Guest Blogger Week - the Chump from Frosty Canberra

Guest blogger week here at the Brisbane Ultimate blog thunders on! Today, we welcome aboard John 'Bags' Horan, he of Canberrean fame and keeper of the rubied crystal spleen of Fyshwick United. When I asked him to consider Brisbane Ultimate, his eyes turned krisykreme glazed, his tongue loosened, and his mind wandered back to 2002 ....

The was movement on the yahoogroup, for the word had got around,
that G-Man had fueled his old mercedes,
Gathered Greeny, and that seppo Ryan, and to Halibut was bound.
A likely group of lads and ladies,
looked on G-Man's stately old steed with some concern
and muttered about savage points and sun.
They looked about for a strong cutter, or at least one who would learn
and said "That Horan, he's stupid but he's young."

And so it was that I admired G-Mans air con and over-speed warning
on a model long superceded,
as we sped on down the Newell at 2:00 in the morning,
and prayed that no spare parts were needed.
You see an old Merc is fine to drive, strong and stable under load,
But there aren't a lot of them around
and if steam erupts from your bonnet on a smaller country road
Spare parts are nowhere to be found.

So when that steam poured out we were thankful Leon wasn't far behind,
And while G-Man and Jules found local beds,
I slept because I couldn't drive and we all pretended Leon didn't mind.
But old Greeny and Ryan plotted darkly in their heads.
In Brisbane all those years ago the tallest man was five foot ten,
A bloke with lungs like mine could dominate the field,
And the old hands knew that I was 18, "a dolt" in all the wrong ways then,
Before the advent of Mike Nield.

So after we pulled up at 8, and snoozed until game on at nine fifteen,
G and Jules had not arrived,
I don't recall the team we played, but the breakfast was the best I'd seen
and the shirt I got has just survived
to this very day, by contrast I was wilting. Lunch found me facing dehydration
With Ryan and Greeny trading winks
I fired up and ran all arvo fueled by youth and holy revelation
in the miracle of sports drinks.

See the two old hands were throwers and had smarts enough to spare,
and each point saw us fielding only one,
So if Greeny, say, had caught the disc and put it in the air,
Ryan told me where and when to run.
Sometimes Greeny would just yell "Horan" once the disc had left his hand,
and Ryan would yell out "right" or "left"
so I could stop clogging and chase it down before it got the chance to land.
I was stupid but I wasn't deaf.

Teams were loath to mark me well and let someone worthwhile go unchecked,
though Mat Ryan came to chase me for a while,
And Leon warned I'd better give the guy no cheek or I'd get decked
so I continued following directions with a smile.
He looked quite mad and I was sure he would erupt before we ran too far,
as I cut on defense just in spite
I hoped that with some work his ears might go the way of G-Man's car
But he remained intense but still polite.

I really don't recall the scores, teams or games in detail any more,
And I've been back to Halibut since, twice,
Our name was "FAAACT" but no-one knew if it was just three a's or four,
I drove again the next year but the time I flew was nice.
Committment is spending twice as long in the car as you do getting to play,
These days people skip such epics with a flight.
We split the drive home staying overnight with Badman at the Bay,
but it's worth the drive again this year if my knee was just alright.

Ich Bin Ein HalibutMuncher.

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