Dude, a 2026 journey
In Palmy, in the mid-20s, a team was thinking of folding. It was a good run, a long run, but they were short on players and long on stories. They decided they would reach out for fresh legs, and they found more than that. Few turnaround stories do; few sad endings find new fates. This lot have stepped up last season: lots of nail-biting, a few snatches of victory from the jaws of defeat and lots of hard yards.
All the reward was a new Div, new faces but same culture. These words meandering, dastardly, invading a perfectly fine morning is a centring task, a moment of mindfulness and memento mori (remember we die). Not to shine glory on our voluntary attempt to overcome unnecessary obstacles, but because we have so much else to live for and stress about this happy distraction, this play, this moment of brisk pass, short run, touch to space and if we dare to “just bloody shoot”.
A few humans wander around a pitch, rippling like waves on a pond out and back, ebb and flow, touching but flowing in sync, but rebalancing those little spaces, little moves, little shouts and calls keep the short, simple pass wildly effective and frustrates and opponent. A few strikes, a dink or a left peg off the crossbar that is followed by one @CH when everyone else saw a ball going out of play gives a moment of glory. A dream achieved, an effort fulfilled, and still we die.
Today our untidy affair will be governed by an omnipresent, omnipotent (at least as far as the bylaws and some egos are concerned) judge of our affairs. They are the league’s human; waste not your breath on appeals or arguments El Capitan (or dos Capitans) is there for that. Don’t bother to flirt, or patronise them even if they are cute. The league gets involved: cards, bylaws, barristers and pornographers; public relations; it is a shit show. We(well, you lot) get a moment today to combine easy with no drama and produce flow. A breath becomes a moment becomes a memory, and 90 disappears into the next story.
Te Wero
Easy + No Drama = Flow
The chances were thick and fast last week, and the only harsh words on the sideline were “Just bloody shoot”. We may judge (it’s natural) each other by attempts not taken rather than a lash that goes afar. No ill will, just a hope for a moment to watch a strike, cheer an effort, be a part of a memory. Sam’s on beers; I am bringing a few spectators if the weather holds.