Saturday afternoon Dusty dreaming
Play on! Dustin Martin, on the sweet September grass Last Saturday at 3.18pm I was looking at Dusty. His left armed fend-off, tattooed limbs, ball tucked under his right arm. None could get close to him. Play on! gestured the umpire. The game was about to go our way. Dustin Martin was in the middle of the MCG running amok, mesmerising everyone – one man in the eye of a storm, time stopped, like a puppeteer pulling all the strings. Last Saturday at 3.18pm I wasn’t at the game, but in a rear...