Match Reports

Round 11 (27th August 2023 – The Concussion Edition)

Supers v Mandurah Makos

An audible click reverberated around Des Penman reserve as the Wembley motorcade engaged their central locking en masse when they arrived in the suburb of Nollamara, puzzlingly named after a local flower species, unlike Wembley – sensibly named after a place 15,000 km away.

The dreaded realisation that the option to upgrade the stereo at the BMW dealership now appeared to be a very short-term investment, spread through the group, resulting in a frenzy of phone calls to personal insurance brokers.

It didn’t look like Wembley could provide the requisite numbers to make up a team until B.P. – the Prince of Nollamara – inspirationally rag-dolled the intimidating 8-year-old girl loitering in the carpark who had the Wembley players holed up in their Porsche Cayenne S’s. The Prince further exhibited his command of local conditions by sagely advising which forward pocket was favoured by the wind, and which back pocket was the safest place to stash one’s valuables.

The Mandurah Makos, ostensibly the away team, felt comfortable in the surrounds of Nollamara, which reminded them of their home suburbs, albeit with less coastline but with saltier crabs. They correctly called the coin toss, thinking to exploit their home ground advantage, but again, that click; this time not from the echo from the collective central locking, nor the prising of hubcaps from wheel rims, but of the Wembley on-ballers engaging top-gear as they won clearances and systematically spread the ball wide, and then deep into the forward line.

The time-honoured tradition of allowing the immobile older players to contemplate their retirement savings up forward and benefit from the toil of the younger fitter players in the midfield and down back was employed to address the Supers’ demographic challenges. That game plan paid fully franked dividends into the accounts of the enfeebled Wembley forwards as they wisely stuck tight to the Mandurah backmen, providing opportunity and space for the Magpie midfield and backline to carry the team and the country to victory.

Luke Daniher struggled to adapt to the conditions, only managing 8 goals at last count. Al, Cogs, and Craig pulled their finger out intermittently.

– Reporter: ben “BOL” O’Leary

 

Masters v Fremantle Phantoms

After the demolition derby of the seniors game, it was pleasant to have a wander round the park with some like-minded gentlemen without the late hits 3 seconds after you kicked the ball. Good all round game by the Wembley Masters, set up by a solid backline. I’m guessing we came away with a 5-6 goal win.

• Here are some highlights as seen through the binoculars at full forward.
• Bassie was all over North Freo, like a fat kid on a cup cake, including two massive tackles in the 2nd half
• The Irish magical connection with Prindie, that was not so magical.
• Plonk feeding the forwards, BP’s contested marking, Noel’s clean disposals. Uni dominating the wing. Jimmy pushing through a calf “injury”…or was it?
• The defence (BOL, Simmo, Matty, Wattsie, DC, Noel) was rock solid, led by Simmo taking 56 intercept marks for the day and 1856 metre gained.
• Injury brothers, Joffa and Wattsie, chipping in for a few goals
• Sarge’s half-time energizer feed (see figure below)

• BOL’s dash out of the backline was not quite as quick his dash to the bottleshop after the game….but still bloody quick!
• Cog’s bustle after a few pints!
• Shano’s tunnel ball sets up a Prindie goal.
• Marcus doing f@ck all after a knee in the ribs in the first quarter

– Reporter: Shane “Tunnel-Borer” Evans

 

Seniors v Fremantle

I think the Friday night game fixture threw most people. I mean, “what time does the game start” was the opening questioning mid Friday afternoon.

Was it 17.50, 19.50 AEST, 10 to 6, five fifty, fünf fünfzig, vyf vyftig, fimm og fimmtíu, cinque e cinquanta, fem og femti or simply 5.50. Most went with 5.50.

Once we all knew what time the game started, the thought was put towards the location. Apparently dockers gear would get us onto the ground. But what if you weren’t so inclined or stupid. Rumour had it that wearing eagles socks would get you stabbed – and what about the MUA. Phk the MUA. Drew sorted out the MUA, ate the mandatory 5 different ice-cream flavours at a late stop-work lunch (cos he wasn’t going to get dinner anytime before 9, forget crashing on the couch at 7.30 (Wal that’s halb acht for you)) and permission to enter North Fremantle Oval was granted. (What we didn’t realise was by having Taberner play for Wembley on the night gave us automatic entry – for reasons we’d find out later).

