by Nick Cummins
We’d ride our bikes everywhere together, happy as can be, until the one season every schoolkid dreads – spring. Otherwise known as magpie swooping season.
On a daily basis riding between one another’s houses we would be violently attacked by one black and white devil in particular. I’m not sure what his problem was exactly but he took particular exception to Tom and myself. And it got to a point where out of fear, Tom flat-out refused to make the ride. Selfish prick. That meant if I wanted to hang out with my mate, I’d have to brave the gauntlet and put my noggin on the line to make it to the Magee residence.
Parents, listen up: If you want your kids to wear helmets but can’t convince them, have a couple of magpies relocated to the neighbourhood and they’ll be begging for new Stackhats.
Anyhow, I dusted off the melon protector, kissed the loved ones goodbye and headed off on the daunting journey. This was Tom Cruise Mission: Impossible stuff and TC, if you’re reading, you might consider the inclusion of paternal magpies in your next plot.
So it was, I made my approach to the danger zone and spotted the little bastard waiting up on the power line. I don’t even think he had any birdlings, just a grudge against the world and a penchant for pain.
With my heart pounding I accelerated to full speed. And the magpie didn’t move as I passed by at full tilt. But classic magpie, he waited until my back was turned to launch his attack. Bloody king hits are a coward’s move. And just when I thought I was in the clear I heard that death knell squawk and knew I had him right on my six o’clock.
I had no means to retaliate so resorted to the tried and true tactic every Australian has employed at one time or another and frantically began to wave my hand in the air to scare it off.
I counted to three and threw my hand up in the air just before impact and somehow got hold of the thing! Now I’ve got him pecking furiously at my hand and I’m more scared than ever. I flick it off and somehow, someway, he loses his draught and goes straight under my back wheel! ‘Shit! Now I’m a murderer.’ I turned back, expecting the worst, only to see the crafty bastard dusting himself off then disappearing into the sky like a fart in a fan factory.
I’m not proud of my actions. But I can proudly say no birds were harmed in this story.
As for Magee, you can only imagine what his nickname was for the rest of that school year . . .
“WHEN YOU COME INTO THIS SORT OF GAME YOU’VE GOT TO SHOW THE PATIENCE OF THE DALAI LAMA INITIALLY IN ORDER TO GET THAT GIG AND WHEN IT COMES ROUND BE READY TO STRIKE.”
TRANSLATION: ‘In order to be successful one must possess both patience and ability to attack with force when necessary. Kind of like a Dalai Ninja. Now, that’s an idea!’
BADGER ON SAFARI
Before rugby tours of South Africa were part of my life, I’d made a trip over there back in 2009 for a safari and to experience nature in its most raw form.
At this particular safari park we are escorted around by a European backpacker on work experience, who showed us through various enclosures housing large cats.
The tigers were about one metre tall and to my surprise were only just cubs – they were still being weaned off the bottle. ‘Harmless’ I thought to myself. So after seeing one of the expert trainers put her hand in the tiger’s mouth, I took the opportunity to do the same as soon as she wasn’t looking.
And to my surprise, it just started sucking on my fingers. But the boys weren’t to know that and when they turned around to see my hand deep in the jaws of one of nature’s deadliest killing machines, they were shocked!
I was a bit of a legend and didn’t hate the attention. So later on in the lion cage and with my confidence sky high, I had no qualms wrestling a lion cub the size of a medium dog – only for the mongrel to bite me on the bicep and draw blood. ‘Wallaby survives Lions!’ the headline would have read had anyone known I’d grow up to be the Wallabies’ fifth-best winger in 2015.
I HAD NO QUALMS WRESTLING A LION CUB THE SIZE OF A MEDIUM DOG
Driving through the same game reserve we were delayed by two big male elephants bluing on the dirt track – reminded me of a few of the props at 3 am trying to impress the last woman standing. Bloody forwards . . .
