As a die-hard Panthers supporter I have had many dreams of taking the field
with the boys.
The one that sticks most in my mind, is that I'm taking the field in the
1991 Grand Final, it's the 74th minute and it�s deadlock, There is a vibe on
the field, it's something magic like we know we're going to take the
Panthers to a grand final win. The whistle blows, we've just taken
possession and we're charging down field, I'm playing second-row and chasing
down Geyer trying to keep up, when suddenly he flicks the ball out to me. I
catch it and start running, I dodge past Belcher, leaving him stumbling in
my wake, Walters gets a hand on me but I palm him off, then I can see, Lazarus
he's coming in fast so I look out to my left to pass the ball, and there I
see Greg Alexander. He's striding down the field, his jersey is torn, he's
tired but still going strong.
He sees me and our eyes lock, then something happens, I don't know if the
roar of the Panthers army or the magic of the game, but suddenly it's just
him and me. We both stop and walk over to each-other, we just stand there
staring at each other, words are not necessary and we embrace, our lips
touch and it's like we've already got the Winfield cup in our hands.
Somewhere inside of me I know that this is wrong, but I don't care, there is
only us but then I'm aware of somebody else there, I turn and it's Brad
Fittler.
He's just looking at us, and I can tell by his thick thighs that something
isn't right. he comes charging up to us, pushes me aside and grabs Greg, he
almost crushes him in his huge arms, and there's Greg, who has been a pillar
of strength all season, melting helplessly under the caress of the big man.
