Event 10: El Grand Finale

The Grand Finale of the 2008 Mancathlon – “Karaoke” – was held at A’isha Bar on Saturday 15th November and was attended by the following Mancathletes:
Shane Munro, Dr Todd Keenan, Jason Gregg, Brydon Price, Gareth Ballard, Josh Short, Rodney MacFarlane, Duncan Reynolds, Gavin Marshall, Leighton Agnew, Stuart Brooke, AJ Sutton, Simon Judkins, Conrad Blight, Dr Kirk Stevens, Thomas Rowe & Simon Watson.
In the year 2007 The Mancathlon concluded in a fiery explosion of creativity; in which pheromone-soaked polyester shirts and tight whiskey-stained trousers instantly immolated amidst the sheer, blazing heat of performance. 10 brave Mancathletes clambered high atop the Karaoke stage and poured out their bright burning hearts for a fervently passionate audience of Mancathlon fans. But now in 2008 a full 17 competitors would clasp the cold microphone in their shaking, sweaty hands and do everything within their powers to convince the gathered audience that they were K-Man Number 1, Hitachi! As twilight fell on Auckland City, the subterranean bar began to fill with strange looking men in tight jeans, tight corduroys and tight leather pants. Was this AKL’s hottest new gay bar? Or was it ground zero for an impending explosion of heterosexual charisma & showmanship that would send shockwaves of machismo rippling out across the city, causing women as far away as Whangaparoa to collapse on their sofas, trembling in spontaneous orgasm?
It was the second one.
1. Shane Munro – “I Walk The Line” by Johnny Cash
From Frank Sinatra to Prince and now onto Johnny Cash; Veteran Mancathlete Shane Munro had made his Mancathlon Karaoke career resurrecting the great musical icons of the 20th Century. But this year’s ‘Man in Black’ was a truly inspired choice for the big Fijian. Shane was steady rocking the dark clothes & demeanor of J.R. Cash and had gone as far as becoming addicted to amphetamines & barbiturates in the weeks leading up to the comp, showing true dedication to the character. He swaggered on stage, sneering & looking around at the folks in the audience “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash” he said and launched into the bona fide rockabilly classic. He was the first man to step up to the plate but he showed nothing in the way of nerves, just like the man himself Shane was cool, calm & in command. That sweet 1-Pointer from the Truck Pull had eased his troubled mind, he was clear of the loser’s trophy and free to get down with a little rock n’ roll. The reward for his labours? A booming send off from a hugely impressed audience as El Grand Finale got underway in style…
Average Rating: 5.75
2. Dr Todd Keenan – “We Built This City” by Starship
As the thin, watery synths of this 80’s megahit began to wash over the crowd, a dynamo of a man leapt onto the stage and proceeded to tear it to pieces with his flamboyant showmanship. Decked out in a huge 80’s hair-metal wig, braces and the ubiquitous tight pants; Dr Todd had metamorphosed from mild-mannered chiropractor to sex-crazed rock n’ roll demigod. “We built, We built this City!!” he belted out, arms launching & flailing into the air, he spun around & rocked a little white man booty-dancing, he dropped to his knees, he leapt back up & did a jump kick, he sung until his lungs bled & his spine blew out his back. In short, he made damn sure that any man that followed Dr Todd Keenan would have to work hard for those sweet, sweet Mancathlon Points because he had just set the new standard for on-stage commitment. He whipped the crowd into a frenzy with his vocal & physical stylings; women were throwing panties, men were hurling chairs, and up on the bar shelves, bottles of flaming dog juice were exploding from the cataclysmic force of Todd’s performance. After such an ass-shattering recital this early in the piece, the big questions on everybody’s minds were could this shit possibly be topped? And who the f*ck was Marconi and why was he playing the Mamba?
Average Rating: 7.23 (2 Mancathlon Points earned)
3. Jason Gregg – “Suspicious Minds” by Elvis Presley
Jason Gregg, the big Canadian who had travelled halfway across the world just to take on The Mancathlon was feeling good. With a point on the board from the Creation of Fire he had a little distance from the loser’s trophy, his Elvis outfit was snug & shiny and his fake pompadour was rising proudly; plus he’d been practicing in the shower all week. He had practiced a number of things in the shower that week but one of them was singing “Suspicious Minds” and it was this activity that would bear the most fruit in this night’s contest. Prior to the comp he’d had a Fool’s Gold Loaf & 2 bottles of Dom Perignon choppered in to the roof of the bar & consumed them while receiving a deep tissue massage to ensure that the nutrients would enter every pore of this body. Now up on stage with the jangling chords of the intro ringing out from the speakers he began to move his hips a little, he started to shake & grind as he channeled the King of Rock N Roll. And then he erupted into song, his rich baritone voice filling the room. Soon the man was in full flight, sweat pouring from his forehead in sheets, arms rotating, hips gyrating, in fact the whole shebang was gyrating as Jason whipped out everything he had and gave it to the audience. And still they wanted more! Finally with the thunderous applause ringing in his ears, Jason stepped from the stage & collapsed onto a the satin sheets of a heart shaped bed with two midgets, a bottle of tequila and a peanut butter sandwich.
Average Rating: 6.76
4. Brydon Price – “I Can’t Get No (Satisfaction)” by The Rolling Stones
Mr Price had mounted one hell of a campaign in 2008. After a devastating loss in ’07 he had rebuilt his entire body piece by piece, quitting the durries, hitting the gym, sexual yoga, wind tunnel training, the whole nine yards. His newfound physical vigour & commitment had paid big dividends and saw him coming into the final event in 4th place, a thousand miles away from any danger of the loser’s trophy. There was no just way this man was gonna turn down any challenge though & despite being tone deaf in both ears, his mouth and his left leg, he was damn sure going to get up on that stage & pour his heart out. Casually attired but wearing a wry smile, Price climbed atop the lofty stage, flicked on the mike and launched into what can only be described as not the definitive version of “I Can’t Get No (Satisfaction)”. His easy going manner & understated demeanor were not ideal for the rigors of Mancathlon Karaoke and his performance was later likened to Mick Jagger, on valium, in a swimming pool, of custard. A highly admirable performance for a Mancathlete clearly well outside his comfort zone but not enough to earn the hearts & minds of this discerning crowd…
Average Rating: 3.96
5. Gareth Ballard – “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” by Kiss
Gary Ballard comes from Marton. In Marton they do not wear dresses, tight pants, sing songs or cavort on stage. They look after farms and they’re good bastards and they enjoy a beer after a hard day’s work. So this event was not an easy one for this competitor but when the stakes are this high a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. The stakes in question were the I Lost The Mancathlon ’08 Trophy which Gary was in serious danger of inheriting…the dark reflection of Big Chiefdom, the shameful secret of the Mighty Mancathlon. He’d got off to a good start costume wise, the audience appreciated any man willing to force his body into a tight lycra embrace and adorn his face in the sexual war paint of Gene Simmons. He’d been downing beer after delicious, ice-cold beer throughout the afternoon as part of his Dutch preparation but now it was time to sing for his supper, to appeal to the gathered audience with the only two weapons in his arsenal – his voice and his moves. Like many Mancathletes he started a little slow, working his way through nerves & cold windpipes but once that chorus hit he started going for the gusto, pulling out some huge high notes as facilitated by the tight lycra pants. He was belting that shit out, throwing it all on the line. And when he started drunkenly disentangling himself from his shirt it caused the crowd of female admirers to start screaming in rapture; hurling underwear, birth control pills and bottles of Asti Spumante onto the stage. Determined to avoid the loser’s trophy Gareth was just about to whip out his balls and wave em around like Jim Morrison when the song mercifully ended…
Average Rating: 6.65
6. Josh Short – “All These Things That I’ve Done” by The Killers
Much to his chagrin Josh Short had been forced to miss the Grand Finale in 07 when he had to dump a couple of hooker’s bodies for Justin Timberlake. Now in ’08 he was 100% good to go baby, ready to unleash his good vibrations en masse to an unsuspecting world. He started slow, but once he warmed up it was a beautiful thing! He threw his tex-mexican ensemble around the stage with giddy abandon, channeling Brandon Flowers to huge success. The dude was into it, he was totally amped and the audience could taste the taste the electricity. “I got soul but I’m not a soldier” came the echo. He hit those notes with a velvet hammer and the audience responded to his passionate performance as he came off stage to rapturous applause & spontaneous man hugs all round. Shorty! Shorty!
Average Rating: 7.05 (1 Mancathlon Point earned)
7. Rodney MacFarlane – “All Night Long (All Night)” by Lionel Ritchie
Rodney MacFarlane. Smooth. Loverman. Sexual Moustache. White Chocolate. Yes, on Saturday 15th November in the year 2008 he came to encapsulate all these words and more. Number one big sexy with a bullet. He was the perfect understated Commodores frontman with a moustache whose sheer perfection could only be acheived with a black vivid, a steady right hand and a mirror. Let’s be honest, he hadn’t had a huge Mancathlon season. But with a ten-pound snake and half a million in the bank Rodders had nothing to prove, he was there just to rock out to some sweet soul music and that’s exactly what he did. The man didn’t move around a whole lot he just sang with a beautiful melody, a winning smile and let his vocals do the talking. The audience lapped it up, singing along, waving their hands, cheering & shouting for this smooth soul brother. How long could Rodder’s keep up this vocal perfection? All Night Long…
Average Rating: 7.36 (4 Mancathlon Points earned)
8. Duncan Reynolds – “Desire” by U2
Who could forget the massive “Working Class Man” of Karaoke 2007? Coming out of nowhere to UTTERLY DEVASTATE all other competitors in the previous year’s competition, Duncan had thrown up some serious expectations for the West Coast’s Finest Son. After a huge success in Enormous By Easter he had derailed his true Champagne Campaign in 2008 by boneassing his foot through all that newfound physical exertion. He’d locked in “Blaze of Glory”, the thunderous Bon Jovi standard as his last ditch effort to avoid a Mancathlon loss but when he found out it was gonna be a Jovi back-to-back he volunteered for a switch to Bono’s bombastic ’88 hit and f*ck if he wasn’t going to give it everything he had. Sadly, despite a huge stage presence, a strong cadre of female support and a freshly waxed belly Dunc was just not able to recreate that which was unrecreatable. The first of the evening’s competitors to suffer from random & debilitating microphone issues, Duncan was inextricably handicapped by the bad mic and wasn’t able to let his true genius flow like it needed to flow; straight from his heart to the audience. No one can deny that D.R. is Greymouth’s finest musical export but despite guts, glory, leather pants & innate vocal ability this was not destined be his finest hour…
Average Rating: 6.47
9. Gavin Marshall – “Wanted: Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi
Gavin Marsall had had himself a pretty good inaugural Mancathlon. His strong jaw & physical approach had seen him amassing a solid 10 points of pure Masculinity throughout the comp, but Gav was not the kind of soldier to rest on his laurels. He was the kind of soldier to rock up on stage in a tight cowboy outfit, fake hairdo & in a high-pitched scream declare himself Wanted: Dead or Alive! For all those who thought Gav wouldn’t have the chops to rock out on an 80’s monster hit it was a sharp wake up call. The man was surprisingly awesome, and even when the exact notes eluded him the spirit and passion did not. He was a cowboy, and on a steel horse he rode. It was clear that he had been practicing because like many singers that night he was not beholden to the monitor to spoon fed him the lyrics, he had that shit down cold. He sang with conviction and by the end of his track you truly believed that he’d seen a million faces and he’d rocked them all! ‘Cos he’d rocked at least 3 faces that week and would probably rock at least 2 more that night…
Average Rating: 6.97
10. Leighton Agnew – “Paint It Black” by The Rolling Stones
With so much drama in the L.B.C. it’s kind of hard being Leight D O double G. Well ain’t that the damn truth. Here’s a man who put it all on the line in his quest for greatness in The Mancathlon 2008, physically, mentally and sexually. Now with the final at his fingertips he was utterly exhausted; his precious bodily fluids drained, his Masculinity utterly desiccated by his monstrously passionate drive for Big Chiefdom. It took a gargantuan effort to wrestle the Trophy off the imcumbent Stu Beef, and now with 23 Mancathlon Points on the board, Leighton’s body was finally cracking under the strain. Nevertheless this awesome competitor had managed to secure a superior bowl cut, pour himself into some borrowed ladies’ jeans and gear up to rock out on some mid-60’s Rolling Stones savagery. There was no doubt that the man had some moves, he strutted, he pouted, he chicken-danced. But with a head-cold burning up his sinuses he just didn’t have it in the sing-song department. He was the 2nd Jagger in the night’s triumvirate of Stone’s Rollers and while he took the audience on a sweet little journey it just wasn’t enough to shake them all night long. That would have to wait until the next competitor.
Average Rating: 4.84
11. Stuart Brooke – “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC
Stu “Beef” Brooke. The Big Chief for a full 2 years running had already left an incredible legacy in The Mancathlon. This ultracompetitive sumbitch was known for his late-season runs in which he threw his incredible physicality & resolution headlong into the World’s Mightiest Contest. His previous Ka-ra-o-ke entries, “Roxanne” by The Police and “Rain” by Dragon had been characterized by his sheer unyielding dedication to a single note expelled loudly and with massive, massive commitment. This year was no exception but the difference was he chose the exact perfect song for his roustabout style, the best bogan love song ever…”You Shook Me All Night Long” by Acca Dacca. Oh yeaaahhh!! Launching into the hard-rockin’ Aussie classic with typical abandon, Stu Beef stalked around the stage like a bogan possessed, roaring out the verse & chorus like he had gravel in his lungs, not settling for anything less than 11 on the dial at any stage ever! The crowd responded in kind, chanting along to the chorus with incredible fervour, carrying Stu on a wave on enthusiasm to a massive 5-Point Win in this truly Marquee Event.
Average Rating:  7.56 (5 Mancathlon Points earned)
12. AJ Sutton – “Wild Thing” by The Troggs
Having endured two losses in two consecutive Mancathlon Karaoke years, AJ Sutton was out to prove a point. AJ knew he had the showmanship, the creativity, the flamboyance to rock the party the way it needed to be rocked. He just had to find the right song. Having initially tapped the soaring “Eye of the Tiger” for his ’08 Anthem, he changed his mind at the last minute to the Trogg’s ’66 hit “Wild Thing” with it’s large, effusive chorus and singalong verses. It still had potential to go horribly wrong and to descend into a toneless morass but Sutton was not gonna let that happen! Bedecked in faux chainmail shirt, fur shoulders and spray on jeans, AJ threw his vocal cords into the song, singing with gay abandon. Truly the Most Improved Player by a long shot; AJ told the story with passion, with a dynamic narrative and with sheer vocal commitment. As the song reached a rousing climax so did his many female fans, throwing their heads back in pure, wanton release as L.L. Sutton coaxed them to ever higher plateaus of sensual release. Boo-yakka sha!!
Average Rating: 5.32
13. Simon Judkins – “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor
Judkins arrived at the venue looking dapper in a James Bond tuxedo. He left with his ass bruised from the rough ministrations of a dozen drunken hussies. What happened in between? Twas a clandestine strategy enacted by this master of the big gay surprise that involved hiding an incredibly flamboyant & sequined cocktail dress and foot-high, pink beehive wig under the Karaoke stage ready to be unleashed on an unsuspecting audience. Simon had been wracked by indecision in the leadup to the Karaoke, living in the engorged shadow of his previous year’s performance as the “sweet transvestite” Dr Frank N. Furter. After missing out on both “I Was Made for Lovin’ You” & “White Wedding” he decided that it was time to suit up once more for a little cross-dressing action, he pretended to be disappointed about this, for a second. As he emerged from the bathroom after “taping it down”, he strode confidently to the stage atop 6-inch heels cutting a swath through the crowd to the tune of wolf-whistles & cat-calls, he grabbed the mic and launched into it. “At first I was afraid I was petrified, I never thought that I could live without you by my side”. He sung with trademark panache but something was going horribly wrong, it wasn’t the tape coming undone, it was the microphone – it was cutting in and out, the levels were wrong, something, you couldn’t hear the man! He was visibly frustrated but like a true professional he kept shaking his groove thing and working the crowd. Look out for “It’s Raining Men” in ’09.
Average Rating:  5.67
14. Conrad Blight – “Miss You” by The Rolling Stones
Rico was good to go man. He had that 80’s look that he loved so well, he’d polished his forehead up, he had all the lyrics memorized, and he had the slow, sexy blues of the Rolling Stones ready to ooze out from the powerful P.A. system. But as the song kicked off he just seemed a little nervous, a little tentative, he wasn’t throwing himself into it like he needed to if he was gonna rock out with the big guns amidst this heady competition. Then came the inflection point, he hit a couple of huge notes a third of the way through, relaxed into it and proceeded to explode all over the audience with his unique brand of showmanship and funky white man dancing. He tore off his jacket and strutted around the stage, never once looking back at the monitor, he sung, he roared, he yelped and boogied, he made sweet love to the stage, he got the crowd singing along. A perennial crowdpleaser Mr Blight, and he did not disappoint in ’08.
Average Rating:  7.25 (3 Mancathlon Points earned)
15. Dr Kirk Stevens – “White Wedding” by Billy Idol
Part of the new breed of Doctoral Mancathletes who had come in and shaken up The Majestic Contest with their singular dedication, Dr Kirk was not afraid of a challenge. That said, Stevens was clearly outside his comfort zone in this one but like so many times this year the man punched well above his weight, or height as the case may be. Clad in leather, with silver painted hair and a chromed out jesus piece, Kirk was not only looking the part but once the chiming guitars of this 80’s rock classic kicked in he started singing it loud and bringing the sexual thunder with furious abandon. He had his sneer down, he had his fist pump going strong, he stalked around stage commanding attention at all times, striking poses, getting low and bringing it back up for the big notes, roaring and howling his way to a savage climax “It’s a nice day to staaarrtt aggaaaaaiiinn!!!”. More Idol than Idol!
Average Rating:  6.88
16. Thomas Rowe – “Faith” by George Michael
Discovered nervously hanging out in the men’s toilets prior to the event, Thom Rowe was getting in character. The 7 foot tall builder had busted out his best stonewash jeans for the evening and ripped holes in the knees (George Michael recommends knee pads), got himself a sweet leather jacket, shades and a crucifix earring and now it was time to show the audience exactly what he was made of. His stage persona was bang on – he rocked it hard, shaking & baking, moving & grooving, the big man was unstoppable on the dancefloor. He was only let down by his somewhat tuneless performance but that can be attributed to repeated ear infections from his many years of synchronized swimming. A huge end to a huge performance in The Mancathlon ’08 that would see him tie for 2nd place overall in his inaugural season, next stop…Big Chief ’09?
Average Rating:  5.09
17. Simon Watson – “Mr Brightside” by The Killers
Walking in the shadow of Josh’s huge rendition of the earlier Killers track was a tough ask for this nuggety contender. But Watson put on a brave & soulful performance for the energized crowd and they loved him for it. Ringing out the competition in style, Reg was looking smooth as a silkworm in a satin sheet and threw everything he had into the task at hand. As the final chords soared from the speakers and Reg took a bow before the audience, they erupted in a massive round of applause that seemed as though it would never end…
Average Rating:  5.41
And just like that it was over.
The officials collected the voting forms & retired to a dark corner of the bar with half a dozen iphones & some cold beers to work through the huge stack of voting forms, crunching numbers and clutching their heads in pain as they tried to statistically balance the late arrivals. The Mancathletes relaxed, their ordeal over, and set about clinking a few glasses together & reminiscing about a hugely entertaining season, a true step up for The Manacthlon once again. Then Rico jumped back on the mic and it was time for the Prizegiving – in which legends are made, efforts commended & for one man, dreams shattered. First up it was congratulations to the winners of the evening’s comp, especially Brooke and MacFarlane who had truly blown away the competition with their Balls Out Rock and Smooth Soul Funk respectively. Next up, the Little Trophy, the I Lost the Mancathlon ’08 Trophy which goes to the man who just couldn’t drag himself off the bottom of the points table in a highly competitive season, Gareth came up to receive the tiny cup with appropriate stoicism, vowing revenge in 2009. Then the Spirit of The Mancathlon – for the man who best embodied the finer aspects of the contest throughout the season, this year it was Blight who would be voted the honour by a jury of his peers for his behind the scenes service to competition. And finally the big one, the one the world was waiting for – as the new Big Chief 2008 Leighton Agnew stepped up on stage to receive Sport’s Entertainment’s Richest Prize, the Mighty Mancathlon Trophy. After a massive effort that saw him dominant in Orienteering, Assault Course, Creation of Fire, Truck Pull and Beer Brewing, he had ended the season a full 7 Mancathlon points ahead of his nearest competitors. He held the cup high above his head in victory, Shannah came running up on stage & jumped into Leighton’s arms, they embraced, the Big Chief & his woman both wearing womens’ jeans at the end of an incredible 3rd season of The Mancathlon with the applause ringing in their ears. That’s what it’s all about!!
Meanwhile however, Garyland had become a violent & troubled place. Something was tearing at Gary’s insides, a terrible suspicion that justice had not been served & that the tiny trophy was not his due after such a righteous last-ditch performance. He took the loser’s trophy out into the alleyway & smashed it with a brick, he howled at the moon in animal pain & frustration. Storming back inside he mounted a furious appeal with the Mancathlon Events Committee. A gross error had occurred during the Awards Ceremony, Ballard was in fact not alone at the bottom of the points table but was joined by fellow Mancathlete Duncan Reynolds who been unable to replicate his massive success of the previous year’s final. The big question now, what kind of Lose-Off be could be rapidly convened to resolve this case? A rap battle to “Shook Ones Part 2”? An interpretive dance hoedown? A boat race with pint glasses of tequila? After some heated debate it was elected that the man with the lowest Karaoke score would be this year’s unfortunate underachiever so we went back to the score sheet to let the people decide. And so it was that Duncan Reynolds, by a mere 0.18 rating lost out to Gary’s topless onslaught in the evening’s comp and thusly was awarded the I Lost The Mancathlon ’08 Trophy…well in theory anyway, Gareth had drunkenly lost the trophy somewhere in the bar.
Thank you’s go to Paul Orion & A’isha Bar for their hosting with the mosting. Thanks to Big Dan B for stepping up to the plate as Emergency M.C. in his inimitable stylee. A big ol’ thank you to Guy T. for his sweet work on event photography & on the fantastic Mancathlon website. A hugemongous thank you to Staines for his photographic skills & commitment throughout the season, he is a truly integral member of the Mancathlon family & a good sumbitch to boot. Thanks go to all the good people who came along to the Grand Finale and partied, voted, laughed at us & with us – you made it the legendary event it was.
Ladies & Gentlemen, The Mancathlon 2009 beckons, watch this space…
2008 MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE
Leighton “The Big Chief” Agnew (23)
Stuart Brooke (16)
Thomas Rowe (16)
Conrad Blight (14)
Simon Judkins (13)
Brydon Price (11.5)
Jared Trail (11)
Gavin Marshall (10)
Phillip Guthrie (10)
Dr Todd Keenan (8)
AJ Sutton (8)
Dr Kirk Stevens (8)
Rodney MacFarlane (7)
Josh Short (5)
Simon Watson (2.5)
Shane Munro (1)
Jason Gregg (1)
Gareth Ballard (0)
Duncan Reynolds (0)
The following Mancathletes were absent from Event Ten:
Phillip Guthrie & Jared Trail

