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A Passing Salute
To all the lads who’ve finished,
to the dreams that must find an end -
the cup that must run dry -
farewell and thanks for the memories;
to blokes like Bowyer who came late
yet gave their all, thank you,
to those that move to another club
let us not forget their moments in the Navy sun,
blokes like Allan who rucked us into a Grand Final -
thank you for the efforts lads.
Each year, as new faces stand in the middle of Optus
and squint their eyes in the hot summer sun,
wonder at the career that stretches before them
like a long summer’s holiday,
we should remember the tired soldiers
who have spent their alloted time
running in the sun; their shots at goals,
their marks and all those body hits
that have so delighted us -
so thank you lads for the good times.
Yes the club has fallen hard
and the endless spring days
have turned sour for us,
still the blokes pulling on that jumper
have fought some valiant battles for us,
their efforts must not be forgotten
as they clean out their lockers,
hand back their beloved numbers,
leave Princes Park no longer a player.
Remember them that have no more chances
to kick that winning goal or soar above the pack,
remember their knees and backs
during the hard, long winter months
when we sit in the stands and watch fresh legs
replace their tired old tendons and ligaments,
when we look to the rolled up records
to see who now where number 5 or number 31.
Football may be a business
and the sporting handshake before a game
another quaint custom of a forgotten past;
football for me will always be
the sight of the Navy Blue taking the field,
the kids and aging veterans striving together
to lift the bluebaggers to victory -
every year I feel a twinge of sadness,
remember the glorious footballers that have passed,
blokes like Southby, Doully and Ragsy Gould,
Mad Dog Brown and SOS and Kenny Hunter,
So many champions, and also the foot soldiers,
the Tommy Alvins and Barry Gills,
the Mario Bortollotos and Michael Sextons.
So another crop of lads find themselves picked
to play for the famous Old Dark Navies,
for each new face an old one departs,
so while I look eagerly
for the new numbers and legs and skills,
Just for a moment my heart feels sad
at the good, great or just solid triers
who must pass out of this great game.
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This type of slight is alien in the more cultured part of the world - Walsh. Its up there with mad dogs, Englishmen and the midday sun!
Last edited by dannyboy on Tue Sep 20, 2005 5:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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