Specky Magee and a Legend in the Making

by Felice Arena

  The umpire's whistle sounded the start of the game.

  Specky had had a quiet chat with Coach Pate after training during the week. Like all good players, Specky took responsibility for his own performances, and after his poor game the previous week he had sought out the coach to try and work out what had gone wrong and how he could improve. They both agreed that the interrupted preparation coming into the game hadn't helped, and that Specky was feeling too much pressure to perform at the high standard that he set himself, straight away. Coach Pate had suggested that Specky play in a new position this week, as a challenge. Specky had jumped at the idea. He knew that he could play full-forward and centre half-forward, and had even played centre half-back a couple of times. Today, for the first time, he was going to line up on the wing. He recalled that St Kilda coach, Grant Thomas, had played Nick Riewoldt there on a couple of occasions during the past year, and if it was good enough for the Saints’ star to play there, then it was going to be good enough for him.

  ‘Finally! The coach has come to her senses. Magee shouldn't be anywhere near my boy. Hide him out on the wing where he won't get in the way of anyone.’

  Specky didn't have to turn around. He recognised the voice. It was Screamer's dad, as always giving advice where it wasn't needed or wanted. Specky ignored him and made a promise to himself that, no matter what, he was going to enjoy today's game.

  And enjoy it he did. Right from the opening bounce, things fell into place for Booyong High. It all started in the middle, where Robbo and Danny were back to their very best form. Danny, in particular, was playing a blinder.

  A traumatic event, like the passing of a loved one, can lead to one of two outcomes. Either the player concerned struggles to concentrate and, understandably, doesn't have his mind on football, or he is inspired to new heights in an attempt to mark the occasion with an outstanding performance. Today, Danny reminded Specky of another one of his very favourite players, Brett Kirk from the Sydney Swans. Specky loved the way he played. He was totally fearless and as committed to his teammates as any footballer in the competition. Specky had read an article about Kirk and it said that his grandfather, Wally Moras, was a World War Two veteran who had been his inspiration over the years. It didn't surprise Specky—he thought that Kirk played in the true spirit of the ‘Diggers’ and it was one of the reasons he admired him so much. And today, Danny was doing a fair job of impersonating him. He was in and under every pack, burrowing for the ball and feeding it out by handball to his teammates running past. Once or twice Specky found himself just standing and watching Danny play, he was so in awe of his performance.

  At quarter time, the Lions had kicked six goals to the oppositions one. There were smiles all round as they huddled together for Coach Pate. She didn't hold back on the praise for Danny.

  ‘That was just inspiring, Danny. I know it's been a tough week, but you've shown so much character today.’

  All of the boys shouted their encouragement and Specky slapped Danny on the back. He couldn't have been happier if the praise had been directed at him.

  This is what footy's about, he thought as he jogged back out to the wing.

  It had been a pretty quiet first quarter for Specky, but that was more to do with the fact that the ball was coming straight out of the middle and going into their forward line. He hadn't really been needed.

  ‘Stay patient,’ he reminded himself. ‘The opportunities will come.’

  The wind had sprung up and was blowing to his side of the oval. The ball remained there for the majority of the quarter, and Specky all of a sudden found himself in the middle of the action. And he thrived on the chances he was given.

  He attacked the first ball at full speed and picked up a difficult half volley that landed at his boot laces. In the same motion he fired off a beautiful handpass to the Bombay Bullet, who was streaming past.

  Specky flung his body in front of a Magpie player who was giving chase, meeting him with a perfect hip-and-shoulder, shepherding him out of the way just in time to let the Bullet run on to kick a goal.

  While celebrating the goal, Specky looked up and caught sight of Grub Gordan sitting high in the Yardley College grandstand. He saw him turn to the man sitting next to him.

  ‘That's why the kid's one of the best, Evan,’ Grub said, far out of Specky's hearing. ‘We know he can take the high marks, but one of the things we want is for a player to have “clean hands”, and I don't mean he washes them before he plays. What I mean is that the real good players rarely, if ever, fumble. That ball was really travelling and Magee was able to bend down, pick it up off his boot laces as clean as a whistle, and handball it into the hands of that midfielder before the kid knew what was happening.’

