Round 4 (2009) Warriors v Panthers

[Pistol]

Forum 7s - Round 3 2009
NZ WARRIORS v PENRITH PANTHERS

-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 visiting team, 3 reserves for home team)
* No 'TBA' or changing players named
* Captains must stick with original teams named

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

FULL TIME: Wednesday 20th May 2009 at 9pm (Syd time)
REFEREE: Gorilla
Venue: Mt Smart Stadium

**The Referee Blows Game On!**

CLICK HERE FOR OFFICIAL WORD COUNTER

 

[Jesbass]

Ready to defend the Whiz-Alexander Cup, Jesbass leads the Warriors onto their home turf, eager to skin the big cats...

Starters:
Jesbass (c)
rayroxon (vc)
antonius
MKEB...
Suttsburger

Bench:
Bay Vikings
Kid-Dynamite
Spence08

 

[antonius]

antonius runs out for the Warriors, still trying to gain some match fitness.
***

Mr Bean.

Reading the local paper recently, I noticed an article depicting the ugly side of junior sport, you know, loud parents abusing the ref, and opposing players. It got me thinking about my time coaching one of these teams. Following is my recollection of one particular boy, and what junior sport did for him.

My son decided he wanted to give league a try. We signed him up, bought the shorts, socks and various bits of padding. We were contacted by the club secretary, “Mr Saxby, we are short of coaches, would you be able to help out with your boys team?” Well it was only under 8’s, and league is a simple game, pass and catch the ball, can’t be too difficult I thought, so why not?


I arrived at our first training session; all the kids were punting their footies around, throwing imaginary match winning passes to their mates. One boy caught my eye, he was half the size of the others, straight jet black hair, legs like a chair, and his skin was the colour of parchment paper. He was busy running around, arms outstretched, being an aeroplane. The other kids had already, in a matter of minutes dubbed him Mr Bean. He spotted me, and decided I was his new best friend. It didn’t take a lot of observation to realise Scott (Mr Bean) also suffered from A.D.D.

You could hear Scott before you saw him. He’d yell “MrSaxby, Mr. Saxby” latch onto my leg, and give me a run down on the events of his week. His mum would comb his hair before he ran onto the field (something I quickly advised her against), much to the amusement of his teammates. At footy Scott was hopeless, he would languish out on the wing, waving to his mum, and trying to catch the eye of his father, who would distance himself from the other parents. If any opposing player came near Scott, he would flinch, and move out of the way to avoid being trampled. There were rumblings from other parents that Scotty shouldn't be getting as much game time, I figured he'd paid his money, and was entitled to the same time as the other kids. To be honest I didn’t think he’d see out the season anyway. Not only did Scott see it out; he was back the following year.

Scotty loved training, he would arrive early and immediately begin to tell me how this week he would score a try, and could I please get the boys to pass him the ball sometimes. It was obvious that footy training was one of the few chances Scott had to interact with others outside of home. Even though the kids made fun of him, it was worth it to be part of the team. Slowly the other kids came round, they would even stand up for him if things got rough on the field, which they often did, Scott loved nothing more than to niggle opposing players during games. I was developing a soft spot for Scotty.

In three years of coaching I'd never missed a game; imagine then how shattered I was when one night whilst at home recuperating from an operation, the phone rang. The boys were playing a postponed match, and yes, Scotty had scored the first and only try of his league career. He spent the rest of that season describing to me how he’d scored that try.

Scott never came back for a fourth season. But I still see him at Knights games. He still looks like Mr. Bean, and he still calls me “Mr. Saxby”. He spent some time as a junior referee, and has turned into a fine young man. I wonder what life would've been like for Scott if he hadn't spent those few years at footy, gaining some confidence in himself, and learning how to become part of a team. I think you could confidently say it would be very different. You see, it's not all about winning or being an Andrew Johns; it's about kids like Scott having an opportunity to interact with other kids and learn some basic life skills while still enjoying themselves. So next time you’re at a game (whether it be league, soccer, or netball) with your seven year old child or grandchild, and you’re about to abuse an opposing parent or player, remember Scotty, and why the kids are really there playing.