GRAND FINALE PHOTOS

K Box Madness

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Bonus Round: The Brew-Off

The Bonus Round of the 2008 Mancathlon – “The Brew-Off” – was held in AJ’s Backyard on Sunday 9th November and was contested by the following Mancathletes:
Brydon Price, Rodney MacFarlane, AJ Sutton, Thomas Rowe, Conrad Blight, Gareth Ballard, Leighton Agnew, Dr Kirk Stevens, Stuart Brooke & Simon Judkins. 
Pulling a 2.5 tonne truck loaded with tyres across a carpark, now that shit’s 100% guaranteed to bring a man’s thirst on. And what better way to quench that raging desire for liquid refreshment than with a delicious, icy cold homebrew. Mmmm. Thinking about it right now aintcha? Uh-huh, that’s right, you are…
This year’s bonus round spanned the entire length of the Mancathlon competition, with 10 Mancathletes taking up the challenge in their garages, kitchens & subterranean mancaves. Brew kits were purchased, research undertaken (beer was drunk), equipment sterilised, water boiled, malts & yeasts added, watches watched as days went by, brews bubbling passionately within fermenters, then bottles were bottled and finally came the waiting game as beers matured & conditioned over the many weeks of tough, Mancathletic competition. Questions raced constantly through the highly-tuned minds of these elite sportsmen… Would my brew look & taste like gritty horse piss? Or would it emerge as a thing of vast, incredible deliciousness? Is 5 days prior to the comp enough time for my lager to mature in bottle? Can I get pregnant from a spa pool? 
On a fine November’s day, the 10 amateur brewmasters assembled in a Grey Lynn backyard while their beers sat chilling to perfection in the enormous Icy Tek Chillmaster 3000 and the 3 heavyweight Celebrity Judges were arrayed before them shuffling notes, sharpening pencils & cleansing their palettes with vodka, steel wool & toothbrushes. The concept behind the judging panel was powerfully simple – Judge 1 was Natasha – “A Pro Brewer”, Judge 2 was Rachel – “A Homebrew Expert” & Judge 3 was the venerable Uncle Marty – “A Good Man Who Likes A Cold Beer”. The judges would appraise each beer in turn, based on the following 5 categories (each one out of 10 points) – Aroma, Appearance, Taste, Aftertaste and True to Type (a.k.a. How well it represented the style it purported to be). 
Each competitor strode forward one by one according to the randomised draw, with shaking hands and sweat soaked foreheads, to present their boozy labour of love to our incorruptible judges. Included below are each judge’s total points out of a possible 50 as well as their commentary on each man’s brew. Where comments were illegible, stars are included in their place.
1. Brydon Price – Pilsener
Judge 1: Good honey notes, slight hops, lacking in bitterness for a Pilsener. Finish a little rough. Too ***** on pour, cloudy. Not too bad for a home brew though. 26/50
Judge 2: Lively honeyed aroma, slightly cloudy, good body & balanced. Amazing label. 38/50
Judge 3: Predictably good. 33/50
Total: 97  (1 Mancathlon Point earned)
2. Rodney MacFarlane – Brown Ale
Judge 1: Harsh vinegar / acetone aroma/ Good ***** cloudy – lacking head retention. Bit flat. Touch thin in body with rough vinegary finish. Better luck next year though. :-)  18/50
Judge 2: Pleasant nutty aroma, long finish, balanced. A little light bodied. 36/50
Judge 3: Seems very genuine. 32/50
Total: 86
3. AJ Sutton – Indian Pale Ale
Judge 1: Great clarity, good head retention, CO2 – great not too ***** flat. Good hoppy aroma, good bitterness in keeping with a Pale Ale. Slightly rough vinegar finish. 34/50
Judge 2: Tastes like a summer edition spiced ale. Nice balance, nice body. 33/50
Judge 3: So much better than Tui East Indian Pale Ale. 33/50
Total: 100  (2 Mancathlon Points earned)
4. Thomas Rowe – Lager
Judge 1: Harsh green apples, acealehyde, **** like aroma. Great appearance, head. Clarity a little off. Harsh after taste, and powerful vinegar taste. 22/50
Judge 2: Burnt kind of aroma, body ok, quite lively. 39/50
Judge 3: Prefer others to this but don’t dismiss. 26/50
Total: 87
5. Conrad Blight – Indian Pale Ale
Judge 1: Cloudy, lacking in head, nice hoppy aroma, tad thin in body, slight bitterness from hops but not enough for a Pale Ale. Finish a tad rough. 28/50
Judge 2: Quite cloudy, not unpleasant flavour. Probably would improve with age. 25/50
Judge 3: Seems like a very nice drop. Wish I had this years ago. 39/50
Total: 92
6. Gareth Ballard – Mexican Cerveza
Judge 1: Good clarity & head attention, harsh vinegar cider aroma & taste. Good body. After taste o.k. 23/50
Judge 2: Good clarity, a little hoppy, good body. 32/50
Judge 3: Could spend some time with this but not in Mexico. 33/50
Total: 88
7. Leighton Agnew – Continental Pilsener
Judge 1: Quite *****, head retention v. good. Good clarity, good hoppy aroma, good body, clean crisp taste – good after *****. Excellent – could be a bit more bitter for a Pilsener. 36/50
Judge 2: Big head. Great balance and flavour. 42/50
Judge 3: Thanks for coming in. 34/50
Total: 112  (4 Mancathlon Points earned)
8. Dr Kirk Stevens – Lager
Judge 1: Good clarity, head retention good on pour, collapses away. Harsh acetone / vinegar in aroma. Thin, vinegary, sour after taste. O.k. Great label. :-) 23/50
Judge 2: Big head. Ok flavour. Not so balanced. 30/50
Judge 3: Just what the Doctor prescribed. 35/50
Total: 88
9. Stuart Brooke – All Malt Red Ale
Judge 1: Great red colour, good clarity, head retention o.k but collapsed away too soon. Good dark malty aroma with background hops, full body, good clean finish. Excellent. 41/50
Judge 2: Very pleasant slightly nutty flavour. Lacking head. Good body & balance. 37/50
Judge 3: Good malty taste. 36/50
Total: 114  (5 Mancathlon Points earned)
10. Simon Judkins – NZ Wheat Beer
Judge 1: Great head retention, great colour, good cloudiness. Slight orangey, yeasty aroma in keeping with wheat beer. Unfortunately masked heavily by harsh vinegary / acetone notes. Nice finish. 29/50
Judge 2: Quite malty for a wheat. Initial flavour true to type. 38/50
Judge 3: We shouldn’t have to drink Whitbier in Berlin. More of this. 36/50
Total: 103  (3 Mancathlon Points earned)
Thanks go out to AJ & his flatmates for hosting us in their lush Grey Lynn backyard. Extra Special Thanks go to our 3 Celebrity Judges – Natasha, Rachel & Uncle Marty, who gave freely of their time & expertise; ingesting our homebrew with brave faces, fixed grins & appropriate professional dignity at all times. Cheers!
MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE [After Nine Events & One Bonus Round]
Agnew (23)
Rowe (16)
Judkins (13)
Price (11.5)
Brooke (11)
Trail (11)
Blight (11)
Marshall (10)
Guthrie (10)
Sutton (8)
Stevens (8)
Keenan (6)
Short (4)
MacFarlane (3)
Watson (2.5)
Munro (1)
Gregg (1)
Reynolds (0)
Ballard (0)
The following Mancathletes prefer wine, or maybe a nice shandy on a hot day:
Jared Trail, Gavin Marshall, Phillip Guthrie, Dr Todd Keenan, Josh Short, Simon Watson, Shane Munro, Jason Gregg & Duncan Reynolds.  

