Nannas Home.
See Also: Quest to be Striker - For the goals. And
Roundup Season 3
I think Nanna Fraser summed it up best; It's like in Top Gun when Goose died. A hollow feeling right in your guts, everything you've worked for seemingly for nothing, wiped away, why bother. Well Nannas life is cruel, and war is hell, and the Battle Weary Nannas live to fight another day, our chins held high knowing we fought tooth and nail right to the bitter end. But remember what happened to Maverick, he got right back in his F-14 (admittedly after going a bit crazy, but who wouldn't after loosing your navigator, it's like loosing your mum)and killed some goddamn communists. And believe me Nans there's plenty of communists out their just waiting to die.
On the bright side Nanna Wong (aka Wallmartin [Wally] Wong) has brought us the first official Nanna cocktail, the Cocksucking Nanna, and as if that weren't good fortune enough, we have been immortalised in fine art -thanks to the exceptional skills of Nat & Ali- in the lightboxes of Alia. So what are you going to do? You lose a semi, you gain immortality and a cocktail in your name, such are the ups and downs of life as a Nanna.
Once again we give all humble thanks to relevant and personally believed in Gods for the gifted feet of Chris 'the Chasm' Brown, who once again has proven his prowess, skill, dedication, ability, speed and uncanny knack to find the back of the net, regardless of the obsticles placed in his way and be once again crowned with the highest of all Nannas honours the golden booted striker.
Coach out
Team Photo Unavailable
Ok Nans we've done the hard yards and suffered the hellish pain that only a freakishly dedicated profesional sportsman can feel, up before dawn for the hard slog on the cold bitumen, the sunburnt skin from the endless sunday afternoon skills sessions, the slight paranoia from the days spent in the room of mirrors just looking at yourself and asking 'how can I extract another %1 from my game when I am already giving %2000?', yet finding it none-the-less. You've got callouses on your kicking feet and a mutton coloured rash around your scallops from the discount synthetic shorts Hinkley found in disused asbestos mill, not to mention liver disease from the chief and you're more than a little punch drunk from too many wayward goal kicks to the head - yep being a Nanna costs, but it's the time of the year to get your money's worth.
They don't call it the business end of the season for nothing, and it's time to cash in the dividend.
The Nannas were thought to be jokin'.
By those who proffessed to stockbrokin'.
But the Nannas be brown,
No need for a frown.
Come finals time they were a smokin'.
Coach out
The Statistics Speak For Themselves.
This is the Tragedy of the Nannas Season 4 (so far):
A. Worst of the worst, ie bottom of D-2
B. Not lone win for the season, ie our only four points is for a walkover.
C. Goals for; 22, Goals Against; 34. Ergo, Percentage; %.647
D. Combined total training attendence 4 out of a possible 110
E. Crowd Figures: Avg.; .67 , Total; 7.
F. Sponsorship down %23
G. Non Soccer Projects Launched: 0*
On the positive side we can still make the finals. Go Nannas
Coach out
No Team Photo
The game that will be known as, the game that was, the game Chris 'G-Force' Gill goal to goaled it to goal. Kudos to him for long has he attempted this most difficult of feats. This sure makes things interesting in The Quest to be Striker, with no less than 6 Nannas (and an own goal) vying for second place.
Perhaps it will also be recognised as the week the Nannas found some opposition playing at their current level, which is pretty tragic considering they're at the bottom of the ladder of worst league available. Yep that's right, The Nannas mixing it with the worst of the worst.
At this stage it occurs to me that perhaps there is more to last week's story than just classy copy. It is on certain levels analagous to the Nannas own story. Like the old man we too once practiced and reaped the rewards, like the old man we forgot the source of our power and suffered the consequence. However we have the benefit of learning from the old man's mistakes, let his suffering not be in vain.
I will now share a quote with you:
Philosophy is questions that may never be answered.
Religion is answers that may never be questioned.
The Nannas are certainly a team of philosophers, (were it up to me I would have suggested this as a name for our merry band, or perhaps The Socceraties, or the Witgenstein Wonders) for we accept no gospel as the truth, rather we are continually searching for answers to questions like; is a full team sub a good thing? and; 2-1-1 or 1-2-1? But lately it seems we have become like devotees of a gospel based religion- unable(or unallowed?) to slip the shackles of mental restraint that bind us to a flawed doctrine. We seem stuck in a rut that will not allow progression and development of our game. However the Nannas I know -my comrades on the field of mock battle- are sharp witted intelligent men, and while certain physical limits may have been reached, intellectually the scope is there for great development the likes of which has not graced the indoor soccer pitch. And, this being the case, there is certainly the ability to destroy the tethers of mediocrity currently tying us down.
Coach Out
Just a nice story with no particular relevance to anything particularly Nannas.
