice of Ray Hadley and Co last weekend my mind wandered back to listening to the best caller of rugby league of all time – Frank Hyde. Those were the days when I listened to Frank’s calls of the match of the day on 2SM. Most radio stations in the country areas of NSW took this broadcast.

Frank Hyde’s knowledge of the game made him the great caller he was. If you took into consideration his league playing background you could understand why he was so successful.

Hyde commenced his rugby league career in 1925 playing with St Patrick Marist Brothers, a school that had a great record of developing players. He then progressed to playing with Newtown in 1936. In 1937 they tasted victory in the City Cup played over the second half of the season. They managed a close win over Easts 57 to 5.

Hyde’s career was mainly played under the residential rule and Balmain discovered he was still living within the Millers Point area and he was forced to play with Balmain the next year. However, being made Captain possibly made up for any disappointment he would have felt. Even though he had to change clubs, his impressive play, which came to the fore the year before, continued. This led to his selection for NSW against NZ and Queensland. He then played for NSW in 1939 as well as the City side. Good fortune continued for Hyde in 1939 as Balmain took the minor premiership and the premiership as well.

The Second World War saw the commencement of the end of Hyde’s career. After transferring to Newcastle for work in 1940 he played with a local club in that area and played for Country in the City versus Country match. But the residential rule was to bite again in 1941.

He went back to Sydney and played for Balmain in 1941. However, he was found again to be living in the North Sydney area and was forced to move to North Sydney. North’s would have been pleased because he finished up taking them to one of their first grade premiership deciders since 1922.

However, injuries allowed Newtown to win the Grand final. Hyde then retired. His career of radio calling was about to start.

The respect that Frank Hyde has been held in is shown by so many ways:

1. He was voted into the Team of the century for West Tigers;
2. He has been awarded the AOM and MBE for his services to Rugby League;
3. He won the ratings for 2SM in his time slot for calling rugby league for 31 years. All sport broadcasters look up to this record and can only hope they can match it, but with our pathetic callers these days it will be a long time before this record is broken.
4. Even though he never made a kangaroo tour he was always invited to their reunion dinners.

I think a quote from Mike Gibson sums up Frank Hyde’s life behind the microphone. Gibson quoted “Most of today’s callers smart enough will realise there will only be one Frank Hyde and shouldn’t be silly enough to try to copy him. In the business of calling football matches, Frank created a wonderful tradition that today’s commentators have carried on. I don’t think any of them will ever be Frank Hyde, nor would they want to be. I think everyone in the radio game accepts that Hyde was the voice of rugby league and always will be.””

A lot of people don’t realise that his life revolved around his family and his Christianity. He always pointed to the achievements in his life as the direct result of his faith and the sacrifices made by his parents.

I know my football career was kindled by the gravelled voice of Frank Hyde. I don’t know how many pillows that I used to tackle out and pretend they were the opposition players while he held me in a trance like state though his commentaries.

For me his words “It’s long enough – high enough and its straight between the posts” will live forever in my memory

Thank you for your contribution to football and my memories “Mr. Frank Hyde”

 

[Azkatro]

Azkatro for the 'Roos with a last minute dash!!!!!!!

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

Special memories
When I take a moment reflect on my lifelong experiences with the wonderful sport of rugby league it amazes me how many changes the sport has gone through. I really enjoy reflecting on what’s happened in the past because it gives us a good insight as to how the sport might evolve in the future. But instead of providing a factual based account of the last 20 odd years of the game in Australia, I thought I might reflect on my own perspective of what’s happened over that time.
My love of the game was built on the back of State of Origin in the 1980’s. I grew up in a little town in Queensland called Maryborough, and back in those days we only got ABC and a local feed of channel 7 which was called SEQ TV. The Origin used to get broadcast on SEQ and I have really fond memories of big Daryl Eastlake calling the games. I probably wouldn’t appreciate him as much today, but when you were a kid and learning about the game there was no better choice for Origin football than the big man.
Living a few hours north of the state capital, the entry of the Broncos and Gold Coast teams into the NSWRL was pretty exciting. Naturally I was drawn to the mighty Brisbane outfit who had the Origin stars I was already familiar with. Queensland teams to follow. The onset of puberty. The ongoing juggernaut of Origin. My love of the game was growing exponentially.
After the Broncos victories in ’92 and ‘93, my passion for the game was flat out. Winter rolled around and I would always be talking about footy with my mates at high school. In Maryborough there weren’t many who didn’t share my passion.
I was in grade 9 when the talk of Superleague hit the news and to be honest, I found it all very confusing. It really did strike a blow in my love of the game because at that age, I just didn’t know enough about politics to understand what the point of it all was. Over the next couple of years there was more footy being played every weekend than ever before but something wasn’t quite the same. People would tell me about how they hated Canberra and Brisbane because they sold out to Superleague. I didn’t get it. I used to hate Manly because of Geoff Toovey and Cliffy Lyons. Sold out? It just added an element to the whole sport that I never would have pondered before, and it lost something in return.
I’d moved to Rockhampton by the time the league unified again and to be honest, didn’t care about the how or why. My love of the Broncos remained for the years that followed, but it was in about 2001 that I came to a realisation. The Broncos won so much that I came to expect it. Everybody I knew went for them. When they won, it was business as usual.
But every time the Cowboys won a game, I felt absolutely rapt. Nothing made me smile more than seeing the Cowboys score a win against the odds. It was early in 2002 that I realised that I was a Cowboys fan at heart.
Shortly afterwards, I moved to Sydney, and let me tell you, the footy is a completely different experience when you’re in the middle of it all. I can actually go and see the games and support my team. I’m a pretty quiet fan because it’s all pretty new to me, and when you’re sitting at Parramatta stadium in a Cowboys jersey, you have to be a brave individual to make some noise. I’m pretty sure I will someday in the future, but for now I’m still finding my feet.
So outside of all the changes with regards to rules, politics, money and public perception, I’ve gone from watching the game on TV “out in the sticks” to throwing myself right in the middle of it all. I still love the game as much as ever, but with so much change it wouldn’t surprise you to know that I remember those twilight years like it was a different sport altogether. And thanks to that change, those special memories will be preserved forever.

-----------

718 words

 

[antonius]

Ref Blows Fulltime.

 

[antonius]

Just did a quick count....everyones in....JUST. ;-) I'll have the scores up as soon as possible.