Deestroy
Norm Smith Medallist
AFL Premiership Round 18
Brisbane Lions V Melbourne
--------- V ---------
________________________________________________________
Saturday Jul 31
The Gabba 7:10 PM (Local Time)
Brisbane Forecast Brisbane Radar
Ladder:
Season Win/Loss
Brisbane Lions V Melbourne
________________________________________________________
Saturday Jul 31
The Gabba 7:10 PM (Local Time)
Brisbane Forecast Brisbane Radar
Ladder:
Season Win/Loss
The Melbourne Perspective:
Please note: this interview is fictitious.
Recently business took me to Brisbane. I usually avoid the place like the plague. Still, when one is a charioteer in Pharaoh’s Army, orders are orders. For all the glitter of its polarised windows and the neon lights, the CDB is hideous. The day will come, nevertheless, when not one stone will be left upon another. As I walked down Eagle Street, there was a disturbance to my left. Two beefy looking Salvation Army goons had just grabbed a hobo off the streets. With relish, they were preparing to drop a flea-bomb down his trousers. Ominously, a mobile dog-wash was positioned nearby. Whoever this poor devil was, he was putting up staunch resistance.
“Leave the poor bugger alone, you brutes!” I roared, scurrying over.
“This drifter is riddled with fleas!” the captain snarled back. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”
A tug of war ensued. Our muscle prevailed. We galloped down the street. Once in the clear, I turned around to look the hobo in the face.
“OMG, it’s you TJ!” I exclaimed in wonder.
Yes, it was the winner of the Bluey Truscott Medal, looking somewhat worse for wear but still recognisable.
“Oh, hi Biff. Thanks man. Those dudes are so uncool. Why does everyone pick on me? Me, I’m just goin’ with the flow.”
I scanned the area. We were standing near a convention centre. A ‘Jesus lookalike’ competition was due to start on that very day.
“You’re still in danger,” I warned. “Let’s scram!”
Thankfully, TJ’s car was nearby: a 1974 VW Kombi Van. It was dubbed with various peace symbols and admonitions to make love, not war. We both leapt in and drove to a nearby coffee shop. Once there, TJ jumped out from the car and skateboarded over to the entrance. I ordered the usual flat white whereas Trav requested an organic tea with herbal infusions. We did not say much. Trav was not the most talkative of guys. Indeed, he seemed to live in a world of his own. Every so often he would stare into the sky with his mouth open, as if in wait for the Second or even the Third Coming. Sitting there, I became convinced that something was actually nesting in his beard – I reined in the smirk.
“So TJ, what’s it like to live in Brisbane?” I said at last, breaking the silence.
If Colonel Walter E. Kurz took his orders from the jungle, then TJ’s overlord was the mighty Pacific. As I listened to him discuss his love of surfing and his search for the perfect wave, a saying came to mind: the meek shall inherit the earth. Yep, Trapper will leave the game without a premiership medal or a Brownlow, and his career will always be associated with an asterix. Even so, was there was a wider game afoot than mere football? Could it be that TJ was a winner in a deeper sense? Here was someone who marched to the beat of a different drum.
“I hope you noticed,” I said at last, “that when Brad Green tackled you in Round 5, we all cheered – we did not jeer.”
“I know, man,” TJ responded back dreamily.
“We all know about Crazy Vossy,” I added, widening the conversation, “and his infamous roll of the dice at Trade Week. No-one in their right mind would bring an uber-dud like Xavier Clarke to a football club – but that is exactly what he did. What are your thoughts?”
TJ’s eyes glazed over. “I mean, what are they gonna say when Crazy Vossy is gone? 'Cause he dies when it dies, when it dies, he dies! What are they gonna say about him? He was a kind man? He was a wise man? He had plans? He had wisdom? Bullshit, man! And am I gonna be the one that's gonna set them straight? Look at me! Look at me! Wrong!”
Somewhat nonplussed, I glanced at my watch. It was airport-time. We briefly discussed the match ahead. We both agreed that the Dees should win by 5 goals at least. It was time to leave.
“Take me home!” he pleaded, grabbing both of my arms. “Please! I want to go home – back to Melbourne, back to the Dees, back to the Junction Oval or wherever you train. I miss it all so much. I’ve had enough of this glitz. You don’t know what it is like here. Twice a week, it’s Fev in the showers . . . .” His voice trailed off ominously.
He started to shudder.
“TJ, I cannot help you,” I replied piteously. “I am not an AFL Commissioner. I don’t head up recruitment for the Dees. I am just a shit-kicker who writes for the Demons Forum. No man steps twice into the same river. What’s done is done. Live with it! You have been playing some good football and the Lions are a great club.”
His tears tumbled down into the plats of his beard. He bent over at the hips and sobbed. A taxi pulled up. While the driver looked like one of Satan’s outriders, I had no choice but to get in.
“TJ, if it is any solace, we all still love you. You gave us Grimes as well, and we won’t forget that. Memories of your performance in the 2002 Semi Final still resonate – thy eternal summer shall not fade.”
The taxi driver shrieked at me. While I could not understand a word, it pretty much said: get in or piss off. With a wave I shut the door and buckled up. We took off down the street. I chanced a look around my shoulder: TJ was running after the taxi. My heart was in my mouth at this point. Part of me wanted to take him back to Melbourne. The traffic slowed to a crawl. Travis increased his pace. He was sprinting. The distance between us narrowed. All of a sudden, a giant hummer came into view and Dan Collins jumped out. Dodging the cars, he sprinted over to TJ, knocked him to the ground and dragged him back to his vehicle. Soon, the flow of the traffic took them from view. Qantas Domestic loomed ahead.
Sitting in the plane afterwards, I was overwhelmed with sadness. Everything is transient. Then a stouter voice commented: Carpe Diem. Seize the Day and shove it up their arses, and that is exactly what the Dees should do this weekend to the Lions.
Dees by 30+
Biffinator






haha





