5.30am. The Murray still dark. Mildura packing itself away behind me.
It’s been a week. Trial games, selection conversations just beginning, bridges named after people I’d never heard of, a pro shop interrogation, Red Earth, and a bed that folded around me like a hammock. Seven hours of the same stuff in the same tone. And seven hours back.
543 clicks back to base. They say, “The road home always feels shorter than the road out.” I’m not so sure—same distance, same highway, different direction. That’s all.
The plan: second half of the GFL Grand Final. South Barwon and St Mary’s. Local football. AFL Grand Final eve. It’s a big day in Geelong, and I’m ready to be back amongst it.
Mildura surprised me. It usually does, the places you don’t expect to. I’m better for being here, and always, it’s the cricket that gets you through.
Red earth. Wide boulevards. Trees planted by people who stayed when they had no better plan.
Onya, Mildura.
Nick
P.S. I did stretch three AFDs—last night not so.
Well done. I enjoyed that week.