  ‘It was an okay effort, I suppose,’ conceded Evan, begrudgingly.

  ‘What was just as impressive,’ continued Grub. ‘Was the fact that he was then able to shepherd that other kid away, allowing his teammate to go on and kick the goal. That says more to me than anything else. He thinks of the team and not just himself. I like it. I like it a lot.’

  Grub settled back to watch Specky and his teammates completely dominate the next two quarters. Smashing Sols was charging through packs and laying the hard tackles, while Robbo constantly palmed the ball out of the ruck, right down the throat of Johnny—who continued to stack up the possessions.

  ‘What the heck is all that yapping?’ grumbled Grub, looking down the grandstand.

  ‘It's some kid calling the game,’ said Evan, also staring past his feet. ‘And he's all set up with his card table, dictaphone and binoculars!’

  And welcome back, folks. Ben ‘Gobba’ Higgins, former Booyong player and now full-time commentator extraordinaire here to bring you all the action, right here on Gobba Radio-slash-TV.

  ‘Getta load of it! He's like a miniature Dennis Cometti,’ laughed Grub. ‘He's great!’

  We are witnessing a clinical exhibition of football here today, folks. I'm not sure what Coach Pate said to her players this week, but, by golly, I haven't seen them combine this well for many a day.

  The ball is thrown in on the Magpies half-forward line, with the Booyong Lions in complete control by fifty-three points, well into the third quarter. Roberts flips the ball over the back into the arms of WHO ELSE BUT CASTELLINO. The Italian Stallion is having a field day, running around his opponent like he isn't even there! The boy had better get rid of that ball or he'll get leather poisoning.

  Grub smiled and chuckled, while Evan rolled his eyes.

  Castellino kicks across his body to the outer wing where the ball finds Simon Magee, one out with his opponent. Oh, it hardly seems fair, folks. Magee brushes him aside easily and, oh no, the Magpie scumbag has kicked out and tried to trip him. Magee looks like he's going down…but, no, he regains his footing and sprints off down the ground. He's got the grace and balance of a gazelle, that lad. The move out to the wing has been an inspired one. The Magpies just haven't got a player who can match him in the air or on the ground. Look at him go! Johnny Cockatoo has made position on the flank, but Magee ignores him and looks further afield. He puts boot to ball and it's a sizzling daisy-cutter of a pass, right onto the chest of Big Bad Bustling Screamer Johnson—the new Barry Hall!

  Johnson has been pretty good today and is lining up for his fourth goal, but, gee, the way the ball is being delivered I reckon I would have kicked six or seven out there today. Johnson runs in and drills home his fourth for the day and the Lions are further ahead.

  At the end of the game Specky and his teammates clip-clopped into the change rooms, happy with their outstanding victory.

  ‘Well, if that performance hasn't won Derek a spot in the final trial match for the State team,’ said Screamer's dad, his eyes popping out of his leathery tanned face, ‘then the whole bloody thing must be rigged.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Johnson,’ said Coach Pate, not impressed. ‘Boys, that was a superb performance. Some of you may already be aware of this, but the Coach of the Victoria
n Under Fifteen team was here today, along with another of the selectors, and they would like to have a word. Please welcome Coach Jay Gordan and Evan Dillon.’

  Specky gulped as a hush came over the room. Grub Gordan, with Evan by his side, walked in like a cowboy from an old western movie stepping into a saloon.

  ‘Boys, good effort today. You worked together pretty well. Castrati, fantastic game!’

  Specky caught Danny turning red, obviously just holding off from pointing out to Mr Gordan that he had got his name horribly wrong.

  ‘As you know, we have a final trial game coming up to pick our Victorian Under Fifteen team,’ said Grub. ‘This may be the biggest game any of you boys have played in, but it's not the be all and end all. Heaps of players who didn't make the State team have still gone on to play AFL.’

  A pause followed.

