Specky Magee and the Best of Oz

by Felice Arena

The room was dead silent.

  ‘If any of you get a big head, I promise you’ll be watching the first Test Match from the grandstand. And I don’t care if we only have ten players on the field.’

  Grub paused and one by one aimed his intimidating stare at every boy in the room.

  ‘This reporter, Mick O’Shea, is trying to suck you in and you’re bloody well fallin’ for it. Now, I want you to forget about this rubbish. The St Augustine’s boys are not going to be overawed by you lot.’

  Grub turned his attention to the white board that Bobby had just wheeled in. It had the team positions written on it.

  ‘I’ve been doing some research on this school. They’ve been the Dublin Senior School Champions for the past eleven years,’ he continued. ‘They are immensely proud of their record and they’re extremely excited about the prospect of matching themselves against the best Australia has to offer. This may be a trial game for us, but for these guys, it will be like a Grand Final.’

  ‘Then let’s serve it up to ’em!’ roared Dicky.

  There was a ripple of agreement from around the room.

  ‘We’ll give ’em a contest, Dicky, don’t you worry about that,’ said Grub. ‘But mostly I want you guys to use this game to familiarise yourself with the round ball. It’s going to be difficult to control, so I want you to focus on the best way to kick it, handball it, and how to stop it going into the back of our net.’

  Specky gulped.

  Specky had been studying the DVD Grub had given him to watch on the plane. It was the goalkeeping highlights of the recent Test series between Australia and Ireland’s senior players – in particular, he had paid attention to the form of Essendon legend Dustin Fletcher. Because the game was played under the compromised rules system, the scoring was also different. In addition to the normal Australian set up, of two goal posts and two point posts, there was a soccer-style net suspended between the goal posts. If the ball was kicked or knocked into the back of the net that was worth 6 points. A ball kicked or knocked between the goal posts, but not in the net, was worth 3 points, and a ball kicked or knocked through the point posts was worth a single point. Specky was aware that a ‘6 pointer’, in the back of the net, was incredibly valuable to either side. Watching Fletcher alone in front of goal with the Irish forwards coming towards him at full speed, the difficulty and responsibility of the goal-keeping role had really hit home.

  Driving through the gates of St Augustine’s College reminded Specky of his days at Gosmore Grammar. The magnificent bluestone building was perched on a hill and surrounded by perfectly cut, rich-green sporting fields.

  ‘Woah! Have a look at ’em all,’ said Skull, as Specky and his team-mates saw thousands of students taking up positions around the biggest pitch in the school grounds.

  Jack Hayes, a talented half-forward from the tiny South Australian town of McClaren Vale was dumbfounded: ‘That’s ten times the entire population of my town, right there!’

  The Australian team nervously hopped off the bus, not sure of the welcome they would receive. But as they approached the field, the Irish team formed a guard of honour. Specky and the boys were greeted with a handshake and were presented with a St Augustine’s College Gaelic Football jumper on the way to the change rooms.

  ‘Welcome to St Augustine’s, I’m Michael O’Leary,’ said a tall, freckle-faced boy, handing him a jumper. ‘And welcome to Ireland.’

  ‘Um, thanks, mate,’ said Specky, taken aback by the unexpectedly warm welcome. ‘I’m Simon, but everyone calls me Specky.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Michael. ‘You wear glasses?’

  ‘Huh?’ said Specky.

  ‘Specky – short for “spectacles”. You’re called that ’cause you wear glasses?’

  ‘Nah,’ said Specky. ‘In Aussie Rules when you take a spectacular mark, which means, you know, when you go for the big grab …’ Specky trailed off. He didn’t even know if they used the words ‘mark’ or ‘grab’ in Irish football. ‘Um, never mind,’ he said. ‘It’s great to be here. Thanks!’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Michael. ‘Your team’s change rooms are over there. So I’ll see you on the pitch. And fair play to ya, Simon, I mean, Specky.’

  Michael took off to join the rest of his teammates – ready to play.

  ‘Well, they said the Irish were a friendly bunch, but that’s just about the nicest thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Brian, joining Specky as they strolled over to the change rooms.

