After catching an offload from wunderkind Kid-Dynamite, Jesbass splits the opposition line for the Warriors...
Laws Of The Game (750 words)
Our scene opens in a courtroom, packed to overflowing with media and members of the public, their combined volume echoing off the old wooden walls. Dressed in ceremonial black robes, Judge Gallop brings down his hammer with a loud clap.
“Order!” he yells, and soon the room returns to its more typically silent state. “Bring in the defendant.”
A small side door swings open and the lights and sounds of camera flashes flood the room as Jesbass, wearing a faded Warriors scarf, is led to the stand. He flinches at the sudden bursts of light which finally subside as a member of the court steps forward, NRL rule book in hand.
Jesbass complies, placing one hand on the rule book and the other in the air.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
Jesbass sends a confused look, complete with furrowed brow, past the court member and towards the judge.
“Truth? But this entire article is a fictionally exaggerated analogous account, only loosely based on real life events...”
“Order!” yells Judge Gallop. “You stand charged with one count of attempted treachery upon the game. How do you plead?”
“Guilty by way of insanity, m'lord,” Jesbass responds, before being corrected by the judge.
“Your Honour.”
“What's my honour, sir?” the less than gifted Warriors fan asks, as members of the gallery shift their views between the two men like tennis spectators.
“I beg your pardon?” replies the judge, apparently as confused as the defendant.
“Consider it granted, your Highness,” declares the clueless Jesbass.
An awkward silence fills the room for several minutes, but the defendant is eventually asked to explain the reason for his plea.
“Well, there were definitely mitigating circumstances. It all started when I moved house to a rugby union town where league is pretty much non-existent...”
The previously solid walls of the courthouse morph into waves. One member in the gallery, clearly panicked, yells: “It's an earthquake!”
But the man next to him leans over.
“Nah, mate – it's a flashback.”
And indeed it is, as we find Jesbass at his desk job, slaving over a ridiculously high pile of paperwork. A helpful caption appears from nowhere, which reads “Two weeks earlier”.
Jesbass' voice appears, now in the role of narrator: “The Warriors had just been thrashed 34-12 by the Cowboys, and I was on a bit of a low. My rugby unionite work colleagues, meanwhile, were getting ready for the 2 hour drive to see their team's first Super 14 home semi final.”
Excited office workers come and go from the scene, many disappearing into side rooms wearing shirts and ties, before returning adorned in Waikato Chiefs merchandise from head to toe.
“It was difficult not to get caught up in the excitement, but I resolved myself to avoid the temptation, knowing that my Warriors would make me proud during the weekend.”
Monday dawns and Jesbass, still at his desk under an ever growing veritable mountain of paper, is sobbing quietly to himself.
“They didn't make me proud at all,” the narrator continues emotively. “And what's worse, the Chiefs won, and made it into the final!”
The same office workers as before are now sharing glasses of champagne and hanging Chiefs-coloured party streamers around the room. Jesbass, covered in sweat and with an overgrown beard, appears to be the only person not involved in the revelry. Without anyone else noticing, he quietly slips under his desk and folds himself into the foetal position.
“It was just too much. The Warriors had conceded more than 70 points in two matches. Other Warrior fans were saying our season was over, and calling for the coach's head. I decided that if the Warriors lost again, and if the Chiefs won the final, I'd have to seriously consider which team to follow. Fortunately, the sporting fates were kind to me, and they not only gave the Warriors a 14-0 win, but the Chiefs were crushed 61-17 in their final.”
The flashback ends, and we return to the courtroom.
“So you see, your Excellency, I only wavered for the briefest of moments, and only under duress.”
Judge Gallop leans forward, deep in thought.
“It seems clear that your only indiscretion was losing faith in your team,” he declares. “I believe you've learnt your lesson, so I see no need for any further punishment.”
With a slam of the hammer, which triggers a resurgence of camera flashes, he adds: “Case dismissed!”
] -v-
