by Felice Arena
‘Well, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ Mr Rutherford said, standing up to shake Mrs Magee’s hand.
‘So, does that mean I did pass?’ asked Simon.
‘Sorry?’ said Mr Rutherford.
‘Did I pass the test?’
‘Yes, you did,’ smiled Mr Rutherford. ‘In fact, you did exceptionally well. You scored forty-four out of fifty. Of course, it would’ve been forty-six if I hadn’t take those two marks off.’
Specky beamed, as did his mum. It was really nice to get some good news in what had been a long few days of gloom.
Specky showed Mr Rutherford out.
‘Simon, I’ll see you next term. Have a good break,’ he said sincerely. ‘And all the best this weekend for the National Final. I know I’ve been tough on you, but you’re a real talent – and that means you need to be challenged. I hope you understand that. I just expect a lot from you because I think you can live up to those expectations.’
‘Thanks, Mr Rutherford,’ said Specky, who now looked at his Maths teacher differently. ‘I’ll do my best.’
As he closed the door behind his teacher, Specky realised that he was very much looking forward to playing football under Mr Rutherford. He was starting to understand that there was no right or wrong formula that determined whether a coach was successful or not. He ran through a mental list of the current AFL coaches and quickly found that they all went about their jobs differently. He thought of Paul Roos, the coach of Sydney – a famously relaxed coach, who rarely lost his temper, and was the only senior coach who regularly coached from the boundary line rather than the coaches box. Both of these things set him apart from the other fifteen coaches, but neither of them stopped him from coaching the Swans to a Premiership. In a similar style, Coach Pate was really positive in everything she said. Rather than dwell on the mistakes that her players made she was more inclined to highlight those things they did well. But Mr Rutherford was more demanding of his players – on the ground and off. Specky’s State coach, Grub Gordan, was an extremely hard task master, too, but Specky had been prepared for this as his reputation preceded him. He realised now that he had resented Mr Rutherford because he wasn’t the sort of coach that he thought he would be – rather than treat each coach on their merits, he had already made up his mind as to how Mr Rutherford should go about the role.
Still thinking about coaches, Specky nearly ran into his dad, who was stomping down the stairs with his car keys jiggling in his hands.
‘What’s going on?’ Specky asked.
‘Your grandfather is waking up,’ he said, smiling. ‘The old bugger is coming to!’
21. national final
The alarm clock went off at six-thirty on the morning of the National Final, but Specky had been tossing and turning all night and was already awake. It had been an emotional week, to say the least. The news that Grandpa Ken was awake and resting comfortably had lifted his spirits immensely. After two full-on training sessions with the team earlier in the week, the day he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.
‘This is it,’ Specky said to himself as he jumped out of bed. He ran through a quick couple of stretching exercises and to his great relief didn’t feel one bit of tightness in his buttock or down his hamstring.
‘Be at the ground by eight am, team meeting at eight-ten, warm-up on the ground at nine-ten, and the game starts at nine-thirty.’
Specky had repeated this to himself a thousand times over the last week. And what a whirlwind the last few days had been. His mobile phone had not stopped ringing. It seemed every person he had ever met wanted to wish him well for the big game. It was great to know he had so much support, but at eight o’clock the night before he’d had no other choice but to turn his phone off. He just wanted to watch a movie, try and get his mind off the game for a bit, and get a couple of hours sleep.
Specky knew that schedules played a big part in the daily lives of AFL players and that they were expected to be on time for everything. Because the AFL Grand Final was one of the biggest sporting events in the country and the pre-game entertainment was a massive part of the day, the Under-Fifteen National Final was scheduled to start very early. Specky had gone over the timetable sent to him by Bobby Stockdale a hundred times. The very last thing he wanted was to be caught in traffic and arrive late to the biggest game of his young sporting life.
Specky had a shower, methodically packed his bag – making sure five times that he wasn’t forgetting anything – and then made his way to the kitchen, his mind totally on the game. When he looked up, he got the surprise of his life. Standing behind the kitchen table was his whole family, and Danny and Robbo. They were all grinning from ear to ear – except for Jack, who was gurgling.
