Jets Journal

JETS JOURNAL
The newsletter of the RAAF Williamtown Jets AFC Survivors

Back Again in 2010.

Well, after a lengthy sojourn, the Journal has been reprised, as opposed to rising from the dead. When the idea of a reunion was first mooted, excitement welled in a lot of hearts, as well as stomachs, at the prospect of catching up with long lost colleagues. From humble beginnings around a kitchen table, obviously over a cleansing ale or 6, Keg Halton and Angus Tanner, with sensible support from Colleen and Lily, the Jets Organising Committee (JOC) drove the plan of a Jets reunion from a pipedream to reality.
Much like the Diaspora of times long past, the Jets had scattered to the four corners of the continent, and in the case of some (e.g. Freidy, Boksy), to far flung Outer Mongolia and PNG. Over the months, through painstaking groundwork by the JOC (now including Horse Davis), the circle of contacts gradually expanded outwards, much like ripples in a pond – Keg chucking pebbles again? Months passed as details were finalised, contacts exchanged, photos and memorabilia from times long past were provided. Some disturbing evidence, thought long buried, appeared….
Eventually, plans fell into place and the reunion was set for the AFL Grand Final weekend. Everything was set, monies paid, venues set, the only concern was; would we recognise each other..........
I won’t bore you with details but as this is a reprised Journal, we shall follow in the tradition of a time more innocent…..Jets?!?!? Innocent…?!?! With an editorial (of sorts), match reports (here...reports of the weekends events), followed by a preview of the next game….here a preview of the next event. Oh, and the ubiquitous Aunty Norah’s Column.
Some details of events over the weekend have been lost already to the mists of time, but I’ll do my best to record accurately, however what is written is the ‘official’ account of events and no further correspondence will be entered into. Until next we meet, that is....
A massive thank you to Keg, Angus, Horse, Colleen and Lily for not only initiating the idea of Jets Reunions, but following it through from conception to birth and like proud parents stood back and viewed the gathering with justifiable pride.
A lot has been written, by a number of correspondents since that weekend, all with a similar theme: we had something special at the Jets and it was obvious over the weekend that that something special had not diminished over time.
Thanks to all the gang who travelled from all over to attend, especially Freidy for travelling from Ulan Bator to get to Surfers. One paradise to another.
A huge thanks to Thommo and Bosy for taking on the challenge of organising the next Reunion – ‘Delve into 2012’ – in Newcastle. Best of luck, lads……

GURAN


Game One – Friday 24th September

The venue, the Surfers Paradise RSL, was a terrific choice as it was situated close to the centre of Surfers. The JOC (Jets Organising Committee) had done well and the RSL had also come to the party by booking us onto the Anzac Deck, allowing for plenty of room to move around.
As far as recognising each other, we had no reason to fear, we hadn’t changed…THAT much….
From the outset, it was like nothing had changed – I think it’s a reflection of our ADF experiences - conversations were picked up as if it was only yesterday or last week that we had last seen each other; partners were introduced, photos of children were proudly displayed and in some cases, children were proudly introduced.
The drinks flowed freely, the food kept coming and tales were told akin to old fishermen, the catch was getting larger; i.e. the goals were getting longer, the marks higher, the tackles fiercer, the list of pubs kicked out of larger...
Past members were in the forefront of our thoughts, including Tassie, Steve, JP, Dog, Gibbo and even big Bill…And those not present were ritually lambasted.
The highlight of the evening was the questionnaire; where the microphone went around the room and Jets had to respond to 5 questions; the most important (in the context of the weekend) being what the Jets meant to us, on and off the field. There were a number of emotional responses and….it felt good….
Horse had put together a terrific memento for the evening, a CD including 1987 Grand Final paraphernalia, copies of the old Journals and those dreaded photos…..memories…
Before we knew it, time was called….and there was still drinking money left in the till…age had indeed wearied us….Anyway, onto the Grand Final….



