MAXIMUM GRUNDAGE
Premiership Captain
I checked the address given to me by Supermercado . I was at the right place, so I headed for the front door. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
After what seemed an eternity, the voice through the intercom enquired "Yesh?".
"This is Jack from the Bigfooty Demons board, I'm here for the interview. Who am I speaking to?"
"Hi Jack, I wash told to exhpect you. H ish out the back, come inshide."
The door opened and I was greeted with "Pleashure to make your acquaintansh Jack, I'm Chrish Dawesh."
He looked a lot fitter since I'd seen him last. Either the Paleo diet was working wonders for him, or he'd been having steak dinners at Lachie Keefe's house.
I extended my hand to offer a handshake. Dawes went for the two handed grip, and as he grasped my hand, it sprang out of both his. There was awkward silence for a moment, then Dawes pointed in the direction of the back door.
"H is jusht out there, I'll shee you out" and I followed him out to the yard, using a handkerchief to wipe the spit off my face, and headed towards a tent that had been set up.
I detected a faint trail of smoke coming from the entrance, but I went in regardless.
Heritier Lumumba was inside. As soon as he spotted me, he panicked, threw a blazing object on the ground and stamped on it.
"I wasn't smoking it! It belongs to a friend!" Apart from H and myself, there was nobody in the room. I'm from the Latrobe Valley, so I was familiar with the smell of a doobie.
"It's all good" I reassured him. "I'm here for this weeks Bigfooty Demons Unofficial Preview"
Heritier apologised "Sorry Jack, I thought you were another one of those bloody AFL drug testers!"
He directed me toward two chairs. I went to sit in the one that somewhat resembled a throne.
"Not that one" he said "that's my thinking chair. The conversation chair is the one opposite that"
I averted my gaze toward a mouldy moth-ridden folding chair.
"It was a gift from US President Barack Obama" he informed me. I chose not to mention the $5 Salvo's tag still stapled to one of the legs.
We sat in our respective chair and I asked "What made you decide to leave Collingwood and come to Melbourne?"
"That's a good question" he replied. "You may not be aware, but Collingwood were once a club of the people. During the Great Depression, they opened their doors to the less fortunate. Those who flocked to Victoria Park were given food and shelter, which led to their continued popularity and that was a story that resonated with me when I nominated Collingwood as my draft destination. Their jumper was another reason I loved them, to me it symbolised black and white standing side by side as one. Then there was Mick Malthouse. People always talk about the grumpy Mick they've seen in the pressers. But they never saw the Mick I knew. The Mick who comforted Paul Licuria in his bosom after a Grand Final loss. Mick, who defended his players against homosexual slurs made by Stephen Milne. Mick, who embraced the concept of a national league by moving across the country to coach West Coast. Mick, who placated the masses of dissatisfied Carlton supporters with sausages paid for out of his own pocket after the team underperformed."
I nodded to feign interest.
"It all changed when Nathan Buckley took over. Eddie is more concerned with making money and having material goods such as modern training facilities, and the club has lost it's way. Nathan has only concern for himself, and none for discrimination and other global issues. I needed to find a new club that would resonate with me and respect my beliefs."
Now that he'd finally finished, I could ask him a second question. "What are your impressions of Melbourne so far?"
Heritier went into another speech. "I can't speak highly enough of Melbourne and of Paul and Tami. Like me, Tami is in touch with her spiritual side. Like me, Paul likes to help the less fortunate, which I guess is how both of us ended up at Melbourne. There's less focus on material things here, like saunas, ice baths and modern gym equipment. Here, you have to clean your own boots and I think that's great. I believe that in order to make the world a better place, you can't sit back and wait for someone else to clean your boots, you have to take action, clean your own boots, so to speak. The club has been fantastic, and my teammates have already elected me as a leader."
I asked "On that, what leadership qualities can you bring to this group?"
Heritier pondered for a second and then said "I'm able to guide the young players. I've been working a lot with Jack Watts, trying to restore his confidence. I'm trying to get him to look at the bigger picture. For example, 500000 people in Australia saw him drop that mark against Adelaide, but 7 billion people around the world didn't see it. Whereas I can handle the pressure, because I was once held up at gunpoint. We could beat Collingwood by 36 points, but that is insignificant when compared to starving children in Africa, or war in the Middle East. I want to be remembered as a great leader, in the mould of Mohandas Gandhi, Che Guevera, Nelson Mandela or William Wallace. I feel Melbourne need to be freed of their opression by the AFL, we need indepenence. We must break away and form our own league. I visualise a Melbourne Football Club league - only then can we be truly successful. We will have the last laugh! We are gifted! Viva la Melbourne!"
His tirade was interrupted by the sound of his mobile ringtone blaring out 'I have a dream....'
Heritier answered "Hello? Yes. That's great news, Mr Abbott. Thankyou. Peace Mon."
He hung up and I asked "Who was that, Heritier?"
"Me don't go by dat handle no more. Me name now Marley Rasta Onepeople. Me respeck me Jamaican heritage."
I backed away slowly and ran towards the side gate as the tent once again filled with smoke. I could hear Heritier singing along to with the reggae music coming from his iPod stereo, with a proud, yet off-key rendition of "Buffalo soldier.....stolen from Africa.....brought to America......."