Unlike said woman, we attempted to move closer. The plan was to kind of scare them out of the way. But with the elephants being one and a half times the size of the van we were driving they were hardly intimidated by our Tarago. In fact, all our presence did was piss them off enough for one to charge the van. You should have heard the high-pitch screams of panic coming from a group of burly rugby players – and Nathan Charles wasn’t even there!
Our guard slammed it in reverse and floored it. Then the big unit stopped, stood tall and sounded his big trumpet as if to claim victory.
Upon reflection, there may have been a small amount in the undies. Awesome animal.
Upon further reflection, perhaps I should steer clear of live animals altogether. I mean, how many different species can I be attacked by?
“SWEATIN’ LIKE A GYPSY WITH A MORTGAGE.”
TRANSLATION: ‘Gypsies, while good people for the most part, are largely low-income earners. Their work often involves travelling from town to town with a travelling carnival or fair. Weather often plays a significant factor in their earning ability. Therefore, should a Gypsy put away enough to secure a loan on a permanent residence, their ability to pay it off is at the mercy of the weather and the small towns they pass through. It can result in sleepless nights and perspiration.’
SONNY BILL’S GOLDEN SHOULDER
It was 2010 on a training day in sunny Perth. And the boys and I were undergoing a compulsory test that measures your reaction time and cognitive function. Basically, this test serves as base level data so if down the track you become concussed in a match – or at training, God forbid – the doctors can carry out the same test and compare it to the original data – and see by percentages how much dumber you’ve become. It’s just another way the government has to control your mind. I’m certain there was some sort of chip implanted.
Jokes aside, just a few weeks later we were up against the Chiefs and I must have been causing them all sorts of headaches because before I knew it, I’d copped a shoulder to the melon at a ruck 15 minutes in and went down like a sack of spuds. I was out for a couple of seconds but when I came to I felt good as XXXX Gold and got stuck right back in.
I WAS OUT FOR A COUPLE OF SECONDS BUT WHEN I CAME TO I FELT GOOD AS XXXX GOLD
Anyhow, after the game I was shaking hands with Sonny Bill Williams – and just quietly there is some truth to the rumour he left rugby because I was intimidating him. And Sonny says to me: ‘You nearly got me there!’ I laughed, cocked my head and thought ‘What the hell is he talking about?’
I didn’t and don’t remember the game at all. But had a ripper of a match, I’m told.
And it’s kinda weird when you watch footage of the game and see what you did.
Well, come Monday and the team doctor asked me to do the cognitive function test and upon conclusion he was very concerned. ‘The scores are very different,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Shit! My career’s over’ was my first thought. Quickly followed by a quick SMS to the blokes at NASA to let them know I wouldn’t be able to accept the rocket scientist position.
‘SHIT! MY CAREER’S OVER’ WAS MY FIRST THOUGHT.
‘How different?’ I asked. The doc took his time. Adjusted his glasses and then looked earnestly into my eyes . . . We shared a little moment and then he says: ‘Your reaction time and cognitive functions are 33 per cent faster and your scores are on average 30 per cent better’. And all because that big bastard Sonny Bill knocked some sense into me! And if they were the results, maybe I wasn’t hit around the head enough as a baby?
I’ve been running head-first at Sonny Bill at every opportunity since. Told ya he left rugby because of me . . . But he obviously missed me enough to come back again.
“YOU GAVE A LOT OF PILL TO THE BADGE . . . WHICH WAS GOOD
OF YOU.”
TRANSLATION: ‘Get used to me talking of myself in the third person from here on out.’
A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH PART: 2
In 2011 the Western Force decided on a two-week tour to Samoa to play two games against the national side. ‘You beauty, holiday!’ I thought to myself.
But it was anything but. They were some of the most brutal games I’ve ever been involved with. You know Samoans – they’re the big, strong, fast players on almost every footy field. Hell, even Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson is Samoan.
THEY WERE SOME OF THE MOST BRUTAL GAMES I’VE EVER BEEN INVOLVED WITH.
