MITS Picks up the Ball and hurtles towards the unkown with.
Memories of a day by MITS
You wake up and the scene is playing again in your mind.
The dawn breaking to reveal the silhouette of the stadium, the ground staff is there already, have been for a few hours, the final mowing, the final line marking. The music playing in the background is something like the title suite to Days of Thunder.
You picture what you have to do today.
Lunch time, have a shower, get dressed, eat a big lunch.
1:30 get to the train station
2:00 change trains at Lidcombe
2:10 get to Olympic Precinct.
You know what you have to do. How are you going to get between now and midday? Your stomach is tied in knots already. Your mind is racing, is it this season? Is this our season? Its a 2 horse race! Will the gods favour us?
You get up, and the day has a different air to yesterday. The sun is brighter, the day is more memorable.
Lunch time arrives time for a big lunch, you never know what tonight might bring, make sure your not going to be sick.
Out of the shower, you start to get dressed, the lucky shirt, the team colours. You look at yourself in the mirror, Smart? Maybe, stylish? Maybe, a fan ? absolutely!
Pack the gear, Radios, Check! Hats, Check! Sun Screen, Check! Ponchos, Check! Tickets, Check! Money, Check! Okay were off.
Down to the station, there they are, and there, your one of them. Footy fans they know how to get to the big games, on public transport and early. Young ones, and youths waving flags, The old women, club colours and scarf, hunched over carrying there bag.
You dont talk, you nod, you acknowledge. Your to nervous to talk, your to nervous to do anything that will effect your clubs luck. On the train it continues, station after station. The nod, the acknowledge, your club colours starting to fill the train as you hurtle towards the future, will it be your future? Oh Gods please is it us?!
Lidcombe, you alight with all the other fans, you see the mass of humanity all representing your club climbing the stairs, flocking to the place were your dreams, your hopes, your fears all will be answered.
Familiar faces, people you have seen year in, year out, week in and week out, a brief chat, an honest conversation either pass while waiting for the train, waiting for the time to pass, waiting for the event, waiting for the certainty. Is it us? Is it us? it is us . . on this train.
The last ride in, it is brief but longer than you ever expect, the highway passes underneath you, someone snaps. Carn Parra. Oh god yes! Come on. Please? A mumble fills the carriage, did he go off half cocked? Confidence rises, no he didnt it is time. Nods, smiles it is going to happen.
Surely the doors open at Olympic park station. People charge up the stairs. Drift up the escalators. Confidence rising, support is all one way. You emerge from the pit, you stride towards the light, it is brilliant, you step out into the precinct it is like walking through the gates of heaven, or could it be hell? There is the stadium, but it is time for fandom.
The Road train. Got to see the new stuff in it this year, 2GB out on the Plaza, time to give it to horse head, the TAB, who do you want for first try scorer? Promotions Girls looking lovely. The colour it is all around, the sky is blue the temperature mild, the time ? ? ?
Gates open and through you go, to your seats. Good seats, good view, faces you see, never seen them before, or old friends, you will remember them, you will remember this place. You take your seat DONT FORGET TO PUT IT DOWN!. Sunglasses on, it is time for the lower grades, Jersey Flegg, The Jersey Flegg relay. Premier League. Are they your sides? or sides you like? the games help get your mind off the question, is it your clubs time?
The Pre game show, it is dark, take off the sunglasses, have you eaten, do you need too? The Parade of the retiring, Warriors of the past remembered fondly. The rock show, who have they bought this year? They announce your team as they run out. The anthem plays, the build up climaxes, the whistle blows.
750 Words According to Word.