***
744 Words between ***

 

[Jesbass]

As rookie Suttsburger cops a head high tackle in an unintentional act of friendly fire from a team mate, Bay Vikings warms up on the sidelines...

OUT: Suttsburger
IN: Bay Vikings \\\\/

 

[Big Mick]

PENRITH TEAM TO TAKE ON WARRIORS

1. Big Mick
2. Leaguenut
3. Piper
4. Madunit
5. Glockers

RES:
6. [Furrycat]
7. Broncoman
8. Azkatro

 

[madunit]

madunit for the Panthers

Dear Diary

Tuesday 5th May, 2009.

After having been in Melbourne for two months, spending every Friday night struggling to stay awake until midnight to watch some Rugby League, I have been informed by my partner that her friend has bought us tickets to an AFL game. I’m flabbergasted to say the least at this news, but like any male in a heterosexual relationship, I do as I’m told.

Wednesday 6th May, 2009.

I begin watching news reports about AFL. Not, to learn about the game, players or tactics. No. I’m looking for any information I can use against the players. I’ve been informed I will be supporting Hawthorn, for no particular reason. I was quietly hoping for North Melbourne, purely because of the recent news reports regarding their chicken sex video fiasco. Boundless amounts of material!

Alas, I wasn’t without fortune. A Hawthorn player, whose name I couldn’t be bothered remembering was reported as having a pot belly. Perfect!

Thursday 7th May, 2009.

I have been handed the onerous task of obtaining information about how to get to the game. I provide train timetables which, intentionally, yet unfortunately have us arriving at the game 19 days late. My partner bribes me by stating she is about to buy State of Origin tickets. I reluctantly behave. To my joy, she informs me later, that after several weeks of searching, she has found a newsagent that sells Rugby League specific magazines and purchases one. I feel it’s glossy, yet thin and flimsy cover. Memories come flooding back of happier times, when my race of Rugby League aficionados were the most important race in society. My brain soaks up all the information the magazine can provide me, like a starving Owen Craigie eating all he can, not knowing when he will eat again. Oh dear, I’ve missed so much Rugby League I’ve already gone back to Owen Craigie fat jokes!

"Rugby League! Rugby League! Where art thou Rugby League?"

Friday 8th May, 2009.

I decide that due to the mind-numbing ‘sporting’ encounter I am about to endure tonight, I should prepare myself. I decided that I would work myself into the same state of mind as any AFL-loving dimwit would. I decide to carry out the most inane, boring and repetitive jobs possible all day whilst at work. I have a blindingly brilliant idea! I will do an hour overtime of previously described occupation to ensure I am as brain-dead as everyone else at the game.

We arrive at the stadium that sounds like some middle-eastern leader from medieval times.

“Prince Etihad will see you now. Please put on these excessively small shorts and violate a chicken before meeting him”

A steward at the game touches my bag and assumes it is safe and allows me to move on.

“Damn, I could have stuffed some C4 and detonators in a jumper and put them in my bag!”

Another loud steward informs everyone that Gate 1 is easier to access the stadium, thus all 45,000 AFL-morons walk in that direction like the brain-dead sheep that they are, lo and behold, ensuring Gate 1 is now the most difficult gate to enter. Gate 1 also happened to be the gate which we had to enter through.

Once inside and at our seats, we find ourselves surrounded by idiots who scream incoherent ramblings to the players, stupidly believing that they had skills to carry out said commands. Many times over players fumble the ball, fall over, kick way off target and for the most part, stand around touching each other. At these times I managed a few cliched jokes regarding pie consumption to the previously mentioned pot bellied star.

I stood six times throughout the match. Four times to antagonise those behind me, once to get to my seat and once to leave.

Someone behind me stated with amazement upon my much anticipated departure from the stadium, that some player made three tackles for the game. I informed them that an NRL player recently made 74 tackles in a game.

