John Nicholson
Nicko
AN ODE TO MANLY
A Brookvale night, two down, with two to go,
nearly broken and no bench men to call.
A late try to us, the restart is long,
the ball hangs, seconds before it falls.
To the worn forwards three in a row,
take it up, push it up, grind it out.
To the halfway, a foray to the right,
a hero makes ten, last tackle the shout.
To the General, tall in the middle,
feigns right to kick, then darts to the left.
He has counted their defence, it's one short
the pass long and straight, no float, so deft.
Wing takes off, last bit of speed in his legs,
beats the first man, finds more power over two.
In the air he can see the chalk line close,
reaching out, one handed, it sticks like glue.
The ground erupts with an upstanding crowd,
full time sounds, as Manly take acclaim.
Smiles in their hearts, with unspoken words,
Play hard, never give up and play the game!
A Brookvale night, two down, with two to go,
nearly broken and no bench men to call.
A late try to us, the restart is long,
the ball hangs, seconds before it falls.
To the worn forwards three in a row,
take it up, push it up, grind it out.
To the halfway, a foray to the right,
a hero makes ten, last tackle the shout.
To the General, tall in the middle,
feigns right to kick, then darts to the left.
He has counted their defence, it's one short
the pass long and straight, no float, so deft.
Wing takes off, last bit of speed in his legs,
beats the first man, finds more power over two.
In the air he can see the chalk line close,
reaching out, one handed, it sticks like glue.
The ground erupts with an upstanding crowd,
full time sounds, as Manly take acclaim.
Smiles in their hearts, with unspoken words,
Play hard, never give up and play the game!
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