An old man was walking through the bush one Thursday evening when some super bad assed of bandits jumped him and demanded his sneakers. Despite his relative lack of any real self defense skills he put up a real good gutsy fight. Unfortunately he was still soundly thrashed and along with his Nikes his trousers were stolen. The following Thursday he was jumped by some bandits who were nowhere near as good as the bandits from the previous week, and once again he fought like a courageous brown bear, however after 40 mins of fighting they still stole his shoes.
Now, the old man figured if he was going to get jumped on a weekly basis he may as well learn some fighting skills and get his body in shape, so on Sunday afternoons he started going down to the park and teaching himself how to kick arse. Not only did he learn how to bust nuts, but he also got to frolic in the warm sunshine amongst the trees and the birds, engage in the kind of worthwhile social interaction that comes from hanging out in the park with your mates, and sometimes afterwards he had himself a beer and pondered the nature of things. Surpisingly enough his self defense skills improved, and he soon found himself mixing it with even the baddest bandits who jumped out from behind trees on Thursday evenings demanding his footwear. While he still sometimes had to walk home barefoot he was, after 15 weeks, judged good enough to get jumped by the baddest bandits and see who had what it took to be the best in the bush. Sure he just lost, but the kudos that came with making the final fight bought glory to him and enhanced his whole outlook on life with general positiveness.
Now he looked forward with great relish to his weekly walks through the bush and his contests with the bandits, and he achieved some celebrity around abouts mostly due to his self promotive abilities. However after a while he forgot how he had achieved his original sucess and stopped going to the park on Sunday arvos. No longer did he see the birds in the trees as he practiced, no longer did he watch the children play as he honed his skills. He kind of figured he had learnt all there was to know about getting jumped and so he would just walk through the bush on Thursday nights getting jumped by bandits, without the benefit of a physical and mental conditioning session 4 days prior.
Now, the bandits knew that to get better you must practice so they did, and eventually the old man lost his edge and the all manner of bandits would take his shoes on a regular basis. Even fat, shit, old, accountant bandits who didn't know bugger all about stealing sneakers, who the old man used to defend himself regularly and with ease against, would just walk right up to him, rip the shoes off his feet and laugh in his face.
Now, the ironic thing was that the old man did want to get better, he did want to improve himself, he wanted to be more able, he wanted to be fitter. Tragically it seems the old man wasn't smart enough to realise that he had to practice, or perhaps he just lost the will to go out on a Sunday despite the obvious benefits, or perhaps there wasn't enough general motivation from everyone. But whatever the reason the old man who never practiced never got any better.
Coach Out
Ok Nannas the time for action has come. We always had it over them Rhinos - now we got nothing.
Heads up - be proud. You are brown men of the highest standing.
Coach out
2/5 Loss to AC Milan
The Coach suspects there may have been a little too much talk of dining on the delights of suckling eskimo, when we noted new blood in our first match. Whereas the reality was some cunning, battle hardened Inuit hunters slipped across the border and dined on the stringy meat of naive Nanna.
The way to better ourselves hasn't changed though- it's skills and tactics. Yes, Skills and tactics must be impoved, so seeing as this month is skills and tactics month I suggest we all use the time to work on our skills and tactics.
Quest to be Striker news. Two brand new strikers head the table, yep that's right it's the Kondo and Wong show, kudos to them, long may they strike true. But looking at that empty striker table I couldn't help think; there's a lot of room for a lot of glory for a lot of Nannas. Each little box in that table is a stepping stone to greatness, each number next to your name is another step down the road to riches beyond wealth, every time you score you add to you chances of winning the highest of Nannas honours - The Quest to be Striker. And, as an added bonus your goals go toward the Nannas chances of making the grand final - So get out there and kick some goals.
In the absence of anything really intelligent, a song:
(sung to the tune of: I done a foolish thing[but I can make it better] by Celine
Dion)
Well the Nannas sailed forth to eat some eskimo
young suckling sweet and fleshy, oh don't you know!
But lo, when they got there,
instead they got a scare,
'twas not a 'lightful feast,
rather a horrid beast.
And the mauling they recieved upon that fateful day,
gouged a lesson into their brains that willn't go away:
(Spoken - rapido)
Never base your judgement of an unseen opponent on the guesses and half truths
derived from an assumption determined only by a glance at three words in a fixture.
(Chorus)
We are Brown we are strong
Sometimes we get it wrong.
We are Golden and emboldened
We will never be a foldin'
And henceforth did the Nannas treat every team they met,
with nothing but complete and total uttermost respect.
And thus they did prevail,
true icons of the male,
well hung and full of fight
because they learned it right
And with this newfound attitude as the Nanna's Paradigm
'twas glory and honour awaiting them time after time after time.
(Repeat Chorus)
Not a Frown - We're Golden Brown
Coach Out