Match Reports

Wembley Supers v Fremantle Phantoms Supers

Looking to emulate the success of their Western brothers in the Derby, the Wembley Magpie Eagles took to preparing themselves for the upcoming fixture against the Fremantle Docking (look it up, though not at work) Phantoms immediately after the Derby Match by hydrating at the Wembley hotel. The support staff recognised a certain venerated player for his elite hydration preparation and loquacious analysis of the match, granting him an early reprieve from participating in the remaining session.

I really couldn’t give a stuff about what happened up the ground. Marcus and Brocky slotted some notable goals; Plonk looked very tidy in the ruck all day; Ryan was a standout with some hard running through the centre, likely through strong support by Higgzy and Brocky; Bassie felt he had done enough to secure the win at half time so he went home, but was thankfully relieved by Burgo arriving late from his hair appointment. The skill level and the game style looked good from my vantage point due to the combination of Magpie talent and Phantom listless effeteness. Let’s hope our precious up-grounders show a similar appetite for the contest when the going gets tough against stiffer opposition.

Marcus jailed 2 from 2 on the run in near identical circumstances: quick centre clearance kick; contest on the flank; old bastard Phantom goes to spoil, only to instead dislocate his shoulder; Marcus leaves him for dead, suddenly with a bit of space; and goes on to jail it mid-post, from 45 on 45° on the run. A bit ruthless (twice), but brilliant nevertheless.
Stew finished up with a pathetic 5.5 for the day. He said it would have been more had he more fingers to count on. Just like his usual Saturday night performance at the Hip-E Club – what he lacked in a conversion rate, he made up for in numbers. Both could have been prettier.

Rosey chipped in with some key possessions, and thankfully put to rest the rumour that Stew has just been signing up random bums off the street just to cash in on the $50 bar cards. Another new Stew addition was JJ, whose hard in and under game style hasn’t wavered since his amateurs days. Some careful guidance prior to the game as to how hard to go (or rather, ‘not’ go) thankfully meant that some of the more elderly opposition didn’t turn into actual Phantoms.

The cast-iron defence of course proved impermeable, granting the fairer up-grounders the conviction to play without inhibition, safe in the assurance that turnovers from their showboating would be neatly repelled by Chidz, Shane, JJ, Burgo, and DOL, together forming a steadfast bulwark and the essential substance necessary for the team’s success. Despite the dedicated night-before hydration preparation and sensible effort expenditure strategies, some backline players struggled to maintain top intensity due to the warm weather. Kimbo “Squirt” O’Leary found himself out of place playing off the back flank between his taller and more handsome brothers, but provided strong run through the centre.

Hard two-way water running and season-high 95% water distribution efficiency by water boy Danners returned those suffering athletes to peak performance, seeing him claim man of the match honours (again) despite not even appearing on the team sheet. It was like watching a racehorse in a petting zoo.

Runner up votes go to the O’Leary crowd who made up 50% of the Wembley supporters, and who only come down when there is bang for buck with a 3-for-1 deal, like the cheapskates that they are.

Huge congrats to Shane, Dan, and JJ for their first (vets) game – looking forward to being part of their long Wembley Vets career!

– “Bustling” Ben O’Leary (with edits by DOL)

Wembley Masters v Fremantle Phantoms Masters

After sweltering at Northerns in Round 1, it was back to home turf for a warm but less torrid Round at Selby Street for Round 2, with Wembley playing host to the Fremantle Phantoms. With Anzac Day around the corner and a home game advantage, numbers were looking good (by Masters standards) and with plenty of the usual help from our Seniors and Supers players, all were looking forward to a challenging hitout.

And a challenging hitout they got, with the first quarter a true arm wrestle. Wembley’s engine room and defenders alike were well-tested throughout the quarter as the Phantoms continually attacked down the wings, only to be stopped by a frantic combined Wembley effort before the white-clad home team would rebound the ball back up to the forwards, who were met by an equally committed Freo defence in turn.

The action was hard but fairly played for the first fifteen, with neither side getting meaningful opportunities to score.

That changed as the second quarter got underway, with the Phantoms immediately catching the Vets out with a quick clearance from the middle to get the first major of the game. The extra attacking impetus quickly set the tone for the remainder of the half as both sides attempted to spread and open up the spaces. With hard running and better delivery out of the midfield, Wembley started to win more ball out of the midfield as the term wore on, but struggled in front of goal and found themselves unable to convert effort into reward.

