Round 5 (2009) TITANS v ROOSTERS

[The Piper]

Forum 7s - Round 5 2009
GOLD COAST TITANS v SYDNEY ROOSTERS

-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: Thursday 4th June 2009 at 9pm (Syd time)
REFEREE: Pistol
Venue: Skilled Park

**The Referee Blows Game On!**

CLICK HERE FOR OFFICIAL WORD COUNTER

 

[Titanic]

The Gold Coast TITANS v the Sydney Roosters

Having introduced the lads from Bondi to a real case of sunburn and lightened their out-sized wallets at Jupiters; it's off with the Zinc, on with the Dencorub and out on the field:

The Run-on Team
1 Amadean
6 tits&tans
7 Titan Uranus
11 Titanic
13 TITs ANonymouS

The Bench
2 Tittoolate
4 Tigers_are_Pro
8 bgdc

 

[Non Terminator]

The Ozzie Roosters touch down at Gold Coast airport to be greeted by locals, beautiful atmosphere and a beach nearly as good as our own.

Starting Side
2. Adamkungl
3. Monk
4. melon....
14. Non Terminator (c)
20. Fein
Interchange Bench
6. Bubbles
9. Shorty

A quick congratulations also to our newest debutant. The person responsible for the birth of this team, Monk!

 

[melon....]

Melon rips into the first tackle...

***********************************
You reap what you sew

People that know me or have had dealings with me know I love The Roosters. I have been an Easts man for nearly 40 years. I never lived in the area although these days I’m 10 minutes away just over the bridge. It matters little; I love them as much as any Easts fan could. In fact, there are more Easts fans across the country than there are locally in the area. However, this is not about crowds or fan bases. That topic is for another time.

Following Easts is a double-edged sword. On one hand, you have a club that is proud as one of the remaining foundation clubs can be.
On the other hand, precariously balanced on the sharpest blade you could forge, is a club that’s always had to struggle in one way or another. People see Easts as a club run by high flyers. It was not always the case. Sure, the board at Easts boasts the strongest businessmen that could ever be assembled in a board room. Chaired by Nick Politis, he’s joined by Michael Conn (Partner in Law), Mark Bouris (Wizard), peter Newton, Brian Samphier, Mark Fennessey (CEO Fremantle Media) and Marc McInness (CEO, David Jones). They are heavy hitters.
But the question has to be asked. Weve lost Juniors to South Sydney. We’ve thrown the rest away under the greed of the late Ron Jones. We’ve released local juniors or developed players and opted for big names with an even bigger price tag, some showed little care for the jersey. Only one premiership in 30 years.

Why?

The past decade saw a club that was destined to succeed. Semis and Grand finals were the norm. It was a period when the club had a good mix of players and staff that were Easts through and through or at least could relate to the club, dug the vibe, and helped form that winning culture.
But since 2005 the club has gone backwards. Was it Stuart’s iron fist, was it his clash of egos with Gould, was it the lack of succession planning that would cover for the eventual retirement of the enigma known as Fittler? It was all that. It was all that, and more. The club had lost its culture – its mojo. An imbalance seemed to throw everything out of whack. The front office started making bad decisions, in a desperate bid to spark success. They thought they could buy a culture. Just like they thought they could buy a comp through the 90s.
They seem so far gone they only have a chance of emerging great once more, if a major plan, is implemented. Harsh decisions will be made. People will go and egos, upto the highest station, would be smashed.

My plan:
1. Fire the majority of the training staff.

2. Hire staff that can get into young men's psyche and can shape leaders.

3. Hire the best medical and fitness staff. Bring them from overseas if need be.

4. Re-establish the Easts History and Juniors relationships. Reconcile the juniors and start a funding and promotion drive that gets Inner Sydney and North Sydney familes to want to send their kids to the Roosters. Get the dollars to these clubs. Make South Sydney the secondary option. Fight back.

5. Cut the deadwood players for the last time. Those that put in will complete their contracts. The rest can leave now. I would rather bleed 5 or 6 under 20s and win the spoon than win it with big names.

6. Bring Adrian Morley home. He genuinely loved the club and bled for the club. I can find no greater inspiration for any Easts junior forward.

7. Lastly, keep Brad Fittler, Craig Fitzgibbon (assistant forwards coach)and Anthony Minichiello (assistan backs coach). 3 members of its team of the century on the staff. All passionate. All Premiership winners with THIS club. Bring in an “assistant” coach to help Freddy. Freddy has said he is open to help and ideas. A week ago I suggested Lang on another forum. This week Easts announced Beetson, in this very position. Maybe my plan isn’t that far off the mark. Maybe it is.

