Official Match Thread Season 37 Round 16 - Sin City Swamprats v Coney Island Warriors at Underground Stadium

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I'm off to a gig tonight and having multiple beverages to remember the great Dardy McCrafty.

Look after yourselves.
 
@Reginald Perrin is the one to blame here, kicking 10 behinds in the match which is the equal 4th most behinds in a game in SFA history
Brad_Hardie was literally licking my boots that day. Must have been contract renewal time.

You know, with the sim being "statistically even", you'd think big games like that would pop up every now and then in a large sample size.

bbc two what GIF by BBC
 
Is that why you call yourself the tripod? ;)
I liked when you said for my 250th recently, "Get around him" - it took the entire squad to complete the circle.
 

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OK Wazzas, today is teamsheet day but honestly I can't be arsed anymore. Doesn't matter what team we feed into the sim, it's gonna do us dirty regardless so imma outsource the teamsheet this week to Randomizor to pick the team.

I'll sort the top 20 Wazzas by match thread posting, and use those rankings as the numbers for Randomizor to choose who goes where, starting with BP and finishing with INT. The only exception is Purple7x08_24 who is the only one of us that has half a chance of All-SFA based on his qooty stats so he can stay where he is. As for the rest of us... LET'S GET RANDOM!

Here's the rankings:

1. Bob, T
2. Dinsdale
3. spudmaster
4. pantskyle
5. The Filth Wizard
6. Ocha905
7. Purple7x08_24 (staying put at HBF)
8. TheInjuryFactory
9. FootyGuy13
10. Freofalcon
11. Piggy Smalls
12. Mesc
13. zackah
14. Reginald Perrin
15. Raveneyes
16. Mofra
17. TubbsFarquhar
18. Stokey
19. toxic
20. Paracleet

Great idea cap!
Still thought the soggy sao game idea you had would've worked better.
 
Great idea cap!
Still thought the soggy sao game idea you had would've worked better.
Careful, you'll get Kilroy and the Bombers in here posting Limp Bizkit videos.
 
The Resilient Hawk
Dinsdale
---

In the rugged expanse of the Sierra Madre, where the sun scorched the earth and the wind whispered secrets to the ancient rocks, there lived a hawk named Solus. His feathers were a patchwork of grays and browns, each one a testament to battles fought and skies conquered.

Solus was no ordinary hawk. He had once soared with the eagles, danced on thermals, and hunted with precision. But life had dealt him a cruel hand. His talons were scarred from skirmishes with rival hawks, and his left wing bore a permanent kink—a reminder of a near-fatal encounter with a falcon.

Yet, Solus refused to yield. His eyes, sharp as obsidian, scanned the arid landscape for prey. The desert rabbits had grown wary of him, and the lizards darted into crevices at his approach. But hunger gnawed at his belly, and he couldn't afford to be choosy.

One blistering afternoon, Solus spotted a rattlesnake sunning itself on a boulder. Its diamond-patterned scales shimmered like liquid gold. Solus dove, talons extended, but the snake struck back. Fangs sank into his leg, injecting venom that seared through his veins.

Bruised and bloodied, Solus fought. He twisted, clawing at the snake's head. The desert floor blurred as he plummeted. But then, a miracle—the snake's grip loosened, and Solus broke free. He spiraled upward, wings straining, and landed on a rocky ledge.

His leg throbbed, and his vision dimmed. But Solus refused to surrender. He tore a strip of his own feathers to bind the wound, his beak trembling with pain. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the canyon. Solus knew he wouldn't survive the night unless he found shelter.

He hopped from rock to rock, each step a battle cry. The wind whispered encouragement—tales of other hawks who had faced adversity and triumphed. Solus pressed on, driven by sheer will. Finally, he found a crevice—a nest abandoned by a pair of ravens. It was a meager refuge, but it would suffice.

As the stars blinked into existence, Solus settled into the nest. His heartbeat slowed, and he closed his eyes. Dreams of flight filled his wounded mind—of soaring above the desert, free and unyielding.

Days turned into weeks. Solus healed, his leg growing stronger. He hunted small rodents, his talons swift and merciless. But he no longer sought the company of eagles or the thrill of high-altitude dives. Instead, he perched on the highest rocks, watching the sun rise and set, a silent witness to life's struggles.

And so, the reticent hawk became a legend. Travelers passing through the Sierra Madre spoke of Solus—the hawk who defied fate, who fought with bruised wings and bloodied beak, yet never lost sight of the sky.

---

To this day, if you listen closely, you might hear the wind carry Solus's name— whispered tribute to resilience.

---

If you desire more tales of courage or wish to explore other realms, just ask, dear seeker of stories. 🦅✨
 
The Resilient Hawk
Dinsdale
---

In the rugged expanse of the Sierra Madre, where the sun scorched the earth and the wind whispered secrets to the ancient rocks, there lived a hawk named Solus. His feathers were a patchwork of grays and browns, each one a testament to battles fought and skies conquered.

