After all these years you’d think I’d written enough about footy, and especially kick-to-kick. And maybe I have. But another story, light as a feather, appeared over the weekend.
There was still dew on the morning grass so John and I knew to keep the ball off the ground.
We stand 20 metres apart. Drop punts back and forth. Back and forth. Size 3 Sherrin.
Back and forth. Back and forth. We’re not saying anything. We don’t want to break the spell. But we’re both keeping count.