Almanac Poetry: A Boy and His Football
He trots in
head low, licking
the four fingers on each hand
his thumbs rubbing in the spit
that’s how you make the ball stick
Up on his toes, winding
past the bodies in the pocket
border collie eyes
looking at the smells
on the puff of wind
The umpy’s bounce smacks high
the crowd murmurs,
they’ve spotted him
panic rises in the box
who’s on Hird, who’s on Hird?
The schoolboy in long sleeves
doing his ordinary schoolboy things
even now, in the main arena
against the seasoned hard men
Juggling a mark
falling among tangled limbs
leaning up on his shoulder
climbing out of bed
running away into
an open goal
Listen to Gabriel, the arch angel
sitting behind you on the wing
she whispers in your ear
did you see that…
did you see that…
there’s your boy
pure innocence
James Hird was crucified
the gentle angel on the pitch
lured into a fast car
and thrown into a ditch
Watch it… on youtube
or in your memory
over and over again
James Hird
trotting down the field
in some other world
licking his fingers
trusting the Sherrin
to come to him
See the oval ball
hit a tuft
veer sideways
heed the call
of its lifelong
best friend
A boy and his football
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About Michael Pardy












Welcome to the Almanac Michael. Terrific poem, looking forward to reading many more on the site.
Hi Michael – a great poem. Thank you! My dad is a Bombers supporter and I have a real soft spot for Hirdy. He was amazing with the footy.
Thanks Colin. Whenever I need a lift, I go on youtube and watch “James Hird – You Are a Genius”. I plan to write a few previews of the Bomber games this season. No post-mortems, just one-eyed optimistic previews. Social Media tells me its been six thousand three hundred and sixy something days since Essendon have won a final. Not so long for a die hard. It’s getting closer.
Hi Nicole,
Thanks for the compliment. It sounds like your dad is very astute and has probably made many other good choices in life.
Great stuff Michael . I am not big on Essendon but James Hird was a joy to watch and your poem encapsulates him beautifully .Never forget the night he kicked a great goal when Essendon needed one and ran through the goals to the boundary and high fived a Bombers supporter . It was shades of a kid kicking a big goal in the the under 14s grand final .
No Hird fan but Looking at the smells/ on the puff of wind. Nice. Two u’s in murmurs.
Thanks Michael.
As a Crows fan I happily admit that Hird is the best footballer I’ve seen play in the flesh. And, of course, I’ve a soft spot for MacLeod and Jarman but one day at Footy Park he was remarkable and seemed to read the game with an astrophysicist’s eye.
You’re welcome Mickey. We play you guys in round four at Docklands. Jarman used to get into another world as well. He simplified the whole thing. Get ball, kick goal.
Thanks Bill. Murmurs looks much better when spelled correctly.
@Hayden Kelly – I know what you mean. There was always something straggly about him, a school kid with his shirt-tail hanging out. The footy liked him. He seemed to get many kind bounces..
And the licking of the fingers was straight from the lunch time kick to kick at school manual .