The most goddamn fantastic thing I have seen in football happened in the Bay, where not enough good things happened. I was at war with most everybody at the time. But, this one nothing day, not hot or cold, a sky going nowhere, I had come into town for supplies. I was talking [Read more]
Football and Music Part II (Finals Music)
September 24, 2011 by 7 Comments
Music is a funny thing when laced with footy. When we won the flag two years ago and they finally shut the club rooms, most of us broke into the old weatherboard hall we use as changing rooms. An oil drum fire out front, five utes backed into a circle, the same [Read more]
Coaching Solutions
September 19, 2011 by 14 Comments
Okay, already! Alright, alright, I’ll do it. Somebody has to. I’ll coach an AFL team, damn it. Anyone see Mark Harvey being interviewed on Friday night? Died black hair, sunnies, faded grey t-shirt. He looked like another mug who hangs out at the TAB a bit too much. I mean, take away the [Read more]
Mark of the Year: Part I.
September 15, 2011 by 8 Comments
Never take a mark for granted. They are the sweetest thing. Never take The Mark of the Year for granted, either. People say it like it’s a fact. “That was the mark of the year!” Full stop. Odds are, Walker will win the telly one, but footy means many different things to many [Read more]
Grand Finals Part I
September 11, 2011 by 1 Comment
When my season finished in a deficit of four bitter goals and biffo, a big map of the country, with about 20,000 pinheads marking football ovals opened up. So, thanks to Sammy Harriott, I went home to the Otways. The tough, leathery bush champion had pulled his battered body together and come out of [Read more]
Football and music. Part I.
September 6, 2011 by 23 Comments
Tonight in Tassie, outside, the city streets were still with cold. Empty. Inside, sitting in the warm seaweed sway of a noisy Friday night pub, I was watching the footy on a small monitor above the wine fridge, while the band, behind me, did their thing. The football looked strange. A pocket of [Read more]
Pendlebury
September 4, 2011 by 4 Comments
Pendlebury. The pub was small and full. There was a great no-name band crammed into the corner, a few loose units dancing, people in booths talking, everybody pushing like mud rivers to get to get drinks, to the smoker’s section, to and from the fire. I wore them all, and the music, like a [Read more]
Lockett to Winmar
September 1, 2011 by 32 Comments
Winmar to Lockett. Lillee to Marsh. Just saying it sounds beaut. In footy, in my generation, it was “Winmar to Lockett!” Oh, yeah! Winmar. To. Locket. Just to hear those words again. Before my time it was Farmer to Goggin. We are all history, or soon will be. I would [Read more]
Fitzroy: Part I
August 29, 2011 by 10 Comments
Fitzroy Pt. 1 Lou barracked for Geelong and had a wicked laugh. All bongs and cackles. I’d had my wost year ever, at the club I liked least, and had qualified for reserves finals. Fuck the ‘locals first’ policy. I played a corker. We lost anyway. The season was done. As planned, Lou and [Read more]
Now He Can Play
August 26, 2011 by 1 Comment
Now He Can Play. This happened on one of those beaut days, down in the rolling Carlile Valley, where Otway sometimes play their home games. Mid-season, usually, to get away from the mud of the mountains and let the ground mend. Carlile is the bush. Nowhere, in the best way. It doesn’t even have [Read more]
You Know
August 22, 2011 by 4 Comments
You Know. Every time I, or a team I coach, make it into finals, about now, when the time is right and the steel has to come out, I tell this story to the squad. Because it was true. Because it hurt. It was my first year at the club. We had only [Read more]
Characters III: Almost Everybody Loved Brauz
August 19, 2011 by 2 Comments
Almost everybody loved Brauz. I did, in spades. He was a freak of a player. CHF. Strong, like Ablett Sr. Could leap and kick like Ablett. Run and hit packs like Ablett. He had natural power. Head-to-toe. And never trained and was always on the grog. He would win any 400 race, but [Read more]
The Grass Is Always Greener
August 15, 2011 by 7 Comments
Embarrassing Football Moments No. 3,204 The Grass Is Always Greener. I played a lot of footy with Brendo, many years ago. Better than that, we were mates. It was good to come home for a few days. To catch up. He’d done well in the years I’d been away. Worked hard and used [Read more]
Characters II. The Local Variety.
August 13, 2011 by 9 Comments
The first character I ever saw in footy was at my first club. Andy had long, thin hair, a mo, three stops on each boot, as many teeth and played on the wing. If the niggle was up, and he gave away a free, he’d stand the mark, the ball between his legs. [Read more]
One Point
August 10, 2011 by 3 Comments
The Ressies had it in the bag. The mob we were playing had to beat us to take our spot in the finals, but didn’t. On a day forecast for rain, the clouds danced over the mountain without stopping to even look. Hell, it wasn’t weather, it was scenery. Under that, on the [Read more]
Characters. Part I.
August 7, 2011 by 24 Comments
Characters Pt.1. Lenny Hayes has it. I’m sure. He plays with it, in a way that defines a person. Character. What a jet! I’d be stoked to meet him. Just to say thanks. But there is character, and there are characters. The game needs ‘em. I need ‘em. On the footy field, in my [Read more]
A Lovely Bullet
August 3, 2011 by 1 Comment
I met her up in the mountains, which was rare. She was tour guiding while I rebuilt the forest floor, in the middle of winter. Head-to-toe in mud. She didn’t care. Come autumn, the girls from down in the Bay had arranged a female footy match to raise money for something. You [Read more]
Football’s Not Everything
July 25, 2011 by 8 Comments
Murder was a talented kid, and trouble. A ratbag, a thief. Chockers with personality. I wasn’t wide-eyed, but I liked him a lot, anyway. Maybe because when I was a kid I was a bit of trouble. Maybe just because. There doesn’t always have to be a reason. He could play [Read more]
Thriving on pain
July 24, 2011 by 5 Comments
They. Are. Freaks! Most all of them! I only started watching because of sleep problems. In the midnight, in the bush. And then I was interested, and then I was hooked. The cyclists of the Tour de France rolled and whirled across and up my telly every night. They pushed through pain, they went past [Read more]
Airports and Grunt
July 20, 2011 by 4 Comments
The road must have been in a safe seat. It was shit, but in a good way. Thin, with narrow shoulders, ebbing and flowing through a bumpy patchwork of tar repairs, but, suddenly, it bent and rose across a railway track and smoothed out into a town that was more like a village. [Read more]
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