Bleeding Blue

Words & Photography: Jessica Howard & Sally Alden

This Is Not (Really) a Story About Football.

Among the people arriving at the Quirindi Rugby Grounds are the very young and the very old. Some carry handmade signs covered in squiggly letters; others wave bedazzled cardboard cut-outs of their boyfriends’ faces on sticks. One man is dressed as a lion. Another is shirtless and
painted blue like a hairy Smurf.

This is Lions territory. Quirindi Lions to be exact, although there’s little chance of confusion. Not today. Blue shirts, blue hats, blue zinc. Even ordinarily sensible adults have surrendered to the palette.

It’s Grand Final Day. In the two weeks since Quirindi qualified, the Liverpool Plains community has worked itself into a state. Blue cupcakes have appeared at the bakery and the local cafe has started serving blue milkshakes that look vaguely toxic.

A home grand final is a Very Big Deal. It’s been 32 years since the last one, long enough for former players to acquire dodgy knees and strong opinions about the modern game.

The weekend before, 60 volunteers turned up for a working bee. Someone mowed the grass (then mowed again). Someone borrowed a coldroom and filled it with grog. Someone took an angle grinder to rust patches on grandstands trucked in from the showgrounds. A country rugby ground that
functioned perfectly well all season had developed the atmosphere of a house five minutes before important guests arrive.

By late morning, the carpark is full and vehicles flank the road for kilometres. A gang of men armed with tongs turn a million sausages on a barbecue.

For some years, Quirindi wasn’t a club familiar with grand finals. Then came the Great Revival of 2025, when they reclaimed the title on Moree turf.

By the time the ’26 Grand Final rolls around, against the Bulls again, everyone's acting as if they're pulling on a jersey themselves.

People have travelled considerable distances to be here. One former Lion has driven up from Sydney, pulling his son out of school for the occasion. By the next morning, his phone is full of messages from people he hasn’t seen in 20 years.

That sense of belonging is something the club has worked hard to build. Somewhere people can turn up, be useful, have a beer, play footy, bring the kids and find their people.

Then it’s kick-off.

The Lions cross the try line first and the place erupts. Moree settle, then take control, going to half-time 21–5 ahead.

Quirindi spend the second half clawing their way back. With 30 seconds to go, the Bulls lead 38–31. One try and a conversion will level it.

Then the full-time bell sounds.

But the ball is still live.

A scrum is called near the line. Quirindi win the ball and drive.

Metres become centimetres.

Bodies spill over the line.

Did they get it down?

For a split second, no-one seems sure.

A few Lions celebrate. Then the referee says no.

There are wet eyes in the blue crowd as the premiership shield is handed to their rivals.

The scoreboard belongs to Moree. The day though, to Quirindi.

The Lions are always recruiting players and club members. Find them on Facebook @quirindilions.

Read more great regional stories in our paper. Issue 01 available now in RB Sellars stores and with every purchase online.

The Burton