  ‘But it is a damn big honour,’ he added in a deep booming voice.

  Specky held his breath as Grub Gordan took in another one.

  ‘I am pleased to announce that Simon Magee and Derek Johnson have made it into the squad of forty from which the State team will be picked. Training begins next week. Come prepared and good luck! And you…’

  Grub turned to Gobba who was standing in the doorway of the change rooms.

  ‘You give my secretary a call. Dennis Cometti is a good mate of mine and I reckon he would like to hear your recording of the game.’

  Grub Gordan slipped his business card into Gobba's hand.

  As the Victorian selectors left the building, Specky's teammates erupted into whoops and whistles—congratulating him and Screamer…and Gobba.

  13. state of mind

  When Specky got to school on Monday morning, he discovered that his and Screamer's selection for the final trial game had made The Booyong High Bugle's headlines in a rushed one-page special edition.

  BOOYONG BOYS MAKE FINAL STATE TRIAL—A SPECKY SURPRISE FOR SOME!

  By Theresa Fallon

  The Bugle just got word that two of Booyong High's football champions have been selected to play in the final trial game from which the Victorian Under 15 State team will be chosen. Year 9 students Derek ‘Screamer’ Johnson and Simon ‘Specky’ Magee have been given the opportunity of a lifetime—the chance to prove that they're good enough to make the team. The all-important match will be played at the end of term, on July 8.

  While yours truly expected Johnson to be selected—he starred all season for Booyong—the inclusion of Magee is something of a surprise.

  His first game back after his banishment from Gosmore Grammar was, let's be kind, not vintage Magee, although his reputation and talent over the years is still, so it seems, something that cannot be easily overlooked. I am told he played more like the Magee of old on the weekend, but we must take into account the fact that the opposition was the lowly Yardley Magpies.

  So only time will tell if Magee will rise to the occasion. Not just in the games ahead for our beloved Lions, but perhaps for the entire State as well. Watch this space!

  Annoyed, Specky shoved the school newspaper into his locker.

  ‘Hey, legend!’

  It was the Great McCarthy.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ asked Specky, knowing that Year 12s rarely ventured into the area of the school where the Year 7s to 9s hung out.

  ‘Just wanted to let you know that we're having a party after the deb ball at my house—so you and Tiger Girl are invited.’

  ‘Thanks, and…?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Well, you could've told me that anytime. Or told Alice to tell me. So, what else is there?

  Specky knew that Dieter had something on his mind, judging from the way he was swaying and chewing on his bottom lip.

  ‘Look,’ he said, taking a deep breath, ‘I'm packing myself about this deb ball. You saw me try to do the Boston Two Step. I moved more like a Boston Bun.’

  ‘Don't worry about it! Just go with the flow. It's early days,’ reassured Specky.

  The Great McCarthy still looked upset.

  ‘Look, maybe, you should talk to Alice. She'll understand if you want to pull out. There are four weeks of practice to go. She can still try to find someone else to be her partner. But then again she'd be behind everyone else while her new partner tries to learn to dance. And she'll hate your guts and probably won't talk to you ever again and…’ Specky trailed off sadly, thinking about how Christina wasn't talking to him either.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, okay! I get it!’ said Dieter shaking his head. ‘I'll catch ya later.’

  ‘Hey!’ Specky called after him. ‘Did you see the article in the school newspaper? That Full On chick got stuck into me again.’

  ‘Don't worry about it. Just go with the flow.’

  Specky grinned. He figured he deserved to have his own line thrown back at him. But he decided that, as daggy as it sounded, he was going to go with his own advice anyway. For the next month, Specky would do just that—go with the flow.

  It was the first time in a while that Specky was able to get back into a normal everyday routine, without all the extra drama he had become accustomed to. He went to school, hung out with Danny and Robbo again, played footy on Saturdays for Booyong High, continued to go to deb practice with Tiger Girl, and attended training sessions for the Victorian squad. If only he and Christina hadn't fought, things would be perfect, he thought. But he tried to put that out of his mind.