Event 9: The Truck Pull

The Ninth Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “The Truck Pull” – was held at ASB Showgrounds on Sunday 9th November and was attended by the following Mancathletes:

Jared Trail, Leighton Agnew, Jason Gregg, Dr Kirk Stevens, Shane Munro, Gavin Marshall, Josh Short, Dr Todd Keenan, Stuart Brooke, Brydon Price, Conrad Blight, Simon Watson, AJ Sutton, Thomas Rowe & Gareth Ballard. 

What do you get when you combine 2.5 tonnes of 1979 Chevrolet Scottsdale Pick-Up Truck loaded with 20 car tyres with 40 metres of carpark and huge amounts of manpride in the late stages of the Mancathlon ’08? You my friend have got yourself a recipe for one of the purest contests of masculinity yet seen in This Majestic Competition. And that’s exactly how it went down in Greenlane on a really, really ridiculously good looking day, with the sun beating down and random punters from the Tent Show looking on in disbelief. Big Marty Clist was on hand to rig strops to the front axle of this powerful machine which would then be a hooked to a harness that would be worn by each Mancathlete as he attempted to drag this American beast across the burning asphalt & over the finish line. 
Jared Trail had come roaring into the parking lot, his brand new 1500 CC Hog tearing fissures in the atmosphere & causing small worm holes to eddy around the carpark sucking trash & road cones into them. Weighing in at 150 kgs, 7 feet tall & covered in tattoos, Trail was clearly the event favourite for the Truck Pull bar one thing, the Randomizer. How many times had Mancathletes cursed this august institution, which the Events Committee used to ensure the general disadvantage of going first was shared around amongst the field? Trail had psyched himself out about it, undermining his own potency, telling himself that his time would not hold over 14 other pulls as other competitors chased his early benchmark. Then Marty called it, the pull was on, Trail heaved into action, straining against the strops. For a second, nothing at all. And then slowly, the truck began to roll forward. The Beast kept straining against his leash, dragging himself determinedly toward the finish line in kind of a Baywatch slow-mo until finally he was there, crossing the line in 25.9 secs, chest heaving with exertion, face pained and his entire head glowing bright red. 
Next up on the block, Leighton Agnew. A powerful competitor in 2008, Agnew had proven himself adept & extraordinarily focused across a wide spectrum of events. Now at Event #9 and at the head of the pack points-wise he could almost taste the cold domestic lager in that giant Big Chief Trophy at the Grand Finale. But he would have to earn it by God and at this point The Mancathlon was still anyone’s game with a host of hungry competitors breathing down his neck. Well maybe not Munnas & Gary’s game, but Rowe & Judkins were looking dangerous & the Big Chief Stu Beef could never be discounted. Leights strapped himself in, strolled confidently to the start line, crouched in a sprinter’s posture and then… erupted in an incredible display of power & speed, swiftly getting a roll on and then proceeding to drag the Chevy at a real good clip, straining forward & hot stepping his way across the finish line in 22.8 secs. Cot Damn!!
Jason Gregg, the big Canadian with a big heart, but would he have the big balls required drag this sumbitch across the line? Jase came off the starting blocks like a maniac & did not stop; he was screaming wildly, body all askance on one side, a look of pure, focused insanity stapled to his eyeballs. It was an awesome sight to behold & got him over the top in just over 30 secs. Dr Kirk was next, concerned that his stature (or lack thereof) would place him at a disadvantage, he needn’t have worried. The Animal that won “Enormous By Easter” was back and grinding hard across the asphalt carpark crossing over at just a hair past 30 secs in very respectable form. Kirk was followed by a couple more of the big guns of Event 9 with Munro & Marshall stepping up to the plate. Both men exhibited extremely powerful pulls, tugging hard across the point of no return to highly explosive finishes, a look of pure satisfaction etched upon their exhausted faces. This was truly tug-artistry of the highest calibre. 
Short & Keenan both placed respectable times in the early 30’s, with Short’s “Battlecry!” and Keenan’s quiet intensity showing some of the various mental techniques employed by Mancathletes to maintain peak optimal focus. Next up, Stu Beef, the reigning Big Chief & physical juggernaut. Stu was determined to come hard in this event but a slow start could not be overcome by a powerful second half and at 28.1 secs, points were looking anything but secure for Beef. Meanwhile Brydon Price was suiting up, getting ready for his pull. The wily journeyman had rebounded from a savage loss in the ’07 Season to become one of the success stories of ’08, the durries had been ditched, the gym had become his second home and now he was to put a little of that new found power into this rough & tumble event. Price had an interesting technique, arms stayed hanging prone in front of him while he steady powered down the course with his legs alone, but that consistency paid dividends for the man who would cross the line in a very respectable 34.1 secs. Next up was Rico. Would Blight’s height confer on him a similar advantage to the lofty Agnew? In a word, no. He struggled hopelessly at the opening of his pull, spending a full 5 seconds getting any movement at all from the big truck, yes, he was clearly lacking the fire in his loins, possibly from a surfeit of soy products in his diet. Once he got the f*cker up to speed he had good technique on the run but it just wasn’t enough, he crossed the line in 36.2 secs wailing and gnashing his teeth in regret. 
Reg Watson had observed the prevailing technique of going forwards and decided that it just wasn’t for him. He was gonna go backwards. Reg flipped the script on the whole event by turning around and slowly, consistently dragging the truck backwards in a tug-of-war style. Would this be the innovation that would catapult him to greatness in Event 9? No, it would not. But it enabled the canny battler to put up a decent mid-range time at 32.2 secs. The next man on was 3 year-veteran AJ Sutton. AJ was going to use the physical conditioning acquired by countless hours of athletic lovemaking to his full advantage in this event. But something happened on the way to Mancathlon gold, Sutton just wasn’t able to keep that big truck moving like he needed to and he crossed the line with a somewhat flaccid 34.2 seconds. Thom Rowe stepped up next to show us how a real man pulls a truck. One of the few Mancathletes to work outdoors in a physical job Rowe was looking good to take away a few points in this one. And take ’em he did, throwing up a real solid time of 24.9 secs & rushing himself into 3rd place just behind Marshall & Agnew. 
One last Mancathlete stepped up & strapped in. Gareth Ballard. The stakes were high for Gary, as both he and Shane knew all too well. Both men were sitting on a big, round zero down at the bad end of the Mancathlon Points Table & were in very real danger of taking out the “I Lost The Mancathlon ’08” Trophy. Munro’s pull of 26.9 seconds had him currently in 5th place and with the one sweet, sweet Mancathlon Point that would accompany this placing. Gary looked focused. Gary looked angry. But Gary took 38.7 seconds to cross the line as he shifted through a veritable kama sutra of different truck-dragging techniques, and that just was not gonna do it. Munro whipped out some cardboard & did a celebratory backspin, points on the board baby! Points on the board…
Thanks are due Hayden & Lisa for sitting inside the hot, steamy Scottsdale as it was dragged back & forth across the lot, and to the blokes from ASB Showground for letting us use the location. Extra Special Thanks are due to Marty for his rigging equipment, professional expertise & je ne sais quoi and to Alistair who lives down the block from me & was amenable when a total stranger rocked up to borrow his Chevy for a Truck Pulling Competition, awesome. 

 

# Mancathlete Time Points
1 Jared Trail 25.9 2
2 Leighton Agnew 22.8 5
3 Jason Gregg 30.7  
4 Dr Kirk Stevens 30.1  
5 Shane Munro 26.9 1
6 Gavin Marshall 24.1 4
7 Josh Short 31.6  
8 Dr Todd Keenan 31.1  
9 Stuart Brooke 28.1  
10 Brydon Price 34.1  
11 Conrad Blight 36.2  
12 Simon Watson 32.2  
13 AJ Sutton 34.2  
14 Thomas Rowe 24.9 3
15 Gareth Ballard 38.7  
MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE [After Nine Events]
Agnew (19)
Rowe (16)
Trail (11)
Blight (11)
Price (10.5)
Marshall (10)
Judkins (10)
Guthrie (10)
Stevens (8)
Sutton (6)
Brooke (6)
Keenan (6)
Short (4)
MacFarlane (3)
Watson (2.5)
Munro (1)
Gregg (1)
Reynolds (0)
Ballard (0)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 9:
Rodney MacFarlane, Duncan Reynolds, Simon Judkins & Phillip “In Absentia” Guthrie.

EVENT 9 PHOTOS

Le Beef

 

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Event 8: The Race

The Eighth Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “The Race” – was held in The West on Sunday 9th November and was attended by the following Mancathletes:

Simon Watson, Dr Kirk Stevens, Brydon Price, Gareth Ballard, Stuart Brooke, Simon Judkins, AJ Sutton, Josh Short, Conrad Blight, Shane Munro, Gavin Marshall, Jared Trail, Thomas Rowe, Dr Todd Keenan, Leighton Agnew & Wild Card Caleb Staines. 

One fine day in the Western Suburbs; in a nondescript warehouse down a barren cul-de-sac past knock shops & greasy lunch bars, Fifteen Mancathletes and One Wild Card donned racing suits, hair nets and battered helmets, rubbed talcum powder on their hands, sipped from secreted bottles of Russian Sock Whiskey, visualised the sharp curves of the track, repeated inspirational mantras to themselves softly “I’m the shit…I’m the shit man!”, punched walls in the carpark, bench pressed cinder blocks or snuck off to the bathroom to “relax themselves” prior to “The Race”. The Mancathlon was long overdue for a little Motorsports action. Driving around in circles in one direction for hours at a time and ending up exactly where you started in a bizarre exercise of pointlessness may not seem like the kind of activity engaged in by a man. But hey, tell it to Steve McQueen bitches! Just don’t make him claw his way out if his buried Pontiac and fly over to New Zealand to rough you up some, ‘cos that’ll just make him angry. 

Anyways, inside the warehouse wound several kms of narrow track, brutal corners and treacherously flowing chicanes. And in the pit stop sat an ornery collection of nasty looking old beasts, war-horse Go-Karts that had endured countless years of abuse – constantly revved, constantly skidding and frequently smashing into opponents & obstacles with brutish impact. It was now up to these 15 Mancathletes to navigate these rickety death-traps at speeds of up to 400 kmph around this savage infinity loop. 
The ever-controversial Randomizer had decided the 2 race draws that were issued earlier in the week. Messrs Watson through Short were first up on the block and it was incumbent on these 8 Mancathletes to lay down some serious times on the track, for they would have no right of reply. Each group had 2 practice laps then 2 x 7-Minute Timed Races to get the job done. The only rules of the track were don’t smash the other karts, if you’re too slow pull over for the guy behind you (suuuure) and slow down to walking speed if the yellow lights went on around the track. 
The first group went off like maniacs from the start line, tearassing around the track with slightly frenzied looks of concentration contorting their faces and their hands locked like deathgrips on the shuddering steering wheels. Not a man out there was gonna give inch, nobody was pulling over for noone and slowing down to walking speed was just not going to happen. The race officials seemed to give up, the big fella with the tats throwing down his flag in disgust. From the stands it was pretty hard to tell who was gaining the upper hand, Reg certainly looked the part until he was pulled off and reprimanded for failing to stop or slow down at any stage ever. One thing was sure though, Round 1 rode their karts just as hard as they would ride. Once the two races had elapsed & the racers clambered from them, their karts looked like shadows of their former selves, broken and smoking and talking about the war. Reg’s kart looked especially busted up, great clouds of evaporated clutch & gear particles swirling up from it, his unorthodox technique of simultaneously braking & accelerating at all times had taken it’s toll…
Round 2 came out of the gate with a point to prove – there was no way in hell those Round 1 jabronis were gonna get all those Precious Mancathlon Points. And so they tore off from the starting line, throwing themselves into corners, tearing down straights, muscling past each other in the constant battle for position. Until, Trail got a good nudge on Blight around a corner, sending him spinning out of control around a corner and on went the yellow light. This time round the race officials weren’t taking no for answer, they were reasserting their authority & that yellow light was going on & staying on until every driver on the track was driving at speeds that couldn’t crack an eggshell. And that yellow light seemed to be constantly on. Constantly dammit!
Somehow, someway though the canny Thomas “Bus” Rowe, driving the aggressively comported Kart # 9, managed to scoop that sweet 5-pointer with an impressive average fastest lap speed of 45.23 secs. Followed closely by one Mr AJ Sutton who piloted Kart # 9 across the line in the 1st Group with a blistering average time of 45.72 secs. In the 46 second range were drivers Dr Kirk Stevens, Stuart Brooke and Leighton Agnew all showing skills on the track to become the other points scoring Mancathletes in “The Race”. In summary I would like to conclude that racing shit is fun and that The Mancathlon kicks ass. The End. 
“I feel like I got a pile of cattle chasing my ass, and I’m peddling as hard as I can to stay in front of ’em. I’m looking behind me driving like hell.”
– Rusty Wallace

 

 

# Mancathlete Kart # Average Fastest Lap Speed Placing Mancathlon Points
1 Simon Watson 7 47.09 7th  
2 Dr Kirk Stevens 21 46.50 3rd 3
3 Brydon Price 5 46.99 6th  
4 Gareth Ballard 2 49.05 12th  
5 Stuart Brooke 8 46.52 4th 2
6 Simon Judkins 1 48.51 11th  
7 AJ Sutton 9 45.72 2nd 4
8 Josh Short 11 47.82 8th  
9 Conrad Blight 18 49.57 14th  
10 Shane Munro 8 49.21 13th  
11 Gavin Marshall 11 48.07 9th  
12 Jared Trail 21 48.22 10th  
13 Thomas Rowe 9 45.23 1st 5
14 Dr Todd Keenan 19 52.09 16th  
15 Leighton Agnew 2 46.96 5th 1
16 Wild Card C. Staines 5 49.65 15th
MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE [After Eight Events]
Agnew (14)
Rowe (13)
Blight (11)
Price (10.5)
Judkins (10)
Guthrie (10)
Trail (9)
Stevens (8)
Sutton (6)
Brooke (6)
Marshall (6)
Keenan (6)
Short (4)
MacFarlane (3)
Watson (2.5)
Gregg (1)
Munro (0)
Reynolds (0)
Ballard (0)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 8:
Duncan Reynolds, Rodney MacFarlane, Jason Gregg & Phillip Guthrie.

EVENT 8 PHOTOS

Le Gary

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“Half Time(ish)”

The Mancathletes will observe the sanctity of NZ’s Labour Weekend by taking a brief intermission from the constant rigours of high-performance athleticism that The Mancathlon demands. As bruised bodies & egos heal in jacuzzis high atop palatial coastline properties, the various competitors will reflect on the savage cut & thrust in this latest season of Sports Entertainment’s Mightiest Institution. With a mere Two Events & One Bonus Round remaining until the Grand Finale there are now precious few opportunities for these men to stamp their mark on the contest, and potentially, on the Champion’s Trophy. Which of these rugged souls will have the 10-Pound Cojones required to step it up a notch in these closing stages, to truly bring the thunder and establish themselves as The Big Chief in 2008. Watch this space dear readers…

Also stay tuned for your invitation to the finest social event of the season, the Grand Finale. If you are not present for this earth-shattering, epoch-defining event, you will forever be tasting the bitter ashes of regret and the slightly salty tang of chagrin. I recommend Fanta, it kills the taste-buds at their roots and it’s a fun colour!!