  The Australian boys talked over the top of each other, not quite believing what had just happened.

  ‘Pretty nice guys, don’t you think, Grub?’ said Bobby, who was also beaming, having been presented with a jumper by the school’s assistant coach. ‘They seemed really happy to have us here.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Grub with a knowing look on his face. ‘We’ll see.’

  7. steam

  From the very outset of the game, it was obvious that the Aussies were going to struggle. Lurch lost the first ball-up against an opponent half his size, and within moments the ball was driven into the St Augustine’s forward line with three easy kicks. The Irish boys dribbled and baulked around the Aussies with such lightning pace and flair that it looked as if the Australians had been cemented to the ground.

  Specky nervously tightened his gloves, and with his heart pumping a million miles an hour he faced his first attack less than a minute into the match. He edged forward and backward and forward again. He shuffled from side to side. His opponent sidestepped Spiro and Bear and made a charge towards him. Specky held his breath. This was it.

  ‘THWOOMP!’ sounded the ball, as the Irish forward kicked it with all his might.

  Specky dived and just got the tips of his fingers to it – tapping it away and back into play. Brian sprinted towards the loose ball to kick it out of danger, only to be beaten to it by Michael O’Leary and two other St Augustine’s players, swooping in like a squadron of stealth jets. Specky hurriedly jumped to his feet and ran back in front of the goals, his arms spread wide.

  ‘THWOOMP!’

  The Irish forwards attacked again. The ball darted over Brian’s head and before Specky could react it zipped past him and into the top right corner of the net. Specky landed on the ground with a thud and swore in frustration. The Irish had scored the first goal of the game. And it wasn’t long before they scored again. And again.

  ‘Come on!’ shouted Specky to his team-mates. ‘I need a bit of help here!’

  Specky had never felt so gutted. His stomach sank every time the ball came forward. Being a goalie was turning out to be one of the most intense things he had ever done.

  ‘Brian … come on, mate! Back me up here!’ Specky called out, when he finally made a couple of solid saves and booted the ball back into play. Brian was one of the stars of the team and was always calm and confident under pressure. But even he had lost his cool.

  ‘Sorry, Speck – I keep losing grip of the friggin’ ball!’ he called back.

  Specky shook his head in frustration. The St Augustine’s boys were having a field day against the Aussies: Bear looked slow against his opponent. Dicky was being bumped and pushed off the ball right and left. Special K had been tackled more times than he had been for the entire season back home and Skull couldn’t kick the round ball if his life depended on it. Spiro fumbled every ball he got his hands on, and Michael Bayless, Specky’s super-quick team-mate from Victoria, looked positively sluggish.

  In the dying seconds of the first half, Specky once again faced a relentless attack from the St Augustine’s forwards. He screamed for the Australian backline to protect him, but once again they crumbled under the pressure and again Specky found himself charging out to stop another strike.

  The St Augustine’s crowd roared as the ball rocketed into the back of the net. Specky collapsed on the ground, feeling useless and humiliated. He had never felt so out of his depth on a sporting field in all of his life. The round ball was hard to judge through the air and th
e Irish boys kicked it with such precision. They knew how to make it curve and dip.

  Specky looked up at the scoreboard and sighed heavily. He couldn’t believe it. St Augustine’s College was just a school team, and he was in a national side – they had been selected because they were the best in the whole country. And yet at half-time it was the locals putting the visitors in their place. The score: St Augustine’s – 29 Australia – 3

  It was as the Irish Times reporter, Mick O’Shea, had predicted. The match was turning out to be an absolute massacre – but it was the St Augustine’s boys doing the massacring.

  The Australian change rooms were deathly quiet at half-time. The boys sat on the benches not daring to utter a single word, all of them totally shell-shocked. Specky stared at the floor, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone.

  Grub was the last to enter. Specky braced himself for what would surely be the most severe tongue-lashing Grub had ever delivered. If this was the best they could do against a school side, then how were they going to compete against the best that Ireland had to offer? Specky and his team-mates were bruised and sore – and not just physically.

