Finally back online after a hard week of no computer and no communication. I took the Machine of Overheated Death to an admittedly unauthorised mechanic [I think, but it is more than likely that that is the case. Hey, I'm Malaysian.] who rather skirted the problem instead of dealing with the actual situation. Rather than tightening the cord socket, which would have been a lengthy and rather expensive procedure, the mechanic fixed a bigger head to the cord to lessen the jiggling. If the mountain won't come to Muhammad...still, it is a partial solution. I'll just hope this holds out until December when I get home.

Finally after a win and a draw, the Offsiders have won big! 6-0 to be exact, giving some poor hapless yet somehow superiorly complex team the hiding they deserve. It just had to be the Socialists at the end of it, really. Coming up against what was supposed to be our toughest opposition [same number of players, same white Aussies, different uniforms] the team finally answered all the questions asked of it. Of course it helped that some of the players who helped answer those questions weren't even in the original team, but fed up of being perpetually short on numbers, we finally made the decision to draft in outside players, Gabriel asking two Peruvian friends whom we knew from the field to help bolster the squad.

Being truly blessed in turnout, we had eleven players to toy with, and with skill to match we were able to run the opposition ragged by continually bringing fresh feet into the game. Change of tactic also helped our cause. Playing a considerably faster-paced game featuring three attackers and continuous running we managed to outpace the lumbering Aussies, who were reduced to frustrated tactics and a single shot on target, a weak long range shot which a cross-eyed ADD-suffering leper on hallucinogens would've saved comfortably bobbling neatly into our keeper's arms. With the pace of our three forwards, and a cohesive midfield-defence, the Socialists had no answer, and we were 2-0 up by halftime, both being scored by Gabriel, who went on to score another two. It might have been seven, but the ball was going in as the referee was blowing the whistle so I doubt it counted.

It feels good to be part of a winning side. To get all hippy about it, it's nice to see a collective effort pay off. No one is bigger than the other in a team, and it's good to see we now have the best possible platform to build on for the next game. Finally I can put up the squad team picture. Without further ado, I present The Offsiders.

Gabriel [furthest right] slots past the RamRod keeper to make it 1-1. Cue all hell poor finishing and bad luck for the last 9 minutes.

Does it really matter if the mainstay of your social life goes up in a smoking, malodorous conflagration? How much would it affect you if the main form of communication you utilised went up in flames? I reckon I never really considered these questions, in fact I chuckled when I heard on news last week that Dell Computers was initiating the world's biggest ever recall of electronic equipment after laptops in several countries started bursting into flames due to faulty batteries.

Now a sense of deja vu envelops me as I send my laptop in for repairs. The cause? A dead battery. And worse, an overly loose cord connection socket which leaves the plug hanging loosely around the metal bit, causing sparking and leaving my bedroom smelling like combusted plastic. And yes I am aware of the danger it causes to the laptop and the house. I am typing this very entry on the current Instrument of Electro-Doom...

We had our second league game on the weekend. Team Ramrod [the "creative input" that goes into the creation of these names kinda makes you long for the oppressive uniformising dictatorial regime of Stalinist Russia. Not in that way...ish] were the opposition, a near carbon copy of the last team with the exception that some of the players were actually good. Still, the chastening loss hit us hard and we were determined not to let ourselves become pushovers for the second week running. So going down 1-0 in the first 30 seconds was not really in the plan. Still we tightened up admirably, and there was a better cohesion between the midfield and the defense.

Nine minutes into the second half we made the breakthrough, and it had to be Gabriel. Taking a long ball down he outran two defenders from the halfway line, sidestepped another as he cut in towards the right post and drew the goalkeeper three steps off his line before tucking it into the far post. Suddenly it was all Offsiders as our team made attack after attack. The opposition barely got a touch, and we must have had at least seven or eight good opportunities to seal a win. In the end poor shooting and luck was against us, and we scraped the draw. Still, it was a vast improvement from the previous week, and we can be rather happy with our general performance. Up next, Socialist Soccer [???!!!W???T??!!!F??!!] =P

Haven't updated for some time, been busy lately. And lazy. Just lazy. Fine. Nothing of note has happened really, as I undergo the quotidian part of my existence routinely and unflinchingly [is a student's life really as boring as it sounds? Yes. Yes it is]. Until Sunday that is.

Remember the league? After being stood up in the first week [a mix-up in booking times by UQ Sport meant the event was called off], we finally played our first game, and duly lost 3-0. First day blues and blurs you might think, except when the comparisons are weighed, The Offsiders really had no excuse. Firstly, the football team we played against were everything but. Even the name Havoc With Hiddick [sic] betrayed their real make-up: a team of big-boned Aussies averaging 6 feet 2 who seriously looked like they came directly out of an AFL team. To get all Simon Cowell about it, they had basic skills, were out of shape [one begged the ref for half-time with 10 minutes gone], no cohesion as a team, rudimentary knowledge of the rules and a cool arrogance to boot. Their redeeming factors were their size and the fact that they at least knew how to kick, and even though we were all very much smaller, we really should have run rings around them. Instead, we looked disjointed and cowed.

