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by Bob Murphy
I saw the best mark I've ever seen at an Auskick last Saturday.
I was in Yarraville, umpiring a game between two groups of six- and seven-year-olds. My umpiring style is loose. ''Play on!'' ''Knock it out!'' The whistle is used sparingly.
The game was between the traditional rivals - ''bibs'' versus ''no bibs''. Deep into the second half a ball was roosted high into the crisp autumnal air, and waiting under it were these little kids. Some of them looked a bit scared, some even looked confused, but one had eyes only for the ball.
He wore a Bulldogs jumper with No. 6 on the back, which may also have been his age, and while running with the flight he launched himself horizontally into traffic before dragging the ball into his belly. It was breathtaking, like Nick Riewoldt's mark a few years back at the SCG, but in miniature.
I didn't catch the young lad's name, but I won't forget him. And that makes up a big chunk of what you are left to do when you're out of the side injured - you watch.
When I got home from Auskick a message came through from our club president Peter Gordon and his wife Kerri inviting a few of the boys and their young families over to watch the Dogs' game the following day. We gratefully accepted, and in the glow of pre-game optimism we got everyone in the car and headed over to the beautiful side of town.
Peter and Kerri are warm hosts and they had the good grace not to take offence at little Frankie's full-body Tiger suit (I tried, oh how I tried, to get her to change). Pretty soon the kitchen was full of familiar Footscray faces - injured trio Shaun Higgins, Tommy Williams and Ryan Griffen, suspended rookie/veteran Brett Goodes, and board member and club legend Chris Grant with his wife Mel and their three children.
The giddy anticipation that comes with a game of footy hung in the air. The kids went off exploring and stealing cutlery as instructed, while the men retired to the TV room. I was sitting next to my old locker-neighbour Chris Grant watching our Dogs for the second time in a week, a treat in itself.
By the time the game started I was struck by a strange duality - I was sitting in possibly the most comfortable chair I've ever been in, but still I was far from comfortable. Watching your side play is never easy, but it's much more unpleasant when they're interstate and you're in front of a TV screen.
The week before when the Dogs pushed the Cats right to the bell, Granty and I were sitting on level two at Etihad Stadium. While it wasn't Rancho Relaxo, things made sense. You could see bits of play unfolding before you, allowing some time to brace yourself for the outcome. Watching through the keyhole of television, I felt like I was a passenger travelling through the Strzelecki mountains wearing a blindfold. The vehicle veered one way and swayed another in a nauseating spin, with surprises at every turn and no anticipation of what lay ahead.
Pretty early on you could sense the Dogs were in for a tough day. The ball was moving from one end to the other pretty quickly - too quickly. In one of the few breaks in play I asked Granty if he'd liked playing at Subiaco. ''As a forward I did,'' he replied, ''there's lots of space.''
It was becoming pretty clear Jack Darling liked playing at Subiaco too. The second quarter looked a bit better as we were able to stem the bleeding a little, and by half-time were still in touch. As we stood in the kitchen eating dinner, the challenge went out for someone to jump into the pool fully clothed if we won. I put my hand up - leadership in spades.
As the second half began I stayed for a short while with our host in the kitchen and we had those classic footy conversations you have where your brain is split in two. We chatted about life and our football club in between exclaiming, ''Come on Dogs!'' or ''Well done Dylan Addison!''
By the time the last quarter was under way I'd found my comfy pew again, though it felt a bit like a dentist's chair as the Eagles rolled through us. There was still some good stuff to see, especially from big Will, young Clay and the ever growing Jordan Roughead, but the overall feeling was one of disappointment, obviously.
The Eagles are a formidable side with a full crew on the park. I think they could go all the way - they have the spine, the grunt and the silk. They also have Mark LeCras, one of my favourite players.
I remember a day at Subiaco a couple of years ago, Liam Picken and I had the job of keeping him quiet. We kept him to three goals, one from a lucky free kick. We won that day and Picko and I looked like we'd scaled a mountain after the game.
He's a beautiful player to watch from TV and even better through his eyes from his hip as a defender. As comfortable as my chair was last Sunday, I can't wait to see the game again from the best seat in the house.