  Their St Augustine’s opponents were on average around ten centimetres shorter and five kilos lighter, and they had basically run rings around them. They had tackled the Aussies into submission, bumped them off their feet at will and crushed their spirit in the process.

  Well, thought Specky. I might as well get this over and done with. I deserve whatever’s coming my way. He shifted his gaze off the chunk of mud that he’d be staring at on the concrete floor and looked up at his coach.

  But Grub just paced the room slowly, lost in his own thoughts. He made his way over to his training bag, bent down and retrieved something from the side pocket. By this time they were all holding their breath. To everyone’s surprise, Grub’s face slowly broke out in a broad smile.

  ‘Any one of you useless buggers want to read this newspaper article now?’ he asked, waving the Irish Times in front of them.

  Specky could see that Dicky was about to say something smart-alecky, but Specky elbowed him in the ribs and he shut up.

  ‘Look, it’s not the end of the world,’ Grub muttered. ‘In fact, it’s probably the best thing that could have happened to us. How many of you took up your position on the field today, looked at the skinny, pale kid next to you and thought to yourself, “Yep, this is going to be a pretty pleasant afternoon”?’

  ‘I did, Grub!’ Dicky blurted out. ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.’

  ‘Okay, okay, Atkins, I wasn’t really looking for an answer, but I appreciate your honesty,’ said Grub. ‘Complacency is a funny thing, boys, and it’s the reason behind some of the biggest sporting upsets. If you don’t pay your opposition the ultimate respect, regardless of what they look like, or how ordinary you think they are, or how good you think you might be, you will get a result like the one we’re lookin’ at right now.’

  Grub paused.

  ‘I’m not going to shout my head off, boys, so relax. You look like you think I’m gonna pull an axe out of my bag and start chopping arms off … Nah, this is a lesson we needed to be taught. You blokes got yourselves into this mess, now you’ve got to go out there and get yourselves out of it.’

  With that, Grub left the rooms, leaving Specky and his team-mates to work out exactly how they were going to haul in a 26-point deficit.

  Back on the field, Specky could immediately tell that his team-mates had lifted their game. Their skills were only marginally better, but their workrate was one-hundred percent improved.

  The Australian forwards managed to keep the Irish team busy at the other end of the field so Specky didn’t have much to do as goalie in the second half. As the time ticked away, it became obvious that despite the fantastic skills on show, the St Augustine’s side were miles behind the Aussies in fitness and conditioning.

  Towards the end of the second half, the St Augustine’s team really started to run out of steam and that’s when the Aussie boys pounced. Specky watched in admiration as his team-mates started to run over the top of their opponents. Five straight goals in less than five minutes – thanks to Dicky, Skull, Bear and Michael – boosted the entire team’s confidence. Specky exhaled, relieved that the game had turned around.

  With only a couple of minutes to go, the Aussies managed to surge ten points ahead of the St Augustine’s side. Dicky now had possession of the ball and was being charged by his short, stocky scruffy-haired opponent, Frankie Nolan.

  As Dicky went to kick the ball, Frankie rocketed towards him and, with a slightly raised elbow, collected Dicky just behind the ear. Dicky hit the soggy pitch with a thud.

  It only took seconds for the Aussies to realise that this was a deliberate and dirty act of play. So much for friendly hospitality! Suddenly chaos reigned supreme.

  As the siren sounded, Skull rushed for Frankie Nolan and bumped him off his feet. Within seconds another St Augustine’s player grabbed the scruff of Skull’s jumper and flung him to the turf. This prompted Special K to come steaming in and get Skull’s attacker in a headlock. Specky edged away from the goals as he watched his team-mates and his opponents leave their positions on the pitch and rush in towards the scuffle. Suddenly the ‘friendly game’ resembled a cage match from WWE wrestling.

  No way! thought Specky, joining his friends, sprinting to the other side of the ground as fast as he could.

  Specky pulled and dragged four Irish boys off Lurch, who was barely able to stand. Eventually the officials and teachers managed to separate the teams.

  As the boys walked to their rooms, ill-feeling was still running high and players on both sides were still engaging in some full-on sledging.

  Bobby Stockdale, who had Specky and Lurch by the collars of their jumpers, was beside himself.