And on this trip, The Rock himself must have been in the crowd because the local lads were out to impress. They came out to bash us and did just that, winning both games and the attention of WWE boss, Vince McMahon, in the process.
This was the same year that Samoa beat the Wallabies and that match was only a few weeks previous to our visit. So the Samoan lads were on a roll. It was also the same Wallabies game where Rod Davies was picked ahead of me and was marking Alesana Tuilagi.
I was a little pissed about the selection and wanted to prove myself to Robbie Deans, so I gave him a buzz after that Wallabies game and said we are playing Samoa and that I’d be marking big Tuilagi and to keep an eye out for me.
This was my opportunity to prove I was capable of playing rugby at the highest level and I gave it a red-hot go, bagging a bit of meat and scoring a good shot on Tuilagi. And that hit will go down in the history books – or Mum’s scrapbook at least.
The big unit burst through the line like a fat bloke to the bathroom after a Chinese banquet and I’ve come across from fullback determined to push him out. But instead of him just running for the corner, he angled directly at me and went for the bump. But I couldn’t just lay down. I’d just given it to Robbie and had the eyes of the world – or at least Mum – on me.
MY HEAD WAS LYING ON HIS CHEST, LIKE A COUPLE OF YOUNG GIRLS AT CAMP.
When I woke up a few seconds later we were both over the sideline and a little confused. My head was lying on his chest, like a couple of young girls at camp. I’d done it!
I got my balance and stood up and looked down at the giant lying before me and just shook my head, thinking, ‘That’s shithouse! You should have absolutely steam rolled me!’
A dude that size, he had a lot of advantages on me. But this badger’s got heart. And perhaps a little luck on my side.
Anyhow, in summing up, I basically beat The Rock and should be a WWE Superstar.
“THE BOYS WERE ON IT LIKE SEAGULLS AT A TIP.”
TRANSLATION: ‘Ever been to a dump and seen all those seagulls covering the mound? That’s what the boys’ defence reminded me of today – they covered the bloke like he was a mound of food and they were seagulls.’
POSTCARD SHOT
After copping a hammering by the Samoans, the boys got a well deserved day off. I mean, finally! The island holiday I’d dreamed of ever since watching Castaway – just the clear water, some lovely coconuts, a man and his balls. Perfect.
So on our day off we drove around the main island when I spotted a palm tree that has grown about seven metres out horizontally to the water. My immediate instincts screamed ‘classic postcard pic’. And when I think of postcards there’s only one Queensland classic that comes to mind – ‘bum, titty, bum’.
WHEN I THINK OF POSTCARDS THERE’S ONLY ONE QUEENSLAND CLASSIC THAT COMES TO MIND – ‘BUM, TITTY, BUM’.
So without hesitation I launched myself from the car, dropped me duds and climbed out over the water with the old twig ’n’ berries swaying in the breeze like God intended. Of course, it was far from a good sight for the poor bastard taking the pic. Spare a thought for the confused locals, too.
Then all of a sudden I hear one of the said locals yelling at me from 100 metres away as she began power walking towards me with the ferocity of a mum determined to drag her kid back home for dinner after the street lights went on.
And lemme tell ya, it’s tough to balance on a palm tree four metres above razor sharp coral at the best of times, let alone when trying to pull your bog catchers on in a hurry.
Like Ronda Rousey, she looked scary and she meant business. That Samoan strength isn’t exclusive to the men, you know.
But with a turn of speed and a sneaky side step I managed to elude her and we quickly hit the frog and toad and headed back to base where the team manager was waiting for us in the carpark. We quickly discovered that news travels surprisingly fast for a place that claims to run on ‘island time’.
The manager opens up the van door and quickly informs us that the hotel had heard reports of disturbances involving nudity emanating from a van very similar to ours. ‘Who was it?’ he exclaimed.
I waited for a bit then put the hand up. And he wasted no time escorting me directly to the coach’s quarters.