Game Two – Saturday 25th September

The JOC had finally settled on the Southport Surf Club for the gang to watch the AFL Grand Final – apparently only a short walk from accommodation (more on that aspect later). Most people had gathered by midday and the drinks were starting to flow. Colleen had the forethought to put the remaining till money over the bar and organise wrist bands for us…our very own Big Day Out? The beer and wine was starting to flow easier and easier as the big moment approached. Come bounce down the Surf Club was jam packed and jumping. The atmosphere was awesome. We were spread over three or four tables, with the girls holding court in the corner. It was just like days of old. Enough has been written of the Grand Final No 1, however our greater concern was the bar tab running out just as Goddard was making like a real Saint – heaven bound – heaven sent. The result was as devastating to the Jets as it was to the actual participants – how the hell were we going to pay out on Eddo now??? With that empty feeling inside, the group slowly disbanded to all corners of Surfers to partake in some local culinary delights and sate that emptiness.


Game Three – Sunday 26th September

The day dawned beautifully, beautiful one day, perfect the next (unless you were a Virgin flyer). JOC had organised the Northcliff Surf Club for breakfast and what a venue. Sun shining, beach glimmering and sunnies everywhere. Just about everybody made it to breakfast, some slightly later than others, and like everything else on the Coast, breakfast was huuugggeeee. The most important event of the morning then took place – the inaugural handing over of the baton (well, a $2 bottle of 25 year old Spumante) from the Gold Coast JOC to the Newcastle JOC (Bosy and Thommo). And the Reunion credo was chanted – “We shall gather in two years time, at a time and place of their (NJOC) choosing.” After breakfast had eventually been digested, the gang gathered for one final photo call and Groobs finally succumbed to that annoying distraction of an open bar and no one partaking. A round of drinks was quickly arranged – did we really need more alcohol???? Apparently, we did….

The crew eventually disbanded for some sight seeing, or seeing sights from bars….


Memoirs of an Old Jet
Not sure, but I think there maybe some poetic licence here. Ed.
"Remember in the early days, when not only were the Jets supporters and players eagerly awaiting their weekly edition of the Jets Journal but also the management committee of the NAFL would wait for their copy to mysteriously arrive. At one point in time, if they wanted to know what was going on in the League they needed to read the Jets Journal to find out. I remember at one stage they were looking in the Journal for information, trying to find out who was supposed to be starting the new team out at Woodberry (a rumour that Eddo and Lambsie started down in the 77SQN supply hut)." I actually remember a NAFL committee person ringing one week because they had not received a copy. It was a late edition as Guran had drunk too much of the jungle juice on the weekend and was too sick to get the Journal out on time."


