It's Easter, the perfect time to resurrect a game sorely in need of a heart transplant and a little mouth-to-mouth. We've suffered several seasons of the ill-effects of performance-enhancement, free-agency, deaths in the footy family and a few fairly strong doses of basic ineptitude, on and off the turf. Surely NOW IS THE TIME to bounce back, take the bull by the horns, dust off the fruit on the sideboard and kick some goals.
Surely this is the season we can rediscover our lost love for this faded rose of a game, this once near-perfect of all sports. I'm up for it. Come, take my hand and let's walk this walk together.
As the Dalai Lama once said to me: "Remember Dick, we're in this for the eternal glory, not the monetary gain. Oh yes, money will get you so far, but a win against the filth or the scum is equal to several lifetimes of nirvana... Oh, and I'll have a pint of Yak and some salt and vinegar chips if you're going up." He's such a calm and quiet man he never shouts even when it's his turn.
So gird your loins and hoist your main-sail, we're heading into sharky waters in a very leaky boat. I'm a little scared, but very excited. Hope you are too.
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