Brendan Jenkins
One of the four founding fathers of the club, “Toes” is perhaps best remembered for his short career with the Cats. Journeying south for our first official match in the now defunct Santa Cruz ANZAC tournament, Toes went down in the first five minutes with blisters. Maybe it was his borrowed boots; maybe it was his academic lifestyle. One thing’s for sure: it wasn’t his pace.

Toes returned to Oz soon after to pursue his PhD. Let’s hope he learnt his shoe size. He is heartily thanked for his contributions to igniting this great club.

Career Stats:
Games 0.1
Goals 0
Behinds 0

Scott Schenck
“The Schenckstar” could only be described as an unfashionable footballer. One of the first American recruits, Scotty remains the only Cat to have incurred a poison ivy rash during a game.

Highlights of his career include an unorthodox knuckleball goal against Boston in the 2000 Nationals (it redefined slow motion) and having his nose broken against Denver the same year. Still, he didn’t mind mixing it up, and proved that not all nerds are soft.

Scott now lives in Dupont and is considering a run for mayor. His election is about as likely as him kicking a regulation drop punt.

Career Stats:
Games 12
Goals 1
Behinds 17

Rock Mirey
Another founding father, Mirey is easily the biggest bullshitter the club has ever known. Unkindly stripped of his ticket for the ’99 Nationals, he has never forgiven the club selectors and still maintains that he could have contributed 7 or 8 per game from a pocket.

Often mistaken for 70s Collingwood legend Ronny Wearmouth, Rocko did show flashes of brilliance at the one training he attended four years ago.

Since bringing the internet to a halt in 1999 with his one millionth crap email about some crap football team playing in a crap game long before Paul Shallow was called “Stem”, Mirey is now rarely sighted.

Career Stats:
Games 0
Goals 0
Behinds 0
Training Runs 0.5
Bullshit Stories 244

Nipper Dunne
Nip holds the distinction of being the youngest player ever to pull on a guernsey for the Cats plus providing proof that alcohol was invented to embarrass redheads. Closely guarded by older brothers Owen and Liam (who can forget that classic serving of retribution against San Diego in ’99), he stepped out of their shadow a few years ago. He was last seen asleep in Owen’s car after drinking 1 beer and smelling another at the Irish Emigrant. An ugly brawl was narrowly averted and no-one knows where he is.

Career Stats:
Games 14
Underage Drinking Infractions (Classified)
Fights 12

Gordon Burridge
GB was the inaugural club coach, and despite a few indiscretions, served admirably.

Who can forget his ploy of buying a pair of footy shorts (custom made with two or three parachutes) and threatening to play in Cincinnati? Not one player was prepared to admit they were tired or hurt, or even look at the interchange bench.

Still, being reported for his abusive language and claiming that the subsequent tribunal was a kangaroo court was just a touch theatrical.

He was last seen selling squash racquets and polo shirts on Vashon Island. Unfortunately, he has yet to see the magnificent “Burridge Room” at the Kangaroo and Kiwi.

Career Stats:
Games Won 11
Games Lost 10
Hotel Rooms Shared with Paul Shallow: 7

Lance Van Loon
LVL snuck onto the Cats roster while serving a 52 game suspension in some obscure Victorian bush league. A classic conundrum, Lance spoke with a plum the size of Mount Rainier in his mouth while sporting some pretty ordinary tattoos and a nasty streak reserved for conservatives, McDonalds, SUV drivers and the Boston player who roughed up Erdles.

Despite spending time as a court clerk, Lance had a blatant disregard for the law, which is ironic considering he now lives 3 blocks from the Capitol in DC. We suspect he is now a lobbyist for the snowboard industry.

If you ever need a bike puncture fixed or a discussion on why Fidel Castro is a really good bloke, Lance is your man.