I texted Supermercado: Melbourne by 36 points
After what seemed an eternity, the voice through the intercom enquired "Yesh?".
"This is Jack from the Bigfooty Demons board, I'm here for the interview. Who am I speaking to?"
"Hi Jack, I wash told to exhpect you. H ish out the back, come inshide."
The door opened and I was greeted with "Pleashure to make your acquaintansh Jack, I'm Chrish Dawesh."
He looked a lot fitter since I'd seen him last. Either the Paleo diet was working wonders for him, or he'd been having steak dinners at Lachie Keefe's house.
I extended my hand to offer a handshake. Dawes went for the two handed grip, and as he grasped my hand, it sprang out of both his. There was awkward silence for a moment, then Dawes pointed in the direction of the back door.
"H is jusht out there, I'll shee you out" and I followed him out to the yard, using a handkerchief to wipe the spit off my face, and headed towards a tent that had been set up.
I detected a faint trail of smoke coming from the entrance, but I went in regardless.
Heritier Lumumba was inside. As soon as he spotted me, he panicked, threw a blazing object on the ground and stamped on it.
"I wasn't smoking it! It belongs to a friend!" Apart from H and myself, there was nobody in the room. I'm from the Latrobe Valley, so I was familiar with the smell of a doobie.
"It's all good" I reassured him. "I'm here for this weeks Bigfooty Demons Unofficial Preview"
Heritier apologised "Sorry Jack, I thought you were another one of those bloody AFL drug testers!"
He directed me toward two chairs. I went to sit in the one that somewhat resembled a throne.
"Not that one" he said "that's my thinking chair. The conversation chair is the one opposite that"
I averted my gaze toward a mouldy moth-ridden folding chair.
"It was a gift from US President Barack Obama" he informed me. I chose not to mention the $5 Salvo's tag still stapled to one of the legs.
We sat in our respective chair and I asked "What made you decide to leave Collingwood and come to Melbourne?"
"That's a good question" he replied. "You may not be aware, but Collingwood were once a club of the people. During the Great Depression, they opened their doors to the less fortunate. Those who flocked to Victoria Park were given food and shelter, which led to their continued popularity and that was a story that resonated with me when I nominated Collingwood as my draft destination. Their jumper was another reason I loved them, to me it symbolised black and white standing side by side as one. Then there was Mick Malthouse. People always talk about the grumpy Mick they've seen in the pressers. But they never saw the Mick I knew. The Mick who comforted Paul Licuria in his bosom after a Grand Final loss. Mick, who defended his players against homosexual slurs made by Stephen Milne. Mick, who embraced the concept of a national league by moving across the country to coach West Coast. Mick, who placated the masses of dissatisfied Carlton supporters with sausages paid for out of his own pocket after the team underperformed."
I nodded to feign interest.
"It all changed when Nathan Buckley took over. Eddie is more concerned with making money and having material goods such as modern training facilities, and the club has lost it's way. Nathan has only concern for himself, and none for discrimination and other global issues. I needed to find a new club that would resonate with me and respect my beliefs."
Now that he'd finally finished, I could ask him a second question. "What are your impressions of Melbourne so far?"
Heritier went into another speech. "I can't speak highly enough of Melbourne and of Paul and Tami. Like me, Tami is in touch with her spiritual side. Like me, Paul likes to help the less fortunate, which I guess is how both of us ended up at Melbourne. There's less focus on material things here, like saunas, ice baths and modern gym equipment. Here, you have to clean your own boots and I think that's great. I believe that in order to make the world a better place, you can't sit back and wait for someone else to clean your boots, you have to take action, clean your own boots, so to speak. The club has been fantastic, and my teammates have already elected me as a leader."
I asked "On that, what leadership qualities can you bring to this group?"
Heritier pondered for a second and then said "I'm able to guide the young players. I've been working a lot with Jack Watts, trying to restore his confidence. I'm trying to get him to look at the bigger picture. For example, 500000 people in Australia saw him drop that mark against Adelaide, but 7 billion people around the world didn't see it. Whereas I can handle the pressure, because I was once held up at gunpoint. We could beat Collingwood by 36 points, but that is insignificant when compared to starving children in Africa, or war in the Middle East. I want to be remembered as a great leader, in the mould of Mohandas Gandhi, Che Guevera, Nelson Mandela or William Wallace. I feel Melbourne need to be freed of their opression by the AFL, we need indepenence. We must break away and form our own league. I visualise a Melbourne Football Club league - only then can we be truly successful. We will have the last laugh! We are gifted! Viva la Melbourne!"
His tirade was interrupted by the sound of his mobile ringtone blaring out 'I have a dream....'
Heritier answered "Hello? Yes. That's great news, Mr Abbott. Thankyou. Peace Mon."
He hung up and I asked "Who was that, Heritier?"
"Me don't go by dat handle no more. Me name now Marley Rasta Onepeople. Me respeck me Jamaican heritage."
I backed away slowly and ran towards the side gate as the tent once again filled with smoke. I could hear Heritier singing along to with the reggae music coming from his iPod stereo, with a proud, yet off-key rendition of "Buffalo soldier.....stolen from Africa.....brought to America......."
I texted Supermercado: Melbourne by 36 points
