Or: Two Miners Were Kicked.
Now, I could try my hand at a long, evocative post full of spinfex, red dust and vast distances, but I don't do that, I do football.
I twice played footy at Goldsworthy, once in 1980 and again in 1981. In the second match I played at full forward and early on took a mark about 45 metres out on about a 45 degree angle; on the wrong side for a right footer, as they say. Lining up, the full-back gave me the usual "chewy on yer boot" stuff but I was pretty confident of slotting the sausage. I connected well enough, allowing for the slight breeze, and the ball looked set to sail through but it faded late and lobbed smack bang on the knob on top of the right goal-post. The full back turned to me and said "I bet you never do that again." Soon after the ball came our way and I pantsed him on the lead, this time marking 45 metres out on a 45 degree angle on the other side; what Channels Nine & Ten call the reverse angle. "Remember what I said," he offered by way of advice. This time, to counter the wind, I decided to drill the ball harder and lower. Connecting neatly, I watched the ball tracer into the same post about a foot below the knob. "Told you," said the fullback.
All's well that ends well, though, I kicked five and we won comfortably.