Event 7: Bicycle Jousting

Event 7 Report Co-Authored by 3-year Veteran Mancathlete, Mancathlon Co-Founder and Animal Psychologist Mr Simon Judkins. 
The Seventh Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “Bicycle Jousting” – was held in a Desolate Suburban Park on Saturday 18th October and was attended by the following Mancathletes:

Simon Judkins, Conrad Blight, Gavin Marshall, Thomas Rowe, Leighton Agnew, Brydon Price, Jared Trail, Rodney MacFarlane, Josh Short, Stu Beef, AJ Sutton & Gareth Ballard. 

As storm clouds gathered ominously over Manukau Harbour and the industrial pylons buzzed & crackled menacingly above the desolate suburban park, a dozen brave and foolhardy Mancathletes gathered to do battle in a modern interpretation of the classic sport of knights – Jousting. On HMX-500’s. Yep, that’s Aquila Non Capit Muscas Suckers!! 

Tensions were high, each contestant secretly wondered what pain awaited him. The organisers nervously hoped that the many safety precautions would suffice – or would Judkins’ event prove potentially lethal for a second year running!? Manpride girthed them, testosterone steeled their resolve. Carnage ensued.

Soon the steady hum of the neighbouring motorway was eclipsed by the savage crunch of primeval combat. Barely padded lances thudded into makeshift armour. Sternums imploded with sickening crunches. Gasps and groans emanated from the crowd of nervous W.A.G’s and waiting competitors as bloody mayhem unfolded. First up saw the sages of the Mancathlon go head to head, as old mates vented years of bilious tension…
Judkins vs Blight
Both nervous at the inside knowledge of the flimsiness of the armour, the solidity of the weaponry and the unknown quantity that this event promised to uncover, their nervousness was tempered by their keenness to ensure the event’s success. Thwack! Crunch! Oomph! Pizzazz! And it was under way. After some controversial adjustments to the rules and scoring, the addition of assisted propulsion….would a clear winner emerge? A sudden death tiebreaker was decided upon by chivalrous agreement. The closely fought battle saw Judkins declared the winner by a hook-ed nose. Blight swallowed his seething manpride in a display of humble chivalry & accepted the verdict of his peers, vowing to make good use of the repercharge.
Gavin vs Thom (The Battle of the Titans)
After enduring countless taunts from Judkins (amongst others) about issues of physiological impossibility, Gavin proved his critics wrong by sliding his impressive jaw into the XL motorcycle helmet. The two big men soon upped the ante, repeatedly slamming into one another at top speed, casting aside their friendship in a frenzied battle for Precious Mancathlon Points. Both ended up flat on their backs after being rocked completely from their mounts in a massive opening salvo; the force of the impact echoing around the canyons of Onehunga, shattering grilled windows and causing junk yard dogs to tear their chains asunder & run through the streets attacking cars. After three parries, Thom was vanquished and Gav emerged victorious (and audibly relieved to have sustained no injury).
Leighton vs Brydon
Despite the clear size difference between the two combatants, Brydon soon proved that you should NEVER underestimate the nuggety journeyman from Glenfield. With steely calmness and expert technique, he parried lofty Leighton’s blows and landed the killer shots, all the while maintaining his control. After a close fought round, Brydon put past humiliations behind him (“I Lost The Mancathlon ’07”) and emerged the victor for the first of many upsets of the day.
Jared vs Rodders
Rodders nervousness showed as bullet sized beads of perspiration erupted across his soft forehead. He faced The Beast from the Nor’ East down the narrow lanes. Adrenalin surged through his veins like Mentos & Diet Coke. He came to do the business, prepared for carnage with his own private nurse (specialising in blood no less). Smack! An almighty collision. As the dust cleared and people dared to look, they encountered Trail lying in the muck, big arms tracing vague circles through the air like a huge concussed turtle. The return parry saw venom in each of their eyes as a cocky Rodders screamed “Take that you biiiarch!”. After three runs another stunning upset saw Rodders advance to the winners pool, and a bitter & humbled Trail left to take his chances with the also rans.
Josh vs Beef
Fresh from his gritty result in the assault course and pumped to make a late run in Mancathlon ’08, the compact terrier Short took on Reigning Top Dog, the Big Chief Stu Beef – supremely confident and smarting from a paucity of points in ’08. The jabs were stiff and purposeful, the thuds increasingly desperate. The hits smarted with savagery. When all was done the gritty Short could not contain his excitement with some well earned & exuberant celebrations as he laid down some cardboard and launched into a few backspins while Run DMC pumped from a stolen car stereo hooked up to some torch batteries. Stu was relegated to duke it out in the pit with the underlings of the repercharge.
AJ vs Gareth
The two baby faced assassins faced off. AJ, utterly sapped of his precious bodily fluids after a gymnastic all-night lovemaking session, dug deep to produce some epic hits. Gareth had no answer. It was over mercifully quickly. AJ lived to fight another day, Buddha Ballard discarded to the scrapheap to lick his wounds and regroup; the hideous spectre of the Losers Trophy haunting his dreams nightly as he awoke screaming, drenched in sweat & clutching his favourite copy of Penthouse Forum from the late 90’s. 
The vagaries of odd numbers and tournament draws saw the need for a complex series of repercharges that had the gathered Mancathletes clutching their monkey skulls in pain as the stink of sizzling brain cells filled the air; but which nonetheless gifted the Losers a second chance to make good on their big talk. Smarting wounds and angry pride provided the impetus for some blood curdling sudden death encounters, far too many to recount individually but with special mention to the spectacular bending of Trail’s pole just prior to Agnew being flung through the air like a ragdoll toyed with by the cruel god Physics. When the battle ground cleared, Stu Beef, Jared Trail and Blight emerged victorious, with Stu and Jared advancing on points.
In the tournament proper…
The Second Round unfolded:
Gavin vs Judkins (“The Grudge in the Sludge”)
The sledging had worn thin. Gavin relished the opportunity to wipe the smirk off his cruel tormentor’s face and teach that upstart a thing or two, or at least hurt him good. Judkins needed a nervous poo. He availed himself of his trousers for that dark purpose. Marshall steeled his weighty chin, narrowed his eyes & tried to ignore the fetidness that was wafting across the battlefield. “The Grudge in the Sludge” unfolded with some massively meaty blows. But to everyone’s surprise it was the thin-lipped Judkins who emerged victorious, managing to win back his opponents respect and burying the hatchet…..for now!
Brydon vs Rodders
The duel of the underdogs saw a closely contested but increasingly brutal round as Rodders “High-Shot” MacFarlane proceeded to make Price’s skull dance inside its casing with several illegal but strategic shots to the helmet. Rodders advanced, his innocent eyes betraying none of the savage instinct that lurked within, but those that looked down at his gnarled hands witnessed them shaking & flexing at the prospect of the next violent encounter as he ran into the bushes & attacked a squirrel. 
Stu vs Jared
Jared just nudged it. Pow pow!
AJ vs Josh
As these two warriors were launched off the starting pads by their pushers they soared down the battle lanes, their HMX-500’s suddenly as light as air, hurtling toward each other at incredible speed like laser beams across a futuristic Tron-like grid. Each Mancathlete steeled himself for the huge impact ahead, their jaws flexing with powerful muscularity, their vision honed to radiant clarity as time slowed & stretched out along an infinite horizon toward an uncertain future. And in that moment between moments each man turned his gaze inwards, thinking of everything that he was and was yet to become, every glorious victory that he had relished, every profound failure that had endured, the friends, the lovers, the friends that became lovers, the big girls that should’ve stayed friends, the memories that comprised their sum experience on earth, the piquancy of life that in combat becomes so precious, yes, all this and more flooded through the thick-boned craniums of these mighty athletes. Until suddenly, their enemy was upon them, their flared nostrils and dark, angry eyes mere feet from them now. They brought their jousting sticks to bear, forcing them through the slow air until they aligned with their opponent’s chest. Short cried out an angry battle call as he smashed his lance into Sutton, Sutton crumpled as his world exploded into pain, Short held steady his HMX as massive waves of energy rippled through his body, Sutton was flung backwards, turning over and over as he cartwheeled through the air, Short whipped out the cardboard & proceeded to celebrate, Sutton’s body landed in a Hillsborough intersection, skidding and bouncing on the pavement, Short pumped his fists in victory, Sutton raised a broken, shaking thumb in kinship, acknowledging a fine victory.
Brydon vs Stu (5 placed play off)
A brutal, cold and calculated encounter, which saw Stu turn in a masterful display of ruthlessness. Stu heeded Judkins’ words of subtle technique (“Just f*cking smash him off his mount real hard”). Everyone was grateful that a fourth encounter wasn’t needed (“just stay down bro”)
Jared vs Rodders
Rodders MacFarlane tried to find a kink in the armour of his powerful opponent. He tried valiantly. He tried repeatedly. After 5 rounds each man was matched blow for blow, absolutely even. It was the brave Rodder’s cunning & guile vs the unyielding physical mass of the Beast. In the end Rodders was unable to find that one strategy that would break through and Trail knocked him from his steed. As Rodders cried discreetly into a cold domestic lager, Trail laughed loud & deeply and sacrificed a goat.
Josh vs Simon
Simon beat Josh.
Special thanks to Christie & Allen for kindly loaning us the body armour that shielded our vital organs from the brutal onslaught. Thanks to Gordon from Plastic Systems for providing the brutal onslaught.
EVENT 7 POINTS:
5 Judkins (For the first time in 3 years Judkins takes out an event! Baaammmm!! )
4 Josh (Announces his intentions for the latter half of the comp.)
3 J. Trail (Grasps those sweet points in his sweaty, spade-like hands)
2 El Rodders (Throws up a deuce)
1 Stu (SMASHED Price)
 
MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE [After Seven Events]
Agnew (13)
Blight (11)
Price (10.5)
Judkins (10)
Guthrie (10)
Trail (9)
Rowe (8)
Marshall (6)
Keenan (6)
Stevens (5)
Short (4)
Brooke (4)
MacFarlane (3)
Watson (2.5)
Sutton (2)
Gregg (1)
Munro (0)
Reynolds (0)
Ballard (0)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 7:
Shane Munro, Duncan Reynolds, Dr Kirk Stevens, Dr Todd Keenan, Jason Gregg, Simon Watson & Phillip “Flavio” Guthrie
In other news:
Randall Potter has withdrawn his bid for the 2008 Mancathlon citing work, relationship & study obligations, as well as a commitment to bring reasonably priced Steven Seagal movies to the Third World through DVD’s made of recycled Fanta bottles and Salt & Vinegar chip packets. 

