by Felice Arena
Worm grinned, satisfied with his detailed explanation, but Specky was still puzzled.
‘So why play it every twenty-five years? Why not every year?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, why?’ added Tim.
Worm took another deep breath.
‘The Principals wanted it to be extra special, something that would stand out from all the other yearly competitions.’
Worm grabbed the book off Specky and flipped to another page.
‘Here it is…’ he said, now reading directly from the book. ‘By leaving so many years between each match, John Regent and Arthur Danforth believed that they would create a game that would grow into something legendary. The anticipation would be intense as it built for two generations of students. During that time, the Boots of Glory would be housed in the Principal’s office of the winning school.’
‘Whoa, that’s unreal!’ replied Specky. ‘So it’s a bit like the rivalry between Scotch College and Melbourne Grammar.’
‘What rivalry?’ asked Worm.
‘I can’t believe you don’t know this,’ grinned Specky. ‘Finally I get to tell you something you don’t know, genius! They’re private schools in Melbourne, and they played the first recorded game of Aussie Rules way back in 1858. It was the start of a great tradition – kind of like this one.’
‘I knew that!’ pretended Worm, annoyed at himself for not knowing that very important piece of information.
‘No wonder everyone’s so pumped up,’ said Specky. ‘Just imagine, the next time the match is played, we’ll be ancient! We’ll be thirty-nine years old!’
‘That’s why it’s such an awesome honour to be in this team,’ said Worm. Since primary school we’ve all hoped that we would be involved in the Boots of Glory match. Sticks’ father even played in the last game, and they won that match. Now it’s up to us to defend our title and keep the Boots at Gosmore.’
‘Talk about pressure for just one match.’
‘It isn’t just a match,’ snapped Worm. ‘It’s a battle we have to win! Don’t you get it? Reputation and tradition are at stake here. All eyes are going to be on us – on you two – during this one match, this major clash!’
Worm’s brow was all squished up, his jaw had locked and his cheeks had turned bright red. Specky wanted to tell him to take a chill pill or something, but Tim got in before him.
‘Ease up! Don’t have a cow!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘We were just asking, that’s all.’
‘I know, I know. I’m sorry,’ Worm mumbled, realising his emotions had gotten the better of him. ‘All I’m trying to say is that this match is going to be huge. But now that we have you guys there’s no way we’re going to lose. Our team is complete.’
‘Complete? What d’ya mean, complete?’ asked Specky.
Worm paused as if he were carefully working out how to answer Specky’s question.
‘We’ve got a top team and we’ve won plenty of matches – even the Diadora Cup last year. But we’ve only beaten Salisbury one out of five times in the last two years. They ended up killing us in last year’s regular season’s Grand Final,’ he said. ‘They have always had a dominant full-back and a star full-forward. Even though Whispers did a good job last year of filling in at full-back, he’s a much better midfielder. That’s why the coaches went in search of you guys. Tim, ’cause you’re a champion fullback, and Speck, ’cause you’re a gun full-forward.’
‘So you’re telling us that the only reason Tim and I won scholarships is because we can help the team win the Boots of Glory?’ choked Specky, not quite sure how he should feel about this new information.
‘Nah, it’s not the only reason,’ said Worm, gulping his words. ‘But yeah, making sure we have an awesome team for the Boots of Glory match is probably one of the main reasons.’
For the first time since arriving at Gosmore, Specky felt a wave of pressure wash over him.
5. training
The following day when the bell rang to signal the end of last period, Specky and his friends couldn’t get changed and rush to their first footy training session quickly enough.
Specky raced Tim and Sticks to Regent Oval – the main oval out of Gosmore’s seven sporting fields. A few moments later, Whispers, Grizza, Piggie, and the rest of the Under 15s arrived ready to get stuck into it.
‘All right, boys!’ shouted Coach Farrell. ‘This is it. This is where the work begins. We start our regular season in two weeks’ time, but as we all know, it’s the Boots we’re all focussing on at the moment.’ Specky noticed Tim glancing at him nervously.
