This is a must-read – you will never look at team structures again without giggling.

Round 7 Over 55s Match Report by Dusty

The Warriors 55s took on Brunswick on Sunday, in Carrum.  It’s a long way for the chardonnay sipping denizens of ultra-hip Brunswick.  Anything beyond the tram network is unfamiliar territory. I think this unsettled their team, whereas the Warriors are willing to take on anyone, anywhere, anytime.  

I was a little unsettled myself,  I’d stopped at Bunnings on the way to the game and was unable to resist a couple of snags, that wonderful combination of overcooked onions and undercooked sausage wrapped in a piece of white bread that is part food, part serviette.  By the end of the first quarter I could feel them bouncing around in my stomach like partially digested garden hose. I was also upset because Kenny nabbed the smallest and fattest forward and I was left standing at half-back next to a person who was jumping up and down like an Energiser bunny before the first bounce.  As the game commenced he started to run around in circles, which was annoying as I ran after him trying to keep up, particularly since he rarely went near the ball.  Eventually I worked out that if I stood still he would eventually come back to where I was, which saved my legs and also meant I got a couple of kicks.  The Warriors were up and about from the first bounce. Big Al (on debut for the 55s) was an imposing presence at centre-half back and another debutant, Munga, was providing an outlet on the wing.  We also welcomed back Rev from his European cruise, he looked tanned and relaxed – but soon found his customary intensity around the ball. 

At half time we were in front.  The sausages had settled a little and, after adopting a yoga pose known for its propensity to relieve wind during the half time break, I was a new man.  One of the things I love about playing for the Warriors is the non-judgmental nature of the team. If a man wants to spend the break on his back with his legs in the air chanting a mantra and farting profusely that is fine. 

Brunswick must have done a bit of yoga as well, because they came out firing in the third quarter.  They drew level, but due to the heroic efforts of Killer, the cunning forward craft of Magoo and some crucial touches by baby-faced Rodd we were up by five at the final break.  We knew we had to dig deep in the final term. Jezza looked more nervous than a chicken in a KFC store, but threw himself into the contest and won some crucial moments.  Matty D, despite a heavily bandaged hamstring and a limp, set his chiselled jaw and was impassable.  And Pas finally gave me the ball, a scruffy half handball – half tap that I gathered gratefully and passed to the ever reliable Damo. I’ve played in the backline all season but Pas and I never seem to be anywhere near each other, apart from a hand slap and an encouraging “Doing great dude” at the end of a quarter.

To visualise the backline structure of the Warriors one might think of male genitalia as seen from above.  A strong central shaft, with Dave H at the base and Big Al at the tip.  Pas and I occupy the hairier spheres either side and consequently tend to not cross paths very often.  Kenny is a stray spermatozoa appearing and disappearing at will.  With this structure in full flight we battled it out, and great defensive efforts across the whole ground from Marko, Thommo and a rejuvenated Ange saw us get on top.  When Bruisa kicked a long bomb goal just before the siren, it was the icing on the cake.  A very satisfying outcome to a day that saw the teamwork and supportive character of the Warriors triumph.