EVENT 7 PHOTOS

Uppercut of Beef

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Event 6: Creation of Fire

The Sixth Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “Creation of Fire” – was held in the Stone Age on Saturday 11th October and was attended by the following Mancathletes:
Jared Trail, Josh Short, Dr Kirk Stevens, Simon Judkins, Gareth Ballard, Duncan Reynolds, Thomas Rowe, Jason Gregg, Dr Todd Keenan, Conrad Blight, Brydon Price, Leighton Agnew, Gavin Marshall & AJ Sutton.
Since the dawn of time, mankind has harnessed the elemental majesty of fire. For the creation of light and heat, for fighting off predators and destroying utterly the villages of their rivals; burning their crude houses & grainstores while they laughed heartily from the sidelines, for the forging of swords, spears & primitive marital aids, and for transforming the bloodied & stringy flesh of their slain livestock into delicious, meaty steaks.  In the year 2008, when this ancient power that was once wrested from the gods by an upstart Prometheus now flows freely from futuristic devices in every room of our comfortable enclaves, what does it mean for man to create fire? To abandon the womb-like comfort of modern civilization and to rely only on his primitive masculine instincts – using just flint & steel to generate that precious spark, that ignites the tinder, that burns the straw, that consumes the kindling, that engulfs the wood in its heated embrace, swelling upwards in flaming red, yellow swirls until finally it sears through a thin line of cotton string suspended 50 cms above the stone floor. This weekend past, 14 lucky Mancathletes found out exactly what it meant and herein we find their compelling story…
As the habitual Mancathlon convoy of late model sedans, company cars and dirtbox hoopdies wound into Wainui valley, they crested the hill and were confronted by the absolute stone-cold monumentalism of Wainui Quarry. Possibly the most awe-inspiring venue of any Mancathlon event ever (barring the Dog’s Bollix and Rico’s lounge) the sheer rock cliffs vaulting upwards from the exposed stone ground, the native bush adorning the hills, the hulking carcasses of abandoned earthworks machinery lying around the quarry all combined to evoke a resplendent masculine poetry in the soul of every man there. The Mancathletes trekked down the long gravel road to the quarry hefting bags of dry pine & kindling, a large bale of straw and an unmarked box full of magnesium bars, flints and Opinel carbon-steel #6 folding knives while the quarry rose up before them, a monolith to their personal glory, or a mausoleum to their dashed Mancathlon dreams? Only time would tell. 
The gathered Mancathletes set to the tasks at hand, Rowe erecting the work stations with wooden stakes, string and builderly skill, Price, Judkins & Trail fetching skankwater from the stagnant creek, Short & Sutton slicing kindling with precise strokes of Trail’s winning but rusted axe and Blight standing around like a poser talking shit. Pretty soon the raw ingredients were laid out across the stony expanse, quivering with a latent potential to erupt into flame but awaiting the skilled hands of an assured & capable Mancathlete to coax them into full bloom. Between each pair of wooden stakes was drawn taut the 50 cm high line of string, and arrayed about the station was a uniform selection of vaseline smeared cotton wool buds, straw, kindling and pine wood, which along with knife, flint and innate skill would be their only tools in this contest. Pretty soon the wood was laid out and it was time for the thing to get played out, Round 1’s Contestants crouched by their stations preparing their blazing fires in their heads, visualizing the fierce flames that would signal Mancathlon victory for miles around and insure the bold etchings of their family names in various stained & thumbed historical tomes. 
Trail, Short, Stevens, Judkins, Ballard, Reynolds & Rowe all assumed the position. Crouched on haunches, foreheads creased in concentration & eyes focused on a distant horizon of Chiefly Glory. The starting gun fired, echoing like a ripple of thunder around the semi-circular quarry and suddenly the Mancathletes were off – furiously shaving magnesium onto wooden blocks, constructing crude windshelters with their allotment of pine, erecting teepees & stunning asymmetrical modern masterworks of tottering timber in an effort to flow those precious flames skyward toward a mockingly robust line of cotton string. The crucial realization was swift to dawn on these highly focused gentlemen; that it was child’s play to invoke the flame but to nurture and grow that precious seed into a fullgrown flame was man’s business. Short & Ballard bolted out of the gate with hungry straw driven fires licking passionately toward the sky, yes, they looked like easy winners but would their flames show the lasting endurance and fortitude required for Mancathlon victory or would they blow their precious potency onto the couch in a puerile pulsation of pre-fixture pique? Hmmmm.
While other men furiously fumbled with their makeshift shacks of kindling in various random kama-sutras of combustion the Beast from the North-East, Mr Jared Trail was diligently devising his own masterstroke of sexual firebuilding. As is his wont. A carefully constructed latticework of narrow pine kindling formed a rigid tower of Babel soaring ever skywards up which those mercurial licks of orange flame could dance their way toward the heavens in their own lusty fashion. Once the Various Small Fires (respect to Ed Ruscha) had erupted down the line, it was simply a matter of waiting, cultivating and praying for those flaming chimeras to grow larger & realer, to burgeon & soar upwards, battling all the while against the changing winds that eddied & swirled around the quarry floor until they could engulf utterly that tender horizon of cotton string. But here’s the thing dear readers – that cotton string was one cot-damn ornery sonuffabitch, hard as a diamond nail in and of itself, and once paired with the unpredictable spring winds, it proved an almost insurmountable adversary even for these battle hardened competitors.
With the aid of his long, flowing duffle coat, J. Trail managed to shield his precious fire from those capricious winds, but protection came at a price. With his rumpled face growing hot & creased from the hellish buffeting he looked almost ready to explode spontaneously in a shower of steak, sausages & Jack Daniels bottles. Somehow the big man managed to hold on though, focusing his rage into a Round 1 winning time of 11’33” as his long-blackened string finally parted ways with itself. Next up in Round 1’s success stories was the towering inferno himself, Thomas Rowe, folding his 7 foot three frame down toward the gravelled terra firma as he blew fervently on the stirring coals & flames of his own fiery efforts, his dedication finally netting him a 12’52” time and looking like a shoe-in for some of those sweet, sweet Mancathlon points. Old Simon Judkins rounded out the top 3 with a solid, but somewhat controversial effort of blazemanship at almost 17 minutes when he tapped his posts and provoked his string to fall, then spent the remainder of the afternoon tapping his opponents posts to prove that his string didn’t drop prematurely. 
From then on Round 1 became a battle of attrition between the two early juggernauts Ballard & Short, both with extremely solid fires but somehow unable to “go all the way”, their fires constantly toying with that tender string but not giving it the hard-loving satisfaction that it truly required. After countless frustrating minutes watching it dance intricate ciphers around the twine, Josh Short’s flame finally chawed through its bit as that hardy cotton string fell curtain-like to the sides. Ballard’s frustratingly tough-nosed string was less than a minute behind as one of his stakes disintegrated in collapsing embers and that fallen twine was finally consumed by flames. By this stage Dr Kirk had abandoned his fire, claiming beneficence on the wood-supplies front but prompting our lone female attendee to label the man as “a straight pussy”, categorically untrue but entertaining nonetheless. West-Coaster Duncan Reynolds persevered with his wildfire but was unable to take it over the top and eventually walked away in mild disgust as his nascent blaze was ignominiously dowsed in swampwater by a safety-conscious Rico.
As Rowe reconfigured the stations for Round 2, dark storm clouds began to gather over Wainui Quarry. Trail began to laugh and clutch his belly, bending backwards and roaring in pre-earned victory as the coming Mancathletes faced the prospect of attempting to light their primitive fires under siege by the watery elements. But suddenly the weather calmed, the seething winds died and the circumstances started to look a whole lot more favorable for the brave soldiers of the second round. The only hairy spanner in the works now was the sheer resources; the amount of wood remaining was looking spartan to say the least, the once healthy piles of pine sapwood were looking depleted and it was obvious that the gentlemen of Round 2 would have but one chance in their furious catapult toward victory. But not matter, one shot’s all that’s required for a true Mancathlete!
Gregg, Keenan, Blight, Price, Agnew, Marshall & Sutton closely attended their stations; prepping their materials and centering their beings, awaiting the flinty strike of the starter’s gun. Bam! It was on suckers. With all the lessons learnt off their randomised colleagues the Round 2’ers threw themselves into their task with glorious abandon. Agnew immediately set about erecting a focused and solid structure, his impeccable latticework evoking gasps of admiration & envy amongst the gathered Mancathletes. Price also was off to a roaring start with his immediately immolated straw bird’s nest fueling a well-planned tower of red-hot ligneous power. Blight meanwhile was f*cking around with a poorly conceived & executed teepee that soon collapsed under it’s own shameful weight. He quickly reassessed the scenario, gathering new straw & cotton wool and constructing a more solid affair, defensible to the wind and with an elevated pyramid of wood atop it’s reinforced platform. His feverish enthusiasm almost proved his undoing as he cleanly sliced open his index finger causing gushes of crimson blood to splash across his wood pile but he continued furiously onwards, his passion for victory unallayed by personal injury.
Whether it was through a dying of the winds, an assimilation of Round 1’s lessons or through a general breaking of the competitive seal it was clear that Round 2 would be considerably more massive than its predecessor. In a mere 7 and a half minutes, Leighton Agnew seared through the wire, with a reinvigorated Brydon Price a mere 60 secs behind him. A wildly excited Juarez reached completion a minute and half later as the entire length of his string erupted into flame at just under 10 minutes. Big Gavin Marshall exploded into a celebratory victory breakdance a mere minute behind him, followed ridiculously closely by the good natured canucklehead Jazzy Gregg just 7 seconds later, pipping the formerly dominant Ruakakian, Jared Trail by a full 25 seconds of “man time”. What can you say amigos? Easy come, easy go!
It took another 10 minutes of burning and earning for Round 2’ers Sutton & Keenan to flame through their ropes but once they’d had a taste they were cot-damned if they were gonna give up the ghost and they made sure that cotton string knew exactly where it stood in the scheme of things…dead last! And that was it dear reader, all she wrote with a foot note. 14 Mancathletes had squared off against the most primeval of all challenges, the ability to create and encourage a blazing, life-giving fire. To prove their masculinity in front of the entire tribe, to verify that they when the cards were down they could generate the heat, the light & the flickering, flesh-searing flame that would give rebirth to a dying village in time of strife and woe. All were called, and some men responded with the fury that Mancathlon Glory is borne of while others merely phoned it in. As the Mancathletes retreated to a temperate pub in Albany for a well deserved beverage amongst a typical Kiwi farrago of primed, youthful athletes and aging hangers-on, we sipped our delicious domestic beers and reflected upon a fine day of Mancathletic activity in an epic 2008 Season, congratulating victories & looking forward to the next clash of compatriots.
Special thanks to Guest Timekeeper Annaliese who braved the pheromone mists of The Mancathlon as Event 6’s sole female contingent. Extra special thanks to Austin King, a fine bloke & community minded citizen for kindly allowing us to burn stuff in such an epic venue.

 

TIMES    
     
Leighton Agnew 7’30” 5 Points
Brydon Price 8’26” 4 Points
Conrad Blight 9’59” 3 Points
Gavin Marshall  11’01” 2 Points
Jason Gregg 11’08” 1 Points
Jared Trail 11’33”  
Thomas Rowe 12’52”  
Simon Judkins 16’48”  
AJ Sutton 25’23”  
Dr Todd Keenan 26’36”  
Josh Short 35’43”  
Gareth Ballard 36’04”  
Duncan Reynolds D.N.F.  
Dr Kirk Stevens D.N.F.  
MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE [After Sixth Events]
Agnew (13)
Blight (11)
Price (10.5)
Guthrie (10)
Rowe (8)
Marshall (6)
Trail (6)
Keenan (6)
Stevens (5)
Judkins (5)
Brooke (3)
Watson (2.5)
Sutton (2)
Gregg (1)
MacFarlane (1)
Munro (0)
Reynolds (0)
Ballard (0)
Potter (0)
Short (0)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 6:
Stuart Brooke, Shane Munro, Rodney MacFarlane, Randall Potter, Reg Watson & Phillip Guthrie.

EVENT 6 PHOTOS

Respect the Dunc

Back to the Top

“Aquila Non Capit Muscas”

Aquila Non Capit Muscas. Four words that have come to define all that is right & true about The Mancathlon. Determination, confidence, the spirit of competition, camaraderie & good humour. And of course, man-sized servings of hyperbole, embellishment, trash talking & shootin’ the dozens. This motto is forever emblazoned on the Mancathlon Trophy and burns brightly in the heart of every Mancathlete past & present, it is their mantra, their battle cry; their shibboleth, their brand, the big shiny superbowl ring that identifies them as one who was there and who fought alongside their friends for glory in The Majestic Contest. 

“Aquila Non Capit Muscas” – The Eagle Does Not Hunt Flies.

Daaaaamn skippy.

Event 5: Assault Course Redux

This Week Only, A Special Guest Report by 3 Time Mancathlete, Ex-World Champion Barista & Sexual Gymnast Mr Brydon Price.
The Fifth Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “Assault Course Redux” – was held at Camp Adair, Hunua Sat 4th October and attended by the following Mancathletes:
AJ Sutton, Brydon Price, Reg Watson, Dr Todd Keenan, Dr Kirk Stevens, Thomas Rowe, Shane Munro, Gavin Marshall, Leighton Agnew, Stuart Brooke, Jason Gregg. And for one day only…’07 Veteran Josh Short and The Wild Card Coop
Saturday morning saw returning Mancathletes awake with a hearty anticipation for a repeat dose of the torturous mudbath that was assault course ‘07 and new bloods quaking from its oft told legacy. Whether through lack of motivation, given his non participation, or merely the unfortunate intrusion of life outside Mancathlon, it was again the wilds of the Hunua ranges where Herr Rico would see us test our respective metal. Camp Adair is however bloody miles away from the modern Mancathletes comfortable retreat in the inner burbs of the city. This saw arrivals spread and one Mancathlete later dealt a cruel penalty.
There was a fair mixture of disappointment and relief as we toured the course with the instructor, finding one dry obstacle after another. Where was the promised lakes of maggot ridden mud??? Things were looking downright unmanly not carrying ones own body weight round the course in saturating filth. Consolation was to be had however in the genius ’08 addition of a soundtrack to our efforts. It would be to the booming sounds of gunfire and inspiring military anthems of the Vietnam war that each Mancathlete would haul ass around the course, that whilst dry, still contained that bastard wall.
Big J, the Canadian Colossus was first on the course hurling himself through the unders and overs at a speed defying his frame. This man had a point to prove and a bar to set. The 1st half of the course was made to look a feeble test but as J scrambled over the high net climb, the next up wall was already mocking his stamina, had he gone to hard too soon? Well maybe so as 3 attempts at scaling the damn thing cost Big J his chance at some elusive points. 6min30sec a fair time but eminently beatable.
Mancathlete Price took to the track with a steely determination to avenge what was truly a piss poor effort the previous year scrabbling at the wall like a little girl. With a frame well suited to the initial ground obstacles and lungs less pasted with tar, it looked a new Price on course this year, his wooden nemesis overhauled first time and suitably sworn at like the bitch it was. Resolve unfortunately fell away to fitness in the final stages but he was pretty stoked at a brief new best of 3min45sec.

Stu Beef took to the starting blocks with the hefty weight of reigning assault course champion on his shoulders and with so far no points to his name surely eyed this event as the start of his infamous late charge to the title. Storming onto the course he failed to respect the perils of the first hurdle which took punishment on his face slitting open his eyebrow. Any pain was dumbed by the devotion to points, Stu failing to notice the trail of blood streaming John Rambo styles down his face, as he demolished  the rest of the course setting a daunting sub 3minute time of 2min48sec. For the first time this year having a trained expert on hand in protection of manly stupidity proved its worth as our instructor patched Stu’s broken face.

Shane, with a recent marathon to his name, surely stood a good chance of assaulting the points ladder on this event. This condensed blast of agility proved a different beast from such a feat of stamina, the wall obliterating his hopes of a point scoring run as he dragged himself home in a disappointing time of 4min 49sec.

Proving a formidable new entrant in ’08 Tom Rowe strode to the starting fence quietly confident, with an obvious height advantage and an infamy for spontaneous exercise, could he avoid that perilous first post and kick Stu from his perch. With a second shaving dive down the high net crawl and an arrogant hurdling of the wall Tom pissed all over the course record with ease, barely puffing after a 2min38sec effort.

The two doctors, having proved they’re not that kind of doctor, in the face of Stu’s split face were looking to salvage their reputations with glory on the course. Kirk was hardly helped however with the least energizing soundtrack possible, the somber tones of Platoon suggesting a run to horrific death as he battled though the course laying down a 3min24sec time.

Todd was obviously triumphant over a near crippling fear of dirt as he tackled the obstacles with a stern commitment to avoiding every last remaining pool of stench. The ‘go through it without putting your feet down’ nearly put paid to this but uniquely he held himself aloft the stinking puddle of pig shit to return home spotless with 3min27sec under his belt.

It was about now that no one could any longer be bothered taunting or supporting fellow Mancathletes as they trawled round the course, myself included. Leighton took to his lonely vigil, a man confident from last  years near top finish. Once again the course proved a feeble test of his assault course prowess, hardly needing the rope to jump the second obstacle and back over the finish fence before I’d even finished writing his name. 2min46sec his prize.

Short in stature but huge in commitment Josh was our Veteran Mancathlete Guest Star, attending purely to remind us how it’s done. Hurtling through the first obstacle it was a callous disregard for the seemingly easy rope swing that cost Josh a place in the points. Scrabbling over the wall kicking it into submission he still managed a respectable time of 3min 17sec.

Gavin never looked too keen on this event a Mancathlete big on brawn short on stamina. After attempting a through the wall strategy to no avail he staggered through the tyres and over the final fence to collapse in a world of pain with 4min40sec behind him.

Up next AJ quite validly considered himself a favourite in this event. Setting a blistering pace through the early stages a good time was on the cards, a maverick approach to the rope climb was to prove his unwitting undoing. Turning up late and then fucking around when he got there meant he never heard the law laid down “ no walking across the top cos you’ll likely cane out, break your neck and cost me my job. So just fuckin’ don’t!!”. Assembled Mancathletes at the start line decided on a 5 second compensatory time penalty (our guide sharing the same opinion) and what was a 2min45sec time became 2min50. That 5 seconds costing AJ two spots on the leader board but accepted with a spirit that could only reside in the Mancathlon.

Who was this coke pushing fiend Coop lining up for a guest shot at Mancathlon glory, a damn fast bastard that’s who. Reducing the pain of all those gone before to a cake walk time of 2min35sec there was relief to be felt that this guy was a day only ringer. First place was surely his. Or was it???…..Well yeah it was as Gareth joined the ranks of the middle masses with a time of 3min28seconds.

And so it was a Mancathlon FOB that won the day without the rigors of four events behind him. Don’t think he gets points but, will leave Con to sort out the results…

ASSAULT COURSE TIMES

 

Jason 6:37  
Brydon   3:45  
Stu         2.48 3rd Place
Shane    4:49  
Thomas  2:38   1st Place
Kirk   3:24   5th Place
Todd  3:27  
Leighton 2:46  2nd Place
Josh     3:17  
Gavin     4:40  
AJ        2:50  4th Place
Coop     2:35   
Gareth 3:28   
MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE [After Five Events]
Guthrie (10)
Rowe (8)
Agnew (8)
Blight (8)
Price (6.5)
Trail (6)
Keenan (6)
Stevens (5)
Judkins (5)
Marshall (4)
Brooke (3)
Watson (2.5)
Sutton (2)
MacFarlane (1)
Munro (0)
Reynolds (0)
Ballard (0)
Gregg (0)
Potter (0)
Coop (Gold Star)
Short (Beige Star)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 5:
Phillip Guthrie, Conrad Blight, Jared Trail, Simon Judkins, Reg Watson, Rockin’ Rodders MacFarlane, Duncan Reynolds & Randall Potter.