  The first Victorian squad training session was terrifying, intense and exciting all at the same time.

  ‘Hurry up, boys.’ Grub Gordan waved them over.

  Specky joined his State trial teammates in a huddle, fully expecting a gruelling training session. Specky noticed Screamer looking more agitated than usual. He held his head low and kept kicking the back of his left heel with his right foot. Specky turned to see Mr Johnson on the boundary with some other parents, glaring at Screamer more like a hawk than a proud father. Specky still hadn't mentioned anything about Screamer's piano-playing or his brother. To avoid creating any sort of hassle, Specky had decided it was best to keep out of it and say nothing at all to anyone.

  ‘Right, boys, now is the time to show us what you've got,’ barked Grub.

  ‘Have a look around ya. I'm sure you recognise some of the faces here, but there are others that you would never have laid eyes on. There are forty boys here from all over the State of Victoria. And I don't want to hear one word of whinging from you city boys, either. You're lucky we're training in your own backyard. Magee, how long did it take you to get 'ere?’

  ‘How long?’ asked Specky, suddenly aware that everyone had turned their stares on him.

  ‘Yeah, how long? What, don't you understand English, son?’

  A couple of the boys laughed nervously, silently thankful that it wasn't them that was being questioned.

  ‘Well…umm…arrr,’ stuttered Specky.

  ‘Look, it's not a hard question,’ growled Grub, a little louder. ‘How long did it take you to get from your home to the Punt Road Oval?’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Specky replied, hurriedly doing a quick calculation. ‘It took about twenty-five minutes.’

  ‘Okay. Edwards, how long did it take you to get here?’

  ‘About six and a half hours, Coach,’ answered Brian Edwards, a star centreman from the town of Mildura in Victoria's far north.

  ‘And what about you, Molopolous?’

  ‘Took us about five and a half hours, but me dad did get a bit lost,’ said the tall young ruck-man from Orbost, down in the south-eastern corner of the State.

  This broke the ice, and even Grub managed a smile.

  ‘Well, what I'm saying is that we have all made some sacrifices to be here today, and yet none of you have got any guarantees that you'll make the team. That will depend on how you perform on the training track today and at the final trial game in a few weeks’ time. So, don't hold anything back.’

  With that, the players were taken away to do their warm-ups. Some of these ki
ds looked huge to Specky and as he was jogging alongside Spiro Molopolous, he could've sworn that Spiro had a three-day growth on his chin.

  Training soon got underway and the first thing Specky noticed was the speed and intensity of each of the drills. The ball zinged around during the various handball and kicking drills, rarely hitting the ground.

  Specky was a little tentative at first, but he soon picked up the pace and he was absolutely loving the fact that when he called for the ball, it was almost always delivered to him perfectly, lace out and on the chest.

  He was eager to impress and when Brian Edwards got the ball in his hands, Specky called out loudly and led hard out toward where the coaches were standing.

  Brian was a superstar, and his reputation had even made its way to Melbourne. He swung onto his left foot and delivered the most magnificent, low drop punt that Specky had ever seen. He was almost smiling as the ball approached him, but then he realised it was coming a lot quicker than he had anticipated. With the eyes of the whole selection panel on him, Specky decided to take the mark on his chest, just to make extra sure that he didn't drop the ball.

  It thudded safely into his body and he wrapped his arms around the footy.

  Specky quickly played on, preparing to kick the ball to the next group of players when he heard a noise that sounded like a sick coyote on its death bed. Only, it was screaming his name.

  ‘MAAAGGGGEEEEEE, WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?’

  The training drill ground to a halt as Grub Gordan waddled towards Specky with a fierce scowl on his face.

  ‘I could have picked a thousand kids who could come and train here today and run around and take baby chest marks, just to play it safe. That's not what we want to see, son. We don't want you to take the easy, safe option. TEST YOURSELF, BOY! YOU CAN DO BETTER! I don't ever want to see you take a chest mark again, unless we're playing on a ground that is ten feet underwater and the rain is coming down sideways.’