They retorted by singing what can be assumed to be the team song of the victors, which concerned me, because from where I sat, there were no winners.

We hurried home just in time to watch the Friday night NRL matches.

Ah, real sport.

740 words, including title.

 

[rayroxon]

Rayroxon for the Warriors hits the field and causes a small fist shaped indentation.

****​

That Sinking Feeling.

Since their debut, the Titans have run a tight ship. Early questions arose over their legitimacy, especially when the prodigal son of F7’s Robster announced he would be captaining the side. Rumours raged about the team being made up of Chinese ghostwriters through to the possibility they were outsourced to a Mumbai call centre. The strangest of all was a rumour in which the Bluebags had opened new accounts and were writing to compete against themselves, given the poor showing of the Warriors in the 07 Grand Final.

None of these rumours proved to be substantial as the Titans articles were more topical than the Global Financial Crisis or Swine Flu and obviously not outsourced. That and the distinct lack of any mentions of Old Men in their boxes made impartial observers believe in these literary Titans. However, with a horror 0-2 start to the 2009 campaign the pressure was on. To keep in contention they entered into a “must-win” match against a willing Souths outfit. A media lockdown was imposed by their new captain, Titanic and mentions of a siege mentality were made as the F7’s world wondered how they would react. Symptomatic of the F7’s in 2009, the match was marked by controversy. Let’s look at the events that culminated in one of the more colourful F7’s matches.

In 2008 the Titans seemingly took every major award and accolade the game had to offer with an air of self entitlement and power prose. F7’s old timers couldn’t remember such a tour de force, especially in a debut season. Their achievements were not due to luck but based on a core of teamwork, organisation and hard work.

It was surprising then that the Titans declined to compete in the 2009 PvP competition. Did the Titans believe in their own hype or were there personnel issues? PaulQuinn, captain of the now defunct Ninja’s put the Titans decision into perspective when his Ninja’s decided to sit out the PvP trials. His reasoning was that the Ninja’s had made the finals of every competition they had contested and based on that logic, so had the Titans, so one could appreciate their stance. That said, it smacked of some arrogance and helped paint a larger target on the Titans’ backs as the team to beat in 2009.

With the new season fast approaching and no trial form on the board, the Titans were drawn against their Grand Final foes the Bluebags in the first round. In an exceptionally high quality game the ‘Bags prevailed by one point. In round two, the Titans went into unchartered waters and lost their second match in a row against a resurgent Panthers and impartial observers could feel the tension rising. With their fans questioning their tactics and the wisdom behind sitting out the trials, Titanic responded by conducting closed training sessions and issued a media lockout. The siege was on.

Normally avid fans of prematch banter, the quiet from the Titans camp was deafening. TITs_ANonymouS, the latest rookie talent from the Sunshine Coast would be the player to court controversy. With a rule interpretation that was inventive to say the least, TITs_ANonymouS erred based on a Titanic gamble. F7’s is not a game in which to dictate terms and again, in a move that could be interpreted as arrogance, TA delivered what seemed to be an ultimatum to the referees with the following*

“(the) article includes 227 words of quotations which according to Ye Olde Rule Book cannot be included in the OWC”

Understandably there was a lot to say about such a laissez faire attitude to the word count. Although a costly error on the Titans part, they weren’t made to pay for the 30 point penalty with a much needed 2 competition points. In a post match interview, Titanic went back to that customary Titans confidence.

“The 30 point smashing that it should have been shouldn't be lost on any observers”

Fighting words, but is it hiding a deeper truth? Perhaps Titans 09 aren’t as solid as they would have us believe? If there was any confusion, surely they could have checked with officials first instead of defending their position post match. After conceding two word count penalties in a row, the Titans round 4 opponents, the Eels must be confident of an upset. Titanic has the weight of the world on his shoulders ensuring that they avoid a 1-3 record and that sinking feeling that is bound to follow another loss.