The Canuck Roars

Event 4: Masterbrain Phase II

The Fourth Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “Masterbrain Phase II”  – was held on a Sunday in The Mancathlon Subterranean Studio Complex and was attended by the following Mancathletes:
Duncan Reynolds, Rodney Macfarlane, Jared Trail, AJ Sutton, Brydon Price, Reg Watson, Dr Todd Keenan, Conrad Blight, Dr Kirk Stevens, Thomas Rowe, Shane Munro, Gavin Marshall, Phillip Guthrie, Leighton Agnew, Simon Judkins & Stuart Brooke.
They say that the Schlong is the largest organ on a Mancathlete’s body. But what of the Brain? That precious, pudding-like grey sponge slopping about in our thick monkey skulls. That 3 pound chunk of electrified meat that pilots our powerful muscular frames and controls the huge jets of testosterone that are constantly pouring into our testes & adrenal glands. What indeed?
And so it was on an incredibly clear and beautiful Auckland day that 16 Mancathletes gathered inside a dimly lit Irish Bar for an afternoon of beers lightly sipped, hot chips sauce-dipped and brains torn & ripped by the Cerebral Savagery of Masterbrain Phase II. Senor Juarez was not present for the inaugural Masterbrain, but all reports presented an horrific ordeal in which the Mancathletes threw their finest efforts against the might of the Masterbrain only to be crushed, embarrassed & intellectually deflated by it all. With the discordant strains of a Short & Sutton duet providing a soundtrack to their nightmare no less. Now in 2008, the Mancathletes were back and facing off against the giant, crushing brain himself once more, their encephalonic nemesis…Quizmaster Staines. 
Staines had gone back to the drawing board and constructed the most diabolic set of general knowledge questions his hideously swollen brain could possibly conceive of. And when I say drawing board I mean a  tank full of life-sustaining liquid in Staines’ basement where he lies naked and suspended with thousands of filament thin wires hooking directly into his central nervous system and flooding his mind with all the pulsating knowledge of the muntranet. And when I say general knowledge I mean the kind of knowledge that scientists & philosophers sacrifice years of their life, marriages, money and professional advancement to acquire…
First up to bat was Duncan Reynolds. With the relentlessly catchy Masterbrain Theme Tune ringing in his ears, Reynolds hobbled up onto the stage, past Staines’ futuristic lectern and lowered his old body into the comfortable salmon lazy-boy that awaited him. He began the event in casual reclining mode, but soon his arms were crossed in angry frustration as Staines fired a series of searingly hard questions his way including a particularly cruel Great Gatsby number that had Reynolds gnashing his teeth with chagrin & regret. He posited that Peter was the first chapter of the Old Testament. He identified Pink Floyd’s iconic ‘prism on black’ record cover as being…”The Wall”. Not Mr Reynolds finest moment but fear not viewers, he’ll be bringing the West Coast thunder back to an event near you soon! 
Rodney Macfarlane, scientist, lawyer, lover. An almost perfect combination to take on the Masterbrain. Except for his lovemaking abilities, which would not be required at this particular event. Rodders came hard out of the gate with 2 correct answers earning him an enthusiastic round of applause from the gathered Mancathletes. Take that Masterbrain! He stumbled on the Chinese Unlucky Number question and from there on his success was somewhat sporadic. Somehow the usually confident Rodders seemed dwarfed by the massive salmon lazy-boy, like a child quietly attending a stern lecture that he did not comprehend. His knowledge of science provided his redemption though as he nailed two inorganic chemistry questions that drew him back up to a respectable 6 NerdPoints. 
The ‘Beast from The North-East’ was next up. Lumbering onto the stage like a hairless gorilla; his knuckles dragging across the wooden slats and his protruding mandible jutting angrily as he sniffed the air, he lowered himself into the chair and stared challengingly at Quizmaster Staines. He started off strong too, correctly naming the chambers of the heart to a round of applause. But then the crushing blow from Staines – “What substance is controlled by Anti-Histamines?”. Trail faltered and passed; and the answer came back… “Histamines”, Trail looked to the pitiless sky for support as the gathered Mancathletes laughed nervously, glad that they were not the recipients of that particular barb. 
AJ leaned back into the plush salmon lazy-boy, sipping on a tall, cool glass of domestic beer. He felt confident. He felt good. He would not feel that way for long. “What car was designed by Ferdinand Porsche?” “Wrong…it was the Volkswagon”. “What does a polyorchid man have?” “Wrong…Three Testicles”. “What is the nearest star to the earth?” “Wrong…the Sun”. It just was not AJ’s round, a couple of missteps and some particularly cold-blooded questions from Staines saw Sutton blown out the back end of the Masterbrain, shivering and coated in ectoplasm.
Price continued his lusty thrust for points in the 2008 Season in a huge round against the Masterbrain, facing down Staines without fear, just the determined clarity that has seen him rise swiftly in the points table this year. He walked calmly off stage with an impressive 8 NerdPoints stuffed in between his pocket-protector and his scientific calculator, sipping on a warm bottle of fanta. Next up was Reginald Watson, who had stolen away from his work for a quick faceoff against the Brain. It was obvious from the start that Watson was terrified of the Brain, he was constantly looking around the room for some sort of touchstone of normality but there was none to be found in this house of nimrods. Nevertheless he came out guns blazing like a true Mancathlete, swatting aside questions with disdain one second, scooping answers from the brink of the buzzer the next, coming up with 7 NerdPoints before disappearing in a cloud of smoke leaving only the traces of his mocking laughter behind.
Dr Todd Keenan. The first of our two resident doctors to attempt to apply his Phd in “Fighting & F*cking” to the intellectual rigours of The Masterbrain Phase II. He started off strong with the classic 2 for 2, but then got caught out by the Spanish tongue of the 3rd question. He memorably but incorrectly identified “The pause that refreshes” as a semicolon. And as the stakes rose over his round, his considerate pauses seemed to stretch ever closer to infinity, the ticking of the clock slowing & becoming lower in pitch as he crumpled his forehead in gymnastic expressions of deep thought. But it worked for the good doctor, who lowered himself from the stage clutching 7 NerdPoints in his sweaty hands. 
Secretly Blight fancied his chances in the Masterbrain. He was a secret self-fancier. He had sat hunched on his bar stool clutching his thick bottle of domestic beer, thinking to himself how easy it could all be; his mouth watering at the prospect of Precious Mancathlon Points, his private school educated brain ready to kick in hard against The Masterbrain. But once up on that vaulted stage would he revert to the terrible choke-artistry that defined his 07 Season? No way bitches! Well okay, maybe a bit. The definitive moment came on the penultimate question when an image of Humphrey Bogart from his most famous movie almost derailed Juarez; he ummed, he ahhed, he named all the lead actors & supporting players, but still the title would not come. 44 Calibre sized beads of sweat erupted from his receding forehead and poured down his finely tailored shirt, time passed, the clock ticked down until, right at the last second…”Casablanca!”. Baaaaam, 9 NerdPoints in the bank for Blight!!
Dr Kirk Stevens rolled up his scrubs & prepared to enter the fray. He reclined easily into the ease of the salmon-coloured easy chair, clasped his hands in his lap and prepared for the onslaught. He got off to a strong start with several questions back to back. Earlier in the game this would have elicited a hearty round of applause from the gathered competitors but by this time energy levels were running low, “desultory” would best describe the scattered & feeble handclaps. After having the best parts of their cerebral cortexes drained by Staines’ savage, greedy proboscis the Mancathletes were feeling a little flat. Not to mention the stiflingly nerdy atmosphere which had gradually worn down this group of finely tuned athletes, who were used to being in near constant states of powerful & balletic physical motion. Nevertheless, the Doctor steered a steady course; remaining cool & consistent throughout his round & coming off the stage with a bellcurve-beating 7 NerdPoints (not “bell end” Jared…). 
Next up on stage, the big man, Thomas Rowe. Would his lofty stature result in oxygen starvation issues for his quickfire noesis? Had his upbringing in sleepy, banjo-picking Marton prepared him for this kind of high-level cognitive gameplay? Why was Juarez using so many questions this report? And so many hyphens? And such a lot of gratuitous self-reflexivity? Had the creative barrel run bone-dry? Hell no suckas, there’s zeppelin loads of this shit waiting off the coast to bombard your senses over the next 6 weeks leading up to El Grand Finale. Best believe it! Anyway…Thom Rowe…good round…nailed what floor Luka lived on in the 80’s…didn’t know the names of Magnum PI’s dogs though…
Munners ambled onto the stage in the relaxed shorts & jandals combo that befitted his Fijian upbringing. And while Stu Beef looked on from the pinkeye quarantine area, Munro proceeded to give a scrunch-faced rendition of a man in extreme psychic pain coupled with a general disdain for the nebbishness of Event 4. “What the f*ck are we doing here?” his face seemed to convey, with an articulateness that words could never capture. 4 NerdPoints was his pain’s reward. 
Gavin Marshall. Tough questions for a tough man. Tough, tough questions…
Guthrie was returning to Masterbrain as the incumbent Champion of Nerds. Countless hours in a dark room with vaseline smeared over his hairy chest and the irradiant glow of wikipedia on his laptop screen bathing the horrific tableau had honed Guthrie’s nerd powers to Laser Strength. Laser Strength. He blazed through Staines’ questions with confidence. With alacrity. And with hairiness. The prospect of his Italian sojourn taking him out of contention for the next 5 weeks provided this man with devastating focus. Once that dust had settled from his Laser Blast, Guthrie looked set once more to be hailed as King Geek with a massive 10 points. Only 3 men stood in his way, Agnew, Judkins and Brooke. 
Leighton. I can’t remember. Sorry bro. No offence, you’re a legend. Maybe I was in the bathroom. Send me an account of your experience in the salmon armchair and I’ll replace this forthwith.
S. Judkins. You wouldn’t know it to look at him. But he’s smart, damn smart. And virile. Ridiculously virile. He got 9 points. 
Beef had his jaw set. He was ready to fight. But what can you do against an opponent you cannot see, an opponent who exists only in your mind…the Masterbrain. 
And finally. After a record 16 Mancathletes had each reclined within the enveloping folds of the soft, salmon armchair and had their minds brutally probed by Staines’ thousand-tendrilled Masterbrain. There was one clear winner, nerd balls McGuthrie. But it was up to Stevens, Rowe and Keenan to duke it out for 4th place, with Reg having returned to work, servicing sporty types on K’ Rd. Staines brought the three up on stage and threw a maths question at them. Their faces immediately contorted into hideous expressions of psychic anguish as their brains attempted to perform arithmetic calculation without the aid of their cellphone for the first time in a decade. It was Stevens who fought through the pain to snatch the spinning gold chain of victory and claim his 2 Mancathlon Points. Then it was time for the big boys to play, Blight & Judkins. Their pencil necks straining to take the weight of their monstrously swollen brains they climbed gingerly up on stage and stood swaying back & forth slightly. Staines threw another maths question into the air, Blight was already halfway through thinking it. Bam! “42”. Yes! Yes! No…”Wrong, it’s…40″. And that was that, Judkins dancing a victory dance, his tiny daughter cheering her applause, Blight on the floor with his head in his hands crying and another fine day in Mancathlon World. 
NERDPOINTS – Won against The Hideous Masterbrain (over 12 Verbal Questions & 2 Visual Challenges)

 

Duncan Reynolds 3  
Rodney Bueller 6  
Jared Trail 3  
AJ Sutton 3  
Brydon Price 8 4th – 2 Points
Reg Watson 7  
Dr Todd Keenan 7  
Conrad Blight 9 3rd – 3 Points (After Playoff)
Dr Kirk Stevens 7 5th – 1 Point (After Playoff)
Thomas Rowe 7  
Shane Munro 4  
Gavin Marshall 4.5  
Phillip Guthrie 10 1st – 5 Points
Leighton Agnew 6  
Simon Judkins 9 2nd – 4 Points (After Playoff)
Stuart Brooke 6.5  
MANCATHLON POINTS TABLE [After Four Events]
Guthrie (10)
Blight (8)
Price (6.5)
Trail (6)
Keenan (6)
Judkins (5)
Stevens (4)
Agnew (4)
Marshall (4)
Rowe (3)
Watson (2.5)
MacFarlane (1)
Brooke (0)
Munro (0)
Reynolds (0)
Sutton (0)
Ballard (0)
Gregg (0)
Potter (0)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 4:
Randall Potter, Jason Gregg & Gareth Ballard.