‘What the f*&k do you think you’re doing?’ were the first words that spat from his mouth. ‘Do you realise what this could do to the Western Force name? Tell me what you were thinking?’
Never one to beat around the bush – unless we’re talking foreplay – I quickly replied: ‘I was going for a postcard shot. Honest, mister.’
The manager could barely hold a straight face and released a small burst of air to suggest he was on the verge of cracking. ‘Nude?’ the coach questions. I nodded. Just waiting to hear the ‘D’ word – disciplinary action – I cringed.
Then with a half serious scowl combined with a half smile he just says: ‘Bloody hell, I don’t want to hear about this any more.’ So I quickly bailed, the snap safely in hand. I’ve still got the shot and it’s a pearler.
“LAST YEAR WAS A BIT, UH, HOW YOU GOIN’, BUT UM, NAH WE’RE GOOD NOW.”
TRANSLATION: ‘No point looking back. All you’ll get is a sore neck.’
TRANSLATION OF THE TRANSLATION: ‘You can’t change the past. Better off looking to the future.’
DAD AND THE BIG C
A lot of this book focuses on the good times and if you haven’t noticed already, there’s been plenty of them. But we all go through a tough one from time to time and for me, the hardest day of my life came back in September 2014.
It was a beautiful afternoon in Perth and I burned down to the beach for a classic Indian Ocean sunset after training. Life couldn’t get any better. And then it got a helluva lot worse.
I got a call from the old boy and immediately knew something was off. His voice was flat and he wasn’t talking with the same energy I’d grown well used to.
I flat-out asked him what the go was and that’s when he responded with the words no friend, parent, colleague or even enemy wants to hear – ‘I’ve got cancer.’
He’d been for a check-up a few weeks earlier after experiencing a few dull pains in the guts and the test came back bad – he had stage four terminal prostate cancer, and it had spread.
‘How long?’ I asked. ‘A few years, the doc reckons,’ he responded.
It hit me straight away and all the things consuming my life – selection, traffic, rent and all that, didn’t seem to matter any more. My first thoughts were of my little brother and sister who depend on him. Then the thought of the father–son time that I wanted more of. Having eight kids on only his income didn’t allow for as much quality one-on-one time as I wanted. Dad has always done his best, which I think is beyond most could imagine. I mean, eight kids! That’s a bloody scrum!
DAD HAS ALWAYS DONE HIS BEST, WHICH I THINK IS BEYOND MOST COULD IMAGINE.
But my old man is the original Honey Badger. The original underdog. And he’s beaten the odds all his life. I told him we’d fight and in his damned voice he says, ‘Of course we will. We’ll will give it a good crack.’
My biggest fear was his old-school mindset, because he isn’t exactly known for his flexibility. And I thought that might affect the help he was willing to seek, but he would surprise me!
Personally, from what I’ve seen of chemothera
py, it really knocks the body about and can leave people suffering a range of different health issues for the rest of their lives. I’m often sceptical of expensive treatments. Call me a hippy, an idealist or a dreamer, but I’d really like Dad to be open to different approaches, beyond what the medical profession and pharmaceutical industry prescribes.
I will try to find a way to help Dad overcome the cancer and we’re working on options now. The show ain’t over, he’ll have a crack. I know he will.
“YEAH MATE, IT’S BLOODY OUTSTANDING, YOU KNOW. THAT BLOODY SEA OF BLUE, JUST GETS RIGHT UP YA AND GIVES YA THE STRENGTH.”
TRANSLATION: ‘A shout out to the Force fans. We love ya.’
MONGOLIAN ADVENTURE PART: 1
In 2014 while playing in Japan, I was lucky enough to be invited to play for the Barbarians against the Wallabies – keeping in mind I wasn’t eligible at the time to play for Australia. Better yet, the week before I was set to leave for England my Japanese team had a bye. And that means only one thing in professional sport – holiday!
The sheila had dreams of covering Europe but there was only one destination on my travel agenda – Mongolia.