****​

750 words between the ****'s
* http://forums.leagueunlimited.com/showpost.php?p=5580733&postcount=13
No Titans were hurt in the writing of this article...I hope.
​

 

[Big Mick]

Broncoman in for Glockers

 

[Jesbass]

Jesbass climbs out of his hobbit costume, leaves the Star Trek convention early, and jumps into his DeLorean DMC-12, getting back to Mount Smart just in time to set up devastating line breaks for fellow Warriors Bay Vikings and MKEB...

*****

Why We Write (750 words between stars and including title)

Alright, it’s time to ‘fess up. There’s no point in keeping it secret any longer. It’s time to come clean.

Not for me, though – it’s time you came out and admitted the truth. Go on, just say it.

You’re a geek.

There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? There’s no point in denying it, either. I know for a fact that you’re at the very least a bit nerdy around the edges.

How do I know, you ask? Well, for starters, you’re reading this article. In fact, regardless of whether you’re a player, a fan, a casual observer, or our esteemed (and ruggedly handsome) referee, you’ve already checked the box marked ‘geek’. And now that you’ve read this far, you can’t claim ignorance.

You’ve crossed the line. Cliché or otherwise, there’s no turning back; you passed the point of no return a long time ago.

I mean, seriously – who takes out time from their day to read what a group of amateur (but not necessarily amateurish) hacks have to say about our great game? And who reads through them all to give these pieces of literary effort a subjective (but entirely fair in the case of this referee) mark? And even worse, who dedicates hours of their week, from concept to completion, to write them in the first place?

Well, I do, for one. And to be honest, as nerdy as it makes me, I kind of like it.

I’ll always be a fan of rugby league, but I think it’s fair to say that playing in the NRL is ever so slightly beyond me. I may not have thick rimmed glasses, suspenders attached to my pants, or constant nose bleeds, but I’m not exactly the spitting image of Steve Price when it comes to physique, either.

Truth be told, I have nobody else to blame but myself. After all, I was given the best possible start – I have a namesake at the Broncos, and I share my birthday with none other than Stacey Jones.

From there, however, my rugby league career has slid down a very steep slope. Less downhill, and more off-cliff.

The only thing I ever lacked, really, was talent.

And this is what makes Forum Sevens so great: despite lacking the three key physical attributes of a top level rugby league player, (speed, size, and strength), I can still make my mark on the game. I can be a halfback, making decisive plays. I can captain other people and lead them into battle. Heck, I can even represent my country.

Unlike its thirteen man equivalent, the Forum Sevens isn’t ageist, sexist, or even ability-ist. It’s open to anyone. All it requires is an internet connection and an ounce of creativity.

But it still has enough in common with the more physically confronting version of the game for it to retain its credibility. There’s the all important rivalries between specific teams. Plenty of good-humoured sledging can be found in most matches, too. We have our digital equivalent of passionate patriots akin to Issac Luke, and controversy magnets like Willie Mason. There’s a Forum Sevens equivalent of David Middleton, and the literary version of the game even has its own Danny Weidler.

The geekier form of the game is much smaller, of course. With approximately 300 players in the entire history of Forum Sevens – only slightly more than the number of NRL players that take to the field every week – it is destined to retain a niche form of popularity.

But as with rugby league, the community is what makes this competition survive. There is a deep-seated respect for fellow writers as one poleaxes their opposition onto the imaginary green with a clever turn of phrase.

So gather round, midgets, the aged, and the uncoordinated! Celebrate and rejoice, the overweight, the unmotivated, and members of the fairer sex! Fat or thin, fast or slow; there’s a space for everyone in Forum Sevens.

The only things this competition lacks are the physical big hits and the stalking attention from intoxicated ladies. But considering the poor decisions that are made when players sustain too many knocks to the head and too many beers to the belly, maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

So if you’re new to this, jump on in. Whether you own a Stormtrooper outfit, perform interpretive dance, or speak Klingon, don’t be ashamed in our little digital alcove. There’s always room for one more in this freak show.

*****

Title inspired by the name of Part 9 of Band Of Brothers, titled "Why We Fight".

