Media The Ballad of fitzroybulldog

[Footypie32]

the only inaccuracy is i have pudgy sausage fingers with small hands. everything else is mostly correct.

I basically just pictured you as Bowie and went from there.

 

[fitzroybowiedog]

I basically just pictured you as Bowie and went from there.

I picture myself as Bowie all the time.

 

[Footypie32]

When you first look at it it looks really long, but once you start reading int0 its not that hard to read.

If I've got a Collingwood supporter to read more words than is on a Centrebet ticket, I've done my good deed for the day.

 

[Brown Bottle]

I will take issue with you labelling it a "Ballad" though Footypie32

 

[Footypie32]

I will take issue with you labelling it a "Ballad" though Footypie32

I played around with some other words but they just didn't look right. I'll take as much creative license as I need.

 

[Footypie32]

I will take issue with you labelling it a "Ballad" though Footypie32

Just on this some more. I was trying to give the piece some musical undertones and was playing on the idea of FB being Bowie-esque, but I'm not sure how well that came through.

 

[Brown Bottle]

I played around with some other words but they just didn't look right. I'll take as much creative license as I need.

I see him as more of a Tom Bombadil type, in which case something like "The Riddle of fitzroybulldog" would be quite apt

 

[Footypie32]

I see him as more of a Tom Bombadil type, in which case something like "The Riddle of fitzroybulldog" would be quite apt

Oh, yeah... I have nfi who that is.

 

[Brown Bottle]

Oh, yeah... I have nfi who that is.

One of literature's enduring enigmas. Much like fbd

 

[Marlowe]

I see him as more of a Tom Bombadil type, in which case something like "The Riddle of fitzroybulldog" would be quite apt

Yes! I can see that.

 

[fitzroybowiedog]

If and when i retire and people see me as a bombadil or bowie figure my job had been done.

 

[Citroin]

The Ballad of fitzroybulldog​

By Marlowe-lite

His hand clawed at his bedside table. His slender fingers finally finding their target. He shook the pack of cigarettes. The noise of single f** rattling was an all too familiar sound. He drew it from the pack and flicked his Zippo. There was nothing like the first drag of the day. He felt death enter his body and his mind come to life. He raised his head to discover a splitting headache. Several bottles of cheap wine littered the floor. Why did he do this to himself he wondered. The pressure was getting to him. The Roys were struggling and it was on his head.

A piercing sound stabbed his ears.

He answered the phone gingerly, if only to shut it up. It was Reardo .

"Hey, mate. I'm in a spot of bother. My barber has cancelled my line of credit and he's got some guys coming to collect today", Reardo blurted out.

"How much do you need?", FB asked, knowing full well he had no money either.

"$2000. Or they're going to shave me. Head to toe", Reardo replied.

"2 grand?!", FB gasped. "You know I'd help you if I could, but I'm hard up too. I spent my last paycheck on my gout medicine."

"They're going to shave me! Did you hear what I said?", Reardo pleaded. "I don't have ears to pull off bald!"

"What about Mobbenfuhrer ?", FB asked. "He's loaded ever since Apple bought the rights to Qooty".

"You don't think I've tried him already? I went up to his mansion this morning and buzzed on the intercom for about 2 hours. He called the cops on me!", said Reardo .

"Ok, ok. I'll figure something out. Just let me have some breakfast and a shower", FB bargained.

He hung up the phone. He didn't need this. He placed his feet on the floor and waited for it stop spinning.

The bathroom seemed miles away. He slipped on his silk robe and staggered towards the shower. It took both hands to force the tap on. "Jesus ******* Christ", he gasped as cold water poured out. He'd forgotten to pay the gas bill again. At least it might sober him up a little quicker. He hastily washed the vitals and reached for the towel.

He dried his face and looked at the defeated fellow in the mirror. The reflection forced a smile. What had he done to deserve this? Only a few seasons ago the Roys were vibrant and strong. Well, as vibrant and strong as aged pensioners could be. This wasn't the same club he first joined.

He walked into the kitchen and checked his 'Rude Roys' calendar. That couldn't be right. There was a reminder scribbled in red pen: "EKA votes due today!". It was. He thought still had weeks. He'd better get down to the club he thought to himself.

He threw on his best plaid suit and ran down stairs and slipped into Florence.

Florence was a bright red 1967 MGB GT convertible. His pride and joy and last remaining possession that was worth anything. He eased the key in and turned. She growled. First time. Every time. He loved being behind the wheel of Flo. It was the one place he didn't have a care in the world.

Half an hour later he pulled up to the BJO. Freakie was parked in his spot. He was always parked in his spot. Couldn't he read? It was clearly marked "Captain". Well, actually it sort of read "Ca t in" as a few letters had rubbed off over the years, but it was still clear what it was supposed to say.

He reached the front door and turned the handle. It came off in his hand. He let a loud sigh. The door suddenly swung open. "Hey, Skip. I thought I heard Flo". It was 3KZ is Football. "Want a coffee?", 3KZ asked. "Please. Make it strong", FB replied. He knew he could always rely on 3KZ to cheer him up if nothing else.

fitzroybulldog sat down at his desk and looked at the mountain of paper work. He had no idea what half of it was. He picked up one of the pieces of paper. On closer inspection it seemed to be Fred's new contract. He opened his top draw and took out the rubber stamp with Fred's signature imprinted on it. Thud. He pressed it down on the page. At least he wouldn't have to worry about that for another 50 years.

