Every family has its family stories, its secrets, its painful history, its shame. Some wounds remain like festering sores on your soul ... okay, I exaggerate but the legend of the netball final remains even though two of the key players are no longer with us. I'd say the year was about 1979 and we'd made the netball finals. This was quite a big deal, so much so that my grandfather, my father and my brother all attended. It was already a sore point that we all fronted to my brother's footie but it took a final to get the males to the netball courts. But they came ... and we sucked. We were outclassed but still you don't dessert a sinking ship, right? Try telling them that. At the half time break they walked across to have a bit of a look at the lawn bowls being played over the fence - and they never came back. That's right. Strangers playing lawn bowls were more interesting than your own flesh and blood giving their all on the court. Shame. Naturally, this was not a matter we would let them forget. Almost 40 years later, I'm still not ready to let go ... I jest. We did suck. I think I was probably tempted to go and watch the lawn bowls myself. And today I was back at the scene of the crime. My niece Amelia was playing in a netball carnival at Bradbury Park, that infamous netball venue right next door the the Chermside Bowls Club. It was also her 15th birthday. And here are the photos to prove how closely I followed the game. Check my camera if you like. Not a single lawn bowls photo.
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