With very little separating both sides at half time, the scene was set for an almighty tussle as the temperature heated up and the sun got higher.

As it happened, that tussle got a bit too almighty and the temperature a bit too hot as the third got underway. It’s difficult to know for sure what was slipped into everyone’s water bottles over the “long break”, but the first stoppages in the middle were unrelenting and tense. There was a clear will and heat from both sides in an increasingly physical encounter, and unfortunately Wembley’s discipline seemed to slip slightly just as the officials decided to get hot themselves to keep the game in the right spirit.

The home side proceeded to give away a Yellow Card and a couple of fifty metre penalties, as the umpires wisely got decisive on the whistle and calmed the game down. To their credit, both sides took a breath, and regained their composure. Wembley responded with renewed focus on ball use, delivery and off-ball movement to begin to gain an ascendancy in the middle, allowing them to start peppering the Fremantle goal, whilst largely seeing off the Phantoms’ persisting attacks at the half back line.

Things were still pretty even at the final change, where some quick words of self-encouragement amongst the Masters players and coordinators to play fair and disciplined Wembley style football had the desired effect. The Vets continued to dominate down the wings and in the middle in the fourth quarter much as they’d arguably done in the third, with the difference being that Wembley’s forward line took the foundations they laid after half time and proceeded to build a commanding presence over an increasingly fatigued Phantoms back-half. Fremantle weren’t done by any means and fought valiantly to counter-attack but were ultimately contained by Wembley’s two-way run through the middle and wings, defensive rebounding down back and confident delivery up forward.

The game was enjoyed by all and was largely played in fine Masters spirit by both sides, on a glorious late April afternoon.

– Anton “Dozer” Avila

Wembley Seniors v Fremantle Phantoms Seniors

Anzac Day footy – well sort of, in a Temu “looks like the real thing only cheaper” kinda way.

For starters, the venue was the reclaimed wetlands of Wembley Sports Park and not the hallowed ground of the Gee. And it was four days earlier on the calendar than the actual Anzac Day. Still, a solemn occasion nonetheless and a day of great import for Wembley as hosts of this most auspicious round.

So it was that the bleary-eyed Wembley faithful gathered as the sun peeped over the eastern horizon for the ritual laying out of chairs, dog poo collection, bin distribution and banner planting while the morning dew glistened on the turf like a drop of Irish on Prindi’s forehead1.

Set-up accomplished, all was in order.

Ankles had been strapped, warm-ups completed, and the hardy seniors prepared to do Anzac-worthy battle with Wembley’s evil nemesis, the Freo Phantoms. Lest we forget last year’s Demolition Derby under lights at Gil-Fraser from which Wembley’s old battlers emerged bloodied but triumphant.

Standing to attention for a stirring bugled rendition of The Last Post, the lineup was a mix of the old, the very old and the new-but-really-still-pretty-old, quivering with the pent-up adrenalin of a sunrise assault on Lone Pine.

Or maybe that was just the DTs2 and/or early onset dementia… On paper, the starting Back Six loomed like the Maginot Line.

Across full back stood Capt/coach Mikey, Brynna and the silky-small-step talents of Boakey (incredibly playing his first actual game in living memory, quite a milestone in his 37th season with WVFC). Across half back, the Jakovichian Simmo was flanked on either side by the counter-offensive scheming of Youngie and Yours-truly.

Across the middle were the run-and-stun talents of Wattsie on one wing, B’OM in the centre and the alcohol-vapour assisted guile of Prindi on the far side. In the centre was a clearance team worthy of Danger UXB3 in the intimidating figures of Selfey, Werners and Jimmy.

The Front Six was an embarrassment of offensive riches. At half-forward, Lui – the man who knew too much and always where to be on one flank, Azzum, sorry Muzza, the Flourbag Bomber on the other, and in his first game back after a long furlough, the unstoppable Draggers at CHF. In the goal square stood the safe hands of Space, flanked by the searing left foot of AJ in one pocket and the Returning Prodigal4 in the other.

We even had the luxury of a bench, with Sarge on hand to provide a chop out on demand.

With everyone assigned their role, supercoach Mikey then had a quiet pre-bounce word to the umpies to remind them of last year’s contraventions and the need for decisive management of (Freo) player “volatility”. It quickly became apparent that “volatility” would not be much of a concern.

Far from the (relatively) young and incendiary opponents of the past, these Phantoms were much diminished – in both number and spite. They were, in fact, actually quite good blokes.

