‘Happy with more than one Selwood? Heck, I’d like twenty-five Selwoods! ’Nugget had his arms in the air, as if declaring it to the heavens. He looked at Joel and Scott, who now had embarrassed smiles on their faces, too.

  ‘What about you two super-sleuths, do you also play footy?’

  ‘The little one’s a star,’ Adam said, pointing at Scott. ‘But Joel here is more of a boundary-umpire type. Wouldn’t you say, Joely? That’s more your go, isn’t it?’

  Joel threw a handful of clippings at Adam.

  ‘Boys!’ Dad said, picking up the whipper snipper.

  Joel was now hanging off Adam’s back like a human tortoise shell. Scott jumped onto Joel’s legs, and then Troy came from the side and pulled on those legs, like someone ringing a church bell. The whole lot came toppling down. They sprawled on the ground, eight arms and eight legs, like giant spiders in combat.

  ‘This is what they do when they’re happy,’ Dad told Nugget. ‘After the week we’ve just had, it’s very nice to see.’

  ELEVEN

  The twins’ game against Vic Metro was in Melbourne, and the whole family travelled down to watch. For weeks, Adam and Troy had been training with other local kids in the Vic Country squad, and the rumour was that they’d be playing on the MCG! But it was too good to be true. The game was set for Punt Road Oval, just a windblown torpedo punt kick from the G. It was also the training base for Scott’s beloved Tigers.

  The family arrived in time for breakfast in Brunswick Street. The café was called Marios and they soon found out why.

  ‘Hello,’ said a smiley, narrow-waisted man with brown hair. He wore a crisp white shirt and black pants. ‘I’m Mario!’

  ‘And I’m Mario!’ said another man, who was just as smiley but with less hair on his head. He had much more on his chest and he wasn’t so narrow-waisted. He glanced at the twins in their Big V tracksuits.

  ‘We are the Marios. This is our place. Are you sports stars?’

  ‘Our twins are playing for Vic Country,’ Mum said. ‘It’s the Under-12s game, versus Vic Metro.’

  ‘Magnifico!’ said one Mario.

  ‘Eccellente!’ chimed the other.

  ‘Footy AFL or football?’ Thin Mario said, kicking an invisible soccer ball off the tiles.

  ‘Footy,’ Dad said. ‘We come from Bendigo. In Bendigo, everything’s footy.’

  ‘We love AFL!’ Thin Mario exclaimed.

  ‘You need to carb load!’ Not-so-thin Mario said, taking the menus. ‘We normally only serve pasta from twelve, but for sports stars, we make an exception.’

  Thin Mario was nodding in enthusiastic agreement. They shouted instructions into the kitchen and a jug of orange juice appeared, free of charge. Plates of spaghetti Napoli were not far behind. Mum ordered eggs for herself and Dad, and waffles for Scott and Joel.

  ‘Can’t we have waffles?’ Adam asked, gazing longingly at the sea of maple syrup and a melting dollop of ice cream.

  ‘Well, the Marios think you should stick to the pasta,’ Dad said.

  ‘We did have pasta and potatoes last night,’ Troy said. ‘It’s not like we haven’t had carbs.’

  Mum glanced in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘You can finish the waffles. But don’t let the Marios see. It was very nice of them to think of your game.’

  The carb-loading worked. Or maybe it was the waffles. Or maybe it was just that the twins really were excellent footballers who could even find the ball at state-combined level.

  Troy kicked the first and last goals of the game. Adam had sixteen possessions, which wasn’t bad given he only played three-quarters. The Vic Metro centre half-forward hardly had a kick.

  While the twins played the game, Joel and Scott kicked Joel’s much-loved, slightly bloated Gary Ablett footy behind the goals. There was a giant net that stopped the ball from going onto Punt Road itself, where cars were already queued up to nose into the MCG car park. At the quarter-time break, Joel and Scott moved their game onto the ground for some shots at goal. The goal umpire was holstering his flags when he saw their ball.

  ‘You should get him to sign it. He’s up there in the stand, you know.’

  ‘Who?’ Joel asked.

  ‘Ablett,’ the umpire replied. ‘His son’s playing. Young Gary’s been picked for Vic Country. That’s why the TV crews are here.’

  Joel felt his stomach flip. Gary Ablett was here! He knew young Gary was playing in the twins’ team — that was exciting enough — but he’d thought his hero would have to be in Geelong. After all, the Cats were playing in a few hours at Kardinia Park. This was unbelievable.