8. Keep on-field matters out of the boardroom.

One thing is a given. Easts must act now. Radically and decisively. They can again play a big part in Rugby League. They can become the successful and proud foundation club with 12 premierships to its name once more.

***************************************
749 words between the asterisks - according to the official counter.

 

[Fein]

Leaping from the long shadows cast upon a horribly eroded stretch of sand and churning surf, Fein enters the game.

*** Wendell "Second Chance" Sailor

An extraordinary tale is the one of Wendell Jermaine Sailor.

Here is a man who, in a year of many negative stories, shines like a beacon of hope for not only Rugby League players who have fallen foul of the games dubious behavioural codes but people in general.

Making his NRL first grade debut at the age of 19, he quickly burst on to the scene and was named Brisbane Bronco's "rookie of the year" in 1993.

In 1994 he was selected on a Kangaroo tour.

Unusually, he did not make his state of origin debut until 1996.

But that's Wendell for you, good enough to play for his country before his state!

The man is an enigma.

Always has been.

Delve further and you will find the man who had it all in the game of Rugby League, fame, fortune, awards, even Government recognition with an Australian Sports Medal, suddenly turn his back on the game which had given him so much and switched codes to Rugby Union in late 2001.

In the ensuing years he played for both Queensland and New South Wales at state level and became almost an automatic selection to represent Australia, joining a select band of dual code internationals.

Then, just as sudden as his switch to Rugby Union, came the news that he has tested positive to the recreational drug cocaine in May 2006.

An almighty fall from grace like this would shatter most but not Sailor.

He threw himself into drug and alcohol counselling related programmes, helping both himself and others.

He had tackled his problem head on, just as he had played his chosen sports.

The manner in which he handled his "shame" was extraordinary.

He even appeared on a dancing show, prancing around in the tightest of clothing.

I was almost humiliated for him.

But not Wendell.

He busted through that period like a bull in a china shop and came out the other side like a man possessed.

He joined St George Illawarra in 2008 and had an immediate and positive impact on the club.

Now in 2009, he has been reunited with his old coach and mentor, Wayne Bennett.

It's as an unlikely rekindling of a relationship that began some 16 years earlier, as you would ever see.

The way Sailor plays the game these days is not as flamboyant as he once was.

You can see the humility in the lesson learned.

He is not the one man circus, gesticulating to the crowd.

He is the compassionate opponent, genuinely patting the back of an opposition player who has knocked the ball on to offer words of encouragement such as "unlucky mate".

There is respect for not only others but for himself and his image and it now permeates his persona both on and off the field.

I dare say he also has some new found respect for the game itself.

Remember?

The game that he played so well, the game that gave him the opportunity to earn the fortune, the awards, the recognition, the accolades.

In many respects he is back where he began.

A born again "rookie" under a coach of high praise.

A coach who casts a discerning eye over his flock of potentially wayward young men only to see out of the corner of his eye, a wiser sheep than the one who left his paddock, some 8 years prior.

Coach Bennett surely sees the benefit in having a more humble Wendell amongst the young men in the side.

He offers much more than playing ability, he's a ready made walking, talking, text book on life both in the fast lane and the slow one.

He should also an inspiration to those who do go "off the rails".

The message being, don't sulk and sook, get off your arse and use the talents you were born with, no matter how small these may seem to others.

The Wendell Sailor story is rock solid proof nothing can be taken for granted in this life.

Nothing.

But if you are lucky enough to get a second chance, seize it.

Just like Wendell Sailor did. ***

692 words between the ***

 

[Monk]

Monk steamroll's forward in gaining the hard yakka from dummy half.

_______________________________________________

First Game.

It had been a rough couple of years, playing under 18’s footy, I even got a spot playing for Newtown a couple of years ago, however a bad injury lead the doctor to tell me that I could never play a contact sport again. But i didn’t let that stop me, since that moment, I had been training like crazy. Waking up at 4:00am every morning to run and workout at the beach, having time for University, Part-time job and footy wasn’t easy. But this year, on a day in early March it was all worth it.

On that day in early March I went to training and Coach stood surrounded by all us juniors. In a wise voice he announced the junior that would be brought into the full-time squad, I remember my heart started beating intensely as he started reading out the name, A split second later he had read the name out, unexpectedly, I started getting pats on the back and Coach walked over to me, he held out his hand announced that my work ethic was that to be desired by many, and my determination was what brought me into the full-time squad for the upcoming NRL season. That moment was surreal, my short lived dream was now taking shape, someday I hoped to be in State of Origin, A Test Game or maybe if I tried hard enough, a Grand Final. That was the start of my journey, my journey to the top.

