DozzyIs a Team Of Nobodies Really a Team?
December 17th 2008 05:30
The criteria for this elite team is simple, it is made up of misfits, forgotten duds and players with funny names or a bizarre physical appearance. Keep in mind there has been absolutely no consideration made for players with talent, unless of course the player had none at all.
These are the players that linger in the dark, forgotten corners of your mind along with Mello Yello and the fat kid from Hey Dad. Embrace them.
The Backline.
Back Pocket
Adam Heuskas would have been the first bloke nude in a social situation. Footy trips, Mad Mondays, wetting the baby’s head…Heuskas would have his kit off and doing imaginative dick tricks on the pool table before anyone else had even broken the seal. There was no doubt he had a unique glint in his eye that suggested he was nothing but a big ol’ cup of crazy. Hilarious in shady stripclubs, positively poisonous when it came to introducing your girlfriend. Quite the dashing back pocket player in his prime, and then gave it all away because he couldn’t be faaaarked. Much respect.
Full Back
Richard Champion was an absolute spit of He-Man, and I’m not just talking about his strong, muscular build, I’m referring to the facial features. Champion looked EXACTLY like the rubberised action figure after he’d been held too close to the gas heater. Speaking with elastic band seemingly permanently affixed around the testicles, Champs look liked Tarzan and sounded like Jane. Shocking on his left foot he was part of that transition Brisbane team who started off as the Bears and were all undeniably shit and somehow became the Lions and undeniably great. Weird.
Back Pocket
Some things are innate and some things are a product of one’s environment, and in the case of screaming blue murder at Mick Gayfer from the outer, it sits firmly in the latter. My dad hated Gayfer with so much passion and intensity that it was only natural that I too would fall under the spell of one of the most talentless athletes ever to take the field in an elite sporting endeavour. Gayfer’s finest asset was an ability to inspire hatred. Standing on toes, pinching, biting, reciting Mein Kampf- there was nothing this man wouldn’t do to shut down an opponent. Loved by Pies supporters as part of the drought-breaking 1990 premiership team or as most would see it ‘On Paper The Worst Premiership Team Of All Time’ (apologies to Daics, Rowdy and Pants).
Half Back Flank
Rodney Maynard was a key member of the first batch of Adelaide Crow teams that were undoubtedly the ugliest in VFL/AFL history. The early nineties was an exciting time, the national competition was expanding and fans of the game had never seen anything like what was coming out of South Australia. Theirs was a relationship with the fashion faux par that could only have been on purpose. But it soon became apparent that it wasn’t. Fire truck-red mullets and ginger moustaches were championed by the hunchback half-back and Rodney was loud and proud. His disastrous fashion sense was only the tip of the iceberg…Weideman, Anderson et al were to come.
Centre Half Back
Paul Bulluss had the coordination of a newly-born foal on rollerskates on an ice rink after ten jager bombs. It’s a miracle the Tiger backman could run through the banner without taking out half the cheer squad members in a Bradbury-type move. His hippy-like hair was a matted mess of old shoelaces, twine and pubic shavings, a unique style you can still see if you load up on cheap acid and go to the next Earthcore, or just hang around organic fruit shops in Brunswick. He is part of a long line of horribly-uncoordinated Richmond backmen including Darren Gaspar and Scotty Turner, all of whom I saw get spanked by The King in a night final around ’95. It was a strange sight watching Bulluss hopelessly chasing Carey’s tail all night, the absolute pointlessness of it all was quite overwhelming- like some poor sod putting up an umbrella in the face of a Tsunami.
Half Back Flank
John Gastev has a special place in all of our hearts doesn’t he? He wasn’t really much good, but he wasn’t really that bad either. He dashed off the half back flank delivering the pill with aplomb to no-one in particular, repelling the constant attacks on the Bears goal with limited capability. He tried hard. I guess what I’m trying to say is that Johnny Gastev gets a guersney because he had a big nose. There I said it. You were all thinking it.
These are the players that linger in the dark, forgotten corners of your mind along with Mello Yello and the fat kid from Hey Dad. Embrace them.
The Backline.
Back Pocket
Adam Heuskas would have been the first bloke nude in a social situation. Footy trips, Mad Mondays, wetting the baby’s head…Heuskas would have his kit off and doing imaginative dick tricks on the pool table before anyone else had even broken the seal. There was no doubt he had a unique glint in his eye that suggested he was nothing but a big ol’ cup of crazy. Hilarious in shady stripclubs, positively poisonous when it came to introducing your girlfriend. Quite the dashing back pocket player in his prime, and then gave it all away because he couldn’t be faaaarked. Much respect.
Full Back
Richard Champion was an absolute spit of He-Man, and I’m not just talking about his strong, muscular build, I’m referring to the facial features. Champion looked EXACTLY like the rubberised action figure after he’d been held too close to the gas heater. Speaking with elastic band seemingly permanently affixed around the testicles, Champs look liked Tarzan and sounded like Jane. Shocking on his left foot he was part of that transition Brisbane team who started off as the Bears and were all undeniably shit and somehow became the Lions and undeniably great. Weird.
He-Man
Some things are innate and some things are a product of one’s environment, and in the case of screaming blue murder at Mick Gayfer from the outer, it sits firmly in the latter. My dad hated Gayfer with so much passion and intensity that it was only natural that I too would fall under the spell of one of the most talentless athletes ever to take the field in an elite sporting endeavour. Gayfer’s finest asset was an ability to inspire hatred. Standing on toes, pinching, biting, reciting Mein Kampf- there was nothing this man wouldn’t do to shut down an opponent. Loved by Pies supporters as part of the drought-breaking 1990 premiership team or as most would see it ‘On Paper The Worst Premiership Team Of All Time’ (apologies to Daics, Rowdy and Pants).
Half Back Flank
Rodney Maynard was a key member of the first batch of Adelaide Crow teams that were undoubtedly the ugliest in VFL/AFL history. The early nineties was an exciting time, the national competition was expanding and fans of the game had never seen anything like what was coming out of South Australia. Theirs was a relationship with the fashion faux par that could only have been on purpose. But it soon became apparent that it wasn’t. Fire truck-red mullets and ginger moustaches were championed by the hunchback half-back and Rodney was loud and proud. His disastrous fashion sense was only the tip of the iceberg…Weideman, Anderson et al were to come.
Centre Half Back
Paul Bulluss had the coordination of a newly-born foal on rollerskates on an ice rink after ten jager bombs. It’s a miracle the Tiger backman could run through the banner without taking out half the cheer squad members in a Bradbury-type move. His hippy-like hair was a matted mess of old shoelaces, twine and pubic shavings, a unique style you can still see if you load up on cheap acid and go to the next Earthcore, or just hang around organic fruit shops in Brunswick. He is part of a long line of horribly-uncoordinated Richmond backmen including Darren Gaspar and Scotty Turner, all of whom I saw get spanked by The King in a night final around ’95. It was a strange sight watching Bulluss hopelessly chasing Carey’s tail all night, the absolute pointlessness of it all was quite overwhelming- like some poor sod putting up an umbrella in the face of a Tsunami.
Huuuuuuuuuuuuge dud.
Half Back Flank
John Gastev has a special place in all of our hearts doesn’t he? He wasn’t really much good, but he wasn’t really that bad either. He dashed off the half back flank delivering the pill with aplomb to no-one in particular, repelling the constant attacks on the Bears goal with limited capability. He tried hard. I guess what I’m trying to say is that Johnny Gastev gets a guersney because he had a big nose. There I said it. You were all thinking it.
John Gastev
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