So we Bluebaggers have all been dead these past two decades and more of woes, oh maybe some small glimmers of dreams, perhaps a fluttering of hair as if we stirred, but all just wind, hot dry wind blowing across the sands of despair, and really didn't we begin to think "alas poor Blues, we knew them well."
And as we stared week after week into that skull of all that was and all that we had become, didn't we weep watching teams crawl across our carcass week after week? Their vile laughter, their joy at our demise...oh the pain, the agony, the zombie twitching of remembered glory!
It seemed there was no end, just a zombie predilection to stagger right into the hammer to the forehead, a twitch or two and then dead...again.
Then came the Voss, like the old cowboy dressed in white, gathering his deputies and riding into the ghost town of Princes Park, determined to clear away the deadwood and rebuild the place into what it was...
Oh and what it was all those years ago, the shimmering palace, the Taj Mahal of football grounds, the Everest of football ambition all laid low by folly, cruelty and a bad habit of finding new ways to kill off any hope...how many children have been born into this darkness? Into this absence?
And yet...and yet... perchance to dream...and we did, we corpses of yesterday's glory...we mad, mad hopefuls that everything is a cycle and the good times will come back to us...we dared to dream..season after season after season...We dared to think the good times might one day come back to us...and they have, and they have...
Oh I know (and this is the bit about Lazarus) we have not done anything yet, no silverware, heck not even any finals, and apparently our percentage is shit and that's an indication of being dead, or something like that...
but back to Laz cos that's where we are at. Imagine him, then, dead those hours when the mind is gone, the body is still and the heart no longer beats... Imagine him sitting up and taking that first...that first new breath!
That's were we are at! Might not have won anything but I tell you what, this club is alive and well! Its breathing again! Its in the game!
So now, Like Lazarus, we must stand again, walk again, remember all those things we once did automatically again...We must remember to be again.
And last night I heard it, I heard that roar and it brought back those glorious days when we stood and thumped the signage at Princes Park as we piled the goals on... The heart is back, back pumping Bluebagger blood again, the eyes are open full of the glory of this team, the power of Curnow, the joy of Durdin, the smarts of Hewitt, the courage of Kennedy, the skill of Walshy and... and Crippa, the colossus, standing tall and screaming, "come on everyone, jump on these shoulders, lets see where this ride takes us!"
So we have risen, there's still a lot to do, but like Laz we have stepped away from the coffin, we have begun to remember ourselves again and so this day, this day we shout, we give voice to the rising of the body, we stand still, arms spread wide, a smile and we shout 'Look out!" Look out one and all, the Dreamer has awoken, the giant has remembered, the club has returned!
Bring on Collingwood! Bring on Essendon*! Bring 'em all on! And shout it out into the streets and playgrounds, the ovals and alleyways...the paths and roads, "we are alive, we are alive and well and we are coming!"
_________________ 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 Sat May 21, 2022 1:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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