The next two weeks were a nightmare, getting up at 3:00am to train by myself, not to mention the intense workouts with the squad, and it wasn’t enough to have an acceptable level of fitness anymore like in the lower grades. We had to be Premium level Fitness, otherwise we all might as well quit. Every time someone stopped in our Four Hundred Thousand kilometre runs the coach would add another Hundred Thousand Kilometres to the run. I never faltered though, I couldn’t let myself be broken by the intense workouts, Every step burned like being thrown into a Thousand Degree Furnace, but i kept thinking “I will be at the top” because even after all the running, all the pain and all the mornings waking up and not being able to move from exhaustion this was still the start of my journey, my journey to the top.

The next day I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing I looked at it and answered.

“Hello”

“Mate, I got some news, just had a look at the team for the Roosters verse Rabbits Game, congratulations, your starting round one”

My heart exploded. Finally, all my hard work has payed off, this was my chance, the start of my journey. Now I could spend the day relaxing and...

“Also mate, there is a squad meeting in half an hour, get your ass over to the ground in 30 minutes.”

I looked at the clock 4:41am, the early starts were hard on your body, but it was all worth it, i was still basking in the glory as I ran out of the house and jumped into the car. Finally I had gotten a start in the NRL. I was getting better, my fitness was Elite, and I knew it was ready, but in the back of my mind, I knew it was only the start of my journey, my journey to the top.

It was Friday night, I put on my gear, and as I ran out of the tunnel into the centre of the field for the kickoff, the others sitting on the sidelines looked at me, they were all proud of all the work I had done. I looked out into the crowd, my parents were here and they smiled. My heart was pounding in my chest, there had been plenty of hype leading into the game, but through it all I had never second guessed myself. I knew I deserved this opportunity.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, well, everything that I worked for, every hardship I had to overcome just flashed before my eyes, all that as I blew my whistle, refereeing my first of what I was promised would be many NRL games, because one day, I will be at the top. Even after all I had been through, this was still the start of my journey, my journey to the top.

__________________________________________________________________________

742 Words between the lines

 

[Non Terminator]

Non Terminator is rushing out the door to get to work, but feels a quick game of football can't hurt. (718 words under the Rooster)

The Red, White And Sky Blue
Eastern Suburbs 1939-1945

Sydney Roosters. Eastern Suburbs. Sydney City. Easts. Latte sippers.

Call them whatever you like. It doesn't matter which era you began to follow Rugby League in, they always have been and always will be matched with one title. They will always be Rugby League's Tricolours, or the phrase used in the old club song, "the red, white and bluesters".

The red, white and blue of the Eastern Suburbs club originally came from the Sydney rugby union club, Paddington.

Paddington might have chosen the colours based on the Union Jack, although that has never been confirmed. The style of the original Eastern Suburbs jersey matched a visiting British team, with hoops circling the jersey. This jersey design is still used often to this day.

Just like the Union Jack, the blue of the Eastern Suburbs jersey had always been a dark shade. It was symbolic in the history of Rugby League and in the history of the Eastern Suburbs club.

In 1939 it all changed for the first time. World War II was well in existence. The dye that was usually being used for the jerseys was in short supply hence it was all being used in the war effort. Because of this, Easts were forced to wear a sky blue jersey instead. This was a sky blue very similar to the colour on the current New South Wales state jersey.

The red and white still remained but the new-look sky blue sparked a new era in how the Eastern Suburbs side looked for seven seasons until the war ended. Rugby League legends such as Dave Brown, Ray Stehr and Brian Bevan all wore this now famous jersey during the one of the club's most successful periods in their 101 year history. During the seven year peroid of time, the side won premierships in two seasons and finished runner-ups in two others.

The first time the Eastern Suburbs football side wore the sky blue jersey they claimed a 20-9 victory over Canterbury at the SCG with Henry "Harry" Pierce claiming two tries for the game. They also played their last game with the sky blue jersey at the SCG, this time in a 22-18 victory over Balmain in the 1945 Grand Final. Dick Dunn scored three tries and five goals on that occasion.

As soon as this period ended the club went back to wearing the original dark blue. It took 64 years until the sky blue was worn again, and by then the club had only added three more premierships to the tally.

However, during the Foundation Season in 2008, the club decided to recognise the period of time the sky blue dominated the jersey of the Eastern Suburbs team. In the traditional ANZAC day clash against the St George Illawarra Dragons, it happened. The sky blue was reborn to the modern day league fan.

The jersey has now been used in two matches and whilst the side hasn't found much success in those two matches (losing 26-6 and 29-0 to the Dragons) it has been refreshing to see the now historic jerseys back out on the playing field. Even if it doesn't make Willie Mason look as tough as usual.....

The retailers version of the 2008 War Jersey bears so much resemblence to the original design it even erases the design of the sponsorship logos in respect to the war veterans.

