By Damian O’Donnell Zone, schmone. Flood, schmud. Reputation, schmeputation. The Bombers blew all these to the scheisenhaus on Friday night with joyful, fast, youthful, exuberant, unpredictable football. I watched the game like a kid watching Shrek for the fifteenth time. It was good old-fashioned fun. From the very start the Bombers played like young blokes [Read more]
Warm feeling on a cold day
By Damian O’Donnell It was mid-winter, the mud was cold and deep, and the rain had a sting to it. It came down on that awkward winter angle where no part of the body is shielded. My footy boots were full of water and my long-sleeve jumper hung shapeless, like a clock face in a [Read more]
An Anzac Day reflection
By Damian O’Donnell A whole generation of blokes goes off to war in 1914. They go to a foreign land to kill and be killed. Today we might struggle to understand that. We, the inhabitants of this global village where the other side of the world is a click of a mouse away, cannot begin [Read more]
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