There were a few growls and stares, but they let us on the oval. Perhaps a sign of things to come.

I’ve been procrastinating on what to actually write in this report. There’s been many fine crafted words this year – this ain’t one of them. But for me this game was to be very different to all the others we played this year (in fact different to any game in my 7 years at the club). This game was the epitome of why we play footy. We made sure to focus on footy for kicks, enjoying the game, respecting your team-mates and the opposition.

The first quarter started off as usual – ball up.

I think I won the first tap (somethings don’t change). Always a pleasure to serve the ball to the likes of Eppo, Werners and Matty as I know, they know exactly what to do. We had the bonus pleasure of a welcome guest, the nutcracker – Jimmy.

Matty around the ground.

I think it was Jimmy that grabbed the ball, and kicked it to forward (always a positive sign) to Mikey E. One step, two step, three step – snap. Hammy done and it was back to the bench for the Ehler meister (Did you know the name “Ehler” comes from the Germanic words “agil,” meaning “the edge or point of a weapon” and “hard” meaning “hardy or strong. That’s our Mikey, he’ll be back before you know it).

Late tackles etc. from Freo and it was 3×50 metre penalties against Freo in the 1st quarter

The Pictures tell the story.

A few minutes to go in the 1st quarter, things went fuzzy for me

A Moose doesn’t stay down long.

From here on in – my focus was on the ball when I was part of the play. I couldn’t remember too much of what happened around me – so I’ll go with what I think happened.

Second quarter was upon us – play started. More late and aggressive play.

Umpires blew the whistle and brought all the players into the centre of the ground.

The message from the Umps was basically – stop the bullshit and play the ball not the man. Remember it’s a Seniors game and it’s footy for kicks. Wembley Seniors held our heads high.

Some highlights of the game.

On the wing was Prindi, and on the other wing, wearing a green gimp mask, Prindi’s bitch (I reckon that would make a great name for a greyhound). Fortunately, distance kept the boys apart, but they tore up their respective territories. Always great to watch, and Prindi didn’t hold the bitch’s leash too tight.

The backs – up to their usual tricks.

Simmo tearing up the turf (nothings changed for that legend this year), and was ably assisted by Brynna, Youngie and BP. All played solid games and took some pretty full-on hits.

The forwards – well they were a mixed bag.

Apparently Wattsie was injured, bad ankle. I not sure what the phk was up with Wattsie, but that phkd ankle was a god-send. The old GOAT kicked GOTY from the boundary line, plus a few more (then went on to kick another 3 with masters).

What Phkd foot Wattsie?

AJ, Mario and Space – all played like there was no tomorrow. Goals were a plenty.

Some Mario Magic

Space gets in on the act

… and that then leaves me with Taberner. No wonder the Phantoms let us on the oval. They knew the enormous advantage that “Beavis” would give us. An almighty 0.10 (zero goals, ten points). So many looked like they’d gone through – but looks can be deceiving, and we were just that.

Ok there was some great ballet work, or was it some weird trance dance, a step forwards, no back, no to the side and back again from Werners and Eppo. But that’s the majesty of the wizardry that they pull off 7 times out of 10 (I’m being polite – it’s alright to handball).

But when Drew, wearing a helmet, was lined up and taken out – enough is enough. That’s it, game over. Umpires blew the whistle and called the game early.

I respect Jossey, the ruckman from Freo, who made a point of coming up to me after the game.

Of course, there is no scoring in Masters AFL, but the clear winners on this occasion was Wembley Seniors for playing the game in the spirit of Masters AFL. Wembley kept driving the ball from the mid and back and piling on the goals.

PS – thanks guys for the WhatsApp notes that limped me across the line with this report.

– Reporter: Martin “Moose” Hellier