In quite a few occasions throughout the Foundation Season, the fans got to see the past being relived, it was a wonderful new look to the game. The Roosters fans got to see a jersey that had carried their identity for the years during the second World War.

If there is one thing our sport is great at, it's remembering the past and making it a part of the modern day. Concepts like rivalry round have enabled the modern day fan not only to witness something they've never seen before, but also embrace and learn about the history of the game we all love.

I just hope in the future we see more of the past.


Eastern Suburbs In The Sky Blue (1939-1945, 2008, 2009)
Played: 108
Won: 59
Drew: 1
Lost: 48

Top Tryscorer: Henry "Harry" Pierce - 35 tries
Top Point Scorer: Dick Dunn - 300 points

 

[Titanic]

Titanic for the Titans takes to the field, struggling to deal with a fist-sized lump of sand stuck in his 'grundies'. (OWC 750 between the #'s)

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​

Adieu old friend

My friend Al was watching last night’s State of Origin with his five-year-old daughter at home. A little into the first half and after the now blown out of all proportion Hayne incident, Hayne was again penalised, but Al for once confined himself to a bitter exhalation. Beside him, Ginny asked brightly: “Is that referee a ‘dickhead’, Daddy?”

Rugby league speech is lively, demotic, unstuffy: the talk of men with calloused hands and a serious problem with authority. The basic structure of discourse implies a vital truth: if you think you’re better than me, then you can ‘f**k’ off.

The fundamental egalitarianism of Australia has always found an expression in the unconstrained use of taboo words. ‘Strewth’ and ‘bloody’ are antique commonplaces of Australian life, and ‘g’day ya bastard’ remains an ancient and affectionate greeting between fading Ockers.

The now almost acceptable manifestation of children parroting their parents’ profanities, combined with the ‘leave nothing to the imagination’ up-close, unedited coverage provided by live television, has robbed caring families of the buffer between wholesome entertainment and the world of crass.

Over recent months, a seemingly never ending litany of events within the rugby league community, including the aforementioned swearing, binge drinking, gang-banging of the non-Harlem interpretation and racial vilifications have now taken one of our best…

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in a maze of bureaucratic red tape.

He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as; knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, never play without a mouth-guard, league isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault. It was announced earlier today that the Referees Association will read the Eulogy.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children, are in charge). His passing will be felt most by those who have ignored his philosophies yet even his most vocal protagonist, the Leagues Club, offered condolences to his family.

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. At a recent reunion of ARL old timers he was quoted as saying, “In my day, you got paid what you were worth in the minds of those who were doing the paying, not what was in your manager’s mind.”

Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a female teammate during a game of Mod Footy; teens suspended from a school team for using mouthwash after a lunchtime practice; and a referee fired for reprimanding an unruly schoolboy player, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked officials for doing the job they had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

He regressed even further when junior clubs were required to get parental consent to administer Panadol, sunscreen lotion or a band-aid to a player; but, couldn't inform the parents when a fifteen year old cheerleader became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; clubs became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. He staunchly supported the “innocent until proven guilty” lobby while witnessing the demise of being able to distinguish between “what’s right from what’s wrong”.

Common Sense took a beating when he couldn't defend himself from a burglar in his own home and the burglar sued him for assault. He likened the cowardice of hiding behind the law to those players who willingly “take a dive” and “milk” penalties.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman patron at a recent night game failed to realise that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, took the club to court and was promptly awarded an obscene settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents and club foundation members, Truth and Trust; his understanding wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three visually challenged stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm a Victim.

Few attended his funeral because not many realised he was gone, however, you may watch a replay of the ceremony on free-to-air tonight after 4 Corners.

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[tits&tans]

tits&tans for the Titans lightly jumps from one tree to the next, floats down to the pitch, unsheathes his weapon and prepares for battle.

(741 words according to the OWC)

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

English Style Olive Balls in China

英式橄榄球在中国
​

During a recent trip to the largest bamboo forest in China in Zhejiang province, I witnessed an event that sparked a chain of thought that has been festering ever since.

One day, emerging from the forest on to a road, I saw a small truck lying on its side with its contents spilled across the road. As the driver stood there smoking, obviously wondering what to do, a bunch of local farm workers appeared out of nowhere. Within minutes, they had appointed a leader, organized themselves, divided up tasks and very soon the truck was up and on its way. It was a perfect example of spontaneous teamwork.

In fact, Chinese culture encompasses a collectivist mindset that emphasizes the importance of group structures and values. This orientation supports key aspects of teamwork, such as a common purpose and cooperative effort. The importance of relationships in a collectivist society also prompts individuals to place group interests ahead of their own. Thus, traditional Chinese values are expected to facilitate teamwork. Indeed, this collectivist attitude is reflected in a proverb: “A single tree makes no forest; one string makes no music”. Excellent teamwork has been on display for over 2000 years in the annual Dragon Boat Races held across China.