  ‘Thanks,’ Joel said to the goal ump, tucking his footy under his arm. ‘Thanks so much.’

  Joel sprinted towards where his parents were sitting. ‘Mum, Dad, I need a texta!’ Joel garbled the Gary Ablett news. He was so excited his parents could barely make sense of what he was saying.

  ‘We don’t have a texta, hon,’ his mum said. She rummaged through her handbag. ‘Do you think Gary Ablett would sign your football with lipstick?’

  Joel was in no mood for jokes. Scott was pretty excited too, even though he was a Richmond supporter.

  ‘C’mon, Mum!’

  Eventually, his dad had the brainwave of heading down to the Vic Country bench where the assistant coaches were sitting.

  ‘Can we borrow a marker?’ Dad said to Nugget, who was part of the coaching team.

  ‘Sure thing, Bryce,’ Nugget said. ‘No problem at all.’ Nugget shot Dad a grin. ‘And by the way, the stripes on the grass here aren’t as neat as the ones you and the boys do at the apartments.’

  His dad laughed and gave Nugget a thumbs-up sign. ‘They’re amateurs down here,’ he joked. ‘Their stripes are a shemozzle.’

  ‘Too true,’ Nugget said.

  His dad had barely given Joel the marker before he was running off, Scott close behind him.

  Joel was shaking with excitement. Meeting Gary Ablett would be the highlight of his eight-and-a-bit years on Planet Earth. He and Scott made a nervous approach. The full-forward with the nearly bald head and the wispy moustache was sitting by himself in the second-last row of the stand. Of course he was wearing a Geelong tracksuit. Gary Ablett! A thousand goals in the AFL! Only that week, a poll in the Herald Sun had rated him the third best player of all time and he hadn’t finished yet. But Joel knew the truth. Nobody was better than Gary Ablett. Nobody who ever lived was a better footballer than Gary Ablett.

  ‘Um . . .’ Joel began, suddenly forgetting what he’d planned to say. He wanted to say, Excuse me, Gary Ablett. Will you please sign this?

  What came out was, ‘Um . . .’

  Joel looked at Scott, hoping his little brother would step up. Scott just stood there with his mouth wide open. He looked like one of those laughing clowns at the Bendigo Show.

  Gary Ablett spotted the texta and the footy. He gave the boys a smile and leaned forward to take the pen. Joel was so dumbfounded he almost forgot to let go of it. Gary Ablett signed his name on Joel’s ball, right above the signature already printed on the footy. It matched perfectly.

  ‘This one’s been loved,’ Gary Ablett said.

  Joel nodded.

  Scott finally found his voice. ‘Your son, Gary, is playing in the same team as our brothers!’ he blurted. ‘We’re the Selwoods!’

  ‘Your brothers are excellent players,’ Gary Ablett said.

  Joel couldn’t believe it. Gary Ablett knew Troy and Adam. Gary Ablett had noticed Troy and Adam. Wait till he told them. Although, should he tell them? They’d get such big heads. Even better, Gary Ablett knew his surname! It was all too incredible. He felt like he was about to faint.

  ‘I bet you boys want to play league footy one day,’ Gary Ablett said.

  Joel and Scott nodded vigorously. ‘Well, I tell you what,’ Gary Ablett said, handing back the ball. ‘I was the young one in my family. My older brothers Geoff and Kevin both played league footy. I never thought I’d get a go. I never thought I’d catch up to them.’

  Joel stared at the famous, sloping shoulders of Ablett. He was so sleek, like a human panther. To think he had once worried about the same things as him!

  ‘Thanks!’ Scott exclaimed. ‘Will you sign my jumper?’

  Scott spun around. Gary Ablett stood up and signed the number ten on the back of Scott’s Richmond jumper. ‘Wrong team,’ Gary Ablett teased with a grin. Then Joel felt those magician hands touch his shoulders and turn him around. ‘Do you want me to sign yours, too?’ Gary Ablett asked.

  Joel didn’t answer but he felt the texta writing on his number-five Geelong jumper. ‘Right team,’ Gary Ablett said. He returned the texta to them. ‘I’ve gotta get back to Geelong for the game soon. What are your names, boys? In case I see them in the big league in ten to fifteen years?’

  ‘Scott,’ his brother beamed.

  Joel swallowed hard. ‘Joel,’ he said, but almost no sound came out. ‘Joel Selwood,’ he whispered again. They were the only two words he managed.

