sunlight on leather

 by Rob Scott   first morning a familiar scent on the breeze   It should perhaps be the game at its purest. Everyone and everything is primed. Sun-tanned, tattooed and absurdly muscled players; feverish fans emerging on frenzied tenterhooks from a long summer of enforced detachment and other family commitments; pristinely manicured playing surfaces; even [Read more]

the damp Sherrin

    grand final dawn a bit of tightness in my hammys     low cloud Cloke’s long drop punt splits the ‘G in half     even on this day Stevie J reminds us the ‘G is a playing field     half-time at the pub another round of texting     lights on [Read more]

preliminary final – the clock stops

    late september the veteran scores the winning goal     the MCG in spring — alive with hawks, magpies and seagulls     the moon punches a hole in the sky — Tarrant spoils     bad live stream our hopes flickering     spring haze a field of heavy-limbed footballers     [Read more]

deeper into spring

spring sunset the difference a goal makes       freshly cut fields Swan feeds on the MCG     cloud then sun then cloud yet to hit our stride       looking for the angle Krakouer turns his back to the goals       a gap in the clouds Wellingham catches the [Read more]

Haiku Bob – round 24: some buds open

spring evening squealing cats spoil my dreams packed ‘G long after the goal I hear it fast moving clouds a chain of handpasses ends with a goal the curved path of the moon — Fasolo from the pocket last drinks our last goal turns out to be our last filling the half-empty stadium final siren [Read more]

the splintered pack

  12 goals clear Krakouer kicks the last on impulse     spring petals — Cloke plucks one close to home     Sandilands jumps — the splintered pack releases the goal sneak     the many paths life takes us peppering the goals     Swan sets off everyone left behind     winter’s [Read more]

round 22 – haiku bob – nearing spring

  warmer nights — the kick-out reaches the centre square       our latest back six concedes the first goal in under a minute       the old world connects to the new — Fasolo curls one back       late winter — gaps in our desire filled by Ball     [Read more]

Haiku Bob Round 21: length of the wing

  full moon Leon in every passage         a forward thrust as far as Tarrant’s fist and no further         six points such cheap reward for Wellingham’s goal         buds begin to flower — Fasolo plucks one from the pack         tucked under [Read more]

Haiku Bob Round 20: somewhere the moon

  winter rain — the ball tossed between bodies of water     somewhere the moon — Port players have trouble finding the ball     soggy night — Blair uses his lack of height     night rain — Collingwood players add to the glitter     non-stop rain — a dyke erected across [Read more]

somewhere the moon

    winter rain — the ball tossed between bodies of water   somewhere the moon — Port players have trouble finding the ball   soggy night — Blair uses his lack of height   night rain — Collingwood players add to the glitter   non-stop rain — a dyke erected across the half-back line [Read more]

round 19: haiku bob – slipstreaming

This week’s match report comes from Budapest in Hungary where I attended the Formula 1 Grand Prix. Fascinating city. Wonderful race. And another Magpie victory.   practice session — every one of Cloke’s kicks is a goal     safety car — Prismall’s knee collapses at the first turn     slipstreaming – Pendlebury moves [Read more]

backing into the swell

taking my lead from fellow floreat pican andrea mcnamara this week. i too was ‘by the sea’ for this game. actually, it was a lake – and we were in the middle of it. on an island about 3 hours north of stockholm called örjung. beautiful, peaceful place with classic swedish scenery – water, forest, [Read more]

among the rotting leaves

  cross wind — a betting slip among the rotting leaves   no sunlight on that side of the ground — just Daisy   but for their whistles the umpires would disappear *   a chill in the winter sun — Swan scuffs his first kick     the first petal separates.. Daisy’s one hander [Read more]

one goal blurs

  murky light — the umpire sees a free no-one can   old woman knitting — our forward work slowly comes together   rain starts — Daisy comes from the clouds   winter afternoon — the torpedo punt drops short   misty rain — one goal blurs into another   hundred points up — the [Read more]

under the press

  jet lag fog — Daisy handballs over his head to his opponent   low cloud — Hawks wilting under the press   leaves gone — Cloke leads into the space   murky day– Cloke’s hands trap the light   flags flutter on top of the scoreboard — the kick doesn’t come back   night [Read more]

blood and innards

It was midsummer this week in Sweden. Haiku Bob spent the weekend at the family’s summer house north of Stockholm on an island called Vätö. Beautiful spot. Went on a fishing expedition while the Pies and Swans slugged it out. The Pies got the points and we brought home the herring (about 60 0f them!)

Haiku Bob: Round 12- change of scenery

change of scenery — the first gamer adds some colour         rolling waves — leon breaks the last line         pale clouds — the Demon’s defence wearing thin           another sunburnt Pom — Wellingham slices through like they’re witches hats           [Read more]

flinging shadows

remnants of the sun — Goddard strikes the first blow         leaves tumble… tonight Cloke marking everything           floodlights flinging shadows — a hurried snap for goal         sharp cold — late goals before the long break bite the Saints         autumn [Read more]

the shudder of bones

autumn rain — Pendlebury slips into the stream when I crack my knuckles     our first goal chilly MCG — empty seats but not too much to be quiet about mist blunt air head down Ball hammers into the shudder of bones the sun has gone off somewhere but here’s Daisy! dusk presents itself Cloke [Read more]

blushing leaves

scattered leaves — none of our players where they were named closed roof — a lull overhangs our rustiness one miss from close in then two, then three… — blushing leaves wind-lashed trees — goals from turnovers pile up Wellingham crumbs — bodies swirl in his wake closed roof — all eyes on Daisy’s torp [Read more]