Conversely, sport in China has traditionally been a solitary pursuit and the Chinese have always placed a high value on individual sports, such as shadow-boxing, Mongol horsemanship, Tibetan yak-racing, crossbow archery, and of course the ubiquitous ping-pong and badminton. It is only relatively recently that the more “western” team sports (basketball, football and volleyball) have become popular. Yet, rugby league has yet to sail these unchartered waters. It has yet to tap into the vast well of potential fans, players and sponsors. Why I wonder?

Many people claim that the Chinese are simply too small to play League. Poppycock! The Chinese play basketball (one of China’s most popular sports - 300 million people play), a sport in which you might claim height is an advantage. Just look at Yao Ming, China’s superstar player, who is the tallest player in the NBA (2.29 m).

In fact, the average height of Chinese citizens has been increasing for the last century. Today, the average height of a Chinese male is 173 cm, only 5 cm shorter than the average Aussie. In fact, height is not generally seen as particularly important for playing League (e.g. Brett Hodgson, Matt Bowen), and often extreme height can be a hindrance.

An interesting development in China’s sporting history was the founding of the Rugby Union club in Shanghai in 1952. Apart from a period during the Cultural Revolution, union has steadily gained popularity. In particular, it is now an official sport of the PLA. If the Chinese army can be persuaded to take up yawnion, then it must surely be feasible to convince them to switch to a better and less gay version.

In addition, with League being easier to learn and less bogged down in technicalities, it provides those who are simply better natural athletes with the chance to excel. China certainly has no shortage of natural athletes, something to which the medal board at the last two Olympic Games can attest. League would therefore be a perfect sport for budding full backs, wings et al to take up. The Chinese are compact, strong and fast; all qualities required by League.

Good teamwork ability. Excellent athleticism. A military interest in rugby,

What’s missing?

A public awareness of the sport. Most people just haven’t heard of League. Basketball’s popularity didn’t soar until there was a highly successful player: Yao Ming. Football became extremely popular after a number of Chinese players became successful in European leagues (Sun Jihai (UK), Zhou Haibin (Holland)). These players not only act as role models for China’s youth but also as promoters of the sport. With such an ambassador, League could shoot for the dizzy heights of upwards of 100 million players and many more fans.

And so I propose a foolproof plan to introduce League into the Middle Kingdom:

• Scour streets, sports clubs and stadiums across the land
• Find athletes with potential
• Train them
• Bulk them up at the gym
• Bring them to Australia
• Ensure success with a well-known NRL team

…and bingo, the gates to the Forbidden Kingdom swing open and League defiantly claims its position as the best ball sport on the planet.

 

[Amadean]

Amadean on for the Titans with a proud leaping QUEENSLANDER cry and 731 below the bar.

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



5 Reasons I Didn’t Watch the State of Origin and 4 Paragraphs of Gloating.

1. QUEENSLANDER!

2. Ok, so that first one wasn’t a reason, but it remains a valid point.

3. QUEENSLANDER!

4. Stupid bloody Australian Network altered their play schedule. Evil, twisted sonsofbison. I mean, really. Yes, fine, broadcasting the game live makes great and good sense, but for crying out loud if you’re going to do so then please say so. Don’t promise to play it at 8pm and then change it the day before. We’d all gone over to a mate’s place with snags, beer and footy jumpers (a serious sacrifice when its 38degC in Bombay with more water than air in the breeze) and then were seriously disappointed.

5. See points 1, 3 and the authorized biography of The King by Adrian McGregor, published by University of QUEENSLAND press April 2004. In other words, it isn’t necessary to let go of a pen in mid-air every 30 seconds to check if the gravity is still switched on. Pens fall, accelerating downwards at 9.8m/s/s because that’s how the universe works. Queensland wins because our souls are as strong as bison. Bison muscles of course, I’m not sure how strong ruminant souls are. They’d have to be fairly strong to put up with all that snow and grass and stuff, but I’ve no real proof herbivores have souls. On the other hand, my ex-girlfriend ate meat but was a soulless witch, so maybe they do. To summarise: as bison = strong, so QUEENSLAND = win.


​

I’m still bloody furious at having missed the match: anger, pain, hurt and self-loathing fill my soul like cheeseburgers (heavy, greasy and in dire need of bacon). That is, naturally, a lie. It has been nearly scientifically proven by people who know some scientists at the University of Southern QUEENSLAND that QUEENSLANDER souls are 95% glory by weight, with the remainder consisting of an even mix of Bundy and XXXX. By contrast, New South Welshfolk were reclassified in the same study as being part of Crasiomycota: slime moulds belonging to the supergroup Excavata as the family Acrasidae.