  ‘This is not good, Grub,’ he said. ‘This was supposed to be a goodwill practice match – and it ended up in a brawl. The press are going to eat this up! What will these boys’ parents think when they read about this back home?’

  ‘Relax, Bobby, there was no harm done,’ said Grub. ‘And you can let those boys go now, I think. Both teams were just letting off a bit of steam – there weren’t any punches thrown. They’re teenage boys, mate, and they’re not playing tiddlywinks out there. They’ll be right.’

  ‘But what about the negative publicity?’ said Bobby.

  ‘It’s all about crisis management, Bobby boy,’ said Grub, as he put a fatherly arm around his clearly stressed-out team manager. ‘Besides,’ he continued, looking at Specky and Lurch with a mischievous grin on his face. ‘That’s the least of our problems right now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ replied Bobby.

  ‘In half an hour, these boys will be going home with their opponents to be house guests for a night …’

  Grub chuckled. And Bobby exhaled nervously. Specky and Lurch exchanged worried glances.

  8. your irish family

  ‘If I have to spend the weekend with that dirty mongrel who flattened Dicky they’re gonna have a problem on their hands,’ announced Skull. ‘I’m just not going, simple as that.’

  ‘Yeah, me neither,’ added Lurch. ‘I had four of the little leprechauns hanging off me.’

  ‘Mate, that was some headlock you put on that dude,’ said Specky turning to Special K.

  ‘Yeah, just a little tip I got from that Jackie Chan movie I watched on the flight over,’ grinned Special K, packing away his footy gear.

  ‘His name’s Frankie Nolan,’ said Dicky. ‘I wonder who’ll draw the short straw and end up staying with him. There’s no way they’ll send me.’

  The room quickly fell silent, as Grub and Bobby entered the rooms.

  ‘Well, boys, nice way to make a first impression on the Irish,’ Grub said. Specky thought his coach was doing his best not to smile. ‘We’ll talk about that later, but now to the good bit – Bobby’s going to announce the names of the families you’ll be billeted out to for the next c
ouple of days.’

  Nervous chatter rippled through the rooms.

  ‘And then he’s going to get a job with the United Nations and sort out all the other conflicts in the world,’ chuckled Grub.

  ‘Cut it out, Jay,’ said Bobby, looking grimfaced. ‘I’ve spent the past hour with the St Augustine’s officials and while we take the matter seriously we have all agreed that the billeting should still go ahead. Now, I know that some of you have concerns about staying with one particular player, but we will not be making exceptions. If these players and their families are good enough to open their homes to us for a few nights, then we accept graciously.’

  With that, Bobby started to match up the players with their hosts. ‘Kottersley will be staying with Daniel Byrne. Freeman with Gabe Callaghan. Malopoulos with Liam Doyle …’

  Specky and the remaining players held their breath, all hoping they wouldn’t be billeted to the Nolans. No one was more nervous than Skull. When his name was called, he stopped chewing his nails, and looked up at Bobby with a pleading look.

  ‘Morgan and …’ Bobby paused slightly. ‘… Frankie.’

  Skull’s shoulders slumped and a shiny sheen of sweat broke out on his bald head.

  ‘… Crinnin. Morgan with Frankie Crinnin.’

  ‘What? Who? What did you say?’

  ‘Crinnin,’ said Brian sitting closest to Skull. ‘It’s not Frankie Nolan.’

  Skull looked relieved, and the rest of the team groaned and complained loudly.

  ‘All right, all right – settle down,’ said Bobby. Bobby continued calling the names until there were only five players left and Frankie Nolan was still in the mix.

  ‘Magee and …’ Specky held his breath. ‘… Michael O’Leary.’

  Specky exhaled. Phew! Michael O’Leary had given him the jumper before the match and he seemed like a nice guy. He was so relieved he almost missed the next name.

  ‘Atkins, you’ll be staying with Frankie Nolan.’

  ‘WHAT!’ bellowed Dicky. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m the one he belted around the ear! Grub, do something!’ Dicky pleaded. ‘Please, Grub. The family will probably lock me up in the basement and starve me.’