‘Most of you will already know the two new members of our team, but put your hands together for Tim Barton and Simon Magee.’
The team clapped, over grunts of ‘On ya, Barto’ and ‘Yeah, Magee’.
Specky smiled, but stopped when he turned to see Grizza sneering at him. He’s another Screamer, but ten times worse, he thought, comparing Grizza to his old rival back at Booyong High.
‘Right,’ said Coach Farrell. ‘I also want you to welcome again Mr Brennan and Mr Reager.’
Again the boys clapped, while Coach Farrell asked his assistant coaches to say a few words.
‘Welcome, boys,’ said Mr Reager. ‘I want to wish you all an incredible season. Forget last year’s Grand Final. This is a different ball game. A fresh and exciting start for all of you. And I know you’re going to make us all proud. Good luck, boys.’
Mr Reager stepped aside to let Mr Brennan come forward.
‘Hi, guys. As you know, this is only my second year at Gosmore, but I have to say it’s been a great privilege to be a part of this team for the last twelve months. I wouldn’t be dead for quids! So, I want to wish you all the best, and I know that the Boots will be ours for another twenty-five years. Remember, all of you, this is your glory year.’
‘Show us your place kick, Sir!’ yelled one of the boys.
Mr Brennan smiled. The rest of the team began egging him on. ‘Yeah, show us! Do one for us now!’ they called out.
Specky leant over to Sticks.
‘What’s going on?’ he whispered.
‘Mr Brennan is really good at doing a kick that AFL players used to do in the olden days. It’s called a place kick. It’s really cool,’ he replied.
‘Well, we’ll see,’ said Mr Brennan. ‘Maybe later – if you survive Coach Farrell’s fitness tests.’
With that, Coach Farrell stepped forward and ordered the boys to do a five-lap warm-up jog around the oval – training had officially begun.
After only two hundred metres, Specky knew that he was now involved in football at a whole new level. Back at Booyong High the boys would barely get out of a walk as they sauntered around the oval for their ONE lap warm-up. Half the time they would be laughing so hard at one of Danny’s jokes they could barely run at all. But that certainly wasn’t the case here.
The boys took off at a sprint. Specky was caught off guard. There was no good-natured moaning or complaining. The whole squad had just accepted the instruction and were now half way through lap one, while Specky struggled to stay with the back of the pack.
Grizza was striding out at the front of the running group. As the last lap slowly came to an end, Specky thought his head was going to blow off. He had never run so hard in his life. He collapsed on the grass, puffing and wheezing, thinking that his jelly legs were never going to be able to hold his body in an upright position again.
After a minute or two his heart rate began to return to something approaching normal. For one scary minute Specky thought he was going to vomit. As he finally got his breath back, and found his way to his feet, he realised he was the only one left on the oval. The rest of the squad had moved to the other side of the field where there were a whole lot of cones and weights set up. I have to get a whole lot fitter, and in a hurry, Specky thought, as he stumbled over toward the rest of the group, just as Coach Farrell began to explain the next drill.
‘Right, these fitness tests that you’re going to
be doing are exactly the same tests that the AFL uses at the Draft Camp. They give boys who want to be drafted the chance to show how quick and strong they are, how high they can jump and what sort of endurance they have. Of course, football ability still remains the most important test. The results will give us an idea of your strengths and how we can improve your weaknesses. But first we will be doing a ‘skinfold test’. It measures how much body fat you’re carrying.’
‘Hey, Sticks, you won’t have any problems with this,’ stirred Grizza, who thrived on making Sticks feel self-conscious about his skinny frame.
‘That’s enough, Warren,’ said Coach Farrell. ‘It’s just as hard for some players to put on weight as it is for others to lose it. Now get on with it and then head over to the sixty metre sprint test.’
As each of the boys was timed running as fast as they could, Sticks got his own back at Grizza. He flew over the distance and was clearly the fastest in the team. Specky was surprised that he too was in the top five and felt quietly pleased with himself.
