Stood the other day in the middle
of that famous bluebagger ground.
A silence filled the stands and spaces,
the silence of a shabby, forlorn present
without the bright future to bear it.

I stood and slowly turned
passing the Grand Old Heatley,
the glass-cased Harris and Gardiner
and the other stands, all empty, still;
like tombstones, they stand silent
lost to the game, lost to us supporters
yet filled with wondourous stories
of Jackson's drop kicks to goal,
Big Nick's tap outs to head-ducking Gags,
and mighty Jezza and mad, mad Buzz
taking marks on bewildered heads
or SOS, skinny and young again, running
on those bow legs of his dad's, his arm
outstreched to punch the ball away
from another foward's greedy hands,
a Soutby running the flank
from fullback to the wing,
Of Captain Johnno crunching
and courageous Kenny being crunched
the soaring of the Swan
the toughness of Lofts;
players across many eras
connected by the colour of the jumper,
by the love of this famous club.

All these memories, like fading wraiths,
as the club moves into its new future
and the tired Old Dame bows low,
weeps quietly to lonesome herself
saddened by the loss of her beauty,
by the absence of struting suitors
where once they came calling aplenty.

I stood in the middle
of that famous old ground,
a ground I have been visiting
since '63 when players, whose names
I have forgotten, played the same game
in the same famous old dark navy blue.

I stood and felt that lurch
one always feels in their chest
when a beautiful summer's day
suddenly is touched by the death
of something as dearly beloved
as this famous old dark navy ground.


When I die as die I must
I do not want to be buried in TD
not for me either the grassy MCG,
this is my heartland, this is my home.
This is where I want my ashes spread,
across the sacred turf of Princes Park
and we'll spend an eternity together
whispering about the memorable victories
of the famous Old Dark Navy Blues.

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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!

Beautifully captured our wonderful history - now lets write a new chapter at our new home.

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"Whoever said you can't buy happiness forgot about puppies." - Gene Hill

Dannyboy - 10 out of 10.

Great stuff.

Yeah. There is something magical about the old lady. It is called history.
I hope that in years to come the Telstradome can somehow feel like a Carlton ground. How that is possible when it shared with 5/6/7?/8/9? other teams I don't know. Maybe life sized glassed encased pictures of Carlton players outside the ground would be a good start.

One other thing I should add, though, is that the atmosphere at Docklands is fantastic when you can pack 40,000 proud Blues supporters into one ground - this was something that we couldn't do at Princes Park.

so... when is it???

you missed it I'm already a ghost.

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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!