M: I realised, afterwards, that when I knew ‘someone’ would be there, I knew that someone would be Ghost.
G: But still, two moments in a narrow, hard-fought victory were still not enough to undo the hurt that had congealed round our hearts. Yes, it is true I did go to Machete’s room that night and stood outside the door for ages, trying to get up the courage to knock. But I didn’t and I walked away, ashamed at my weakness and my stupid manly pride.
M: Not that it would have mattered because I wasn’t in the room, because I was standing outside Ghost’s door, feeling the same feelings when I too did not knock.
G: It finally took one moment of near-insanity, in the semi-final against the old foe, South Africa, for us to realise how much we meant to each other.
M: As we all know from the TV replay that has been replayed a million times, with time almost up and the scores tied, the Boks were hammering away at our line. Then Gunner, barely able to see through bandages that swaddled his head, went in for a ferocious tackle on the South African No. 8, as he broke away from the scrum and drove for the line.
G: The ball jolted free and fell at the feet of DP who, instead of picking it up, took an almighty hack at the ball and sent it flying towards the halfway line. Machete and I were off to the races, haring after it.
M: With the Bok cover defence coming across, there was no chance to pick it up, so I toed the ball through, up to about the 22.
G: With the South African fullback, who was about as fast as Oscar Pistorius except without the fibreglass legs and the murder conviction, closing in, I also toed the ball ahead. It was rolling tantalisingly towards the goal-line and Machete and I were leading the chasing pack.
M: And then things got weird.
G: And then things got weird as I realised that Machete was slowing down.
M: I’d already scored the winning try in a World Cup semi-final so I wanted my mate to have the honour this time. Except, weirdly, he was also slowing down.
G: I was thinking that the whole breakdown in our relationship was due to my stupid ideas and my greed and betraying him by changing his mum’s recipes and taking the money meant for the deposit on her house, so the least I could do for him was to give him this moment.
M: I could tell that he was overthinking things so, with the Bok fullback closing fast, I did the honourable thing and faked a hammie strain.
G: At which time I thought, ‘F**k, I better get my shit together’ and I gunned it for the last few metres, dived on the ball and slid the last five metres on the rain-soaked Twickenham pitch.
M: Afterwards, Ghost and I sat in the dressing room long after everyone else had left — talking, just talking.
G: We’d both realised that if we actually did hate each other we would have been killing each other, trying to get to that ball first. It was our friendship and love for each other that almost blew the winning try — which, we thought, said a lot about us.
M: And then we realised that, for both of us, the final would be our 100th test cap. It seemed like only yesterday that we’d taken the pitch against Scotland, tripping balls, but here we were, about to bring up our 200.
G: So we made a pact, in that dressing room, as we tidied it up, as is the ABs way, that after the 2017 World Cup final we would both announce our retirement from all levels of rugby — except the overseas rugby that would help us pay off all the debts from our ill-fated sorties into the world of business.
M: A week later, at the same ground, after we had defeated Australia by the biggest margin ever seen in a World Cup final, as Gunner held the trophy aloft, you’ll notice that the two blokes with the biggest smiles, with their arms around each other, are us.
G: Machete and The Ghost.
Now Is The Hour
MACHETE: So, what else is left to tell?
GHOST: Not much. And a lot. Retiring from international rugby with exactly 200 test caps between us — and our relationship intact again — still seems like it was the right thing to do.
M: Especially with all those younger, fitter, faster and more determined players nipping at our heels, dying to get their shot. You know it’s time to pull stumps on your career when you look at them and what it would take to keep them at bay and you think, ‘Faaaa, stuff that, that’s way too much hard work.’
G: So, for a while, we did that thing that all ex-ABs do when they announce their retirement, which is to wait for the phone to ring with huge overseas offers.
M: Took a while for the phone to ring. Apart from those sketchy offers from Tunisia and North Korea.
G: Then the Japanese came calling, of course — for you. That was a good offer, from that company that owned all those fishing boats, to play for their team.