  TWELVE

  Later that day, Adam and Troy had their own brushes with footy fame. After the representative game at Punt Road, the twins and their teammates were walked over to the MCG with tickets to Richmond versus Hawthorn. Vic Metro went into the Tigers’ rooms before the game, and Vic Country visited the Hawks. They didn’t get to speak to any players, but Adam and Troy saw Jason Dunstall and Shane Crawford up close. Adam was particularly excited. He barracked for the brown and gold.

  ‘Dunstall’s so great!’ Adam gushed when he met his parents and younger brothers after the game. ‘Dunstall kicked six today. The Hawks won by four. He’s the best full-forward ever.’

  ‘He’s so not as good as Gary Ablett,’ Joel said defensively. He turned around to show off the signature to the twins again. ‘Dunstall just takes chest marks and kicks straight. And he’s pudgy. Like the marshmallow man at the end of Ghostbusters.’

  ‘You take that back!’ Adam said. He punched Joel good-naturedly on the upper arm. Joel went to punch Adam back but Adam started running. Joel chased him.

  Both boys were laughing. This had been such a good day. The twins had played well. Vic Country had won by thirty-five points. The younger Selwoods had met Gary Ablett. Gary Ablett had noticed the twins. The twins had been in the Hawthorn rooms. They’d all watched a decent AFL game.

  As they stood in the shadows of the MCG, the light leaching out of the sky, Troy pointed to the entry gate. ‘Is that a player there?’ he asked.

  A slight but athletic-looking young man in a blue tracksuit was walking out carrying a sports bag.

  ‘Too small,’ Adam said, releasing Joel from the wrestle. The man walked closer.

  ‘Well umpired today,’ Dad said to the man.

  He seemed surprised to receive a compliment. ‘Thank you.’ He laughed. ‘That’s nice of you to say. Some people aren’t so polite to us umpires.’

  ‘Joel here is a boundary umpire this season,’ Dad said. ‘We like umpires in our house.’

  ‘I’m a boundary umpire!’ the young man said excitedly, before Joel could speak. ‘The name’s Justin. Justin Gray.’ He smiled at Joel, who was still gripping his Gary Ablett footy. ‘Let’s see your style, kid. Show us your throw-in.’

  Joel, feeling a little embarrassed, crouched a fraction and flung the ball into the air. It arced backwards in the direction of the cars making their way out of the MCG car park.

  ‘Wow!’ said Boundary Umpire Gray, genuinely impressed. He then walked over and gave Joel a tip on how to balance the ball on one hand, pre-fling. ‘I meet hardly any kids who want to be boundary umpires,’ he told Joel.

  ‘Well, actually . . .’ Joel began, then stopped when he saw his brothers struggling not to laugh. The umpire was so friendly and enthusiastic. Boundary Umpire Gray kept talking technique, and used the one-hand-under-the-ball move to fling it into the stratosphere. It was pretty impressive.

  ‘It’s great Joel wants to be a boundary umpire,’ Adam said, without a trace of a smile. ‘We really encourage him. I mean most boys his age want to be Gary Ablett.’

  ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Justin,’ Mum said, having heard enough. ‘Well done today. C’mon, boys. Chop, chop. If we don’t get out of here quickly we won’t be back home until late.’

  The fight lasted all the way to the car.

  THIRTEEN

  ‘How does it feel, kiddo? Last day running the boundary.’

  They were in the Sharks change rooms, tucked around the corner near the showers. Dad knelt down and helped Joel with his bootlaces. He always boundary umpired in his footy boots. Joel pulled the white umpire’s T-shirt over his head.

  ‘About time!’ He grinned. ‘Next year I finally get to play.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long,’ his dad said, ‘but it’ll be better in the long run. There is such a thing as too much footy, you know.’

  Joel didn’t know. As far as he was concerned, there could never be too much footy.

  ‘You think the twins will win today?’ Joel asked his dad. ‘Do you think they’ll finish top of the ladder?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Dad grinned. ‘But it’s not such a big deal if they don’t. They’ve had such a fun year, those boys.’

  Joel picked up his whistle and put it around his neck for the last time. Sharks versus Swallows. His dad might not know it was a grudge match, but it definitely was. Kransky would be out there playing today. At least that meant he wouldn’t be leaning over the fence yelling at him.

  Joel pulled up his long black umpire’s socks. They were way too big. They wouldn’t stay up for long.