 

[LeagueNut]

Thanks to the above post, LeagueNut is inspired to share a shameful secret of his own ...

LeagueNut - Panthers

Long Live The Tongue


I have a guilty secret.

I’m not proud of it but I just can’t help myself. If we’re all honest with each other, I reckon there’s more than a few of us that do the same thing.

I snigger when I hear Alan Tongue’s name during commentaries.

Okay, I know it’s probably a bit stupid, but I don’t care – it’s still bloody funny! Anyone who manages to keep a straight face when Andy Raymond blurts out “Tongue, straight up the middle” obviously has no soul. Hearing him handle a slippery ball is another favourite that makes my neighbour Cecil go weak at the knees.

Sure, the novelty may have worn off for some fans many years ago, but as long as the Raiders captain continues to run around there will always be a litany of unfortunate puns just begging to be unleashed.

Sometimes a group of names can combine to give another meaning altogether. During the lead-up to a recent game a younger member of our household caught the front row of the Dragons being read out – “Poore, Young, Weyman” – and promptly asked “what’s wrong with him?”. That’s a pretty tame example, but it still got me thinking of what else could be out there. Some combinations could be a little risqué, while others are just plain odd.

So without further ado, I’d like to present Rugby League’s newest team: The Double Entendres!

1. Will Hopoate (Sea Eagles)
2. Jack Twist (Panthers)
3. Joel Moon (Warriors)
4. Siuatonga Likiliki (Warriors)
5. Sisa Waqa (Roosters)
6. Travis Burns (Cowboys)
7. Mathew Head (Dragons)
8. Wayne Kerr (Ireland)
9. Aaron Payne (Cowboys)
10. Mitchell Allgood (Eels)
11. Kevin Proctor (Storm)
12. Danny Tickle (Hull)
13. Alan Tongue (c) (Raiders)
14. Terence Seu Seu (Sharks)
15. Jay Pitts (Wakefield)
16. Johnny Mannah (Sharks)
17. Tim Mannah (Eels)

Just think for a moment of all the wonderful combinations that literally burst forward from this tantalising line-up. Commentators all over the world would be trembling with fear before donning the earphones and shaping up to the microphone – in fact I think some of them (I’m looking at you Rabbits!) would be reduced to a blubbering mess, quietly sobbing in the corner.

Just imagine Alan Tongue sparking a backline raid, “Tongue, onto Likiliki, Moon is looming up behind” – or William Hopoate bringing back memories of his more famous father while taking a kick off, “Hopoate, straight to Proctor, Payne is there, now it’s Allgood”.

Wayne Kerr would be an automatic inclusion to the squad, especially given his potential combination with Tickle and Pitts (don’t say you’ve never considered it). And if Waqa ever linked up with Twist, it’s pretty fair to say that Burns would be involved.

Travis Burns could also look to strike up a lethal combination with current club-mate Aaron Payne, but Terence Seu Seu is on hand as cover from the bench. “Wayne Kerr, Seu Seu, Tickle” could be a dangerous forward set move worth trying – it sounds like a fair platform for Head to come in and weave some magic as well.

But why have Tim and Johnny Mannah there? That’s my own little indulgence, simply because I like that strange little song made famous by the Muppets. Having thousands of viewers hear a commentator utter “Mannah Mannah” during a passing movement could inspire a renaissance for that 1976 classic.

There are likely to be scores of players who could consider themselves unlucky not to have made this team, and probably hundreds from days gone by. Ten years ago, a couple of backs from the Castleford Tigers would have been immediate inclusions – Richard Gay and Jason Flowers. Anyone who made a break and “turned Gay back on the inside” before finding Flowers out wide could have built a fanbase big enough to rival Kylie Minogue.

One of the more promising names coming through the ranks now is Solo Alone from Penrith. You’d hope for his sake that he doesn’t have any Irish heritage – having him link with the famous Mr Kerr sounds wrong on several levels, especially when you consider they’re both props and would need to have a hooker between them.