‘Wha … what? What are you guys doing?’ Specky managed to get out. ‘It’s six-thirty in the morning!’
‘Well, O Chosen One,’ said Alice. ‘Even I know how big a day this is for you, and we all wanted to let you know how very proud we are. My little brother, about to play at the MCG – who would’ve thunk it?’
‘Yeah, Speck, even Robbo and I haven’t been able to sleep for a couple of days,’ said Danny. ‘It’s almost as if we’re playing, too. Your mum asked us over for breakfast, just to help ya settle the nerves and stuff.’
‘You’ll kill ’em today, Speck,’ added Robbo. ‘You’ve been ready for this game since the day you were born.’
‘Right,’ said Mrs Magee. ‘I’ve got some mouths to feed.’
It was only then that Specky noticed what was on the kitchen table. It looked like a buffet on a cruise ship or a health resort. There were bottles of Gatorade and water, platters of fruit, mountains of pancakes, bowls of hot spaghetti and baked beans, and wobbly stacks of multigrain toast.
Specky grinned. ‘Umm, Mum, you’ve done an awesome job, but there’s enough here to feed the whole team. Grub told us to try and keep to our normal pre-game routine, so I’ll probably only have some spaghetti on toast, and take a couple of bananas for the trip.’
‘Well, that’s okay, love – I just wanted to make sure. You’ve trained me so well over the past eighteen months, I think I could get a job with a real club as their dietician.’
‘Don’t worry, Mrs M,’ said Robbo as he speared a stack of pancakes and drowned them in maple syrup. ‘Danny and I will help you out.’
For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Specky was able to forget about the game for a few moments as he and his friends gulped down their breakfast.
‘Okay, then,’ interrupted Mr Magee, as he grabbed his car keys and handed Jack to Alice. ‘We better get you to the ground, Simon. Can’t have you being late.’
‘Are you and Grandpa going to watch me on the telly?’
‘Yep. We’re going to watch it together live from his room. I think he’s told every nurse and doctor in the hospital about it. This will be a big day for us, too. If you know what I mean.’
Specky smiled. He was thrilled that football was finally bringing Grandpa Ken and his dad together, instead of driving them apart – but he couldn’t think about it too much as the nerves were beginning to kick in.
Specky and his dad pulled into the drop-off bay outside the MCG. Specky retrieved his bag from the boot of the car and waved his father goodbye as he drove off to the hospital.
Specky looked up at the magnificent MCG. His spine tingled. Marquees and food stalls surrounded the ground and massive flags promoting the AFL Grand Final were fluttering high above the stadium. The city of Melbourne was talking about nothing else. For as long as Specky could remember, this had always been the most exciting day of the year. There’d been a buzz building around town all week and now the day had finally arrived – and he was going to be a part of it!
Specky could scarcely believe it. He was one of the privileged few who were going to play on this hallowed surface today. His legs began to feel like jelly.
Since it was still early, there weren’t many people at the gate when he presented his ticke
t. Once inside, he took the lift down to the change rooms. There were television trucks parked under the ground with kilometres of cable winding their way up into the stands, hundreds of catering people preparing the tons of food that would be consumed that day, and thousands of kids rehearsing their routines for the pre-game show.
When Specky reached the Victorian team’s change rooms, Bobby Stockdale was at the door marking off names.
‘Good to see you, Simon. Big day ahead, son. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’
Specky moved into the rooms in a daze. They were strangely familiar. He had seen them hundreds of times in television footage of players warming up before a game or celebrating after a victory.
These are the same rooms that Judd, Brown, Fevola, Ablett, Hodge, McLeod, Kirk, Pavlich, Cornes and Riewoldt all get changed in, Specky thought to himself as he put his bag at the foot of a locker.
A huge smile came over his face and, strangely, all the nervous sensations he had been feeling completely disappeared. Specky had never felt more comfortable than he did right now.
‘This is where I want to be,’ he whispered.
The biggest and most important football game of his life was about to begin.