A quick word on bitterness: 'savoury'. Today’s SMH is full of whinging headlines that do credit to their writers’ taxonomic classifications, with “Blues Blow up Over Ref’s Blunders”, “Debutants Fall – Baby Blues Beaten” and “Why Does Nobody Love Us, Is It Because We Are Too Pretty? Maybe We Should Wear Less Mascara?” being my personal favourites. NSW’s traditionally bitter blaming-of-the-ref is also off to a firm start this year, hurling quotes of “here were we thinking it was the rookies, not the seasoned referees, who would be scared” and “the attacking team which gets the benefit of the doubt, unless the rules have changed or something.” Bison would never stoop to such levels of self-indulgent pathos, they’d just bellow deeply and keep on truckin’. Truckin’ for bison (the title of my latest unwritten work) involves staring nobly into the distance whilst re-chewing yesterday’s lunch.

Now, everything so far may have come off as excited babble, as full of form and meaning as a fart at the opera. To all appearances the above is merely the brain-dumped thoughts of an overtired and hungover former advertising copywriter with a strange fixation on even-toed ungulates (who could but adore the shaggy power of their infinitely calm gaze?). Shame on you for underestimating your correspondent so! You see, I missed the match. I dipped out on the throat-blocking nerves that Origin kickoff calls; on the incoherent screams of abuse and shouts of triumph from tense fans; on the blinding pulse of adrenaline a QUEENSLAND try calls; on the freezing pulse of an NSW 40-20. I have nothing but quotes, quips and scoreboards from which to develop a picture of the game.

Those echoes of a match that fall from newspaper articles form a chaotic mélange of impressions in my mind. Slater’s try, Inglis’ break, Bison’s horns , Thurston’s generalship all swirl aimlessly around in technicolour; images that never existed but in a fevered imagination. The over-riding false memories are of the chaotic emotions such imaginings bring: triumph, envy and pride. After a game I wished I’d seen, the only way to write is straight from the sub-conscious, where be bison, to the paper. Yet, perhaps if I’d seen the match it wouldn’t change anything anyway. There’s nothing logical about League and emotion rules Origin.

QUEENSLANDER

 

[Titan Uranus]

TU for the Titans. Nearly forgot to post before going home. 745 words in the OWC

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Låt Den Rätte Komma In

​

Time after time we see players doing their best to defame the NRL with their antics of indecent exposure, public urination, drink driving, public disorder, misogyny, racism, drug abuse, defecation, brawling, vomiting, biting, verbal abuse, physical assault, harassment, and destruction of public property.

Yet they don't often seem to be too concerned with their actions and a few even become repeat offenders. They may choose an alternative offence to liven things up a bit for themselves if they do offend more than once.

To many they are living the dream – young, loaded, the object of many a young lady’s desires and hero-worshipped by their teams’ supporters. If they get up to anything untoward then it’s considered a perk of the job or their self-perceived god-given right for they are kings among men.

Whatever the reason for it they are sucking the lifeblood out of the game. Yes, the NRL is suffering from a modern infestation of vampires.

The more recent incarnations of vampires are often portrayed as charismatic villains who are incapable of changing how they behave, something that accurately describes more than a few misbehaving stars. Even the bloodsucking trait is one associated with comparatively recent vampire stories rather than the folk legends of old. So we don’t have to just deal with vampires but ones that are the most recent on the vampiric evolutionary scale.

The question is how to deal with it. Overall, the powers that be do a fairly good job in sanctioning those that suck out the game's blood. The problem with Nosferatu and his friends is that they can survive just about anything. Sanctions don’t do much to them, not least if, as soon as one place kicks them out, another one lets them in.

It was this and watching the film Låt Den Rätte Komma In that I realised what it is we need to do. We need to do as the movie says and ”let the right one in”. A vampire can’t come into your home and ruin your life unless you let him in. Likewise a player can’t come into your club and ruin it unless he’s allowed in. Furthermore if he’s not allowed into any clubs then they won’t be able to ruin the game as a whole as no one will want him and he might have to go into boxing or something crazy like that.

It seems though that our very own Titans have not been paying attention to vampire lore. After inviting in (then) perpetual badboy Chris Walker, they havenow gone and invited a player so incapable of controlling himself that on a night out he hospitalised some guy with a fractured his skull. You read it here first, Ian Lacey is a vampire.

It is not only the clubs that could follow this advice but some of the groupies too. It is the invitation part that is crucial here. I’m certainly not going to defend those who have done anything inappropriate without invitation as being the girl’s fault for being there in the first place. However, if one has willingly invited the NRL Dracula into her bed chamber and enters into something willingly, or is entered into willingly, then she doesn’t have much comeback should things go awry later on.