As silly as it sounds, I’m proud to accept my immaturity and have a giggle at some of the delicious combinations that emerge each week. I’ll also extend an invitation for anyone out there to come and join me – it’s good fun down here in the gutter.


733 words in the official counter

 

[Bay Vikings]

An out of shape Bay Vikings vows to make at least one tackle before a 'pulled hammy' forces him to hide out on the wing.

750 words between the *s including title

****

Full Time

On a sunny Saturday afternoon in early March, I was at my local club watching our seniors play their first game of the season. My son's age grade team wasn't starting for a few more weeks so he was having a run with the premier reserves. With a good pre-season under their belt and being a bit fitter and stronger, our team were four tries ahead by half time. The opposition were having a dig but they had the look of a team that didn't really believe they could win and were just trying to keep the score respectable.

Except for their fullback. He was easily the smallest and youngest in their team by a few years, but he was also their best. This kid wasn’t giving up. In the last quarter of the game, he scored two tries, then manufactured two more for his teammates, smiling ear to ear the whole time. One of his tries was a length of the field effort where he stepped our entire team, similar to what we've seen from Billy Slater and Matt Bowen in the NRL.

Our team hung on for a tight victory and celebrated quietly, relieved that they weren't completely embarrassed by a teenager. After the post match warm downs I overheard one of our spectators talking to a player that he knew from the other team.

"Good game brother, pretty close in the end. That young fullback of yours is something special!" the spectator said.

"Yeah he's good alright," replied the player. "In fact, he's just signed a contract with the Warriors."

A few weeks later, my son and I were moving some furniture, when he broke the news: "Remember that fullback who was tearing up against us in the reserves game? He killed himself last week! Someone told me at the party I was at last night."

We sat down for a while and talked about it, then about suicide in general. I tried to sound wise, reassuring him that no problem he would ever face was worth taking his life over. I think he took it all in but you can’t be absolutely sure how your child will react to a personal problem they perceive as insurmountable.

When I met up with the other fathers at the league club the following weekend, it was obvious that we'd all been thinking about it. His death was the main topic of discussion as we watched our boys play against the sons of another group of fathers who also would have discussed this tragedy. We speculated on why a boy with seemingly the world at his feet, would take such drastic action. Different theories arose and some were quite plausible while others were clearly based on rumour. In the end it didn’t matter though; whatever the reason, the outcome was still the same.

I didn't know this kid but I still think about him occasionally. I'd like to think he made a rash decision in a moment of weakness, perhaps drunk and depressed he followed through on a threat not taken seriously by others. The reality though is that suicide is all too common in New Zealand, especially amongst young males and quite often it's planned well in advance. It very rarely makes the papers unless there's some twist to the story. This kid wasn't famous enough yet to get any mention other than an obituary.

I've had three people close to me kill themselves over the years. The first was a friend from school who intentionally overdosed after a failed relationship. The second was a carefree boy I watched grow into a troubled teenager who took his own life to teach us all a pointless lesson. The last one pains me the most, though. He was a fellow boxer who turned up to our training one winters' evening after being away for a year. We caught up, reminisced, joked around then after we parted he went home and hung himself. I don't know if he was reaching out for help or just saying goodbye.

For those contemplating suicide, I imagine their despair is like being at the bottom of a well. If they're looking at what's straight in front of them then no matter which way they turn, it seems dark and hopeless. But if they look up, they'll see there's a way out. It'll be a tough climb though. I've got a ladder; all they have to do is ask for help.

Rest In Peace, Tyrone.


****

 

[MKEB...]

"Dinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnsdale, Dinnnnnnnnnnnnnnsdale" MKEB... for the Warriors.
"Dinnnnnnnnnnnnnnsdaaaaaaaaaaaaaale"
****************************************************************
Optimism, Parochialism And Other ‘isms

The best thing about masochism is that you never have to apologise to anyone.

