Footyhead of the Cove… Devil’s Kitchen, Moonlight Head, Victoria. I hope all the Knackers have a corker of a season on and off the oval next year. Matt Zurbo. Matt Zurbobleh
Brett’s Last Hurrah
September 1, 2012 by 2 Comments
Hello? Yes, Brett. What? You don’t want me to call you Brett today? Oh. Mr. Ratten? No? Um… Rats? Yes, yes, I can hear you… Oh, I thought you were cursing. Serious? Jesus on a cross? What, as if it’s a name? I know, yes I know you still have three hours to go [Read more]
Discussion: Today’s Champions
August 29, 2012 by 8 Comments
Right now I’m wondering if Martin Pike was a Champion. Four Premierships, All-Australians. A B&F. He did it in winning sides, he did it with no support at Fitzroy. What about John Blakey? Rohan Smith? Both played over 300 games of elite level football. Many say you can’t reach that number without being [Read more]
Footy Poetry: Josh
August 27, 2012 by 2 Comments
Matt Zurbo is at a footy-watching, beer-drinking, rock’n’roll, Saturday night thirtieth.
Best On Ground…Or Not
August 17, 2012 by 5 Comments
Best On Ground… Or Not. I watched the Doggies vs Tigers last week. In a small butchering shed on a hill, just down my track. It was a good enough game for two teams not quite anywhere, yet again. Boyd played well for the Dogs, with pride. He reminded me of a pro. Half [Read more]
Friday footy is a beautiful thing
August 4, 2012 by 7 Comments
Friday Footy is a Beautiful Thing. I finished work not long after sunset, watching the moon wobble up from, then across, the mountains. It was almost full, but not, as if someone had dropped it on its head. As I came down the logging tracks into the valley, towards the nearest farms, that lead [Read more]
A Good Way To Watch Footy
July 25, 2012 by 5 Comments
A Good Way to Watch Footy. Nutsy and I pull up barstools at the tavern. He’s played well, but his groin is sore. His wife is well-pregnant. “Groin?” I had said, while we watched the seniors belt out an easy win in constant drizzle, then gave him every “too much pulling” joke ever [Read more]
Off with the wildebeests
July 19, 2012 by 8 Comments
By Paul “Porka” Stephens It is essential I write a bit about a man who made me, not the re-producing way but in the a way of initiating me into the world of coaching. I didn’t have a clue when I coached my first game at a new club out the middle of nowhere. I [Read more]
The Race
July 8, 2012 by 3 Comments
The Race. Black Caviar’s got me thinking. When I was younger I rode a racehorse bareback in the Snowy Mountains, racing cattle horses through the bush. It felt likes something mighty, graceful. It didn’t gallop, it flew, then landed to fly again. Of course I fell, at speed. Twice. Landed in snow and [Read more]
Footy DNA
July 4, 2012 by 4 Comments
Gibson and Lake. DNA is a brilliant thing. Look at how many SODs, Sons of Dads are playing the game these days. Heaps! Only half of them from Footscray! How good is it to see a Liberatore running around? Keeping the mighty flame of his father’s name burning! A Raines! Even runs like Dad. [Read more]
Waving Money
June 28, 2012 by 14 Comments
Waving Money. Hold on to your storm in a teacups! Word is, some fans took the piss out of a young bloke who chased the money last weekend! Flashed fake dollars at him! Gasp! Booed, even. Strewth! What’s more, a few of them made a banner or two that were taken down. [Read more]
Stroppy Jack
June 14, 2012 by 5 Comments
Stroppy Jack. Hark, they call, Stroppy Jack! His body language is no good. He’s surly. He’s arrogant. He has a cocky way. Damn straight. Why can’t he be like Lenny Hayes? Why can’t he be like Dunstall? Why can’t he be like Nick? Why [Read more]
Off Season Odyssey Pt.5: Dreams, and One in 5,000,000.
December 18, 2011 by 6 Comments
The trouble with an Off Season Odyssey is you don’t get a real break from footy. A day in Melbourne and I’m over it. My old mate, Gianpi, lines me up a week on a demolition crew, which is good, then we have a kick, because we’ve had a kick for 30 years, no [Read more]
Off Season Odyssey Part 4 – The “G”
December 14, 2011 by 9 Comments
by Matt Zurbo Jack’s in a band. He plays social footy, and fills in with a suburban team now and them. They call him The Butcher. More for the way he kicks than anything. “How was the Tassie west coast?” he asks. “Brilliant,” I say. “Lonely. There just aren’t any people down there. [Read more]
Hangies and Rugby
December 8, 2011 by 4 Comments
Hangies and Rugby. A few days of farm work and, somehow, cutting back from the coast and its relentless winds, I‘ve found myself in the back of a city, over a river and all the lights that frame it, drinking at a hangi with a group of Islanders. Most of them are from PNG [Read more]
Quietly, a line in the sand.
December 4, 2011 by 4 Comments
Quietly, A Line in the Sand. I went to Southport in Tasmania the southern-most town in the land, looking for the southern-most footy oval in the country, or, I dunno, unless they play Aussie Rules that far south in New Zealand, maybe the world. But when I left I saw the dirt road [Read more]
Off-season odyssey. Part I
December 1, 2011 by 17 Comments
From the Bottom, Up. Doug was a postie, one year off retiring. Bert, I reckon, propped up the bar most nights. “I drive an excavator, do as little work as possible,” he said. It was a small town, the smallest. I got the impression Bert’s way was the general way. The sun was an [Read more]
Regrets and Odysseys
November 23, 2011 by 11 Comments
Gianpi and Sergio were two of my best mates. When they were about 20 they hopped in a car and headed north because it was facing north. Just drove and drove. By the time they reached the Northern Territory they had $20 dollars between them. The caravan park operator saw their Victorian license-plates. “Can [Read more]
Laps
November 2, 2011 by 14 Comments
I drove down one of the goat’s tracks behind town yesterday, towards home, stopping off at the footy oval, where it all smoothes out into thin, second-hand bitumen roads. The grass was long, everything grey drizzle, rolling hills and mountains that disappeared into low, shifting clouds. My feet weren’t itching at all. It all [Read more]
A Lovely Bullet Part II
October 18, 2011 by 2 Comments
Tribes and Family. The function was a ripper. My fiancé and I were drunk and in love. Despite it all. I remember dancing with her. How good it felt. She was all happy and shy about it. A tiny woman, or, maybe, in hindsight, girl, surrounded by all us apes. Big donks [Read more]
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