Amadean strides out proudly for Australia with 750 words below the bar.
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Better Ways to Spend a Day
Today began as any other workday. Being a good office blob, I arrived only a few minutes late, loaded up the laptop, used the facilities, went out for a smoke with the bloke who just walked in, came back in to make some coffee, drank it whilst leaning against the door of someone elses office whilst discussing last nights game, sat down at my desk, loaded up the morning's newspapers/blogs/agglomerations/forums and had a quiet read.
I know how the rest of the day will progress: a few meetings, a couple of emails, a presentation to prepare. Nothing out of the ordinary. There is, for instance, virtually no risk of being carried of by a roc like Sinbad was. I do not expect an oozing xenomorph to leap from my chest as with those poor buggers in Alien. The odds of a lifting spear tackle cracking one of my favourite ribs and/or vertebrae are minimal.
This can only be a good thing, right? Well, perhaps not. The tales of Sinbad the Sailor, Warrant Officer Ripley and the Brisbane Broncos are vastly popular for a good reason: vicarious excitement is still exciting. This a palpably blatant truth, one proven every time my wanders along the blogotubes encounter realistic depictions of amorous couples in compromising positions, depictions often referred to as pornography.
Where pictures of poorly-clothed young ladies are (ahem) titillating, fast sports are thrilling. I can gasp, groan, wince and cheer during highly-charged set pieces, and with footy too.
So, yes, whilst Im pleased that acid creatures arent going to eat my face today (probably), Im also disappointed by a probable lack of shuddering ball-and-all tackles, and by a lack of League.
Currently Im not currently engaged in the worlds most thrilling job, but its not all bad either. Our drive to work along Mumbai roads would leave the majority of BASE jumpers ashen-faced and anyone eating street-food over here is embarking on a journey of risk and excitement enough for anyone.
Yet Billy Slater may miss Friday nights Test Match after rolling an ankle in training. Yeah, Im definitely jealous. It isnt that I overly envy the pain of a sprained ankle; after all I can replicate that to some degree of accuracy using only a tortoise, two packs of butter and a nylon wig. Or a staircase. No, its the emotions involved that I envy.
Douglas Adams once said A crowd that has just watched a rather humdrum game experiences far less life-affirmation than a crowd that believes it has just missed the most dramatic event in sporting history. Melbournes Billy was chosen at fullback and is still odds-on to play, but now thered be the tiniest sliver of doubt in his mind: a thrilling fear that he may not play.
Although an experienced Kangaroo, he still wouldve received a rush of excitement when he received the call. The anticipation of walking out before 70,000 fans, combined with the pride of selection would, I imagine, add up to a decent rush of adrenaline.
From this high, the crash of hobbling off the training park two days before the game and the fear of watching from the grandstands. Of course, hed know the ankle sprain is a minor injury and that hes still likely to play
but I doubt hed be feeling fantastic right now.
He will feel amazing later.
When hes cleared to play on Friday afternoon the doubts, fears and worries the sprain created will be completely erased in a flood of relieved joy. Thats why I envy the ankle injury: Billy Slater will get two rockets of Kangaroo selection emotion. Just as Adams' crowd were raised to the rooftops by thoughts of a game they didnt witness, so will Slater be dragged to despondency and then thrilled to the core by an unimportant injury.
My day is unlikely to bring anything similar, which is a shame. Id be far happier facing either the threat of destruction or the lure of salvation (or both) than merely the promise tomorrow will be kind of similar to today.
This is why I will stop the car on my way home tonight, get out, order two mutton samosa from the bloke on the corner who has never knowingly washed his hands, take both home, wolf them down
and wait. Ill either have eaten an enjoyable meal, or will be spending the next 8 hours staring at the toilet door.
Its not Kangaroo selection, but its close.
v