I saw the best mark I've ever seen at an Auskick last Saturday.
I was in Yarraville, umpiring a game between two groups of six- and seven-year-olds. My umpiring style is loose. ''Play on!'' ''Knock it out!'' The whistle is used sparingly.
The game was between the traditional rivals - ''bibs'' versus ''no bibs''. Deep into the second half a ball was roosted high into the crisp autumnal air, and waiting under it were these little kids. Some of them looked a bit scared, some even looked confused, but one had eyes only for the ball.
He wore a Bulldogs jumper with No. 6 on the back, which may also have been his age, and while running with the flight he launched himself horizontally into traffic before dragging the ball into his belly. It was breathtaking, like Nick Riewoldt's mark a few years back at the SCG, but in miniature.
I didn't catch the young lad's name, but I won't forget him. And that makes up a big chunk of what you are left to do when you're out of the side injured - you watch.
When I got home from Auskick a message came through from our club president Peter Gordon and his wife Kerri inviting a few of the boys and their young families over to watch the Dogs' game the following day. We gratefully accepted, and in the glow of pre-game optimism we got everyone in the car and headed over to the beautiful side of town.
Peter and Kerri are warm hosts and they had the good grace not to take offence at little Frankie's full-body Tiger suit (I tried, oh how I tried, to get her to change). Pretty soon the kitchen was full of familiar Footscray faces - injured trio Shaun Higgins, Tommy Williams and Ryan Griffen, suspended rookie/veteran Brett Goodes, and board member and club legend Chris Grant with his wife Mel and their three children.
The giddy anticipation that comes with a game of footy hung in the air. The kids went off exploring and stealing cutlery as instructed, while the men retired to the TV room. I was sitting next to my old locker-neighbour Chris Grant watching our Dogs for the second time in a week, a treat in itself.
By the time the game started I was struck by a strange duality - I was sitting in possibly the most comfortable chair I've ever been in, but still I was far from comfortable. Watching your side play is never easy, but it's much more unpleasant when they're interstate and you're in front of a TV screen.
The week before when the Dogs pushed the Cats right to the bell, Granty and I were sitting on level two at Etihad Stadium. While it wasn't Rancho Relaxo, things made sense. You could see bits of play unfolding before you, allowing some time to brace yourself for the outcome. Watching through the keyhole of television, I felt like I was a passenger travelling through the Strzelecki mountains wearing a blindfold. The vehicle veered one way and swayed another in a nauseating spin, with surprises at every turn and no anticipation of what lay ahead.
Pretty early on you could sense the Dogs were in for a tough day. The ball was moving from one end to the other pretty quickly - too quickly. In one of the few breaks in play I asked Granty if he'd liked playing at Subiaco. ''As a forward I did,'' he replied, ''there's lots of space.''
It was becoming pretty clear Jack Darling liked playing at Subiaco too. The second quarter looked a bit better as we were able to stem the bleeding a little, and by half-time were still in touch. As we stood in the kitchen eating dinner, the challenge went out for someone to jump into the pool fully clothed if we won. I put my hand up - leadership in spades.
As the second half began I stayed for a short while with our host in the kitchen and we had those classic footy conversations you have where your brain is split in two. We chatted about life and our football club in between exclaiming, ''Come on Dogs!'' or ''Well done Dylan Addison!''
By the time the last quarter was under way I'd found my comfy pew again, though it felt a bit like a dentist's chair as the Eagles rolled through us. There was still some good stuff to see, especially from big Will, young Clay and the ever growing Jordan Roughead, but the overall feeling was one of disappointment, obviously.
The Eagles are a formidable side with a full crew on the park. I think they could go all the way - they have the spine, the grunt and the silk. They also have Mark LeCras, one of my favourite players.
I remember a day at Subiaco a couple of years ago, Liam Picken and I had the job of keeping him quiet. We kept him to three goals, one from a lucky free kick. We won that day and Picko and I looked like we'd scaled a mountain after the game.
He's a beautiful player to watch from TV and even better through his eyes from his hip as a defender. As comfortable as my chair was last Sunday, I can't wait to see the game again from the best seat in the house.
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