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How do I get that old dudes job?
 

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For those keen on training updates during this long off-season

I started jogging again this week after a reasonably lengthy (injury) lay-off; just quietly, I'm training the house down. I will post pics later...





(Sorry, I'm just bored, and suffering from Relevance Deprivation Syndrome)
 
I love how this guy isn't even in some people's Best 22 & yet he's a back-to-back Premiership Player!
He's not immune to screw-ups, but I love how he backs himself & takes the game on.

He goes up a level in September as well.
 
How do I get that old dudes job?

I won a matchday experience package a few years back (the thumping of Port at the G) and part of the package was holding the sposors windbreak at 1/4 and 3/4 time and helping to roll it up at the end of the break. Well, I got out there and there were these two old guys, they were chalk and cheese, one an overly friendly guy who gave up his usual spot at one end of the windbreaker to in order to allow me to experience it and even gave me tips on how to properly roll it up after the quarter, at the other end of the banner was this cagey old bastard, apparently had been with the club since the 60s and took his banner rolling very seriously. So seriously in fact that the friendly old dude warned me under no circumstance to beat him into the middle with the rolling as he would take it personally.

Aaaaaaanyway, the 1/4 time break went well, I made sure I stayed just behind him on the rolling and received a nod and a grunt which was apparently as good as it got with him. Chuffed with my efforts I proceeded to the outer and had a couple of refreshing ales.

By 3/4 time I'd knocked over 6-8 beers and was feeling pretty cocky when it came time to roll up the windbreaker. With my dutch courage I set out to not only get to the middle at the same time but to give him a reality check by breaking the sound barrier and virtualy finishing before he could get one full rotation in thinking how bad could it be and don't all old dudes exaggerate a bit, I know my Grandad loved adding more curry to his stories every time he told them. As it turned out, the friendly guy had actually understated the seriousness, to say he was filthy is likened to saying Don Bradman could bat a tiny little bit, he was absolutely ratfaced ropable, so much so I actually thought he was putting it on so I started a bit of friendly banter about how fast I had picked up the art of banner rolling, with a face as red as a baboons arse and twice as lumpy he stared me straight in the eye and called me something that would blow up the BF filters if I were to even think about it while typing. An aboriginal gent once said he was going to kill me over a game of pool in an outback pub, now alot of people might say that over the course of your life but the aboriginal fellas eyes told me he actually meant it and was going to do his best to carry it out. The old man that day was the second person in my life that given the chance I had no doubt would cut me open like a Cornish Game Hen and piss on my still warm corpse.

Shocked and a bit stunned (worth mentioning I was working construction at the time so was hardly sheltered) I looked around in desparation for an ally until my eyes met with the eyes of the friendly bloke who had given up his rolling so I could do it, my mouth crept into a rigor motis like smile, a mouth now as dry as the Simpson, he just slowly shook his head never breaking eye contact, mouthed the "C" word silently at me and shouldered his way roughly past me and after his murderous mate.

So to summarise, learn from my mistakes and wait for one of the rotten pricks to die before even suggesting that you take one of their jobs because I'd be f%$*ed if I will even go within 50m of the Hawks race until they are rolling the banner at the gates of hell and scaring the shit out of the devil himself.
 

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I won a matchday experience package a few years back (the thumping of Port at the G) and part of the package was holding the sposors windbreak at 1/4 and 3/4 time and helping to roll it up at the end of the break. Well, I got out there and there were these two old guys, they were chalk and cheese, one an overly friendly guy who gave up his usual spot at one end of the windbreaker to in order to allow me to experience it and even gave me tips on how to properly roll it up after the quarter, at the other end of the banner was this cagey old bastard, apparently had been with the club since the 60s and took his banner rolling very seriously. So seriously in fact that the friendly old dude warned me under no circumstance to beat him into the middle with the rolling as he would take it personally.

Aaaaaaanyway, the 1/4 time break went well, I made sure I stayed just behind him on the rolling and received a nod and a grunt which was apparently as good as it got with him. Chuffed with my efforts I proceeded to the outer and had a couple of refreshing ales.

By 3/4 time I'd knocked over 6-8 beers and was feeling pretty cocky when it came time to roll up the windbreaker. With my dutch courage I set out to not only get to the middle at the same time but to give him a reality check by breaking the sound barrier and virtualy finishing before he could get one full rotation in thinking how bad could it be and don't all old dudes exaggerate a bit, I know my Grandad loved adding more curry to his stories every time he told them. As it turned out, the friendly guy had actually understated the seriousness, to say he was filthy is likened to saying Don Bradman could bat a tiny little bit, he was absolutely ratfaced ropable, so much so I actually thought he was putting it on so I started a bit of friendly banter about how fast I had picked up the art of banner rolling, with a face as red as a baboons arse and twice as lumpy he stared me straight in the eye and called me something that would blow up the BF filters if I were to even think about it while typing. An aboriginal gent once said he was going to kill me over a game of pool in an outback pub, now alot of people might say that over the course of your life but the aboriginal fellas eyes told me he actually meant it and was going to do his best to carry it out. The old man that day was the second person in my life that given the chance I had no doubt would cut me open like a Cornish Game Hen and piss on my still warm corpse.

