Teaching is full of marvellous moments.. take these-
by J.........
25.5.09
Today I lost my tooth. But I lost it doon the dran. I tried to get it aut but I kouldnt get it aut. I cried and cried and 2 big gols helpdt me to get it. But it was goon. Pepol said fget abot it. But I said I krnt. Pepol said Just think that you still have your tooth. So I tried and I did it. I was so prod of my saf.
1st.6.09
On Sunday I played footy. My Dad said write a letter to my sune wen he is 16 becos he will be rede to play for Carlton on tv. I love Carlton so much. I love woching Krusu on taley. I love woching Judd play and Fvola. I love Judd so much. Cats are dowing the best this yeur. If Carlton sday on the top 8 we will be in the Grand Fials.
I played footy and my dad said "you have inprovd" Footy is like the besdis thing in my liyf.
Showing posts with label footy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label footy. Show all posts
Monday, June 1, 2009
Saturday, September 27, 2008
my boy!
From-
THE HERALDSUN
AFL GRAND FINAL DAY 2008
Hudson Hawka Knights the Hawthorn Mascot Steals the Show
BY Mikey Cahill
September 27, 2008 12:00am
WHILE Buddy Franklin is the superstar of the AFL, yesterday the Hawthorn mascot stole the show, leading the Grand Final parade in front of thousands of fans.
How do I know? Because I am Hudson Hawka Knights - Hawka for short.
Being the Hawthorn mascot for the 2008 AFL season has been stupendous . . . and sweaty. And yesterday was undoubtedly the highpoint.
I danced from the Arts Centre right up to Treasury Place.
I stopped for about 80 photos, signed dozens of jumpers and high-fived hundreds of fans. Hell, I even managed to thwack the Geelong mascot (HalfCat -- what a lame name), much to the chagrin of the guy inside . . . and incensed Cat supporters. Pussies.
As Hawka, I am expected to be there 90 minutes before each home game, navigating my way into the bowels of the MCG using my Player and Official pass. Am I player? No. An official? Not really.
Instead, I am an event.
Just getting the mascot suit on and establishing vision is an ordeal. The word "vision" is used loosely here, as I can see a few metres to my left and right but not directly in front.
This is particularly dangerous when timid youngsters approach in stealth mode, right in my blind spot, but to date I have not injured any fans.
As for the season's clashes, the best moment was slapping Eddie McGuire's behind.
While that was a personal highlight, it doesn't compare to running out on to the MCG today and representing the mighty, flying Hawks.
Watch out for my special "goalpost routine" that is sure to ruffle conservative feathers.
Mikey Cahill is a writer for extra hit magazine and has been a Hawthorn supporter for 31 years (including nine months in the womb)
Sunday, June 22, 2008
night thoughts...
On Thursday I went to a funeral. Jim, the sparky fellow with furry eyebrows and a quick smile who happened also to be a naturally-gifted athlete had died earlier in the week aged 73.
In his hey-day he'd played League footy for Collingwood until his knees began to give trouble then he'd gone on to Dandenong in the VFA followed by a coaching stint then record and time-keeping in the local club where my son played. This is where we connected with him. He showed a keen interest in Anthony as a player and in the last couple of years whenever we saw him he always asked how he was going. Couldn't believe it when he heard about the chronic fatigue. Jim would shake his head as he breathed in and then puff out all the held air with a "Bad luck!" and I knew he felt for him. More than most people, he understood what it would be like to suddenly lose your talent.
It was a big funeral. I had to park the car in a side-street at the bottom of the hill and walk up to the church where, like a country grand final it was standing room only. All around the walls and leaning up against the windows were the footballers. Young and old. Suits and casual clothes. Funny to see so many men at mass en masse. They looked a bit self-conscious, or so I thought.
The requiem was about hope yet in saying that it seemed to have the something extra which is almost as important as belief in eternity, at least to my mind. The particular recognition of an individual's life. How this one man- or woman -mattered. The song in other words… In Jim's case his children spoke, all five of them preceded by a fellow from the footy club who loved him like a brother. Jim was a lucky man! The fact of his death was there as well of course. The awful grief on the faces of his wife and kids. The incredible sadness they all carried. The other part of the story.
I left as the crowd spilled out onto the grass at the front of the church and walked in the light rain back to my car.
In his hey-day he'd played League footy for Collingwood until his knees began to give trouble then he'd gone on to Dandenong in the VFA followed by a coaching stint then record and time-keeping in the local club where my son played. This is where we connected with him. He showed a keen interest in Anthony as a player and in the last couple of years whenever we saw him he always asked how he was going. Couldn't believe it when he heard about the chronic fatigue. Jim would shake his head as he breathed in and then puff out all the held air with a "Bad luck!" and I knew he felt for him. More than most people, he understood what it would be like to suddenly lose your talent.
It was a big funeral. I had to park the car in a side-street at the bottom of the hill and walk up to the church where, like a country grand final it was standing room only. All around the walls and leaning up against the windows were the footballers. Young and old. Suits and casual clothes. Funny to see so many men at mass en masse. They looked a bit self-conscious, or so I thought.
The requiem was about hope yet in saying that it seemed to have the something extra which is almost as important as belief in eternity, at least to my mind. The particular recognition of an individual's life. How this one man- or woman -mattered. The song in other words… In Jim's case his children spoke, all five of them preceded by a fellow from the footy club who loved him like a brother. Jim was a lucky man! The fact of his death was there as well of course. The awful grief on the faces of his wife and kids. The incredible sadness they all carried. The other part of the story.
I left as the crowd spilled out onto the grass at the front of the church and walked in the light rain back to my car.
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