EVENT 4 PHOTOS

Nerdballs

Event 3: Orientearassing

The Third Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “Orientearassing”  – was held on a Sunday in the middle of nowhere and was attended by the following Mancathletes:
Dr Kirk Stevens, Gareth Ballard, Stuart Brooke, AJ Sutton, Steve Carver, Shane Munro, Brydon Price, Leighton Agnew, Reg Watson, Conrad Blight, Thomas Rowe, Phillip Guthrie & Jared Trail.
The undulating, heavily wooded terrain of Woodhill Forest provided the canvas on which 13 Mancathletes would paint their latest portraits of victory or despair. They convened in a sun-bathed clearing in the forest and were shown how to interpret the cryptic sigils of a topographic map, and how to harness the mystical power of magnetism for the divining of directions between two distant points. Confidence levels were high at this point…Yellow Course 2kms, nah f*ck that, Easy Orange Course 3.7 kms, mmmaybe, Hard Orange Course 5.1 kms, Hoo-Hah!! But still they warned us, you’ve never done orienteering before, it’s harder than it looks. Forget about it! This is The Mancathlon, give us the hard one.
We trudged up the gravel lane through the forest to the start line, where a Germanic man awaited our arrival, an array of maps at his feet, a stop watch in his hand. By an incredibly fortuitous twist of fate they were all out of Hard Orange Maps, incredibly, incredibly fortuitous. The Randomizer had chosen the order, 3 minutes separated each man’s start, and so, one by one they stepped up to the line, ran their electronic tag through the control point, received their map and ran up the road into the unknown. 13 control points were placed around Woodhill Forest, and these 13 men had just a compass, a map and some extremely rudimentary map-reading skills to navigate them at speed, and with a host of hungry fellow competitors breathing down their necks.
And so, for the very first time in The Mancathlon we take you inside the minds of the men who were there; to give you the experience in their own words, unedited, uncensored, raw, vivid impressions from the front lines…
Dr Kirk Stevens
A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach should have served as a warning that perhaps today wasn’t going to be my day. Doubts about my map reading ability surfaced on the trip to Woodhill serving as a portent of what was to come.
The start line beckoned like a kebab stand at the end of a large night, on the turps. I knew I had to cross it but how would I pull up the next day? The randomiser had its say and I was first off the mark and in the lead!!  For the first and only time.
Station 1, down. Station 2, down. Then my orienteering world fell apart around me, 45min spent looking for station 3. Bullshit!  Fellow mancathletes charged passed me like fatties at an all you can eat buffet, some swearing, some mumbling incoherently, all sweating uncontrollably.
Seven stations down with no knowledge of the time, lost, spent and a realisation that 40min had passed since I had been overtaken by the last man to start the course I pulled the pin, there was no hope.
Defeat in my mind, shame in my heart and heavy shaking legs I was done. Humiliated by the forest, staring into the face of an evil compass and ragged sweat drenched map.
Cunning Running…… Not my event.
Gareth Ballard
Coming off the back of a 2 week flu feeling like a sack of dead cats with the energy levels of a dying tortoise i knew my health was not on my side.  What followed was 2hours and 20 mins of profusive sweating and confusion.  Even with my years of experience wondering around the bush of Nelson looking at maps working in the forestry i still managed to read the map upside down a couple of times and consequently running off in the wrong direction, add to that getting horribly lost looking for point number 11 only to find myself back at the watertank junction adding an xtra K or 2 too my overall distance.
KOOK.  Lets do the last half of the course all over again then shall we just for fun.
Stumbling out onto the road at the finish with hardly a single brain cell working due to exhaustion and wondering why the finish wasn’t in front of me and what all those people were doing standing 100m to my left.  Then my brian reactivated and i realised those people standing over to my left were actually at the finishline.
So with the satisfaction of completion out the way it was time to bail home for a corona and a hot tub, all in all a fucken great day and a dam nasty way to get rid of the flu.
Stuart Brooke
I had a few pre-start nerves and couldn’t get my clammy hands on the damn map quick enough! Once I figured out which way was up I made short work of the first station, overtaking Buddha and Dr Kirk in the process. Too easy – or so I thought….Station 3 owned me, and excitement and confidence quickly turned to panic as the later starters flew past me. “Where the f*ck are you Station 3?!” I felt like Pooh bear chasing the Heffalump as I kept going round in circles, climbing the same stupid knolls. For a while I even followed a couple of kids around in desperation. Once I found it the race for points was long gone and I limped around the rest of the course, managing to cramp up in both legs. Not my finest hour, or 2 hrs 15min as the case may be…
AJ Sutton
I like the forest. It’s nice.
Steve Carver
Steve’s performance on Sunday while ecstatic at times, could only be described as Lost In Bush. His start was messy. Only minutes after entering the playing-field, Steve was deep in in a muddy hole, gasping for breath. Brydon, who couldn’t be blamed for stopping to look, noted that he was oriented the wrong way, and Steve’s returned to base to point out that he been sent in the wrong direction. An honest mistake with no harm done. New map in hand, Steve’s resolve returned. His keen desire needed satisfaction. Position’s 1-6 were quickly (some would saw too quickly) achieved in part thanks to the guiding hand of Phil, who was taking another shot at one or two of the tasks, and clad in lycra just couldn’t be missed. Steve reached his peak with a direct route at positions 6 and 7, where he aligned his compass and charged deep into the bush. But it was the elusive position 9 that was his failing. Always taking things too far, Steve ended up playing in the nether-regions, and after several exhausting attempts to finish he elected to return home, spent but content. One in the bush, two in the hand. What more could a mancathlete want from his weekend?
Shane Munro
Station farking 3! Marker one hundred and twenty farking seven!  If I can push the trauma of those numbers out of my mind before the end of the current mancathlon season I’ll be doing better than I currently think is possible. Station farking 3, marker one hundred and twenty farking seven owned me for no less than an hour yesterday, it tormented me and mocked me with its cunning and elusiveness.  Guthrie’s confidence and the authoritative manner in which he attacked the bush gave me some confidence that I could ride his coattails to the promised land of station farking 3 marker one hundred and twenty farking seven.  What a terrible mistake that was.  I resorted to combining forces with a 10 year old club member by the name of Kerrian, who about 40 minutes into the search mentioned that the same thing happened to him just last week, oh good kid.  When I did manage to finally flash and beep that little c*&t securing markers 4 and 5 was routine as I had already discovered those while looking for marker farking 3!  Inspired by the hope that my fellow mancathlettes had suffered similarly and hanging to the belief that precious competitions points were still available the remaining course was chewed up under my well heeled Asics….Alas…Another emotionally harrowing aftermath courtesy of a mancathlon event were best efforts are not even close.  But a another superb mancathlon experience to chalk up all the same.
Station farking 3! Marker one hundred and twenty farking seven!  What a little c*&t!
Brydon Price
With the events of last year involving any kind of physical fitness leaving me a retching mess on the floor it was with trepidation that I travelled the many mile out the middle of who knows where for a day traipsing through the bush. I did however last year find out to my shameful detriment that points win prizes and they can come from unlikely sources.
Setting off half way through the pack it became immediately apparent that my listening skills are that of a ritalin fuelled 5 year old and thus how to make effective use of my compass had drifted out my other ear. Bloody good thing I seem blessed with a reasonable sense of direction and have a scrawny body well suited for flailing through the forest. 1 and 2 were far enough apart to put hours on the running machine to the test and still damn glad the long course maps were in short supply. It was at this stage that the lost pleas of three young girls were ignored, no I didn’t know where their marker was and nor nor did I really care, the selfish hunger for points seeing me leave them to their fate. Admit I was some what relieved to see them still alive on the way to the check staion.
Many mancathlete dreams were shattered by the bitch that was marker 3, lucky was I that some other bugger who had spent a morning finding it had decided to rest near by and exhaustedly waved a hand in the direction of a nearby hill. Hell yeah there she was and I was on the road to some much prized points.
Half way though the drive for the prize found the none the wiser front runners unable to trap each other into a fatal fall or tree collision. 1 pair of eyes became 3  making those elusive orange markers that bit easier to trip over in the depths of nowhere. A moments distraction on the final marker saw Con and Leighton scramble out of the bush to the line with me still blundering for final prize, a fatal mistake that may have seen a point slip through my fingers. Finally making it to the finish line was stunned to see only those two bastards downing sweet sweet Pocari Sweat, turned out 1hr 10 wasn’t too shabby but it did leave an interminable wait for those poor suckers stuck crashing around mumbling “fuckin number 3” in increasing fury.
Worse ways to spend a sunny Sunday eh Phill.
Leighton Agnew
As I sat in the car park of the woodhill mountain bike park trying unsuccessfully to call Conrad to find our way to the venue I thought this wasn’t an ideal start to an orienteering event. After backtracking a kilometre or so we came across the vital piece of information overlooked at the outset, this being the road sign pointing to orienteering.
By this time, drastically late, I put the pedal to the metal of the new model Subaru Forester 2.5 X. And what a great car it is! Enough room for the whole family. You can just imagine heading down to the mountain with ski gear on the roof or pedalling down to the beach for a surf. A great handling car this, what with its symmetrical all wheel drive and low centre of gravity due to the low slung boxer engine. It handled like a dream around the long sweeping gravel bends of the woodhill roads.
With 127kw of power at hand it can handle anything that the country side throws at you. Rated the safest SUV on the New Zealand roads, and from just $36990, that’s amazing value. Let me know if you want one, I’ll get you a deal!
Anywho
The nerves were high at the start of the race. After a verbal spray from Reg the night before about my lack of man points I knew I needed something special. I needed to do well in this one people.
Well stretched up I set off at a reasonable clip. After a minute of running I noticed Steve stumbling the opposite direction towards the start line which was quite alarming but not enough to change my mind on my current course. Unperturbed I continued forth to where I suspected the first marker might be. Within minutes I had found it then off to the next. By this time I had meet up with fellow mancathete Brydon. We continued on and found a concession of markers in a solid team effort. Our effort was reminiscent of Top Gun, My Maverick to his Goose man. He navigated a course and I blew the target apart by making it beep from thrusting my transponder inside it.
Then came my second bad call of the day. Losing Brydon (a very bad call) I took off in the complete wrong direction (something that any orienteering teacher worth his salt tells you not to do) for a good couple of kms. A very bad call indeed. After running off the map I re-gathered my composure and took off back in the right direction. After getting a hint from AJ on the way I was back in the hunt and soon found myself back with Brydon. Back together we found more and more check points before we were joined by a rampaging Conrico. This threesome turned out to be an indestructible navigational force. If team Marton come together to form voltron we came together to form a navman. (one of those navigational GPS machines you might find in the sublime new Subaru Impreza, AA’s car of the year).  From here it was simple to plough through the last remaining check points and through to the end where surprisingly there was nobody waiting. Conrad first, me second but where was Brydon? As I turned to re enter the bush to find our fallen soldier he stumbled from the foliage like a wounded deer to reach the end as third finisher. GO team Navman!
Reg Watson
Going into this event I was quietly confident having been orienterring a year ago at a management function for work. This confidence quickly dissapeared as I realised after countless instruction from staff that I still couldn’t read a compass!  This was proved to be true after the first straight I ran in the wrong direction, 30 seconds into the event and already lost, what a kook!
I then got into the swing of things until control 3, this pretty much fucked me, I would have spent at least 20 minutes looking for that fucker along with 6 other hopefuls.  The rest of the controls were pretty much straight forward, apart from control 9 were I went down to the sand dunes to do a quick surf check, control 10 sucked also. Jared did me no favours here, we were both looking for this control for ages when he walked past me saying “Control 10’s a bitch aye”” having just found it. Cheers Bro.
I fought my way back to the finish in a respectable time, and even thought I may be in the points with a 5th place finish. That is until Jared walks to the finish line and gets me by time difference. Gay. He wasnt even wearing shoes!
I figure to do well in this event you had to be at least 6 foot tall, well done all you lanky tall fuckers!
Conrad Blight
So here’s me. A guy whose calf muscle is stuffed from a tantric yoga injury, a guy whose build up to the 2008 Season has been a disgusting blur of meaty burgers, domestic beer and cold & flu medicine, a guy who Guthrie famously dismissed as having “the build of a cross country runner and that’s where it ends”. Not looking or feeling at all like an event favourite as I pace nervously back & forth in the starting area. I start out at a light jog, not wanting to look like a soft cock but fully planning to walk the entire course once I got out of sight. But something funny happened on the way to defeat; as I jogged my calf started to hurt, and so I started to walk. And as I walked I thought about my life and my Mancathlon Campaign 2008 and it occurred to me in 20 foot high starburst letters, f*ck this sh*t!! I cannot walk this course, I must run no matter what! I saw Steve cantering back in the other direction, I saw Reg running in circles in the vicinity of the 1st marker. I stood by that 1st marker (casually, like I wasn’t at one), orientated myself and jogged onwards towards the 2nd. From there on it’s kind of a blur as I entered this oxygen-deprived fugue state, all the time visualizing a giant arrow in the sky that was constantly pointing towards my destination, muttering to myself “Re-orienatate, re-orientate” as I swiveled the map & compass, and generally doing more physical exercise than I’d done in the last 3 months combined, including my relentless onanism. As I approached Marker 3, trying to extrapolate the ridge contours of the map onto my environment a little girl was standing on the hillside; she goes to me “I found a marker over that hill”, I said “You don’t say, so whereabouts was that again?” mwa ha ha ha.  I tore through the area that was crowded with dazed looking Mancathletes, wandering about like the forgotten dead in search of that elusive marker. Running down the gravel road between 5 & 6 with ragged, strained breaths, and onto the briefly hidden 7. In search of the 8th Marker I encountered two old friends, Price & Agnew, who were combining their powers for a greater good – Mancathlon Victory. Knowing I could not outrun these stellar athletes I opted to work with them, and with the potent combination of Price’s brains, Agnew’s brawn and my propensity for shit-talking we proved an unstoppable force through to the finish line. Simply unbelievable that I gained a sweet 5-pointer on this particular event but immensely satisfying nonetheless. Krakatoa!
Thomas Rowe
Barely 100 meters into the third event it became evident that it was appropriately named. Orientearassing.  Having been several years since doing any real running type activities it quickly became apparent that I was inappropriately dressed for the occasion.  It started with an awareness, subtle at first but able to be ignored.  The pressure was on, the clock counting.  Soon awareness gave way to recognition.  I had a problem.  The day was hot, very little breeze penetrated the depths of the forest.  Boxer shorts were riding high. Too high.  This was a contest, I had to keep going. Eventually, I could not take it any more. Action had to be taken.  Countless minutes were wasted implementing anti wedgie strategies but there was no reprieve.  This was wedgie hell. If meditation could work for pain, it could work for this, I tried not to think of castration, tried to ignore the injured flesh. I went to my cave. Where was my power animal?  A penguin, an ice slide…………
 ……..and then it was over.  Great event. Some interesting characters out there in the forest.
Phillip Guthrie
Orienteering… attempted by few, mastered by fewer. A select club for nerds able to tear themselves away from their Xboxes and computers for longer than a trip to the local dirty bird. Not a man’s sport and certainly not something you would expect a real man to excel at, let alone win. Real mancathletes run the course twice because 4.7km just isn’t enough of a challenge. Real mancathletes get lost, don’t stop to ask for directions and treat the map and compass with the contempt they deserve. Real mancathletes take 2:40 and still don’t finish. Real mancathletes have their girlfriends send out a search party; real mancathletes wear skin tight lycra with curly chest hair peaking out of the seams – Hmm curly chest hair…..
Besides, Conrad and Jared cheated – I could hear their maniacal laughter tantalisingly close by and wondered what they found so funny – until that is I came to marker three (and marker nine and marker 11 and everything after that) and realised with horror they’d moved them in their immoral quest for victory. Tainted victory. Hollow victory. Somewhere a little girl sits in the forest crying for her mummy, lost and alone, because of their nefarious deeds victory.
Anway, it wasn’t my fault: my compass was broken; my map was doctored; my shoes were too tight; I got lost; I was food poisoned; it was the French ref’s fault… it was the rotation policy; I didn’t want to win anyway. I came dead last :(
Like the Dutch dude said, I probably would’ve done better running backwards with an oar in my hands.
Jared Trail
Orienteering…. I showed up in proper hard style mounted on my massif hog of pure sexual manliness, the roar of the 250cc V-twin making the rake thin nerds in lycra body suits shake at the knees whilst crying openly and unashamedly.
The beast rocked on up in completely unsuitable attire, Slightly slutted that he was the only one not quite clear on the running aspect of this event. Paying attention was not on the cards, I was feeling quite confident in the actual orienteering part of the event from the 2 years in scouts as a young teen, I was however feeling slightly peeved that my Sanuk shoes were not quite built for running and equally neither was my large frame.
After waiting for 40 minutes in complete boredom for all the other ‘competitiors’ to leave I stepped up to the plate, still laughing from Steve’s unfortunate start and subsequent mud puddle catastrophe. I needed an edge, “what are my strengths?” I yelled into the surrounding forest, “fuck all” came the reply from some small woodland creature (possibly Beef) so I decided all I could do was go straight for each control box and pity every tree/hill/person I had to stomp on to get there.
Surprisingly the Sanuks turned out to be quite good, crushing all the bastard scratching sticks and plants that got in the way I made my way unerringly straight for most of the first 6 boxes passing some surprisingly slow contestants along the way (phil almost immediately, crying in a foetal position).
A good event all in all considering I hiked more than ran the entire course I still managed to come away with 5th which makes me laugh more and more about box number 10 where I sent Reg up the garden path saying it was a real bastard when in fact I only just left it, hahahahahaha, who trusts a mancathlete?  I mean really.
Great day guys, I never thought this nerd sport would actually be fun, however I am still having nightmares about Phil’s dress sense.
Special Thanks are due to the North West Orienteering Club for talking us through it, loaning us some compasses & providing a fiendishly challenging Event 3. Extra Special Thanks to Pocari Sweat for providing a good supply of Ions when we needed them most.
THE TIMES
Conrad Blight 57:41 5 Points
Leighton Agnew 1:03:00 4 Points
Thomas Rowe 1:07:00 3 Points
Brydon Price 1:10:00 2 Points
Jared Trail 1:19:00 1 Point
Reg Watson 1:27:00
Shane Munro 2:10:00
Stuart Brooke 2:15:00
Gareth Ballard 2:22:00
AJ Sutton 2:24:00
Dr Kirk Stevens D.N.F.
Steve Carver D.N.F.
Phillip Guthrie D.N.F.
POINTS TABLE [After Three Events]
Trail (6)
Keenan (6)
Blight (5)
Guthrie (5)
Price (4.5)
Agnew (4)
Marshall (4)
Rowe (3)
Stevens (3)
Watson (2.5)
MacFarlane (1)
Judkins (1)
Brooke (0)
Munro (0)
Reynolds (0)
Sutton (0)
Ballard (0)
Gregg (0)
Potter (0)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 3:
Gavin Marshall, Simon Judkins, Randall Potter, Dr Todd Keenan, Jason Gregg & Duncan Reynolds.

