Pooraka

i kicked 3 goals not 2 and against smosh round 1 kicked 3 i should have 16 not 12?

In January of this year an old friend was invited back into my life as the result of a half hearted attempt to stay in touch with people I learned life’s early lessons with.  Specifically it was a BBQ.  Perhaps it was the pre mixed bourbon speaking but he offered me a chance to stay in touch through football; as the Pooraka runner.  I said yes largely from compulsion of being

pooraka started of slow in the first term.....and up until half time the game was even....but once the bulls got rid of the nerves they kicked away should have won by more but goal kicking let them down.....once woodville south knew the game was lost they turned to ferals trying to play dirty.....they lost the game and recieved a free headbutt and a few heavey hits for the troubles they caused

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last week pooraka let a game slip they shouldn't have..But this week redeem itself by showing a lot more heart in the wet....a strong wind and a under man woodville gave pooraka a easy win..now next week they both play eachother again woodville south will have half a side to return this week.. while  pooraka has showed its hand and its up to woodville to counter good luck both teams

the pooraka B grade Coach Rod picked a unfit side to play on the weekend...they were out played all game and after half time did not even look like winning....pooraka was once a top 3 finals side but are only making up numbers now.....and to the B grade coach at pooraka trying to blame his lose on an ex afl player for shame your team is unfit

The following story is a dramatisation of true events.  Character depiction is based on evidential accounts provided by those who experienced the travesty of Saturday 7 August 2010, now marked in history as Starvation Saturday.

…they said it would never happen...they don’t work in catering.

It started with a scheduling error; junior sides unexpectedly took

We’ve all been there before. 

You start by hearing the morning birds, the chill of a sunless winter morning reboots your senses and you lie in the red filtered light of the sun through your eyelids scrambling to gather the threads and clues, now strewn across your consciousness like black, blue and white confetti, to prepare for what you might see when you open your eyes. 

It was chilled Saturday afternoon as the soft breeze and recent run of losses carried a sparsely populated silence across Lindblom Park; a ghost town of high expectations and past glory littered with the faces of what made this club one of the most uncomfortable away games in the league.  The hall of fame spectators and officials presided like Roman Gods over the actions of man, among the m&e

Meanwhile…

While sampling the labyrinth of car parking options around the vast green glades of Lindblom Park it was clear, to anyone heating up while performing four point turns, that the God of Good Weather, Melody Horrill, had placed special emphasis on the playing conditions for the contest between the whippets of Kingswood and the ‘give away to good home only’ Amsta

Wet weather football made a return to Harper’s Field; a home ground that would make an eloquent title to a classic novel about teenage angst in the post war period of urban expansion penned by Delfin.  A pleasing curtain of cold precipitation allowed home supporters and visitors alike to scan across the blanketed surroundings and imagine they were somewhere enchanting like West

This is the winter of our discontent.

Woodville South scaled the Everest of the SAAFL, planted a red and white flag at its crowded peak and then lost its footing and rolled as an ever growing snowball full of broken bones, shedding players while gaining downward momentum.  Blink and you’ll miss them as they smash and crumble against the floor of division 4 nursing a headache an

I am here at the Pooraka Football club to investigate a physical phenomenon that has divided opinion amongst the committee and attracted the attention of the Salisbury Council; the annual shifting of the southern goal posts. 

Frank Scott, the team manager, has recorded the movement over the years in search of the evidence he needs to convince the committee the shift is speeding up … a

Prologue

A long time ago (near the end of cricket season) in a headquarters far away the gods of Amateur Football divined a fixture that would test the will of every man, woman and child of the Division 4 colonies.  The Gods stood idly by as weekly results defied human prescience, contorted natural law and sent chaotic ripples across the competition twisting Tetris block clubs into t

High Noon, Salisbury Downs.  The fast scoring, gun slinging, cellar dwelling outlaws of the West prepared (quite professionally mind you) to face the stampeding Bulls in a test at the West.  All was a hush as the townsfolk gathered in numbers and watched from a safe distance as the caravan of lost souls and born again footballers moseyed into town on the back of a horse called form.

Lea

Lindblom Park, home of the bionic vagabond Steven Coles, was the venue for a father son picnic as the wise lions took on the youthful bulls. Pooraka as usual conceded the first scores; testing the elasticity of their opponents before selecting gear and slinging themselves into the lead. Fitzroy’s midfield were obstacles at best as the bulls made the would be tacklers look like hills hoists i

Pooraka travelled to the luxurious Edward Smith Reserve, equipped with two ovals, large change rooms, alfresco club facilities and overpaid players.  The only areas in which the club appears to have skimped are oval dimensions and senior goal posts; a sound investment decision given they only play half their games there half the year.

It felt like the teams were on the set of a football ga

it was a crackn day for footy for the local derby. The game lived up to its name and produced a great show for the spectators.

It was a fierce contest from the start and both teams where going goal for goal.

 The first quarter started at a rapid rate and there was no lack of desperation from both teams.Newchurch was providing something up forward for the home team. The big shed (Lee Coghill

Pooraka played host to a perfect blend of intense football and obliging errors that gave everyone on the park a chance to touch the ball.  Pulteney looked irrepressible early with the gym loving hair models playing as though a red carpet had been rolled down the centre corridor towards goal, ushered by the amusingly short in real life Ian Perrie.  But Pooraka had prepared for this guy an

It was an unrecognisable Pooraka that turned up to Salisbury’s vast and unforgiving (but impeccably maintained) home arena; resting on solid performances, anticipating limited resistance and planning on doing only as much as was needed to keep ahead of a gallant but luckless opponent.

Salisbury carried the tidal strength of a knee high wave, fittingly Pooraka looked as though they w

On what was a much needed win for Pooraka after their big loss last week to Sailisbury, the game started at a screeming pace which seemed to suit the visitors much more who came out firing.  Ian Perrie was a key figure in the first half causing havock across the forward line.  The strength in Pulteney's forward line with strong overhead marking was a tatic that needed to be stopped.