Andrew Donlen (the player)
One warm June night in 1999 a shy and reserved young man came in for a quiet drink at the Conor Byrne public house in Ballard. What a coincidence that the barman was Gordon Burridge and the vagabond was yearning for a sniff of the pigskin. It turned out that despite weighing 198 kilos (its worse in pounds, and quite a bit more these days) the lad could play a bit.

Who could forget his performance in Cincinnati (Nationals: ’99) when he routinely used his enormous arse to hold off five defenders at a time and kicked a bag of goals. Add to that the next Santa Cruz tournament where he showed a bit of form lumbering all over the half forward line. He looked like a big blue bouncy castle with the air slowing draining out of a puncture as small humans were repelled by his gyrations. And yet, he was surprisingly effective, kicking well over half our score.

Sadly, he did not know his limitations.

Donlen has never been accused of multitasking (yet to master humour and tact at the same time), but when Burridge moved on, Big Andy stuck his hand right up.

Not wishing to be a puppet, Gordon handed the reins to Donlen who set about turning the club from not bad to really good. His record speaks for itself. Two wins from a 9 game season is horrible. But we didn’t get just a questionable coach, we lost a centre half forward.

In 2002 Big Andy suited up for most games, but spent half the time on the boundary holding a clipboard, and the rest wandering the forward line looking for free kicks. Perhaps his lowest ebb was when Vancouver played Babs Wirkus on him and she gave him an absolute bath.

This year he’s moved to the backline where he tries to pick off errant kicks by Canadian rookies and discuss the 1980 VFL grand final.

Let’s hope that one day we’ll see Donlen the player again.

Jim Trenerry
A founding club member, Jim’s recent retirement caused shockwaves in US football circles. Particularly popular with members of opposition clubs who enjoyed Jim's “traditional” approach to footy (coming from Adelaide, which is stuck in a 70’s time warp, could it be any other way?), his contribution to the game, particularly off the field, will always be remembered. Who can forget some of the magnificent outfits that Jim wore, in his words “to bring football fashion into the new millennium”. Plaid skintight pants, crocheted caps in the style of Nepalese Sherpas, loud Hawaiian shirts and of course the legendary “shacket” (half shirt, half jacket) are just examples of the innovations Jim bought to the football fashion industry.

Jim’s footballing claim to fame revolved around the spectacular marking attempt he made over former Sydney professional John Ironmonger in a tournament in Santa Cruz. The fashion-conscious half-back “leaped onto the shoulders of the man mountain, spending what seemed like an hour perched on his shoulders before crashing to the Earth, the ball falling from my grasp at the last second”. Who among us has not been cornered at some social function, forced to listen to Trenerry’s eight-hour recounting of the “one of the greatest sporting feats of all time, the day that David slew Goliath”. Last year eight players not only left the team but also departed the country due to Jim’s harassment.

Fortunately, the match was captured on video, and as they say in the classics, the camera never lies. Archived footage revealed that Ironmonger was lying on the ground at the time of the “Great Leap” and this revelation has put a black mark on Trenerry’s lofty achievement. Nevertheless, he was chosen to represent our club in the advertising arena. As the pictured man in the Seattle footy recruiting poster, Jim has managed to repel many potential gun recruits. Vancouver football club seems to have been the main beneficiary, most new players preferring to join a club that “does not require their players to wear knickerbockers”.

Craving diversity, Jim located himself in Bothell, where in his words “people of all different heights live”. Upon retirement, he locked himself away, intending to devote himself to his work and spend more time with his family. In Jim’s words his “enormous contribution to football has caused my work to suffer and to miss my kids’ childhoods ”. Jim now works at least seven hours a week and in an ironic twist, his wife & children have begged Seattle football to “take Dad back, he’s an annoying smelly bastard ”. So far, we have managed to hold out, part of the Club Charter now insists that new members cannot wear flared pants, safari suits, platform shoes or polyester singlets. This should keep him on the outskirts until Kaftans make a comeback (and make Charlie Commeree think twice before leaving the house).