M: I was never going to take that offer. Overfishing is a huge issue for all Pacific nations and to wear the shirt of a club whose logo is a tuna on a hook didn’t sit right with me. Also, when I went to look at their facilities and meet with the boss guys, every time I asked them if they were involved in whaling they just poured me another glass of whisky. And later, at karaoke, none of them would join in with me when I did Nelly’s ‘Hot in Herre’. So no way was I signing for them. But you got an offer, too.
G: True, but Dancing with the Stars was much more your bag than mine. I mean, you know I’m a dance on the inside guy. And yes, at least two of the celebrities and three of the dancers were ex-girlfriends with whom I had unresolved break-up issues, so that might have been awkward (or good drama, as the producers tried to sell me), but I was never going to say yes to that gig.
M: Funny how we both turned down the offers where the other one wasn’t included.
G: And then the first offer that comes along that wanted us both, we couldn’t jump at it fast enough. Mind you, it was a very good offer from a French billionaire so it had a lot going for it, up front.
M: I mean I was sold when Mssr L’Estrange took us out in his yacht and gave us all that champagne and talked all that talk about ‘camaraderie’ being important to him.
G: I was sold when I saw his yacht.
M: But when he said all that stuff about ‘liberté, égalité, fraternité’ I thought, ‘This dude is, like, looking into our souls — he’s talking about us’, even though I later found out he was talking about the French national motto.
G: So, obviously, we signed for Mssr L’Estrange, to play for his club Racing Aquitaine. Sure, at the moment, the club is only in the Pro D2 division — the second tier of French rugby — so the quality of play is not exactly what you’d call taxing, but Mssr L’Estrange has big plans for the club, starting with promotion to the Top 14 which would be a huge step up and require a lot more dedication.
M: But should the club miss out on promotion this year, or any of the three remaining years of our contracts, by say coming seventh and just missing out on the promotion play-offs, then the French have this awesome saying that covers that eventuality: ‘C’est la vie.’
G: I love ‘c’est la vie’ as a concept. Just being able to shrug things off like that, it just makes life so much better. Not that life can get much better for Machete and me right now. I mean, we’re now a registered company together, paying tax in Andorra which means we pay bugger-all tax; plus we’re living in a friggin’ huge castle that Mssr L’Estrange hired for us.
M: Did you know the castle has catacombs?
G: No way! That is so cool. When did you find them?
M: The other night, I meant to tell you. While you were cooking and you sent me down to get a bottle of the 2003 Château d’Yquem to go with dessert, I found this door off the wine cellar which led to the catacombs. Cool, eh?
G: Just when you think life cannot get any better, suddenly our house has catacombs to explore. So, what else is there left to say? Oh, yes, we’ve both got our own small businesses here — separately, not together; we won’t make that mistake again.
M: I own a boulangerie in the nearest village to the castle, where I am introducing the locals to my mum’s coconut bread.
G: And just around the corner from Machete’s boulangerie, I have invested in a small parfumerie, where the master perfumer is teaching me the ways, with the goal being that in a few years, when he deems me worthy to blend, I will create my very own fragrance: L’Ghost.
M: Plus, I have met someone. Her name is Yvette and she is a florist who lives in the village where I bake. I am going to see her tonight, because she says she has something to tell me. I wonder what it can be?
G: And I have girlfriends in three of the surrounding villages, which means I spend a lot of time cycling. Which is good for me because, to be honest, both me and Machete are packing on the kilos, I’m afraid, what with all the wine and the cheese and all the eight-course dégustation meals we are forced to eat as part of being role models in French rugby.
M: Love me a good dégustation. And yeah, for sure, I’d say that life, right now, is pretty damn good.
G: And I would concur with that thought.
M: So, are we about done with this book now?
G: I reckon.
M: So, do we have time for another glass of the red before training?
G: We’d be mad if we didn’t.
Machete and the Ghost Page 19