  It was a perfect day outside. Crisp and sunny with the smell of spring grass. There was quite a big crowd for an Under-12s game.

  Joel couldn’t wait to get out there — to run fast and to watch his brothers. He hoped they dominated.

  One last game as Boundary Boy and he’d retire the whistle for good.

  Then his footy life would begin.

  Troy rushed up to his dad and Joel. He was in something of a panic. ‘They’re not here!’ he said breathlessly.

  ‘Who’s not here?’ his dad asked.

  ‘The McGregors,’ said Troy. ‘Tom, Ed and Tim. They’re not here.’

  The McGregors were the other brothers in the Under-12s team. They were close together in age. The two older ones were stout defenders. Tim was a pacey wingman.

  ‘What do you mean they’re not here?’ Joel asked. ‘It’s the big game! For top spot!’

  ‘I know!’ Troy replied. ‘It’s a disaster. Apparently they went to Lakes Entrance. Their gran is really sick.’

  Adam hurried up alongside his twin. ‘Coach says that his kid Max can play, and maybe Zac Johnston. But we’re still one or two short.’

  The twins were despondent. They desperately wanted to win the minor premiership. It was going to be hard if they were a couple of players short.

  Dad ruffled their hair. ‘Don’t panic, boys. There’s a decent crowd out there. Somebody must have brought their boots.’

  At that moment, three sets of eyes looked down at Joel’s boots.

  ‘You know what, Dad — I can think of somebody who’s got his boots,’ Adam said.

  Joel felt his stomach flip. Was Adam saying what he thought he was saying?

  Dad bit down on his index finger. ‘He’s too young.’

  ‘Come on, Dad! He’ll be playing next April. What’s the difference between August and April?’ Adam argued.

  ‘And we’ve seen him at school. He’s more than ready. And Coach Heath will probably start him on the bench,’ Troy added.

  Dad grimaced. ‘Do you want to play, Joely?’ he asked. ‘If they let you, I mean. If Coach Heath wants you to fill in. Do you think you’re ready?’

  Joel started jumping up and down, too excited to answer. He threw his arms around his dad’s waist.

  ‘I’m taking that as a yes, then.’ His dad laughed. ‘Okay, we’ll make sure it’s okay with the coach.’

  FOURTEEN

  Within ten minutes it was all sorted. Joel and two other kids were permitted to fill in for the McGregors.

  Joel pulled a too-big maroon-and-yellow guernsey over his head. One of the dads came around and offered some resin to rub on his palms to make them sticky. A stream of players wandered over and introduced themselves. Nick Dal Santo gave him a slap on the back. ‘You’ll brain ’em today, Joely,’ Nick said.

  Joel felt a surge of nervous energy. Nick Dal Santo was the best midfielder in the team. Everyone thought Nick would play big league AFL one day.

  Joel jiggled his legs and his boot studs made a clattery noise on the concrete floor in the change room. The Sharks coach, Rob Heath, called them to attention.

  ‘Okay, the team from the backline . . .’

  Joel held his breath and waited for his name to be called out.

  ‘. . . Adam Selwood, centre half-back . . .’

  ‘. . . Troy Selwood, centre half-forward . . .’

  The final on-field name was called and it wasn’t Joel. Adam was right. He’d be starting on the bench.

  Kransky was playing like a wrecking ball, intent on destruction. He crashed into every maroon-and-yellow body he could find. When he got up out of a pack, he ‘accidentally’ used his knees on Adam’s head. When he went to spoil Troy’s mark, he ‘accidentally’ punched in the wrong spot and hit Troy across the ear.

  ‘Animal!’ Troy said, rubbing his ear.

  ‘Sorry,’ Kransky said, not in the least sorry.

  ‘Umpire,’ Troy said, ‘he’s hurt five players with these “accidents” in just the first quarter! Why don’t you send him off?’

  ‘Let me umpire the game,’ the umpire said. ‘Take your free kick, number thirteen.’

  Troy lined up his shot at goal, but was so furious at Kransky getting away with his punch that he missed.

  ‘Stiff bikkies, Smellwood,’ Kransky jeered as the goal umpire raised a single flag. ‘What a shame. It’s amazing how badly you play when you don’t get it all your own way.’

  Troy wasn’t playing badly. Neither was Adam, but it was true it hadn’t been their best quarter. If Dal Santo hadn’t booted two goals, the Sharks might have been in trouble. As it was, they trailed by two goals at quarter-time, as they trudged grumpily into the huddle.

 

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