Shocked and a bit stunned (worth mentioning I was working construction at the time so was hardly sheltered) I looked around in desparation for an ally until my eyes met with the eyes of the friendly bloke who had given up his rolling so I could do it, my mouth crept into a rigor motis like smile, a mouth now as dry as the Simpson, he just slowly shook his head never breaking eye contact, mouthed the "C" word silently at me and shouldered his way roughly past me and after his murderous mate.

So to summarise, learn from my mistakes and wait for one of the rotten pricks to die before even suggesting that you take one of their jobs because I'd be f%$*ed if I will even go within 50m of the Hawks race until they are rolling the banner at the gates of hell and scaring the shit out of the devil himself.

So to sum up, there's being dedicated to your job, taking your job way too seriously, and then banner rolling, in that order.

Got it. :thumbsu:
 
I won a matchday experience package a few years back (the thumping of Port at the G) and part of the package was holding the sposors windbreak at 1/4 and 3/4 time and helping to roll it up at the end of the break. Well, I got out there and there were these two old guys, they were chalk and cheese, one an overly friendly guy who gave up his usual spot at one end of the windbreaker to in order to allow me to experience it and even gave me tips on how to properly roll it up after the quarter, at the other end of the banner was this cagey old bastard, apparently had been with the club since the 60s and took his banner rolling very seriously. So seriously in fact that the friendly old dude warned me under no circumstance to beat him into the middle with the rolling as he would take it personally.

Aaaaaaanyway, the 1/4 time break went well, I made sure I stayed just behind him on the rolling and received a nod and a grunt which was apparently as good as it got with him. Chuffed with my efforts I proceeded to the outer and had a couple of refreshing ales.

By 3/4 time I'd knocked over 6-8 beers and was feeling pretty cocky when it came time to roll up the windbreaker. With my dutch courage I set out to not only get to the middle at the same time but to give him a reality check by breaking the sound barrier and virtualy finishing before he could get one full rotation in thinking how bad could it be and don't all old dudes exaggerate a bit, I know my Grandad loved adding more curry to his stories every time he told them. As it turned out, the friendly guy had actually understated the seriousness, to say he was filthy is likened to saying Don Bradman could bat a tiny little bit, he was absolutely ratfaced ropable, so much so I actually thought he was putting it on so I started a bit of friendly banter about how fast I had picked up the art of banner rolling, with a face as red as a baboons arse and twice as lumpy he stared me straight in the eye and called me something that would blow up the BF filters if I were to even think about it while typing. An aboriginal gent once said he was going to kill me over a game of pool in an outback pub, now alot of people might say that over the course of your life but the aboriginal fellas eyes told me he actually meant it and was going to do his best to carry it out. The old man that day was the second person in my life that given the chance I had no doubt would cut me open like a Cornish Game Hen and piss on my still warm corpse.

Shocked and a bit stunned (worth mentioning I was working construction at the time so was hardly sheltered) I looked around in desparation for an ally until my eyes met with the eyes of the friendly bloke who had given up his rolling so I could do it, my mouth crept into a rigor motis like smile, a mouth now as dry as the Simpson, he just slowly shook his head never breaking eye contact, mouthed the "C" word silently at me and shouldered his way roughly past me and after his murderous mate.

So to summarise, learn from my mistakes and wait for one of the rotten pricks to die before even suggesting that you take one of their jobs because I'd be f%$*ed if I will even go within 50m of the Hawks race until they are rolling the banner at the gates of hell and scaring the shit out of the devil himself.
It's not even 10am and this is probably the best thing I'll read all day. :thumbsu:
 
Who's going to be the one flying on the track during the pre-season that never gets a run?
Litherland trains the house down, been vocal, up and about , in the NAB games then round 1 rolls around.......in the stands waiting for the reserves season to kick off!;)
 
I won a matchday experience package a few years back (the thumping of Port at the G) and part of the package was holding the sposors windbreak at 1/4 and 3/4 time and helping to roll it up at the end of the break. Well, I got out there and there were these two old guys, they were chalk and cheese, one an overly friendly guy who gave up his usual spot at one end of the windbreaker to in order to allow me to experience it and even gave me tips on how to properly roll it up after the quarter, at the other end of the banner was this cagey old bastard, apparently had been with the club since the 60s and took his banner rolling very seriously. So seriously in fact that the friendly old dude warned me under no circumstance to beat him into the middle with the rolling as he would take it personally.