We have all sat down with a meal in front of us; a dirty hot Thai curry with some partially heat addictive, partially idiotic idea of embellishing our already not-fit-for-sane-human-consumption meal with even more chilli. It appeals immediately, but the novelty wears off tomorrow morning with the onset on chronic and painful dysentery.

Now picture a football fan, watching the same beloved team every week. One week the team can be mind-blowingly fantastic with ball in hand; the next week they astound with a match of woeful ineptitude. The television bears the brunt of our emotional over-exertion and proceeds to torture us even more with mocking replays of missed tackles, ludicrous penalties and dropped balls. Of course the television will be back next weekend, but the hoarse throat and shortened fingernails will linger for a few days yet.

How quickly we forget...

The height of optimism is buying your cat a scratching post, and expecting the little cherub to stop scratching/clawing/mutilating the upholstery on your couch.
Or even dipping your head down a toilet, expecting to come up with a mouthful of gold fillings, (unless, of course, you had a Thai curry the night prior, which is just silly).

The Oxford dictionary defines optimism as: hopefulness and confidence about the future and or success of something.

We rugby league fans are a faithful bunch. We expect our team of heroes to win every week. In tipping competitions we constantly tip our respective team of stars/idols/testicle-jugglers (circle the correct word) to emerge victorious. More often than not, we are found to be rather incredulous if our team loses...by thirty points to a team on a four game roll.

Optimism is frequently mistaken for self delusion. My mistake.

Terrorism oft’ rears its ugly head when our mighty muscle-bound Adonis’ take the field. The match officials make us see red...and often pink, sometimes green, and now and again orange. But enough about their twinkieh-ishly garish looking Nancy-boy shirts. Let’s delve deeper into what these too-scared-to-play-so-I-will-blow-my-whistle-and-bang-my-gavel fairies are all about.

Terrorism. That’s right: terrorism.

Those fanatical bastards put the “fear of God” into our heads, that our team may lose because of their underlying hatred of our team colours. Those same “mediators” of our sport will, if given the chance, deny our team the chance of making the finals due to their prejudice of what we wear.

There is not much more that I abhor in this world than an opposition fan parading around in their team's colours near my person. It is about as tasteful as asking a Russian submarine captain how long he can hold his breath underwater. This annoys me so much that it ranks third on my MKEB...Rankle-O-Meter behind cold pies and at the footy, and warm beer. (And slightly ahead of women drivers). To all of us, parochialism knows no bounds. It is what drives us to belittle any opposition player/supporter/referee. All children should be taught at an early age that the only people worth arguing with are not our employers or teachers or policeman, but anybody who does not support us.

If you are not for us, then you are against us.

Here are some other words associated with our club adulation:
Criticism - A misguided opinion shared by commentators and opponents that our team may have deficiencies.
Escapism - Emancipating yourself from the talons of the wife and in-laws to go to a friend’s house or a pub or even the park to watch a game.
Tourism - Opposition teams escaping their locales to sightsee and lose a game of football to us.
Hirsutism - Opposition team cheerleaders suffer from this. E.g. Hairy shoulders, palms and upper lips. This often results in them being referred to as hobbits or troglodytes, and, on occasion, men.
Chauvinism - Contrary to popular opinion, this is not "man = big, woman = small". Chauvinism is the act of a wife driving her sober husband to the football and returning to pick said husband up after the game...drunk.
Feminism - When aforementioned wife makes you return via the train after victory celebrations at 2:00am.
Voyeurism - 1. Secretly watching the football in an electronics shop whilst the wife is buying your socks and undies.
2. Sneaking into a sportswear shop to try on your team’s latest jersey; admiring your abs in the new fabric whilst your wife is getting keys cut/buying Woman’s Weekly.
__________________
**************************************************************
743 words between Asterisks title included.

 

[The Piper]

The Piper passes the pill past the post for the Penrith Panthers

It’s time to play the game

Rugby League is played over the week at various different times of each of the four selected days. Discussion between broadcasting bosses and the NRL this week have sparked debates about the best times to play rugby league, when to play it and where. There are obviously broadcast stations and clubs who have a say in when games should take place. But having a closer look at which games are played at what time of what days, there seems that the NRL management has put a lot more effort put into scheduling match times than fans may have first thought.

