Micah Johnson Goes West

by Sean Kennedy

  Should he write something back, just a little bit flirty? No, too soon. Instead he just opted for a simple Good night. No adornments such as kisses or emoticons. Cool, calm and in command. That was Micah Johnson.

  HE HAD to almost physically jam his fist into his mouth to stop from screaming. However, his feet did do an enthusiastic little jig. Michael Flatley would rest assured, however, and be secure his reign as the King of Draining Every Bit of Goodwill the Globe Had for Irish Dancing would remain uncontested.

  When the team was announced, the name Micah Johnson was on it. And Daril was included again, so he didn’t have to feel any residual guilt that would have plagued him if he wasn’t. Even though Daril had played the week before, Micah didn’t want to see him on the bench so soon. The rest of the team seemed genuinely happy for him, although they threatened (somewhat jokingly) that he better not let them down his first time on the field. It became even more concrete to him when Nate came over with a clipboard and asked how many tickets he wanted reserved for his family to come and watch him. Feeling a bit tongue-tied, he asked for six, just in case Simon and Dec wanted to come—but then, Dec would probably already be working there; maybe Emma would be down? It didn’t matter; Nate didn’t even balk at the number, just wrote it down and said it would be fine.

  Daril came over and high-fived him. “The rookies, together again!”

  “I think I’m going to vomit,” Micah admitted.

  Daril laughed. “I did, last week! And you’ll feel like that every day until the blow of the final siren.”

  “Great.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m feeling a little sick at the thought of my second game.”

  “It never really goes away.” Sam had walked up to join them, and Micah found himself on the receiving end of another high five. “I feel nervous before every game. Doesn’t matter how long I’ve been playing.”

  “You’re really cheering me up, thanks,” Micah said.

  Sam whacked him good-naturedly. “Cheer up, Eeyore! You’re going to be an official Docker now!”

  “I thought I already was? I have the guernsey and everything to prove it.”

  “You know what I mean. Everything changes, from now on!”

  Daril snorted. “You make it sound like he’s going to the guillotine.”

  “Nah, the guillotine’s over quicker.”

  “I think I need a drink,” Micah said.

  “Hey, no drinking! At least until after the game. You know the rules.”

  “I suppose drugs are out of the question?”

  Sam folded his arms. “There are some things you shouldn’t joke about.”

  “Okay, okay!” Micah turned to Daril. “See what happens when you have to live with a responsible member of the team?”

  “Could be worse,” Daril said. “You could be living with the coach.”

  “Yeah, imagine how much stricter he would be than me,” Sam said.

  And Sam was strict enough.

  “I guess I’m lucky to be stuck with you,” Micah said.

  Sam beamed. “That’s the spirit! You can have apple juice and pretend it’s cider.”

  Micah gave him the thumbs up.

  “But I tell you what… we win on Saturday and you can have a shandy.”

  “That would be worth more than the premiership,” Micah deadpanned.

  Daril and Sam both gasped melodramatically.

  “I thought I just told you there were some things you shouldn’t joke about?” Sam asked. “And the premiership, you never joke about that.”

  “Bad form, Micah,” Daril said. But he grinned anyway.

  Looking at his team, and the camaraderie he was starting to feel between them, along with the knowledge that he would be playing his first proper game in a few days, Micah realised that things were looking up.

  “ALL HAIL the conquering hero,” Dane said as Micah crossed through the lounge room to go to bed. He’d showered at practise and was just looking forward to crawling under his doona with the air-conditioning turned up full bore.

  So Sam had probably told the whole Mitchell clan that Micah was rostered to play. Everybody would have been happy for him, except for Dane the Downer. And it was only a couple of hours ago Micah was thinking that he was finally starting to feel like he belonged here.

  Anyway, he wasn’t going to let emo boy drag him back down into depression.

  “Prepare the glitter cannons,” Micah said.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Dane yelled after him.

  Micah shut his bedroom door behind him, and blocked him out. At least in a couple of days he would be in another city. He couldn’t allow himself to think of it as “home” right now, or else he would never get on the plane and come back to Perth when he had to.

  From the Reach Out, 2 March 2016

  Out and About With Jasper Brunswick

  Micah Johnson Returns Home, In a Traitor’s Colours!

  OKAY, SO I’m joking (a little), but Micah Johnson, first out AFL football player from the beginning of his career, must know how Melburnians feel about their boys who play for other teams. It may be true that players like Johnson have no choice in the matter on which team they are drafted into, but neither does a Victorian supporter when it comes to dealing with traitors in their midst. They must be punished.

  So if there is any ill will towards Johnson on the field this weekend, it will be hard to judge whether it is due to his sexuality or just because we never like the opposition. But rest assured, your usual homophobe will probably delight in using slurs against our young champ, who will be playing the first game of his career—just like those racists who claim to be booing Adam Goodes just because they think he’s a “sook.”

  That is why we must forget Micah is wearing the colours of a West Australian team, which I cannot even bring myself to name. We must remember he is one of us, one of our queer community, and he is a trailblazer. Like Declan Tyler before him, Micah Johnson is putting himself on the line by being out and proud in an industry that chews and spits out even the most “normal” of men who play for it. The odds are stacked against Micah, but we need to give him our support.