EVENT 3 PHOTOS

The Lite Stuff

Back to the Top

“The Big Chief”

Every man is a potential Mancathlete. Can you throw stuff? Can you run in a straight line? Can you drink a couple beers and trash-talk? Can you get up on a stage and belt out a soft rock classic? Sure, hey, we all can. But only a select few men have within them the potentiality to become something more than the average Mancathlete. Only a select few have that bright fire burning within their chest, that hunger for more, that drive and lust to be the greatest. And when a man claws his way to the top of the heap, against a field of worthy opponents and through a series of manful challenges that encompass speed, strength, wit and creativity then that man earns the right to call himself…The Big Chief.

El Jefe is Challenging You

El Jefe is Challenging You

Event 2: Shootin’

This Weeks Special Guest Report as filed by 1 Time Mancathlete, Videographer to the Stars & Black Belt in Sexual Yoga, Mr Caleb Staines.

The Second Event of the 2008 Mancathlon – “Shootin’”  – was held on Saturday afternoon and was attended by the following Mancathletes:

Stuart Brooke, Simon Judkins, Leighton Agnew, Jared Trail, AJ Sutton, Gavin Marshall, Rodney Macfarlane, Randall Potter, Gareth Ballard, Phillip Guthrie, Brydon Price, Duncan Reynolds, Dr Kirk Stevens, Dr Todd Keenan & Thomas Rowe.

When I gained entrance to the outer rooms of the gun club I was struck with how subdued was the atmosphere among the assembled Mancathletes. Naturally, my first thought was that I had just interrupted a conversation about me and my failings as a person. Those two old friends, anger and self-hatred, boiled up in me and I felt my face flush. Fortunately I remembered Father’s advice to me as a young boy and I balled up all those seething emotions and pushed them down into my gut where no one could see them. As I surveyed the room though, seeing none of the usual guilty faces and averted eyes, I began to ponder other possible explanations for the strange mood in the room. Was the presence of the newbloods casting doubt into the usually steady hearts of the stalwarts? Was the absence of Senor Juarez’s guiding hand causing feelings of panic and abandonment, much like the time I wandered off at the 1985 A & P Show at the Hastings Showgrounds and spent a terrifying three hours in a small concrete room beneath the main stands being minded by an old woman so engrossed in knitting a clumpy orange V-neck jumper that she ignored all of my questions about the whereabouts of my parents and what efforts where being made to locate them and but eventually they turned up, Mother hopelessly drunk on complementary cask Chardonnay from the Wrightson’s tent and Father furious, threatening to thrash me with the fibreglass cattleprod he’d bought me to stop me begging to go and see the Angora rabbits. Or was it the heavy smell of cordite in the still air of that underground shooting bunker that unnerved me so?

Trail was all business, filling out forms and doggedly trying to convince the Range Officer to allow the use of the NightForce 8-32x56mm NXS Illuminated Reticle Riflescope which he’d brought along specially. And then it dawned on me. What was missing was that staple of the Mancathlon – smack-talking. Evidently no one wanted to spark off anyone else’s inner OJ with a cruel jibe concerning sexual prowess or athletic abilities when very soon every man in the room would have access to bona-fide firearms. It was clear that this competition would have to be won with steady nerves and a keen eye.

The competitors were admitted to the shooting range proper and the Range Officer gave a briefing on the use of the weapons. It was apparent that some Mancathletes had experience on their side – some were hunters since childhood while others claimed implausibly to have been in the British Infantry. Others were, to me at least, unknowns. Was Ballard a member of the New Zealand Biathlon team? Was the towering Rowe a secret member of the SAS? In fact, where was Rowe? Had he been called away to deal with some impending terrorist threat, sacrificing precious Man-points to defend his country? No, it turned out – he had locked himself in the toilet. I gave up my predictions.

The Mancathletes were divided into two Details and each stepped up to fire their ten practice rounds at the targets twenty-five metres away. Macfarlane looked like a man to watch, while Brydon probably hoped no one was watching him as he failed to hit the black inner target at all. Then the first Detail stepped up to shoot their forty competition rounds. Reynolds quickly abandoned the low elbow-propped stance favoured by most in favour of standing bolt upright. Sutton was quick and confident giving him time to examine the technique of others at the end of each set of ten rounds. The Big Chief and Rowe on the other hand took their own sweet time, still hunched meditatively over their weapons long after the other members of the detail had made their rifles safe.

The second Detail took their positions and began their efforts. I was a non-competing member of the second Detail and was too absorbed in my own shooting to notice any details of this portion of the competition, although I do remember glancing at Guthrie two bays away and wondering how much tantric yoga you have to do to twist yourself up like that without serious pain. And out of the corner of my eye I could sense Rowe & Marshall roaming in circles around the room with faraway gazes in their eyes, muttering “Disco Disco” repeatedly under their breath and absentmindedly moving their hips to some unheard rhythm. 

And suddenly. It was over. The Mancathletes waited patiently for the scores to be tabulated by the Range Officer while Stu Beef did pressups in the parking lot. Here’s how it all panned out dear Ladies & Gentlemen, with sweet, sweet Victory for some and bitter defeat for others, but such is the Nature of the Game…

Phillip Guthrie – 5 points (371 out of a possible 400)

Gavin Marshall – 4 points (368)

Dr Kirk Stevens – 3 points (358)

Dr Todd Keenan – 2 points (351)

Rodney Macfarlane – 1 points (349)

POINTS TABLE [After Two Events]

Keenan (6)

Guthrie (5)

Trail (5)

Marshall (4)

Stevens (3)

Price (2.5)

Watson (2.5)

MacFarlane (1)

Judkins (1)

Brooke (0)

Munro (0)

Agnew (0)

Blight (0)

Reynolds (0)

Sutton (0)

Rowe (0)

Ballard (0)

Gregg (0)

Potter (0)

EVENT 2 PHOTOS

Who Shot Ya?

Back to the Top

Event 1: Ghetto Dice

The First Event of the 2008 Mancathlon “Ghetto Dice” was held on a Saturday night in the Ghetto and was attended by the following Mancathletes:
Stuart Brooke, Simon Judkins, Shane Munro, Leighton Agnew, Jared Trail, Conrad Blight, Brydon Price, Duncan Reynolds, Dr Kirk Stevens, Dr Todd Keenan, Jason Gregg & Reg Watson. 
Enshrouded by concrete, bathed in sickly fluorescence and with the booming 808-drum sounds of Rico’s Ghetto Mix Vol’s 1 & 2 rattling their synapses, a dozen Mancathletes old & new gathered to kick off the 2008 Season in style, Hood-style. Garbed in a veritable shit-rainbow of sartorial nastiness & stinking of cheap cologne, the Mancathletes reached into the coolers, grabbed theyselves a tall, frosty Colt-45 with their barnacled hands and got ready to get down to Business! Business in this instance was the accumulation of some serious motherf*ckin’ bank-roll via the fine and noble art of dice rolling. And while some naysayers and dilettantes may say, hold up Senor Rico, do not be ridiculous, this dice-rolling is not a fine competition at all, there is not the skill involved, only the luckiness. I would say to them in return “Screw you Sport, the illusion of control is no illusion”, it is a widely known fact that the longer you shake those dice, the harder you roll them & the more vehemently you shout “Bring them Trips home for Daddy, Bi-aaatch!” the finer your result will be… 
And so, as the Dirty Dozen cradled their 40-oz’s and rocked back and forth on their stolen, mismatched sneakers, eyes darting nervously around their opponents, Mr Juarez proceeded to lay out the groundrules in typically protracted & confusing fashion. Their crack-addled brains lurching tilt-a-whirl from the sudden flood of information, the Mancathletes shuffled towards the flattened cardboard boxes that would provide the newest arena of combat in their quest for Chiefly Glory. In the Brown corner was Stu, Leighton, Conrad, Dr Todd, Jason the Canuck & Big Reg Watson. In the Gold Teeth corner was Simon, Munnas, Jared, Brydon, Duncan & Dr Kirk Stevens. Rico and Trail led the two cliques through a virtual cash round that served to confuse the issue even further and had Reynolds clutching his flashy gangster headband in mental agony, “Are we playing for real money yet!?!”. Later in the tournament when the lightning bolt came that over $170.00 of cold, folding Kiwi Pesos were on the line, the surge of anguish & realisation almost overwhelmed him as he dropped to his knees clawing at the air in frustration and screaming “Why!? Why?!?”. 
And then, it was time for the bullshit to cease, Ice Cube to say peace, and the bankrolls to increase. The dice got to rolling and while the bankers set the pace the other shooters got to fading those bets and hustling to get a little slice of that sweet, sweet pie or even better, to wrestle control of that bankers roll for they own damn selves. Many styles were on display, from the patented & controversial “Trail Slide”, to Reg’s big-leaning “Pornstar Shuffle”, through to Agnew’s delicate touch on the wall as he gently scattered those precious bones like he was lightly drizzling sensual oils on a recumbent nude. Several Mancathletes repeatedly fell prey to their own Colt-45 inspired enthusiasm as sloppy rolls saw their cubes flung wildly against the concrete only to bounce out of the cardboard bounds and clatter impotently across the filthy Ghetto floor, forever dashing those big-money dreams & gold-teeth fantasies. As the cardboard tables ran hot and cold so too did the Mancathletes’ betting strategies; sometimes coming hard with the thunder and trying to make massive plays on the 50-50 and sometimes trying to edge it with small bets designed to claw back and maintain their bankroll. Lady Luck moved buoyantly amongst those hunched and noisy circles, massaging the proceedings with her slippery hands as bankrolls surged up and down in ever increasing arcs until Mancathletes, low on funds & desperate to get back in the game started to make those savage last-minute bets that saw them flung out the backdoor of the game & land back in Reality, broke, destitute & with an empty bottle of Colt their only pitiable solace. 
After two long hours of the old back-and-forth, wheat & chaff had been forever separated by the brutal rending forces of fortune; six Mancathletes had made their way to the Captains Table with big fat stacks of crumpled cash, while Stu Beef, Shane, Leight Doggy Dogg, Blight, Duncan & Dr Kirk had been left cradling their heads in their spade-like hands & weeping softly to themselves. Now it was time for the high-rollers and big arms to play the game, the game that mattered, the game for Precious Mancathlon Points and a filthy wodge of gin-you-wine CASH MONEY. And here’s how that final combat broke down, in the fine and faithful words of a man who lived through it all (somewhat condensed, expanded, exaggerated or played down where applicable…) – 
“Jason the Canadian went down after 5 seconds cos he was not paying attention, busy socializing, didn’t realise the stakes, the true import of Mancathlon points.
Judkins overconfidence f*cked him in the ass, constant reference to the size of his stake, did not quite measure up once the rulers came out.
Dr Todd killed everybody. Dominating furiously. Destroying his opponents ruthlessly and efficiently, one by one, stuffing their stacks into his tight green velour pants and leisurewear, rapidly gaining 20-30 kgs in thousand dollar bills. 
Price kept coming back from the dead, down to 6 bills but via some rash bets crawled his way back to a fat stack, then playing some even rasher bets to exit the game.
Reg employing the chaos theory and advanced random game techniques to keep both his opponents and himself in the dark.
Final show down saw Dr Todd go up against the Beast from the North-East, whose extensive background in Ruakaka speakeasies, gambling pits and sheer dumb luck saw him through to the top spot and the all-important 5-pointer.”
Yep, a fine evening was had by all in the Ghetto. We look forward to Event 2 – Shootin’ in which we welcome back to the fold Veteran Mancathletes such as Sutton & Guthrie, and feature the debut of hungry new players such as Ballard, Rowe & Potter who will be looking to shake this venerable institution to the ground with their unfettered arrogance and athleticism. Word. 
Special mentions are due to Dr Kirk for the Gown and KFC Bucket Ensemble, S. Judkins for the remarkably convincing South Auckland wastrel thing, Dr Todd for repping the Green Man with figure-hugging abandon “Charlie!!!!”, Leighton ‘Skinnyman’ Agnew for that Gold-Teeth Attitude and Messrs Gregg & Reynolds for their day-glo gangster duet. 
Extra special mention to Galbraiths for letting us pump Rico’s Ghetto Mix until we pumped the volume too high and the freakiness of Too-Shorts “Freaky Tales” put the customers off their delicious ales, we apologize for any less than gentlemanly conduct, we love the joint! 
POINTS TABLE [After One Event]
Trail (5)
Keenan (4)
Price (2.5)
Watson (2.5)
Judkins (1)
Brooke (0)
Munro (0)
Agnew (0)
MacFarlane (0)
Blight (0)
Reynolds (0)
Sutton (0)
Rowe (0)
Marshall (0)
Ballard (0)
Stevens (0)
Gregg (0)
Potter (0)
Guthrie (0)
The Following Mancathletes were absent from Event 1:
Rodney MacFarlane, AJ Sutton, Thomas Rowe, Gavin Marshall, Gareth Ballard & Randall Potter.
In Other News:
2007 Mancathlete & “Masters” Rower Phillip Guthrie has decided that the New Season’s Roster was ultimately irresistible and has succumbed to the inexorable pull to rejoin the Mighty Contest; he has vowed to prove once & for all that the key to Ultimate Victory is to sport the Hairiest of chests and be clad in the Tightest of lycra wherever possible. 

EVENT 1 PHOTOS 

Road Dogs

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The A.G.M. & Opening Ceremony

The Mancathlon 2008 A.G.M. & Opening Ceremony was held on a Saturday afternoon beneath the stately pacific arches of The Mancathlon Fale and was attended by the following Old-School sonsabitches:

Leighton Agnew, Rodney MacFarlane, Brydon Price, AJ Sutton, Stuart Brooke, Duncan Reynolds, Conrad Blight & Simon Judkins.

For just a couple of hours on a wintry Auckland afternoon the dark clouds loosened their onanistic grip on the skies and allowed a few shafts of watery sunlight to illuminate the sacred grounds of The Mancathlon Meeting House. A group of Veteran Mancathletes had gathered therein to debate in spirited but fraternal terms the future of this Mighty Contest. Would the 2008 Season see the debut of such choice manly events as Ninja Stars vs Nunchukas, Midget Tossing, Getting Chased by a Police Dog, Launching Flaming Arrows into Tanks of Diesel or The John Matrix Memorial Log Carrying Classic? Or would 2008 finally see the introduction of the much maligned Graham-mooted Poetry Event, or the soft and sensitive Life Drawing, indeed, perhaps Scone Baking and Embroidery would fit more closely the agenda of these aging Warriors? But no they said, No and no again! Once more The Mancathlon would be designed to test “The Full Spectrum of Manliness”, encompassing all the Speed, Strength, Intelligence, Creativity and Guts under Pressure that define a True Big Chief. And so over several delicious, muddy cups of Kava they hammered out a New Season that would be a test of a man, that would force Mancathletes old and new to look deep within themselves and behold either the soft, cuddly lambswool of failure or the Pure, Cold Steel of VICTORY!

And so, without further circumlocutory ado, let me introduce you the public to the awesome, pulsating majesty of the 2008 Mancathlon Season…

Event 1 – Ghetto Dice

Event 2 – Shootin’

Event 3 – Orientearassing

Event 4 – Masterbrain Phase II

Event 5 – Assault Course

Event 6 – Creation of Fire

Event 7 – Bicycle Joust

Event 8 – The Race

Event 9 – Pulling A Truck

Event 10 – Karaoke Grand Finale

Bonus Round –  Beer Brewing                       

A.G.M. PHOTOS

Munro Pours The Goodness

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