But so diminished were they in number that we generously banished Irish to their ranks and – recognising the further impediment that this posed to their prospects of competitiveness – Newboy graciously also agreed to join the southerners too.

So, noting the usual caveat that the first casualty of war is the truth, on to the game itself, The whistle blew, and the first wave went over the top Selfey, B’OM, Werners and Jimmy immediately established a clearance dominance last seen when Luigi Savadamoni ruled the small screen – repeatedly feeding the ball straight out the front, or for fun, out wide to Wattsie and Prindi.

From there Space would inevitably mark it and hand it off to AJ, or bring it to ground where Draggers would clean it up. Except when the midfield instead speared the ball to Muzza or Lui. Muzza would then float it lazily through the big sticks, while Lui and Draggers would make Jimmy a friend for life by giving him the ‘ole one-two’. By quarter time, Muzz Jimmy and AJ were all on the board – though after his initial tracer through the middle, AJ’s vision clearly became impaired on his way to 1.4 for the morning.

But it wasn’t all one way traffic. Freo did manage one of their own after “decisive” umpire intervention. An ancient mariner in the fwd pocket flopped onto a wobbling ground ball and the shadow of yours truly briefly crossed his brow. With the shade interpreted as “head high contact”, a kick was awarded and the first major gifted to Freo. Fair enough, Geneva Convention clearly being applied. That aside, every other forward entry was repelled with vigour by Youngy, Mikey and Boakey dashing down the right flank, or by Brynna clunking everything in the air aimed at Freo’s XXXXXL full forward and then kicking to Simmo at CHB.

Second quarter was more of the same: total midfield dominance (it helped they gave Irish a run), AJ squandering shots, Muzza nailing another. Space continued to mark everything that went his way, and Lui just kept putting himself in the right spots. But some great entertainment ensued when it did make it down the other end. Another mystery infringement against the Ancient Mariner (nit wasn’t me this time) saw another easy one potted from close range. A second imaginary high tackle- this time by Simmo – was paid to Newboy, who just sneaked it inside the posts from 15 dead in front. Then a rare Back50 launch by Freo saw the ball speared to the forward flank where Newboy was set to collect, turn and score for his adopted teammates. Til a shadow nipped past him, scooped up the pill and hit Muzz (o maybe it was Mike) with a left foot bullet (well it felt like it, I was just happy it didn’t go out on the full). Muzz or Mike passed on to a man free in the corridor (may have been Jimmy, very hard to tell as I was doubled over trying to breathe) who banged it through. To be fair, Newboy is nursing the dodgiest knees since the Tin Man … Regardless, it only took a couple of minutes for Newboy to turn the tables. Overtaking a Freo forward for a loose ball, and lazily considering my options, I totally forgot about Newboy. Who promptly buried me. Sadly, my confected dive for in the back went unrewarded and Newboy gleefully accepted the umpires ruling of “Ball!”

A clear 2-3 goals to the good, the Wembley boys retired to the half time huddle feeling pretty good.

The second half was pretty much a repeat of the first – only slower.

Selfey switched with Brynna in the guts, Werners and BOM would clear, Wattsie and Prindi ran like a train up and down each wing – Prindi especially benefited from the exclusion zone afforded him under WAs hazardous emissions regulations. Werners’ commitment to the wobbling barrel was a joy to watch, if not always quite so appreciated by those on the receiving end. Jimmy, Draggers and AJ carved a swath through half forward while Muzz and Lui provided a link to Space around the goal square. Goals ensued for Space and Muzz, who was on his way to a lazy triple. When it did occasionally work its way to the rear, Mike, Boakey and Youngy just kept mopping up, Selfey ran rings round Mr XXXXL, and Simmo just barged through anything in a Freo guernsey.

With the game winding down to its inevitable conclusion, the highlight came with the final score – with the Returning Prodigal waltzing into an open goal and sending the pill soaring into the clubrooms5.

When the final siren sounded, Wembley was again on the right side of history. Only this time everyone was still upright.

Age shall not weary them, but the post-match beers with the Freo boys may have.

– John “Poobah” Phaceas

FOOTNOTES

¹ Refer to the App for details of pre-Derby wagering
² Refer to the App for Sarge and Prindi’s Saturday evening exploits
³ Those of you under 55 might need to search the BBC archives.
⁴ Don’t worry Spoons, I won’t refer to you by name just in case your missus stumbles upon this account.
⁵ Sorry Spoons – good luck keeping that from the missus, especially if anyone captured it on film.