Friday night, seven thirty

The “game of the week” usually collects one of the spots on the Friday night to open the round. Having what the public concedes as what would be the most exciting game to watch out of this week’s eight would entice the fans to attend or just watch. After a long, hectic week at work, there is nothing better than attending the local league match, or chilling out at home with pizza, beer and the game. When the game has been played and it has indeed been a thrilling clash, viewers are more likely to tune in to following games throughout the round, maybe even go to a game themselves, hoping for the same enjoyment. Fans have travel home after the game with the weekend still in front of them, or for the people who are at home, they can have a second delayed game of league to watch following the first. The people of Brisbane must only like the venture out on Friday nights; the Broncos seem to gain a lot of Friday night time frames.

Saturday night, five thirty and seven thirty

I’d be in the minority but I always love rugby league at this time of the weekend. Two games to choose from live on Fox at 7.30. Decent crowds turn up to their local team’s local grounds to see a victory and by 9.20pm can still go out and celebrate the win at the local pub! The bars in North Queensland must be full by 10, as the Cowboys fans seem to pack the stadium in droves on Saturday night. And when I was young, I would never tip against the Sharks if they were playing 7.30 Saturday night at the then Shark Park.

Sunday Noon (or two o’clock New Zealand time)

There is only the one team from New Zealand but it is an important step for Rugby League to grow internationally for it to prosper. Big crowds gather in Auckland and the early afternoon timeslot has been working well for the Warriors’ crowds. But obviously when the NZ side are playing at home, they’ll be playing versus an Australian team. Back in Oz, two hours earlier, 12pm is a great time for football, with usually two games of league to follow after the clash at Mt Smart. The Sunday noon game is like the delicious entree that sets you up for a wonderful serving of footy.

Sunday afternoon, two thirty and three o’clock

“There’s nothing better than Sunday afternoon football,” says Phil Gould. The fans as well as the players seem to agree with him. Debatably the better football is played during the day, with stats backing up the fact there are less errors which contribute to a faster, more exciting game. There’s nothing better spending the ‘day of rest’ sitting back at the match on the hill in the sun, or on a rainy day watching from the lounge three back to back games live. The great tradition of local derbies such as St George versus Cronulla and Penrith versus Parramatta are being played and have been played on the Sunday this season, with clubs obviously expecting a large crowd figure.

Monday night, seven o’clock

It’s a great feeling to come home after a Monday (who likes them?) and know there’s still some league to be played. I can’t see why fans dislike this timeslot; they go to night games Friday and Saturday and if you’re at home, most fans can be home by 9pm if you’re worried about work Tuesday! Whoever is playing, it’s great to unwind with. I say move one of the two Friday night matches back a day to the Thursday, have league all week round!

But whatever day they’re playing, get out and support your team because any day of the week is a great day for league.

There are currently 750 words in my article

 

[Pistol]

Thar she blows

 

[Big Mick]

Sorry lads,

I've let you down.

My nanna had a fall this afternoon so I had to rush to the hospital and totally lost track of time.

Really sorry boys.

 

[byrne_rovelli_fan82]

Hey BM, sorry to hear about your nanna. Hope she gets better soon!

 

[Jesbass]

Sorry lads,

I've let you down.

My nanna had a fall this afternoon so I had to rush to the hospital and totally lost track of time.

Really sorry boys.

Hard luck, Mick. Thems the breaks, but real life always takes priority.

I hope your nan has a full recovery. :thumn

 

[madunit]

Bloody hell mick, You're nan had a fall. Someone's health is a f**king sh*tload more important than an internet game.

In fact, if you had've written your article and not helped your nan, i'd have been more pissed off.

As a showing of honour, the warrirors should withdraw all their articles and allow us a win

it was worth a crack.

 

[madunit]

haha got ya's all!

 

[LeagueNut]

*kills madunit*