  Because he is playing for more than his team. He is also playing for us—the queers who were maybe picked last in their school’s PE classes, or weren’t even good at sport, or those who were but found themselves driven out by fear or reluctance to show their true selves to their teammates. Micah Johnson is proving that we can break stereotypes (if we want to), and he is also making it easier for more boys like him to take to the fields and know there is a precedent.

  But we should also remember—he is only eighteen. It’s a heavy burden, being a symbol. Just ask Declan Tyler. But as the numbers of out gay athletes swell, they can only continue to make it easier for each other.

  So good luck this weekend, Micah. We may not really want your team to win, but we want you to.

  Chapter 5

  “I MEAN, really, Jasper sounds almost human in that column,” Micah said.

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Simon said immediately. The drabness of the hotel room behind him and Declan made them stand out in stark contrast.

  Micah thought Dec was rolling his eyes. The glitches in the FaceTime connection almost missed it, but Micah saw the aftermath and he grinned.

  “I thought he was your best friend now, Simon?” Micah asked.

  “Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer,” Simon said.

  “Well, he can’t be much more closer when he’s shagging one of your friends.”

  “Micah!” Simon cried.

  “Don’t set him off,” Dec groaned. “Thanks, Micah.”

  Simon quieted down. “I’m fine. Just, sometimes, it’s easy to fall into old habits.”

  “He’s trying really hard,” Dec told Micah.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Are you being sarky?” Simon asked.

  Dec grinned rather cheekily. “It’s funny how some people can’t recog
nise their chief trait when seen in others.”

  “Hey!” Micah and Simon protested in unison.

  Dec swung an arm around Simon, hugged him close, and kissed him on the temple. Now Simon rolled his eyes and Micah felt he had to close his as their brief moment of bliss felt far too private for an outsider to witness.

  “So, what’s up, Micah?” Dec asked, his arm remaining around his partner.

  “I have good news.”

  “You’re coming back home!” Simon crowed.

  Micah wished. “Well, in a way. For this weekend’s game. But I’ll also be playing.”

  He was gratified when both men whooped in joy.

  “That’s bloody fantastic,” Simon said. He looked at Dec and his face softened. “Are you crying?”

  Dec quickly wiped at his eye. “Nope. But I’m damn proud.”

  “He is crying,” Simon said in awe.

  Seeing his mentor thus stricken, Micah felt himself tear up in response. “I just want to let you know, I’m here because of you.”

  “Hear that?” Simon asked Dec. “He’s blaming you for being stuck in Perth.”

  Dec laughed shakily. “Shut up.”

  “I mean it,” Micah said. “The way I was going last year, I would never have been drafted if you hadn’t helped me. If GetOut hadn’t helped me. I kind of wish you guys were still here.” He realised how perilously close he came to spilling his secrets, and how he wasn’t coping at all. But he clammed up.

  “I’m still here when you need me.” Dec smiled at him through the camera.

  “Thank you. And thank you too, Simon.”

  “Finally! I was wondering when I was going to get some gratitude.”

  “Just say thank you,” Dec admonished him.

  “Thank you.” Micah could have sworn there was now a glint in Simon’s eyes as well.

  “I knew you could do it,” Dec said. “The problem was getting you to think you could do it.”

  And the problem now is getting me to think I can keep on doing it. “Anyway, how much longer are you guys going to be in Albany?”

  “Well, I have to get back to work on Saturday,” Dec said.

  “Good. Because I asked if they could set aside tickets for you.”

  “I’ll be watching you anyway,” Dec said. “I’m going to be onfield reporting for the game.”

  “I’d love to go,” Simon said. “Can Fran snag the other ticket? She’d want to support you too.”

  “That would be great. How’s Albany, anyway?”

  “It’s fantastic!” Simon truly was enthused. “I seriously think it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to.”

  “He’s trying to convince me to buy a property here for when we retire,” Dec said.

  “Imagine it,” Simon got a faraway look in his eyes. “An old farmstead house overlooking King George Sound. We could sit on our veranda in the morning and watch the whales surface as we drink our coffee.”

  “That’s a very romantic vision you have there, Simon,” Micah said.

  “But it’s a nice one.” Dec was probably already researching property values and how they might change in the next thirty years.

  “And did you make all the decisions you have to?”

  “We think so.” But Dec didn’t elaborate. And Simon looked a little furtive as well.

  Micah decided not to push for information, but with promises to see each other on Saturday they signed off.

  And before he could start feeling alone again, he decided to call his parents now they would be home from work and let them know the good news as well.

  JUST AS he was getting ready for bed, a text came through on his mobile.

  Hey, guess who’s going to be in Melbourne this weekend?

  Kyle. Micah tried not to get too ahead of himself with excitement at the fact he was texting him of his own accord again. I dunno. Superman?

  Almost. Yours truly.

  Micah snorted. Good to see some things never change.

  What, you mean my healthy sense of ego?