The team was then instructed to do as many chin-ups and push-ups as they could without stopping. Grizza and Piggie went at it like a couple of thrashing machines. They kept going and going, doing push-up after push-up and chin-up after chin-up. They were easily the most powerful players in the side. Specky managed a respectable total on the push-ups, but when it came to the chin-ups he struggled badly. He could barely complete five full chin-ups and was sent away to talk to Mr Reager – to discuss a strength-building program.
While Specky was in deep conversation with Mr Reager, they were distracted by jeering coming from the team. They had all crowded around the chin-up bar. Specky and Mr Reager strolled over to see what the fuss was about.
‘Five bucks says he doesn’t make one,’ bellowed Grizza. ‘Look at him, those little twigs for arms will snap before he gets his chin over the bar!’
‘Grizzle, we don’t need those derogatory comments around here,’ warned Coach Farrell.
Sticks approached the bar as if he were approaching the edge of a cliff. He stood on the chair below it and nervously placed one hand on either side of the chin-up pole.
‘You want me to help you, Stick-man?’ whispered Grizza.
Coach Farrell shot him a dirty look.
‘I’ll take the five-buck bet,’ Specky blurted, wanting to show some confidence in Sticks.
The team laughed.
Whispers stepped up beside Specky. ‘You just kissed goodbye to a fiver, Speck. Sticks has never done a chin-up in all the time we’ve known him.’
Sticks raised himself off the chair and hung by his arms from the bar. Specky could tell it took all of his strength just to do that. Sticks’ arms began to quiver and his shoulders began to shake. Then slowly, and miraculously, his body began to move upward. The boys began to cheer and urge Sticks on. As he got close to halfway, the cheering got louder. Inch by inch, centimetre by centimetre, Sticks groaned through clenched teeth. But, suddenly, his hands began to lose their grip. Sticks was now holding on with the tips of his fingers. It was no use. Just as it looked as if he was going to open his chin-up account, it was all too much for him and he fell to the ground.
A collective moan came from the team.
‘Easiest five bucks I ever made,’ boasted Grizza. ‘He might run like the wind, but even my little sister is stronger than that!’
Specky made his way over to Sticks.
‘Don’t worry about it, mate, you can’t be good at everything.’
‘Yeah, thanks, Speck. But if I don’t get stronger I won’t have a chance of making it to the big league. And Grizza gets on my nerves. It bugs me that he’s good at everything – he doesn’t know what it’s like to fail.’
‘Well, we’ll see what we can do about that,’ said Specky, as they jogged over to the next test.
6. spring!
The last test was a standing vertical leap. The players had to jump as high as they could from a standing start, and tap at some metal bars that stuck out from the top of a pole. The coaches, by looking at the metal bars, were able to work out how high the players had leapt. Billy Blackless, a former student of Gosmore Grammar, held the all-time record. He had been a star forward as a youngster and went on to play one hundred and ninety-eight games with the Geelong football club. Billy was now a big television and radio star, in more ways than one – while he had been an athletic player, since his retirement he had put on a few kilos. Specky and his team-mates all knew him as one of the funniest men in the media, but it was hard for them to imagine him as a young player with such an amazing leap.
‘This year’s the year I’m gonna take Billy’s record,’ boasted Grizza as he lined himself up under the metal pole. He crouched down, mustered up all his energy, and exploded sky-wards. At the top of his leap he slapped at the metal bars, easily passing all of the other players that had jumped before him. The entire team gathered around Mr Reager as he measured the height of the jump.
‘One hundred and twenty-two centimetres!’ he announced. ‘Great effort! But still three centimetres short of the record.’
All of the boys congratulated Grizza.
‘Rightio, Simon, you’re next!’
The team fell silent, and Specky took up his position under the bars.
‘You want to make that bet double or nothing, Magee?’ Grizza said, throwing out the challenge.
‘Warren, I’m giving you one more warning!’ snapped Coach Farrell.
Specky grinned at the big ruckman and gave Sticks a wink.
