The Premiers

They even spelled my name correctly.

The big news in trugo? Well, the competitive season has just come to a close and the motley crew from Brunswick won the championship. (That's my team, by the way.)

I'd refrained from writing more about trugo during the season. This blog is still too brief to support more cute reports about ring-chasing dogs and cranky, chain-smoking pensioners, so I held off. Things weren't looking too rosy for Brunswick anyway. Of seven teams in total, ours was fourth or fifth on the ladder, depending on the week. Only twice during the entire season did we have a complete team (eight players) present on a game day, requiring first-half players to play again the second half, and giving us a severe point handicap nearly every match [players who compete twice in the same game can score no more than 16 points out of a possible 24 their second time up].

I'd been performing fairly well for a first-seasoner, but then I ducked out of three games to fly back to the United States in September. Team captain Gerald Strachan's son Patrick plays extremely well, but due to his work schedule he'd been available only half the time. Doc is a hypochondriac and spent half the season in physicians' waiting rooms, and Gerald himself had a hernia operation and other similar internal maintenance to take care of. And at least a couple of times, certain folks just forgot to show up.

But as soon as the finals began, we started winning. Big. Weaker players suddenly found their swing and grew confident. Gerald healed. Doc became more interested in playing than in worrying. And Percy decided, apparently, that having a few beers at the pub before the game might help him limber up a little. Before we knew it, we'd beaten top dogs Port Melbourne by a healthy margin and claimed the title.

We got our Soviet-looking trophies last Thursday during a small, post-sandwich-and-coffee ceremony at South Melbourne. I'm not sure I'll be able to play next season, so this is a great way to end my first.