The title from the film in question is not just a reference to vampire etiquetter but also a Morrissey song which includes the lyrics

Let the right one in
Let the old dreams die
Let the wrong ones go
They cannot
They cannot
They cannot do what you want them to do​

This time though the advice is not so much for the clubs or female fans but for the players themselves. I said earlier how many of them believe they are living the dream yet it may be time to let those dreams die – let the wrong ones go, they can’t do what you want them to. That is, they may provide some temporary excitement or relief but this kind of behavior is no way to go through life and it can’t give any kind of lasting satisfaction.

Although vampires are almost untouchable league players are not and they need to think more carefully about the choices they make lest these sporting vampires finally suck all the remaining blood out of this game.

We can all make a step in this direction, players, clubs and coaches by letting the right one(s) in.

 

[TITs ANonymouS]

TITs AnonymouS sprints onto the field keyed up with Queensland's win last night. 750 words below the line.

_________________________________________________________________

MAKEUP

Recent research has unveiled some enlightened views extrapolated from the works of the eminent Russian psychologist Dr. Ivan Ideer. He has two best-sellers to his credit: his debut blockbuster ‘Why Women Wear Makeup’ and its sequel ‘Why Men Don’t Wear Makeup’.

However, it was his third in the ‘Makeup’ series that prompted this dissertation. ‘The Psychological Makeup of a Rugby League Team’ claims that it’s not so much size or speed that determines a player’s position, but rather how their grey matter works. A closer look at the various positions, through the learned eyes of the eminent doctor, reveals an extraordinary “shrinks” perspective.

Fullback

The player with the lowest number on the team automatically suffers from low self esteem, particularly considering that his main role is as the last line of defence and the team’s scapegoat whenever a try is scored against them. Cries of “What are ya?” echo in his subconscious for days after a match.

Wing

The fleet of foot racing at lightening speeds around opponents most commonly suffers from timidity or chronic cowardice. He lives by the ethic of “he who runs away, lives to fight another day”. He loves his field position near the touch line, which provides a safety net in case he accidently encounters a rampaging Front Row Forward lurking out wide.

Center

A ruggedly lean player saddled with a mix of speed and size. He is generally afflicted with oppression or, more simply put, he’s a bully. He has the size to take on most players, but just in case they are stronger, he has the speed to emulate the Wing and the “live to fight another day” ethos. This highly skilled player, when “inside”, has the ability to read the game and decide to either charge ahead or to sell the dump to one of his own species “outside”.

Five Eight

Often referred to as the brains of the team, he's a born leader. He directs the team’s plays, is rarely tackled and has the good sense (of any general) to surround himself with subordinate troops who do all the dirty work. This player suffers from natural or instinctive tendencies. He defends behind the line, supposedly to prevent a breakthrough play, but in fact to be on hand to place the blame on the Fullback when a try is scored against his team.

Half Back

The excessive, obsessive delusional and Wiley Coyote of any team, who carries any number of sneaky tricks in his Acme Bag, is usually the first to receive the ball. He is the Five Eight’s right (or left) hand man. Upon receiving the ball early in the tackle count, he looks for a Front Row Forward to take the fight to the enemy. A few tackles later under the scrutiny of his “general”, he will spin the ball wider. There is one trait that separates this diminutive fiend from the rest of his team: at any time should he notice the smallest of gaps, he is off quicker than a brides panties, darting and ducking his way to the try line and perceived immortality. This “immortality” syndrome manifests itself in an intriguing phenomenon: whenever a fight breaks out, he immediately enters the fray and engages the largest opposing Front Row Forward in hand to hand combat, fully believing he is immortal.

Lock

A strangely contradictory name for a team’s ‘key’ forward. Cognitive intrepiditis gives these unfortunates the inner strength to defend with great courage to the bitter end. A side effect is a lack of speed to passively reposition himself (run away), unlike his Centers.

Second Row

Two players with the rarest of disorders, insertional mutagenesis, acquired from erroneous contradistinctive stem cell surgery and who now simultaneously suffer from a fetish for sticking their proboscises where ordinary people dare not. These brutes are the work horses of the team.

Hooker

The mutated excessive, obsessive delusional is the pivotal man behind each ‘play the ball’. He usually respects the wants of his host Half Back and like him, should he spot a gap, he will attempt to exploit it. They share the immortality syndrome too.

Front Row Forwards

Often misunderstood, recent studies have shown that these rather slow of mind behemoths are more than just evolutionary hangovers but rather intricate specimens who provide an exception to the contentious Darwinian Theory of “inherent chip & chase in contemporary man”.

