The Mill Park Tropics are a fascinating bunch. They’re a compilation of utmost diversity, sounding out in the working-class pulse that is the heartbeat of Melbourne’s upper north. Tonight, in absence of Basketball, we are going to dive into the ocean of life that characterises such an interesting colony of men
When observing the Tropics, something strikes you quite early about the team. That is, on all but one occasion do the players share similar career paths, or a designated field.
In a league stacked full of carpenter franchises, Uni-student teams, and the likes, it is the tropics mix-and-mash nature that makes them stand out from the pack.
We have Cuthbert, a 6-ft springbok who works the furthest from his nose, that is, down on the ground. The Captain of the Tropics can be found at the height of summer, out in unshaded fields and scorching under the sun as he lay artificial turf to the soil. If its 6 months the latter, you will see him frozen at his fingertips as he burrows crushed rock from front to back.
Catch him on a Monday night and you will quickly notice the kind of steady foundations he lays on the game for his boys in the beach blue and sandy gold.
Head a little further down the road and you might pass an industrial zone, dedicated to millions of consumer goods, on track to pre-determined destinations. At the heart of the cog is Romano. He manages the logistics of the ever-intensifying world of parcel and packing. Up in the early hours, the heel scuffing bull is out of the gates and stamping out the shit.
Wander by on a Monday night, and you will find him at it for the Tropics, as he links even more connections between offense and defence…for his boys in the beach blue and sandy gold.
If you are on a road then no doubt, you’re passing some major marketing billboards. Without the signs and signals that regulate our city, we are merely lost in our own chaos. Who do you call when the signs gonna fall? You call Tall Paul of course. Out on the road and in the concrete slipstreams of the highway winds, this smooth mover puts himself up where angels fear to tread.
Follow the signs to stardom and you’ll land yourself in the Stables Centre. On a Monday night, you bet it, Tall Paul is on that court, and you better believe it when you see him up there working on those boards…for his boys in the beach blue and sandy gold.
Those highways and signs are lost to history if the people using them cannot read. Every road leads to a destination, and this next guy is out there fuelling that journey. Stevie J Tsonas, chalk in hand and living under a pile of paperwork, dedicates his life to the future of tomorrow. If he isn’t inspiring your kid, then I’m sorry to break it to you, but you must be raising a teaspoon.
After he’s done handing out knowledge balls, you’ll find him on a Monday night handing out assists…to his boys in the beach blue and sandy gold.
No major city can function without a rapid communications network. As we move toward a digital dystopia and an inevitable singularity of our species, JJ Wanless is gonna be just one ‘quick right click’ away. He is a pixel eating mammal that can’t be controlled by the unified concept of time. Up at all hours of the night, decoding, algorithmizing or just plain old proxy wall demolishing. This literal live-wire is out there unjumbling your cables and strengthening the cities vital connections.
Trace the cord back to its socket on a Monday night, and you’ll find him defying the laws of convention as he throws hail-Marys from deep…for the amusement of his boys in the beach blue and sandy gold.
You can’t count a winning score without the walking calculators from redleap house. Macali and Krause are punching keys from day to dawn, sifting out the tax-dodgers and corporate free-loading that infects our love for free-agency.
They refer to themselves as Mr. Plus and Minus. Follow their records for long enough, and you too, will find a correlation out on a Monday night. No boys in the beach blue and sandy gold are complete without the cross-calculations of Krause and Macali.
So, they are a slapdash fantasy come to life. A group of misfit men who seem to defy logic and forge a cohesion of total solidarity.
A fourth lockdown isn’t a sneeze on a team made of this kind of armour.
For a warrior who may carry only one sword, will eventually have to live and die on it.
Anonymous Onlooker – WISPA Media