ON THE LINE: 

The touchline crew were a disparate bunch, pulled in from all
walks, people whose paths would never cross let alone bring them 
to jovially passing the time of day. Regardless of their obvious 
differences, they were magnetically drawn together for the weekly 
ritual of the touchline. 
The smell of the rain, the touch of the grass, the kiss of the 
sun, they were all a part of what drew them away from their daily 
routines to congregate along the white line, transported for a 
a brief moment by the thrill of possibilities. 
The loose or win, the pain & elation, were a roll of the dice 
that enabled them to transcend themselves for an hour amongst 
kindred spirits. 
Some people went to church, others were drawn to the touchline – 
it started out so innocently, souring in time liked Spring blossom 
before the fall, as smiles turned to grimaces, elation to frustration, 
back slapping to stabbing & loyalty to desertion. It would’ve been 
easy to have abandoned it all, walked away & retuned to their 
distant worlds, embittered by the experience, never to speak again, 
but for some, the memory of that time when they were briefly united 
in unbridled enthusiasm along the touchline would forever connect them. 

(K)