"Here you go mate, nice and strong", 3KZ offered placing the coffee cup on his desk.

"Cheers, bud", FB replied, taking a sip and cringing at the taste. "We ran out of coffee again, didn't we?", he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yep!", 3KZ replied in a slightly confusing tone.

"What did you use instead?", asked fitzroybulldog. "Actually, on second thought, don't tell me", he replied before 3KZ could answer.

"Anything else, boss?", 3KZ asked with far to much enthusiasm for this time of day.

"No thanks, mate", said FB with an appreciative smile.

He looked at the paperwork again and let out another sigh. He didn't have the energy to deal with this now. He flicked the radio on and the old wirless blurted out 'Golden Years' with a slight crackle. He let out a small chuckle that turned into a cough.

The music was interrupted by the phone.

He answered it slowly. "Hello?", he enquired.

It was his former Captain, Broken.

"Hey, how's everything going down there? Hope, you're not missing me too much", Broken asked.

"Yeah, everything's great", FB lied. "You're still welcome to come back if you like though", he said with a nervous, hopeful laugh.

"Sorry, mate. I'm enjoying retirement too much", Broken replied. "These old birds really know how to party".

Broken had move to Florida after his playing days had finished. He spent his days sipping pina coladas and catching rays, with the occasional game of badminton thrown in to keep the body limber.

"How's Fred doing?", Broken asked.

"Still going", replied FB. "Just signed a new contract".

"You'll be needing a new stamp soon, yeah?", Broken chuckled.

"Um, look mate, I've got a mountain of paperwork to get through, we'll talk soon though, ok?" FB replied, not wanting to answer any more questions.

"Yeah, no worries, mate. I almost forgot how that can pile up. Glad I don't have to deal with that any more", Broken responded. "It gives me comfort knowing I left someone as capable as you in charge".

"You can count on me", said FB in a hesitant tone. "Catch you later, mate".

He put the phone down. He hated lying to his old friend, but he couldn't stand the thought of telling him how things really were down at the club.

< piss break >​

The was a knock at his door and Freakie entered before he could invite him in.

"I'm going to miss training this afternoon. I've gotta go see a bloke about a ride on lawn mower. He said I can have it for $200 if I get there today", Freakie blurted out. "It's a John Deer!".

"What about that $50 you owe me?", fitzroybulldog enquired.

"Yeah, about that... My dog's sick and the ATO is investigating me for tax fraud. Apparently you can't claim fake tan as a deduction", Freakie answered. "But I promise I'll get it to you next week. Or maybe the week after. Cool? Yep, no worries, bye".

Freakie left as quickly as a came in.

"Don't park in my ******* spot!!", FB yelled after him.

He needed another drink. His chair scraped the lino floor as he got up. He strolled down to the bar, where he'd knew he'd find Mooch.

He didn't even get up to the bench before Mooch had poured a shandy and placed it on the bar. fitzroybulldog downed it in one chug and placed the glass down on the bar, beckoning for another.

"Hard night?", asked mooch, knowing the answer. "You need to start looking after yourself a bit better. You're no spring chicken any more".

"I know, I know. You sound like my ex-wife", said FB, rolling his eyes. "This club is in trouble. I just got a call from Broken and I had to lie about how the club was going. I couldn't bare to tell him".

"Look, mate. All clubs have dark patches. Don't get so worked up about it. The Roys have been around for decades and we'll still be around for at least several more", Mooch reassured.

"You're right. You are always right. I guess I just wanted to show everyone what a good Captain I was", said FB.

"You are a great captain. Never forget that. And this period will be the making of you. Get through this and you'll get through anything", Mooch again reassured.

fitzroybulldog smiled. He knew everything mooch was saying was right, but convincing himself was the hard bit. He just didn't seem to have the steely resolve of some of the other captains around the Sweet FA. How did they just shrug things off? He wish he knew their secret.

"Come on, mate. Training starts in half hour. Let's get ready", said mooch.

The two team mates got up slowly and headed for the change rooms.

His boots made that familiar click-clacking sound as he ran down the race onto BJO. He stopped for a second and took a whiff of the air. A familiar smell. Freshly cut grass and deep heat. Mainly deep heat.

He put his head down and ran onto the oval.

"TAKE IT!", screamed Dicky Fitzwell.

fitzroybulldog looked up just in time to see a qooty ball flying towards his head. Instinct kicked in and his slender hands flew up and took a strong mark. He felt the worn leather in his hands and suddenly his mood lifted. He guided the ball down onto his boot and the ball sailed in Mooch's direction.

This felt like home. Maybe everything would be ok after all...

The End​

This is the best SFA story I've ever read. Absolutely excellent. At first I thought "tl;dr." But read the first few lines and couldn't stop!

 

[Wacky Tiger]

Sensational effort bloke

 

[Danoz]

I gotta say I was half expecting it to turn into an El Dubya style freak show, but was pleasantly surprised and mostly relieved when it didn't. Footypie32 nice job, will you be adding further to it?

 

[El Dubya]

I gotta say I was half expecting it to turn into an El Dubya style freak show, but was pleasantly surprised and mostly relieved when it didn't. Footypie32 nice job, will you be adding further to it?

fitzroybulldog is far too honourable a character for that.