Solus was no ordinary hawk. He had once soared with the eagles, danced on thermals, and hunted with precision. But life had dealt him a cruel hand. His talons were scarred from skirmishes with rival hawks, and his left wing bore a permanent kink—a reminder of a near-fatal encounter with a falcon.

Yet, Solus refused to yield. His eyes, sharp as obsidian, scanned the arid landscape for prey. The desert rabbits had grown wary of him, and the lizards darted into crevices at his approach. But hunger gnawed at his belly, and he couldn't afford to be choosy.

One blistering afternoon, Solus spotted a rattlesnake sunning itself on a boulder. Its diamond-patterned scales shimmered like liquid gold. Solus dove, talons extended, but the snake struck back. Fangs sank into his leg, injecting venom that seared through his veins.

Bruised and bloodied, Solus fought. He twisted, clawing at the snake's head. The desert floor blurred as he plummeted. But then, a miracle—the snake's grip loosened, and Solus broke free. He spiraled upward, wings straining, and landed on a rocky ledge.

His leg throbbed, and his vision dimmed. But Solus refused to surrender. He tore a strip of his own feathers to bind the wound, his beak trembling with pain. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the canyon. Solus knew he wouldn't survive the night unless he found shelter.

He hopped from rock to rock, each step a battle cry. The wind whispered encouragement—tales of other hawks who had faced adversity and triumphed. Solus pressed on, driven by sheer will. Finally, he found a crevice—a nest abandoned by a pair of ravens. It was a meager refuge, but it would suffice.

As the stars blinked into existence, Solus settled into the nest. His heartbeat slowed, and he closed his eyes. Dreams of flight filled his wounded mind—of soaring above the desert, free and unyielding.

Days turned into weeks. Solus healed, his leg growing stronger. He hunted small rodents, his talons swift and merciless. But he no longer sought the company of eagles or the thrill of high-altitude dives. Instead, he perched on the highest rocks, watching the sun rise and set, a silent witness to life's struggles.

And so, the reticent hawk became a legend. Travelers passing through the Sierra Madre spoke of Solus—the hawk who defied fate, who fought with bruised wings and bloodied beak, yet never lost sight of the sky.

---

To this day, if you listen closely, you might hear the wind carry Solus's name— whispered tribute to resilience.

---

If you desire more tales of courage or wish to explore other realms, just ask, dear seeker of stories. 🦅✨
Nah

I just came home from Comicon

I’m all nerded out.
 
The Resilient Hawk
Dinsdale
---

In the rugged expanse of the Sierra Madre, where the sun scorched the earth and the wind whispered secrets to the ancient rocks, there lived a hawk named Solus. His feathers were a patchwork of grays and browns, each one a testament to battles fought and skies conquered.

Solus was no ordinary hawk. He had once soared with the eagles, danced on thermals, and hunted with precision. But life had dealt him a cruel hand. His talons were scarred from skirmishes with rival hawks, and his left wing bore a permanent kink—a reminder of a near-fatal encounter with a falcon.

Yet, Solus refused to yield. His eyes, sharp as obsidian, scanned the arid landscape for prey. The desert rabbits had grown wary of him, and the lizards darted into crevices at his approach. But hunger gnawed at his belly, and he couldn't afford to be choosy.

One blistering afternoon, Solus spotted a rattlesnake sunning itself on a boulder. Its diamond-patterned scales shimmered like liquid gold. Solus dove, talons extended, but the snake struck back. Fangs sank into his leg, injecting venom that seared through his veins.

Bruised and bloodied, Solus fought. He twisted, clawing at the snake's head. The desert floor blurred as he plummeted. But then, a miracle—the snake's grip loosened, and Solus broke free. He spiraled upward, wings straining, and landed on a rocky ledge.

His leg throbbed, and his vision dimmed. But Solus refused to surrender. He tore a strip of his own feathers to bind the wound, his beak trembling with pain. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the canyon. Solus knew he wouldn't survive the night unless he found shelter.

He hopped from rock to rock, each step a battle cry. The wind whispered encouragement—tales of other hawks who had faced adversity and triumphed. Solus pressed on, driven by sheer will. Finally, he found a crevice—a nest abandoned by a pair of ravens. It was a meager refuge, but it would suffice.

As the stars blinked into existence, Solus settled into the nest. His heartbeat slowed, and he closed his eyes. Dreams of flight filled his wounded mind—of soaring above the desert, free and unyielding.

Days turned into weeks. Solus healed, his leg growing stronger. He hunted small rodents, his talons swift and merciless. But he no longer sought the company of eagles or the thrill of high-altitude dives. Instead, he perched on the highest rocks, watching the sun rise and set, a silent witness to life's struggles.

And so, the reticent hawk became a legend. Travelers passing through the Sierra Madre spoke of Solus—the hawk who defied fate, who fought with bruised wings and bloodied beak, yet never lost sight of the sky.

---

To this day, if you listen closely, you might hear the wind carry Solus's name— whispered tribute to resilience.

---

If you desire more tales of courage or wish to explore other realms, just ask, dear seeker of stories. 🦅✨
If you need a publisher I recommend Tonga Bob's House of Books.

They've released 2 best-sellers of mine.

Keep the stories coming.
 

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