Aunty Norah’s Column
Aah, for the sake of a conversation recorder….so many events that were consigned to memory, only to be lost in the fog of forgetfulness.
Eddo was again in form, arriving fashionably late to the Friday reunion. Apparently, he had been geographically embarrassed – even after scoping out the RSL earlier in the day. Gail was less than impressed. Everyone else was merely accepting.
Nice…er….satchel, Lambsie…
And what night would be complete without the ritual humiliation of Collingwood and their supporters.
Friday night was largely free of controversy as we warmly regaled each other of events long past and in some cases, to paraphrase Tolkein, events that should have been forgotten, weren’t.....
A quote about Keg overheard from anonymous – him again?!?: “He has a mind like a steel trap – rusty and illegal in 5 States.” I guess for anonymous – read Roger Senior.
And Colleen….old habits die hard. Even with the application of busy body name tags (who needs them we thought???)…managed to call Bosy…’Huggie’. Not once or twice…but all weekend. Well, I guess those two were…are in similar shape….round is a shape… and Colleen could be forgiven for such a simple (?!?) error.
However, here Jets culture (?!?) raised its ugly head. I don’t know why we bothered with name tags as Colleen continued to call Groobs’ brother Barry…’Bob’ …all weekend. Although the vast majority of Jets picked up on this early, including Angus, we allowed the mistake to compound as Colleen constantly wondered why ‘Bob’ wouldn’t respond to her calls. No, not ignorance on ‘Bob’s’ part, Colleen, more like fun on ours. Blame Angus.
Saturday, JOC had advised all that the Southport Surf Club was only a short walk from the town centre. Yeah, nice one centurion – a short walk for whom…..Jane Saville?? Disqualify me so I can catch a cab. And one couldn’t even make a pub crawl out of it….Sheesh!
Whose bright idea was it to bring a footy to a footy occasion? Geoff??? Produce a footy, with beer being imbibed, and before you know it – kick to kick is on. Luckily, the open area was only 30 metres in length and tree lined to stop any wayward disposals. Any wayward disposals???? From my vantage point, Woodsy (trees) was the main possession gatherer. Packs were forming but, discretion proved the better part of valour and spines remained intact. Thankfully, the fearful war cry of “Whiiittteeeeyyyy’ssss Bbbaaalllll!” was not to be heard.
No prior!
Did we (they) learn their lesson after returning to rest weary bones…an emphatic NO! At halftime of the game, with more alcohol under their collective belts, they who should know better went for another round of kicking to trees. Abilities were being seriously confused with expectations. Well, apart from Eddo (Queeennnnnsssslander type – not the other one), Geoff, Thommo and Clint who displayed they had lost little of their silky skills.
Tanya was being mercilessly sledged by a grommet, strangely enough, dressed in black. However, Tanya responded with a great display of dexterity by running onto a handpass (What!?!) (Why!?!), getting away a stab pass – largely unplanned – performed a barrel roll, again largely unplanned and retiring to the bar dignity (unlike his body) intact. Folks, he’s a Tiger supporter – that don’t know the meaning of the word – dignity. But then, Tiger supporters don’t know the meaning of quite a few words.
Angus and General arrived and threw back to an even earlier time – kicking barefoot. That lasted all of one (attempted) torp. I think time was called at that point as Thommo, Clint and Geoff jogged back to the club, with Eddo and Doug limping further behind. Cursed knees.
No prior!
The girls had remained at their table, conning any passing unsuspecting Jet to replace their empty wine bottles – the wine was certainly flowing freely. So freely in fact, that Mandy took pity on Eddo and decided to come to his aid and cheer on Collingwood….just how many bottles had you had, Mandy??? It is almost an unwritten law in Australian society: all neutrals can support any Club, in any code, apart from Manly and Collingwood. However, Eddo was happy for the support.
Speaking of the short one, why was he hanging off Bosy’s coat tails all afternoon? Hero worship? – hardly. Free beer? – it was already free, fool. No, for some reason Bosy had become his talisman and strangely enough, whenever Eddo was at his back the ‘Pies were in the hunt. The sight of Bosy running(?!?) around the Club with Eddo closely in tow, disturbingly remains in the memory.
Dodgy vindaloo, Avis?
Freidy showed he had lost none of his football cognisance by holding court and regaling all who were interested in the delights of Mongolian culture, during the most exciting second half of football in living (?!?) memory. We were interested – but not at that time. As usual, timing remains Freidy’s forte. Not!
No prior!
Following is an account from Lambsie – who was roundly abused for not fronting to the Grand Final – and this account is a poor excuse for a distinct lack of drive, funnily enough, largely caused by his injury. Softcoque!

Aftermath to a Jets Reunion:

Having to leave the Jets Reunion on the Gold Coast early on the Saturday morning (6am) after an extremely painful sleep experience, young Lambsie proceeded home to receive an inadequate massage treatment on his calf muscles which had troubled him so much on the Friday night after the reunion. Part 1 of the story documents what happened following a visit to the doctor and subsequent referral to a physiotherapist, - Part 2 is the latest follow on to the first visit to the physiotherapist. I felt like Bart Simpson (ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow - failure to learn young Simpson)