  Yeah. Healthy.

  Anyway, I’m going to be in Melbourne. Was wondering if you would be, if you were playing.

  Micah’s fingers sped across the screen. I’d be there anyway, even if I wasn’t playing.

  Oh, of course.

  But I AM playing.

  A cheesy emoticon of streamers appeared onscreen. Congratulations!

  Thanks.

  Do you think you’d have any time free to maybe go for a coffee and catch up?

  Seeing Kyle again would almost be worth missing his first game.

  Almost.

  I’m sure I could fit you in.

  Oh crap! He didn’t mean it to sound like a double entendre. What the fuck would Kyle be thinking?

  Or maybe he was hoping the same thing?

  Time seemed to stretch before him as he waited for his screen to light up again.

  Finally!

  Cool. Speak to you before then.

  That was it? Cool?

  Maybe Kyle was freaking out, thinking Micah was going to jump his bones the minute he saw him. Or maybe he wanted him to. Which was the better option?

  At least he was distracted from stressing about the game. Now he was stressing about Kyle instead.

  Okay, okay. He was stressing about both.

  THE LIGHTS of Melbourne twinkled below him, and Micah had never seen anything so beautiful. Melbourne was home, and he could never think of it as anything else. It was a physical pain that continued to hurt, even here at the beginning of his visit with all the time stretching out ahead of him. He didn’t even want to imagine how much worse it would be when he was back on the plane with Melbourne once again in the rearview mirror. Do planes even have rearview mirrors?

  As he had family in Melbourne, Micah had permission to stay with them rather than at the hotel with the other players. He was also granted an extra night’s stay, and he would be returning to Perth by himself. He was surprised they trusted him enough to do it without a chaperone—because it was tempting enough to fantasise about going off the grid and never going back.

  But for now he should just enjoy it. He said good-bye to the rest of the boys and walked through security to the waiting area, and in a sea of expectant faces, found his family. They all looked happy to see him, but he would take the bet he looked happier. Micah had to restrain himself from running over and throwing himself bodily at them—instead, settling for heartfelt hugs and manly slaps on the back from his father.

  Joanne was already crying.

  “Mum, I’m back, not leaving.”

  It didn’t seem to matter to her. “Yeah, and you’ll be gone in a couple of days again.”

  “Awkward,” Alex drawled.

  “You’re telling me,” Micah said, hugging his brother again.

  “Oh, man, you’re being just as bad.”

  “I’ve missed you, you little freak,” Micah told him.

  Alex smiled, as if he had doubted it. “Really?”

  “Of course. Did you miss me?”

  Alex harrumphed to himself.

  “You liar,” his father admonished him. “He practically has a shrine of you in his bedroom.”

  “A shrine?” Micah asked. “Ugh, kinda creepy, Alex.”

  “A poster!” Alex cried. “Just one bloody poster!”

  Rick and Joanne laughed. It was obviously an ongoing joke between the three of them, and it gave them a shared history Micah wasn’t a part of. He tried to keep the smile plastered on his face.

  “You really have a poster of me?” he asked his little brother.

  “Don’t get too big-headed,” Alex grumbled.

  “Too late for that,” Rick said, all smiles.

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” Micah agreed. “Can we go home now?”

  AT LEAST his room looked basically the same. Micah hadn’t taken a lot of stuff with him to Perth, so there was enough left behind to be familiar and comforting. He could almost believe
he had just come home from a holiday, except his shelves were a little empty as he had taken his favourite books and DVDs with him to Perth.

  He flung himself onto his bed and sighed with contentment as his body moulded into its familiar pattern. His bed in Perth still felt like one in a hotel, as Micah hadn’t been in it long enough to break it in. He briefly wondered how much it would cost to ship his bed across the country, and if doing so would make him feel any better.

  He doubted it. It was a bed, not a magic pill.

  There was a knock at the door, and Micah rolled over to see Alex standing in the doorway.

  “What’s up?”

  “Can you come here for a second?”

  “Where?”

  Alex cocked his head to indicate his bedroom across the hall.

  “But I’m comfy,” Micah protested.

  “Suck it up, princess,” Alex said. He grinned. “Did I sound like your coach?”

  “I think he would be too scared to say ‘princess’ in case it was taken as a homophobic slur,” Micah told him.

  “So what does he call you, then? Maggot?”

  “Rhymes too much with the F-word. He doesn’t really tend to insult us.”

  “Really?”

  “Funnily enough, insults don’t lead you to push yourself. It probably leads to mutiny.” With a strangled and exaggerated moan, Micah staggered to his feet and followed Alex into his bedroom.

  And there it was, in pride of place, catching your eye as soon as you entered.

  Micah Johnson, Fremantle Dockers rookie, stared down at him from the wall with a self-conscious grin Micah couldn’t remember flashing the day his portrait was taken. His two-dimensional self didn’t look that comfortable in his guernsey, as if he was wearing a tuxedo for the first time and knew he was just playing dress-up.

  “Wow,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t close to tears. “At least I know some of these things got sold.” He should really get onto their PR person to send his number one fan, Carter, a copy.