Almanac poetry: The sweet spot

The sweet spot

 

JD and me
Fifty-five and sixty
Kicking a brand new footy
Behind the cemetery

 

Skinny old legs
Kennedy legs
From our mothers’ side
Majella and Margaret
And six more
Some left too young
(I’m nearly my mother’s age)
Others lived long
Majella’s faithful heart
Going and going
Nine decades and then some

 

The safety of drop-punts
The skew-wiff risk of torps
The timing of enigmatic drop-kicks
Right foot mainly (left foot rarely)
Aiming for that sweet spot
When the ball
– unscarred and full of air and energy –
Leaves the boot
– real footy boots, not runners –
And spins or spirals
Hopefully perfectly
From one Kennedy to another

 

Thirty metres apart
Hands ready to mark the ball
Hands that held our mothers’ fingers
When we were babes in their arms

 

When we were younger
The kicks went much further
Fifty-five…sixty…
(Okay, so we kid ourselves)

 

We get older
We get closer

 

Two blokes
Kicking a new footy
Behind a cemetery

 

 

 

About Vin Maskell

Founder and editor of Stereo Stories, a partner site of The Footy Almanac. Likes a gentle kick of the footy on a Sunday morning, when his back's not playing up. Been known to take a more than keen interest in scoreboards - the older the better.

Comments

  1. Peter Fuller says

    Beautifully done Vin. You evoke the lament “we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven” (in our imaginations and memory at least). I will send your poem to John’s cousins who will enjoy it as much from a football as a family perspective.

  2. Thanks Peter. Nice to hear from you. Your point about imaginations and memory certainly rings true.We are not always what we seem, or we think we might be! Regards.

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