Aaaaaaanyway, the 1/4 time break went well, I made sure I stayed just behind him on the rolling and received a nod and a grunt which was apparently as good as it got with him. Chuffed with my efforts I proceeded to the outer and had a couple of refreshing ales.

By 3/4 time I'd knocked over 6-8 beers and was feeling pretty cocky when it came time to roll up the windbreaker. With my dutch courage I set out to not only get to the middle at the same time but to give him a reality check by breaking the sound barrier and virtualy finishing before he could get one full rotation in thinking how bad could it be and don't all old dudes exaggerate a bit, I know my Grandad loved adding more curry to his stories every time he told them. As it turned out, the friendly guy had actually understated the seriousness, to say he was filthy is likened to saying Don Bradman could bat a tiny little bit, he was absolutely ratfaced ropable, so much so I actually thought he was putting it on so I started a bit of friendly banter about how fast I had picked up the art of banner rolling, with a face as red as a baboons arse and twice as lumpy he stared me straight in the eye and called me something that would blow up the BF filters if I were to even think about it while typing. An aboriginal gent once said he was going to kill me over a game of pool in an outback pub, now alot of people might say that over the course of your life but the aboriginal fellas eyes told me he actually meant it and was going to do his best to carry it out. The old man that day was the second person in my life that given the chance I had no doubt would cut me open like a Cornish Game Hen and piss on my still warm corpse.

Shocked and a bit stunned (worth mentioning I was working construction at the time so was hardly sheltered) I looked around in desparation for an ally until my eyes met with the eyes of the friendly bloke who had given up his rolling so I could do it, my mouth crept into a rigor motis like smile, a mouth now as dry as the Simpson, he just slowly shook his head never breaking eye contact, mouthed the "C" word silently at me and shouldered his way roughly past me and after his murderous mate.

So to summarise, learn from my mistakes and wait for one of the rotten pricks to die before even suggesting that you take one of their jobs because I'd be f%$*ed if I will even go within 50m of the Hawks race until they are rolling the banner at the gates of hell and scaring the shit out of the devil himself.


I am dead set having a crack at a match day experience competition if it comes up again. Lol.
 
I won a matchday experience package a few years back (the thumping of Port at the G) and part of the package was holding the sposors windbreak at 1/4 and 3/4 time and helping to roll it up at the end of the break. Well, I got out there and there were these two old guys, they were chalk and cheese, one an overly friendly guy who gave up his usual spot at one end of the windbreaker to in order to allow me to experience it and even gave me tips on how to properly roll it up after the quarter, at the other end of the banner was this cagey old bastard, apparently had been with the club since the 60s and took his banner rolling very seriously. So seriously in fact that the friendly old dude warned me under no circumstance to beat him into the middle with the rolling as he would take it personally.

Aaaaaaanyway, the 1/4 time break went well, I made sure I stayed just behind him on the rolling and received a nod and a grunt which was apparently as good as it got with him. Chuffed with my efforts I proceeded to the outer and had a couple of refreshing ales.

By 3/4 time I'd knocked over 6-8 beers and was feeling pretty cocky when it came time to roll up the windbreaker. With my dutch courage I set out to not only get to the middle at the same time but to give him a reality check by breaking the sound barrier and virtualy finishing before he could get one full rotation in thinking how bad could it be and don't all old dudes exaggerate a bit, I know my Grandad loved adding more curry to his stories every time he told them. As it turned out, the friendly guy had actually understated the seriousness, to say he was filthy is likened to saying Don Bradman could bat a tiny little bit, he was absolutely ratfaced ropable, so much so I actually thought he was putting it on so I started a bit of friendly banter about how fast I had picked up the art of banner rolling, with a face as red as a baboons arse and twice as lumpy he stared me straight in the eye and called me something that would blow up the BF filters if I were to even think about it while typing. An aboriginal gent once said he was going to kill me over a game of pool in an outback pub, now alot of people might say that over the course of your life but the aboriginal fellas eyes told me he actually meant it and was going to do his best to carry it out. The old man that day was the second person in my life that given the chance I had no doubt would cut me open like a Cornish Game Hen and piss on my still warm corpse.

Shocked and a bit stunned (worth mentioning I was working construction at the time so was hardly sheltered) I looked around in desparation for an ally until my eyes met with the eyes of the friendly bloke who had given up his rolling so I could do it, my mouth crept into a rigor motis like smile, a mouth now as dry as the Simpson, he just slowly shook his head never breaking eye contact, mouthed the "C" word silently at me and shouldered his way roughly past me and after his murderous mate.

So to summarise, learn from my mistakes and wait for one of the rotten pricks to die before even suggesting that you take one of their jobs because I'd be f%$*ed if I will even go within 50m of the Hawks race until they are rolling the banner at the gates of hell and scaring the shit out of the devil himself.
Got what you deserved there bud!
Respect your elders my friend & all will be well.
 

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