‘Um, Coach Farrell, I know betting is wrong, but could I make that bet with Grizza? And Grizza, let’s make it twenty bucks,’ he said calmly.
Snorts and mumbles of disbelief rippled through the team.
‘Well, Simon, I normally wouldn’t condone this,’ said Coach Farrell, looking at Mr Reager and Mr Brennan for approval. ‘But since Warren has persisted with his negative comments all through this training session, I’ll allow it – but not for money. The bet is to run fifteen more laps of the oval.’
The team gasped.
Specky agreed, as did Grizza.
Specky took a deep breath and, for a moment, he had a few doubts.
Specky had a mental flash of Jason Akermanis, the Brisbane Lions superstar. He was probably the most outspoken footy player in the AFL, but although he sometimes had a lot to say, he always backed it up on the football field. Specky wondered if he could do the same.
Specky closed his eyes and got into a crouch position. He took another deep breath, and jumped as high as he possibly could. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. It was as if he hung there, midair. He slapped at the metal bars and fell to the ground, gracefully, landing on his feet.
Everyone held their breath as Mr Reager walked over to make the official measurement.
‘ One hundred and thirty-one centimetres. We have a brand new Gosmore record!’ Specky’s team-mates went berserk – their cheers and applause echoed right across the oval.
‘That was unbelievable, Speck, I thought you were going to take off and fly over the science building. You should’ve seen the look on Grizza’s face,’ said Sticks, rushing up to congratulate Specky.
‘Very impressive, Simon,’ said Coach Farrell, patting him on the back. ‘I will give Billy a ring this afternoon to let him know his twenty-two-year-old record has been broken. At least we won’t have to put up with his bragging at the annual reunion any more.’
Coach Farrell turned back to the team.
‘Okay, boys, that’s it for today. You will get your individual results after last class tomorrow, and then we’ll get stuck into training with the footballs. Now, hit the showers – except for Warren. Fifteen more laps, lad!’
‘Hang on!’ interrupted Piggie. ‘What about Mr Brennan’s famous place kick?’
Mr Brennan smiled. He grabbed one of the footballs and walked to the fifty-metre line, directly in front of goals. He made a small divot in the ground with the heel of his boot, and placed one e
nd of the ball in it. He took several paces back, then ran toward the ball – and with the sweetest timing Specky had ever seen, made contact with the football. The ball flew off his boot like an arrow, and sailed right through the middle of the goals.
‘Woah!’ said Specky, impressed. ‘That English rugby dude, Jonny Wilkinson, would have been pleased with that!’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty amazing,’ added Whispers.
‘Nice one,’ said some of the boys to Mr Brennan.
‘Thanks, guys,’ he said, proud of himself. ‘Yep, I wouldn’t be dead for quids!’
Specky and his team-mates packed up their stuff and made their way back to the change rooms. Trudging across the oval, Specky turned back and saw Grizza miserably jogging at the far end of the field. Specky grinned, but he sensed Grizza wasn’t going to let him forget this.
∗ ∗ ∗
Later that evening, as Specky was busy at his desk finishing his maths homework, he sensed someone standing behind him. When he turned he was surprised to see it wasn’t just one person, but everyone in the dormitory – with Grizza heading the pack.
Oh oh, thought Specky. I’m done for. Grizza is out to get me ’cause I showed him up today.
But Whispers, Sticks and all the other boys had mischievous grins plastered across their faces. And Grizza called for Tim to sit beside Specky. The only one who looked worried for Specky and Tim was Worm.
‘Piggie, go and stand guard at the door. Make sure no monitors are about,’ ordered Grizza.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Specky, trying his best to sound nonchalant.
‘Yeah, why are you all looking at us like that?’ added Tim, defensively.
‘It’s initiation time, boys,’ announced Grizza.
‘Initiation?’ asked Specky and Tim simultaneously.
‘Yep. All new boarders need to go through an initiation before they can be accepted as one of us. It’s tradition. That is, unless you think you’re not one of us, or you’re just gutless wonders.’
Specky looked at Tim, then back to the boys.