Grub Gordan stood in front of a massive covered whiteboard in the cavernous meeting room. Specky sat in front of him, thrilled to be one of the twenty-two best Under-Fifteen footballers in Victoria and proud to be wearing the big white V on his navy blue jumper.
‘You wear this jumper for a reason,’ Grub bellowed, before dramatically dropping the tone of his voice. ‘Victorian football teams have the proudest reputation of any State team in this country. We respect our opposition and their right to be in this final, but we EXPECT to win every time a team wearing that big V jumper takes the field. It doesn’t matter if it’s the bloody Victorian kindergarten team or the Victorian AFL team.’
Specky and his team-mates had been shown a motivational DVD about the history of Victorian football at the team meeting earlier in the week. The late great Ted Whitten had lived for the Big
V, and his passion for the jumper was an inspiration for Specky and all his team-mates.
Grub reiterated this message before unveiling the team positions on the whiteboard. Specky searched for his name on the forward line, and, unable to see it, resigned himself to the fact that he would be starting on the bench.
After going through various instructions – and being constantly interrupted by an out-of-control Dicky Atkins, who was almost frothing at the mouth in anticipation of the game – Grub turned and looked Specky in the eye.
‘Simon, massive job for you today. We know that the South Australians have done their homework on our side. You are the equal leading goal scorer for the whole carnival so they will be expecting you to line up in the forward line. Ever heard of Matthew Richardson?’
Specky nodded. Was he serious? Who hadn’t heard of Richo? The champion Richmond veteran had had a blinder season at the age of 33, when he finished equal third in the Brownlow Medal, just two votes behind the winner, Adam Cooney.
‘That’s the role we want you to play today. Richo was moved to the wing that year and allowed to run all over the ground. He’s a magnificent athlete, with great endurance, so he was able to take saving marks in defence one minute and kick goals in the forward line the next. We know you can do the same thing.’
Specky nodded his head again, recalling some of the great games he had watched Richo play throughout that year.
‘You can do it, Speck,’ bellowed Dicky, who was up on his feet, roaring at the top of his lungs.
‘Settle down, Dicky,’ said Grub, trying to get his big full-back to keep a lid on it for another couple of minutes. ‘Boys, I want you to play through Magee out on his wing. There’s plenty of room out there for him and I don’t think they’ll be able to match him in the air or on the ground.’
Specky just sat there taking it all in. He’d been compared to Matthew Richardson and learnt that one of the keys to their whole game plan had been built around him – what a morning! He was not going to let them down.
Grub finished his pre-game speech and the boys stormed out of the rooms. Specky went for a last-minute toilet break. He had drunk so much Gatorade to stay hydrated that he had already gone several times that morning. As he was washing his hands, Dicky rushed past him, just making it to the basin before heaving what seemed like three bottles of orange liquid into the basin.
‘Sorry, Speck,’ Dicky grinned, wiping his face. ‘Happens all the time before a big game. I’m ready to go now, champ. Let’s get out there and kick some butt.’
They made their way up the race towards the ground. Words of encouragement were flying between his team-mates and the sense of anticipation was like nothing Specky had ever experienced. He felt as if he could take on the world. He was pumped and knew what he had to do.
As the team entered the ground, Specky noticed a group of boys making their way around the boundary line towards the commentary box. It was Gobba and the three other commentary finalists. Specky pointed to his throat and gave him the thumbs-up, hoping Gobba’s voice was fully recovered. Gobba just waved as he was escorted away.
Before Specky knew it, the Vics were running through the banner. The relatively small crowd that was there for the early game made a surprisingly loud noise. The grass on the ground was like carpet. There was not a breath of wind in the air and the sun was shining.
It was a perfect day for footy.
The Fox Sports commentary team of Brian Paylor and Jim Bradshaw were in place, building the atmosphere magnificently as the umpire held the ball aloft to start the game.
Here we go, folks. The umpire’s about to get this game underway. It’s going to be a beauty, Jim.
Sure is, Brian. Grub Gordan has sprung the first surprise. We’ve been looking forward to watching this kid Magee kick goals for a couple of weeks, but he’s starting on the wing. Let’s watch that one closely.
