Dean runs onto the field so he can kick the ball to no one and win the game. History repeats.
Fans like us.
“Check out these twinkies.”
We all laughed at Michael as we walked up to the check-in. It was a nervous laugh because we all knew it was a precursor to an alcohol fuelled weekend, which would afford Michael the luxury of displaying his new found level of alcoholism.
But we weren’t allowed to let him get to us. Trent, the best man, had already set out the rules for the bucks weekend. “If Michael plays up and gets kicked out of anywhere, he’s on his own.” Easier said than done.
The drinking started in the airport lounge. 9 am was now an acceptable drinking time. The plane would land in Brisbane a few hours later.
I’d taken the motto, ‘at least we’re not on a houseboat,’ into the trip. I could just walk away if anything annoyed me, unlike the last weekend that had been tense and claustophobic.
Still, the weekend had an ominous look to it, as Michael had ruined more than one celebration before. We arrived at the Hotel and as we walked to our rooms, we passed more than one Parramatta player and I suddenly felt uneasy. When a housekeeper brought us our roll-away-bed, she told us which room Cayless and Moi Moi were staying in. Privacy laws be damned I thought, but also, imagine what Michael could do with this information.
After having lunch and a few beers at the pub across the road, we dressed for the game. I was the only Parramatta supporter among us, as everyone had decided to support the buck’s team.
After visiting the Caxton Hotel, we arrived at the game and immediately the nerves, mixed with beer, kicked in. My pessimistic brain had convinced me that I had wasted most of my savings on watching Parramatta get annihilated by Brisbane. This wasn’t alleviated when Parramatta scored the first two tries, as I had learned the hard way in the past that Parramatta and early leads aren’t always a good combination. Sure enough, Brisbane confirmed my pessimism and lead at the break by two.
At this stage, Trent was sweet talking two women in the row ahead of us, Philip’s brother-in –law John, had disappeared, and the rest of us were drunk enough to stop caring about whether Michael would turn into Mr Hyde. At past Parramatta games he had ranted until he was hoarse, that Parramatta fans were hypocrites for booing their team when they lost and cheering when they won. Maybe a fair enough comment, but maybe not, when put into the context of a swearing maniac who ultimately would end his argument with, “What are you looking at,” and proceed to start a fight.
As the second half rolled on, the game became a back and forth affair which seemed destined for golden point. As usual, the nerves kicked into a higher gear, and noticing this, Michael began to pat me on the head, chanting “There, There,” incessantly. When Lockyer finally put an end to my pain with a chip kick for Kemp to score at the death, I pushed Michael onto an unsuspecting Chad, leaving them both sprawled on the aisle.
We moved onto the Caxton where Michael was evicted twice, and Trent, the dedicated boyfriend who had changed his ways, continued to sweet talk any female who would listen. At 2 am, Michael, Matt and I walked back to the hotel. As we turned the corner into the building, Michael continued walking. We were too tired to care and let him go.
Soon after, my phone rang. It was Phillip’s sister screaming that her husband was lost in Brisbane. I walked downstairs to the pub across the road, were I found Phillip and Chad drinking, so I gave my phone to Phillip when it rang again. Surprisingly, Brett Finch and Chad Robinson were there, drinking the night away with, what looked like, groupies. Thank god Michael wasn’t there to see them. He hated Finch for one, plus he had a history with footballers. Once, he tried to start a fight with Bronson Harrison. When Harrison proved to be responsible and walked away, Michael tried it on Harrison’s brother, who was more than obliging.
The pub closed and we ambled back to our hotel rooms for some sleep. At 7 am, Michael phoned me. He had just woken up in a construction site.
“I don’t know if it rained or if I pissed myself.”
The first night was complete.
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746 words.
-v-