Dr. Ideer’s latest offering, “Making-Up the Makeup: Every Coach’s Bible” will be in bookstores near you in time for Christmas.

_______________________________________________________________________

 

[adamkungl]

adamkungl makes a final play as the hooter blows
***************************
Rugby League Journalists

The recent battering of Rugby League in the media, yet again, left me wondering something. What do we want from Rugby League journalists/TV personalities, and what are we currently getting? I am often astounded, reading the articles of certain writers who claim to be passionate League fans, how they can so easily and so frequently knife the game they claim to love? But it's not all bad news (though News journalists are usually the ones scraping the bottom of the barrel for stories). There are some Rugby League writers who stand above the rest.

Before I go into that however, I think it’s best to describe what I want from a Rugby League journalist in terms of attitude and content. Obviously I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m sure we can all agree on most of the following:
-Loves Rugby League, has the best interests of the game at heart. Wants to see the NRL, and the sport in general, succeed and flourish.
-Tells me about the week in Rugby League, the big games, the major issues, the players, the clubs, the feuds and the politics.
-Speaks out on problems, constructively criticises the game or those involved in it, where necessary.
-Is interesting! Knowledgeable, offers insights and information that are worth hearing.

Now there are some very fine lines in the above points, which are the mark of a poor journalist in my opinion, and are crossed all too often. Here is what I don’t want from a Rugby League writer:
-Loves making a name for him or herself through Rugby League. Has the best interests of the media mogul at heart. Writes stories damaging to the sport, often starting off with “I love Rugby League, however…”, in the interests of furthering career with ‘hard hitting’ journalism.
-Tells me about the scandals in Rugby League. Players private affairs, minor discretionary issues, and how the AFL is taking over. I don’t care. It isn’t relevant to the game itself, and most of the time it isn’t any of our business. If it is newsworthy, it should make the front page, not the back. On this note, it is not a journalists job to be societies moral guardian. Especially when the journalists themselves have less than outstanding moral records.
-Attacks the game on dubious grounds, frequently launches biased attacks on specific clubs, constantly whinges, offers nothing but criticism.
-Is controversial! Ok, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of controversy. Admittedly, Rugby League thrives on it. However, I’m talking about those journalists who are controversial for the sake of being controversial. It isn’t interesting, it isn’t ‘hard hitting’, it’s usually just offensive and annoying to those whom the journalist’s career depends on – the fans.

For each of the points I have mentioned above, I can think of journalists that fit into one or more of them. Something like this is completely objective – as I said earlier, there are some fine lines. On that note, enter Phil Gould. Hated by a lot of people, loved by others. My favourite League journalist. Passionate about the game, and in my opinion the most knowledgeable media personality when it comes to Rugby League and its tactics. Where the love/hate comes into it though, is his criticisms of the game. In my opinion, they are usually pretty close to the mark. Others are of the opinion that every word he says is dripping with bias, and think he whinges too much. Each to their own of course. Another journalist I hold in high regard is Roy Masters. Very knowledgeable, always putting forwards ideas to advance the game, and as a bonus is known to stick the boot into Andrew Demetriou and his AFL cronies on occasion.

The other side of the coin, we have a couple from the Daily Telegraph – owned by News Ltd, part owners of the NRL, which makes it all the more worrying. Josh Massoud, master of the “Exclusive!”. Will write seemingly anything to get himself talked about. Agenda driven, not particularly interesting, and far too often damaging to the NRL and its clubs. But I’ve saved the best ‘til last – Rebecca Wilson. Her weekly column reads as a constant attack on Rugby League. Rarely, if ever, related to the actual game, usually instead the perceived “negative culture”. A self appointed moral guardian with some skeletons in the closet, and a complete hypocrite.

Rugby League journalists, a strange and confusing bunch. Sometimes I just rather stick to LeagueUnlimited!

**********
750 between the stars

 

[Pistol]

Thar she blows

 

[Titanic]

Titans that was an excellent scramble against a very committed opposition... 5v5 and an entertaining fixture in the making... now Misa, if you don't mind, drop that bowl of kimchi chigae, roll up your sleeves and have another maekju good luck all.

 

[Non Terminator]

A 5v5 and I am truly nervous. There are some absolutely amazing articles in this match, good luck to all!

 

[Misanthrope]

Bugger. I've had a ridiculously busy last few days and completely forgot about this. I'll get a result up tonight.

So, so sorry, lads!

 

[Non Terminator]

All good mate happens to the best of us. Take your time and good luck!

 

[Titanic]

We thought you'd taken my advice on Korean beer too seriously :roll:

 

[Non Terminator]

This match is still keeping me nervous.
F7s! Look what you've done to me!