The ball was bounced and the Vics’ ruckman, ‘Lurch’ Freeman, got the first tap out. Specky had started on the members’ side wing and he charged into the middle of the ground. Brian Edwards scooped the ball up and shot a handball out to Lenny ‘Skull’ Morgan, the Victorian rover. Specky quickly turned, leaving his opponent standing still, and moved back out towards the wing.
Morgan’s got it for the Vics. You can’t miss him, Jim, his bald cranium is as shiny as a bowling ball.
He’s got some pace, too, Brian. Look out, he’s about to get run down, but not before he shoots a handball out in front of Magee, into the wide spaces of the MCG. Look at this boy go, Brian.
Specky felt as if he were floating. He hadn’t played for two weeks. His body was well rested and he felt unbelievable. He moved quickly towards the ball as it dribbled awkwardly away from him. Then he noticed a massive South Australian defender leaving his man and charging towards the bouncing ball. He had a flashback to his last game for Booyong.
‘Not this time,’ Specky said to himself as he set his eyes on the ball and nothing else.
Magee bends to pick up the ball, and – oh no, he’s going to get cleaned up here, Brian.
Specky gathered the ball cleanly and as his opponent dropped his shoulder, looking to bump him off his feet, Specky turned his body sharply, executing a perfect blind turn. He found himself in clear space just outside the fifty-metre line.
Unbelievable! Magee somehow survives and now runs to the fifty-metre line. He looks inside, but all of the Victorian players have been manned up. He settles himself, gets balanced, and from forty metres out lines up the goals …
Specky took a deep breath. He could hear his team-mate Michael Bayless tell him he was clear so all he had to do was concentrate on the kick. He had looked to centre the ball, but the South Australians had a spare man in the hole so there was no free target. He dropped the ball on to his boot, aiming just inside the right goal post.
Magee kicks for goal. It looks okay … it’s there! It’s there! The
Vics have got the first goal on the board inside thirty seconds. What an effort from young Simon Magee … Oh boy, what a start!
Specky’s team-mates went wild. They ran to him from all around the ground, patting him on the back and ruffling his hair. Dicky Atkins had sprinted all the way from full-back, whooping and hollering the whole way like a banshee. ‘You little beauty, Speck. Inspirational, champ!’ He hugged him so hard, Specky thought his ribs were going to break. Brian Edwards gave him a high-five as he ran back to the middle of the ground.
He’s something special, Jim, I’m telling you now. The South Australians are going to have to watch him carefully.
Specky took up his position on the wing for the next centre bounce when … thwack, he was bumped off his feet and found himself sprawled on the ground.
Oh, it’s on here, Brian. Kevin Kottersly, the South Australian skipper, has sat Magee on his backside … Oh, look out, Malopolous for the Vics is in there, so is Hayes from South Australia. The young boys are letting off a bit of steam.
They are, Jim, but it’s all pretty harmless. No punches thrown, just a bit of pushing and shoving. I think the South Aussie captain, Kottersly, just wanted to let Magee know that they weren’t going to let him run around all day doing whatever he wants. Anyway, the umpire’s done the right thing here and bounced the ball to resume play. That’s the best way to stop any dust-up.
Specky picked himself up and ignored what was going on around him. The ball was kicked into the South Australian forward line, only to have big Dicky Atkins come barrelling out from full-back, gather the ball and steamroll right over the top of two opponents, swatting them away like flies.
Specky looked up the field and saw Lurch Freeman running into space. He sprinted towards him as Dicky sent a beautiful pass in his direction. Lurch marked it and fed off a hand-pass to Specky as he sprinted past. He tucked the ball under his arm, ran for ten metres, took a bounce, and then looked up the field. Trent Norris, the boy who had been named at full-forward for the Vics, pushed off his opponent and led beautifully up the middle of the ground. Specky sent a sizzling pass that travelled thirty-five metres, right onto the chest of Norris, who took the mark in his hands, not giving the South Australian full-back a chance to spoil.
