Читать книгу Boy's Own War - G. S. Willmott - Страница 8

Melbourne, Australia. 2013

Twenty young boys, all members of the Bentleigh Football Club were standing around in a circle, a huddle formed around their coach Ron Hardeman. They were down the northern end of the Bentleigh Football ground, Ron was giving his final pep talk before the whistle blew and the game began.

‘OK lads, you know how critical this game is. We win this one and we’re into the grand final. It’s a must-win game. We have to slaughter them. ‘So’, he paused. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘We’re going to kill them,’ shouted the team.

‘Are we going to give an inch?’

‘Never. Take no prisoners’.

‘So get out there and show them what you’re all made of.’

Joshua Bowes was fifteen, proud that he had made the Bentleigh under sixteen team playing centre half forward. If it was a good game, he and the other forwards would kick plenty of goals. His best mate from school, Cameron Davey, played for the opposition team, Brighton. It was sometimes a little strange that he and Cameron played together on the firsts team at Haileybury College, the school they both attended, yet here they were sworn enemies, each team fighting for the honour of the grand final.

The umpire’s whistle blew signalling the game was underway. The ball was bounced, the ruckman flew, the ball was punched to the Bentleigh centre, Jason Smith, who kicked it to Joshua. He took the mark. Too far out to attempt kicking the goal himself Joshua passed the ball to Tyrone Wright who marked it thirty metres out from goal. Known for his kicking accuracy, Tyrone booted the ball accurately through the posts. Bentleigh had drawn first blood.

The game was fought hard and fast, Bentleigh the victors by twenty points. Celebrations in their change rooms included a somewhat raucous version of the Bentleigh team song.

A markedly different atmosphere in the Brighton room with heads down the odd tear and an almost tangible sense of defeat.

Cameron felt miserable. He had so badly wanted to play in the grand final and now had to wait another year without any guarantee Brighton would get through to the top level then. Sounds from the next room became louder as the Bentleigh team ramped up their songs, laughter and celebratory cheers. Cameron’s mood sank further. He could only imagine what Joshua would be like when they saw each other at school, full of confidence, boasting to their classmates how Bentleigh had decimated Brighton.

On Monday morning Cameron quietly entered the locker room to collect his books for the day’s classes. Unfortunately Joshua had arrived before him, shared the news about his team’s big win, blow-by-blow details of the match now being retold for anyone that would listen.

Monday seemed to drag on endlessly as Cameron had to endure the taunting with a brave face reassuring his classmates that there was always next year. By Wednesday he was his old self again kicking a football on the school oval with Joshua.

Cameron had decided to attend the final on Saturday, a show of support for his mate and the Bentleigh team.

The big day arrived for this epic contest between the Bentleigh Demons and the McKinnon Lions.

Both coaches urged their respective teams to kill the opposition, wear down the opposition without giving them a chance. The fifteen-year-old boys were instructed to think of the other team as the enemy.

Winner would take all.

The game was fast and furious. Joshua was named ‘Best on Ground’, an award of little importance as McKinnon triumphed over Bentleigh by one point.

Now the Bentleigh change rooms were silent in defeat, their team’s turn to feel completely flat, heads bowed, tears shed as they listened to McKinnon celebrate their narrow win.

Eventually the dejected players left the dressing shed, not really wanting to talk to or see anyone. Cameron waited outside and Joshua finally emerged from the pavilion to see him standing there.

‘G’day Josh. Well done with ‘Best on Ground’ mate. Come on, it’s not the end of the world. There’s always next year.’

‘I suppose. But right at the moment I feel like shit.’

‘Well mate, if it’s any consolation I know how you feel.’

‘Yeah I suppose you do.’

The two friends began their walk home. They didn’t talk much but Joshua appreciated the support, sheepishly remembering the way he’d treated Cameron last week.

Final exams were the next important event in their year starting in October. Joshua and Cameron were both sitting for their year eleven certificate, parents and teachers constantly reminding them of the importance of these exams. ‘Do well in year eleven and year twelve will be more manageable’ or so they hoped.

The two friends studied conscientiously for the exams and passed with flying colours.

'We came off with flying colours.' George Farquar, 'The Beaux's Stratagem (1706). Victorious; extremely successful. The term comes from the practice of a victorious fleet sailing into port with flags flying from all the mastheads. By 1700 or so it was being used figuratively, signifying any kind of triumph."

Christmas holidays were the teenagers’ favourite time of the year. Cameron’s parents owned a holiday house in Torquay with Joshua’s family’s summer home at Lorne and a ski lodge in Falls Creek for winter breaks. The two mates wouldn’t see each other for four weeks; the absence managed by a love of surfing and meeting girls at local dances in their respective holiday locations.

At the end of January, they returned to school enthusiastically sharing stories of imagined conquests and the size of waves surfed.

Overall, life was good for these fifteen year olds. No major dramas in their lives and bright futures ahead of them.

The same could not be said about Harry Jordan.