I'm proud of our achievements at those clubs in my past.
In the city finals football; such sweet memories shall last.
And then at University we nearly won the cup.
We lost by 3, but we were ...well ... most worthy runners up.
But then my own life journey led me further to the west,
to a small town in the country. Guess which sport they loved the best?
Sure, they played lots of tennis, and some golf and cricket too.
But football was their passion. It was football through and through.
As is the case in most small towns the grapevine's pretty fast.
The bush telegraph had gone to work before 3 days had passed.
When word got out the new bloke had played football for a bit,
they sent a clubman over, then, to make the most of it.
"G'day mate. How're you settling? Do ya need hand at all?
I just popped in to welcome you. I hear you play football.
Cause let me tell ya buddy. That's really great to hear.
We're trying to start the club back up. We had no team last year.
So if you need some exercise or want to have a run
Or want to meet the local lads or just to have some fun,
We train on Thursday evenings and we'd welcome you along.
I'd better go. My name is Joe. I'll see you then. So long!"
Well I was flabbergasted. But don't think I'm complaining.
Without a doubt I slipped on out and headed down to training.
The guys were mostly youngsters. ( Except the front row three.
These blokes, no joke, mid thirties, and as tough as tough can be.)
The backs lacked both experience and size, as I could see.
And so the task of leading them was going to fall on me.
The first game was two weeks away. Our lead up pretty loose.
With less than thirteen blokes to train, strict tactics little use.
We focussed our main energies on those blokes who were present.
The task of getting these blokes fit was neither small nor pleasant.
When game day came we filled a bus. Albeit a twenty seater.
Two fans, one coach, and two reserves, the team, plus captain Peter.
Away we went to Tullamore; A land of sweeping plains.
The track was often hard and dry, but boggy now from rains.
For two long hours we drove and drove till we were like to drop.
Until at last in dry despair we sought a bottle shop.
When we arrived the air was tense. This was no friendly match.
The trial games were finished now. Comp points were there to snatch.
Six years in senior football; In the finals all but two.
But this was small town football, and to this club I was new.
So I new the importance of having a great debut.
The time had come I told myself. I knew what I must do.
I'd lead by sheer example in my tackles in defence.
And in attack I'd pass and wrap to spur our younger gents.
From 5/8 I would call the plays or chip kick for the winger.
The game began to my gameplan, but then there came the stinger!! ...
(If you would like to know the amazing but true ending to this story, please leave me a message in the guestbook.)
