muzby saddles up for the
bluebags in his first willow cup outing for 2013. feels good to be back out on the field.
750 words (OWC) title to end.
Gamespotting
Hey man, can I have a dollar? I need to catch a bus. Honest man, I do.
So can I have a dollar?
Ok, if I can’t have a dollar, can I at least talk to ya for a while? I’m feeling lonely.
I don’t know what’s been going on, but it’s like my life is starting to fall apart.
My best mate Jimmy, there’s something up with him. He’s become distant from me, and he’s not showing interest in stuff like he used to any more.
Me and Jimmy have this sweet little pad in Fairfield. It ain’t much, but it’s cosy. Got an old couch in the lounge room, and a couple of mattresses in each room. Perfect place for us to drink and get on the gear.
Oh, sorry, hope you don’t mind, but I kinda like heroin. And so does Jimmy. We like it a lot. Please tell me that doesn’t bother you. It feels good to let out my story, ya know?
It all started in August last year. We managed to nick a pretty sweet TV and instead of hocking it, we decided to keep it ‘cause we sold our last one for a hit. Anyway, I get home one night from found Jimmy watching a game of NRL on TV. When I walked in, he changed the channel quickly like he was trying to hide what he was doing.
I thought nothing of it, but then I noticed he’d start sneaking off between hits of smack to get score updates & replays of games.
I really started to get concerned when I couldn’t find him one night. I called his three mobiles but had no luck. And when he came home late that night, smelling of crowds & beer initially I thought he’d just fallen asleep on the train again & ended up in Liverpool. But later that night when he was asleep, I was going through his wallet looking for any spare cash when I found ticket stub for Parramatta Stadium.
He’d been at a live NRL game between the Eels and the Bulldogs. So the next morning I asked him about it, and he lied to my face, man. Said he’d been down at Canley Vale station trying to score.
So two weeks later when I gave him some money to get a fix, he comes home late again, smelling like crowds and beer. Said he couldn’t get a fix ‘cause he got rolled for the cash. I checked his wallet again that night after he was asleep, and found another NRL ticket stub. He'd spent our drug money on tickets.
When I confronted Jimmy the next morning & showed him the ticket stubs, he stormed out and didn’t say anything to me for a week.
About two months ago I started to notice the physical changes in him. He’d start skipping hits on the gear, eating more protein and exercising regularly. I was pretty concerned that he’d gone from a casual watcher of rugby league and had graduated into hardcore territory by becoming a player.
My worst fears were confirmed last week. I was a bit short of cash and needed a fix badly, so was looking around the apartment for something to hock. I found Jimmy’s sport bag hidden under his bed, and when I opened it I found boots, shorts and a Fairfield United jersey with Jimmy’s name on the back.
That night we fought like two mates have never fought before. I told Jimmy he was wasting his life by following some stupid fad. Just because some of the other blokes at the pub were trying to play league didn’t mean he had to.
And Jimmy yelled at me, saying I didn’t understand him. So I told Jimmy he had a choice - it was heroin or football. He couldn’t do both, and I wasn’t going to stand by and watch him throw his life away playing footy.
And then he left. He left, man, and he hasn’t been home since, and my life feels like it’s falling apart.
Drugs & sport don’t mix man. This bloody rugby league is a bad influence on Jimmy and it tore us apart.
I just wish he’d give it up and come back to the life we used to know. I miss the old Jimmy. The one I knew before he got hooked on NRL.
So, anyway, can I have a dollar? I need to make a phone call. Um, I mean catch a bus.