Two good men depart, the game goes on
When it was over - truly over - Brett Kirk felt nothing but the devastation of a battle lost. Paul Roos needed a private moment of contemplation. To whistle. To ponder what has been and what will never be again. Never ever.
The Sydney Swans season finished in a sudden death final. On many counts they might've won. On the only count that mattered they didn't.So the AFL world paused and did what it had come to do: say goodbye.
Kirk was a football reject, discarded to the lower regions, stamped as not good enough. Roos was a Hall of Famer who played the game more gracefully, apparently effortlessly than any other of his vintage.
Under urging Roos gave Kirk a chance. Together they came to define one of the most admirable eras any football club has known.So when it came time to consign it to history two teams formed a channel of honour. Kirk was hoisted on shoulders and he appeared near tears.He clutched at his jumper for the fibre of his soul has belonged to that garment. He clasped his hands in a gesture of prayer because his soul belongs elsewhere.
The applause was full of warmth and admiration. For a warrior. Even in this last game the side of face bore the scars of combat. The simple price as he always saw it for engaging. He never shirked it. In fact
规范化 he might not have felt fulfilled without it.