Secondly, we have had multiple trainings in the past couple of weeks, trying to groom everyone into shape and work on their form and positioning. Of all the trainings we have had, only seven of the team have consistently showed up, and the seven unsurprisingly were the ones who, incident and personal reason aside, made it on the day. Maybe people really are that busy, or maybe people don't yet realise the effort Gabriel has invested in this endeavour. Whatever the reason, people just don't commit to training. We have made it clear that while we are playing for fun, we still aim to play well. This is the mentality that has to be present in a ragtag throw-together team such as ours. How can a person enjoy playing when they're losing 3-0? Granted we are for the most part, short on skills and fitness, but that's what training is for. I for one have utilised Gabriel's training faithfully, and while I know I'm not even nearly there, I can see I have improved. In a sense one could loosely divide this team into two halves, the Committeds and the Non-Committeds. The former seems to want to improve the team learn to play well, get some sort of cohesion and have fun winning, while the latter seems more inclined to just show up on the day and 'just have fun'. I'll leave whoever knows these people who's reading this to judge for themselves. It speaks volumes for the teamwork of this squad that I have been unable to put up the squad photo on this site. I'll be sincerely harsh, if we couldn't even come together for a 40 minute game, let's forget all notions of progressing anywhere, and call this the biggest waste of everyone's 50 dollars.

As it happened, we lost, and lost badly to what must certainly be the weakest team in the group. We can have few excuses for what transpired that day. Defence-wise, we held pretty firm, and were maybe unlucky to be 1-0 down at half-time, having restricted the oposition to long-range pot-shots. However it has to be said that every one of the goals we conceded were down to sloppiness in the defence, the last one an especially bad piece of marking allowing their striker a free run on goal from an over the top long ball. It is said that greatness is built on a solid platform, and on the day, ours was shakier than the Mid-Atlantic Faultline. I raise my hand and volunteer that I didn't do as well as I would've pleased, but I can definitely say I marked better than just about anyone, and when I left in the second half the marking fell apart altogether.

Midfield is another real worry: it just wasn't there. Whilst the opponent's shortcomings allowed our disjointedness in midfield without adequately punishing it, it worries me as to what will happen when we face better, more cohesive opponents. We may be excused however for the fact that our first-choice central midfielder didn't show up, forcing our central defender to effectively have to do two jobs. Up front was really the team's only strength, with Gabriel orchestrating everything. The strikers were incisive and had more shots on target than I remember. The strikers in truth suffered from a lack of supply from midfield, with Gabriel literally having to run back in order to run forward. Another painful reality was that none of the team, apart from the strikers, ran. Personally this was down to first-day nervousness more than anything. I felt stiff in my position and was unwilling to leave it. Even when I had a chance to maybe run upfield and create something, I didn't for want of sticking to the gameplan and not leaving any holes in the back. The rest of us may have felt the same, but we will need to definitely find a system in which we can conjoin and play in a flow.

In truth we couldn't really complain. This was a result worthy of our efforts and we can only hope for a swift improvement by the next game. But what can you do about a team with no subs, cannot pass, can't defend, and cannot run?

We had our first football training yesterday, and again today. If ever there was a word so exponential in its quantity as to be infinite used to describe pain, I wish it'd been invented sooner. Just about every muscle is responding to a three-year slumber, for so long have they not been stretched and pulled in the manner that they were. Worst of all, my previously held assumptions about my stamina were found to have been sorely misplaced. Many questions were asked about the quality of my fitness these past two days, and I have to say I failed to answer them.

In case you, the reader, have forgotten, I and several friends have formed a team to participate in UQ's seven-a-side league. This was really the house's idea, as in my housemates', and as passionate supporters of sporting play, we aim to take this endeavour in full seriousness. My Mexican housemate Gabriel took it upon himself to organise and coach the team, being the most experienced in these matters. Whilst many would say that they'd only play for kickabout's sake, Gabriel always has been a passionate advocate of the notion that to really enjoy the game is to play it properly. In no way trying to embiggen my friend's profile, I have to say Gabriel is the most professional amateur player I have ever met. True, he has the experience and skills, but there's a determination about the guy that would drive any dedicated team on, and his effervescence motivated the rest of the house to take up football, in my case, again.

It must be said that Gabriel is the best possible type of trainer. He had identified my [and other team-mates'] weakpoints as to be in the fitness sector and has immediately set about correcting that. The last two training sessions have been entirely dedicated to impoving fitness and stamina with less emphasis on ball skills. It was never designed to be easy, and thinking about it I can see Gabriel's point. We paid $50 each to play a team game, and it would be a waste of money and a letdown for ourselves and others if we play a shit game.

In this manner football reflects life. Doing one's best equates to making life better for oneself and others. Okay, maybe it would be idealistic and an unnecessary stress to aim to simply be the best, but constantly striving to be better is alwats important, and with that in mind, why would it be so difficult to be the best? Shortchanging oneself would only lead to letting oneself down, and even more importantly, letting down the people around one who are counting on a good performance. Me? I know I'm not the best, and with my deficiencies physiologically speaking I probably never will be, but I now have a chance to work in a team, and contribute to a collective effort. This is my challenge, and I'm grateful to Gabriel and the rest for giving me a chance to try my best and make a difference. Here's to, The Offsiders!