Story Part 1 - 29 September 10
Being an old footballer yourself and having, one would suspect, a number of injury treatments over the years, I thought I would share this with you as I have just experienced a whole new level of physiotherapy pain.
My doctor sent me to physio to get my calves looked at and or treated after last weekends episode down the coast.
I should have known something was up when the physio asked me if I had ever heard of "dry needles". Of course I said no.
The second clue when he said "now I just have to get this release, consent form for you to sign".
The third clue - when going through the release form and we came to the question of whether or not the treatment was painful and he wrote, in big capitals, YES.
Somehow I missed all the hints and went ahead with the treatment.
Dry needles are acupuncture needles that they use but instead of just going in a little way into the skin they actually penetrate deep down right into the muscle. I now know how people levitate because I was hovering about 6 inches above the physio's table . It was not so much the needle going in (which was painful enough the deeper it went in) but the fact that once it was in that he then had to tap each needle for about 8 seconds causing even more pain.
I had twelve needles in total - 6 in each leg. It does seem to have partially worked however I think I am on a hiding to nothing when I go back because I think no matter what I say (yeah it worked or yeah it half worked of no - it didn't seem to work that good) he is going to want to do it again. YEOW. He reckons I just have knots all through my calves and the acupuncture needle will help release the knots and improve the blood flow and circulation in the calves.
And all from trying to get fit in old age. Don't do it lads. Stay unhealthy.
Story Part 2 - 4 October 10
Still not "getting" it, last night I went back to the physiotherapist.
I walked in and he said "how are you". I replied: "is there any answer I can give you that will mean that I don't get any more needles poked into my calves". He just smiled and said "No".
So the pain began again, only this time he decided that seeing as I handled it so well last time (ha ha) that he would try some extra needles this time. This time he used 16 needles in total, 8 needles in each leg. After the treatment I asked him how long the needles were that he was putting in my leg. Here are the stats he provided:
40mm long acupuncture needles of which he pushes in 39mm of the needle - right into the calf muscle. He said that he has to be a bit careful with the longer needles (50mm, 70mm) as they can tend to bend instead of going straight in and he has to do it again then. The 40mm ones are good (most of the time).
I managed to drive home last night although the erratic use of the accelerator (which seemed to match the trembling and pulsing in the calves) meant that I used twice as much petrol as I would normally use. I nearly had to spend the night in the chair at the computer as later, when I tried to get up, my legs would not work and it took me 55 seconds to be able to get them to work to take the first step.

Older age is so much fun
Lambsie
Folks, if anything, Lambsie (like Groobs), has largely led his life as a warning to society. Heed the message.
Sunday was largely and respectfully quiet – until Groobs decided enough was enough and unsolicited, initiated a shout – Oh dear….it was on again. Eddo wimped out, had one drink and bolted to town, speaking of softcoques, but the hardcore (!?!) settled into another afternoon of imbibing.

Until next time…..

Prick of the Week
What would a Journal be, without the time honoured POW. This time around we have a few nominations:
Colleen, obviously, (although would that mean we have to amend the title?) for not bothering with name tags and choosing to call people whatever she wanted to call them – easier on the memory, I s’pose;
Eddo, for disgracefully leaving the bar without completing his obligations, i.e. not shouting his round. Shopping with Gail is a poor, poor excuse. Poor, poor form as well; Groobs – for being Groobs, awesome stamina to remain inebriated all weekend (“We are not worthy”),
And Keg Halton, with Horse all weekend…all weekend, spruiking the availability of the Jets CD and carting copious copies from venue to venue, asking all and sundry to ensure they had their copy. All weekend Keg was nodding away – yep, got mine….only to arrive at the end of the weekend, with Horse returning home to realise he hadn’t collected his copy. Doh!...Close to POW but no cigar.
The winner this time ‘round is…….(drum roll)……..

Jacko –
Not only for leaving early on Friday night – or was it still evening? - but also not managing to make it to breakfast on Sunday. One breakfast in 23 years and you couldn’t get there ?!? Even Avis, after driving the porcelain bus, managed to get there. What can we say…..you Prick…

Next Week’s Game – (Next Event)
Delve into 2012
With the ritual handing over of the baton, Bosy and Thommo (NJOC) have bravely accepted the challenge of organising the next reunion. Many venues and options were discussed on the Sunday and I’m sure the lads will more than rise to the occasion – albeit they have huge shoes to fill.
Details will be entered onto the blog – another Colleen Tanner initiative –as they come to hand. The ball is rolling and perpetual (e)motion is the driving force. Roll on Newcastle…..