David-Lee wrote:This little 'get a punch' chat has been good for me I feel better.
In reality, I have been punched at the footy.
I walked from Kellets Rd (where I had been drinking at the ritz, ok damn it, the rubbish bins behind the petrol station on the corner) to Waverly Park entering the park off Jacksons Rd. I was drinking a 750ml bottle of scotch ( they hadn't brought in the 700ml RIP off bottles yet).
I stopped by that big tree in the grass carpark to the right and whilst casually leaning on its girth I relieved myself.
I entered the ground quite sauced, prepared to lash the lads with wit and vigor.
By half time I was plastered. I had used every swear that existed so began to mesh the names of players with my colorful swears.
I went out to get one or 6 of those damn delicious cinnamon jam donuts they used to sell outside.
I continued my verbal barrage to a mate about my disdain for the Saints.
A wee fella tapped me on the shoulder, I'm big. Not penis wise , this isnt a porn story. I am talking 6' 5" and 150 kilos ( a bit fat ok, there, are you happy now?).
So I say something like what the f@ck do you want c@nt?
He asks me to stop swearing, he's actually followed me from those magically wooden bench seats in the stands and says he's sitting with his kids and can I dial it back. I tell him
with eloquence and poise to go ....himself.
Hence forth and withermore he struck me on the nose.
I bled a bit.My pride hurt most.
I was drunk.But I recall it still to the day.
I sat on the ground behind the donut van ( for Gods sake can someone bring me a cinnamon jam NOW!).
He comes around and actually puts his hand on my shoulder. He said, we all feel bad, you look like you're doing it tough ( I thought I looked swell but I guess squatting in Clayton leaves a certain demure).
I'll never forget what he said next ....he said I cry in the closet, but I champion the club in public. Then he walked away ( my mate told me later he paid for my jam donuts, I really like that guy).
Well, It has stuck with me. I wear the gear and wave a big flag and cheer like a pollyanna the whole game, then I call my mates and together we destroy the club then rebuild it with our brilliant plans.
Dont judge me. I dont like it. Plus I get all punchy
one day my friend, if we happen to meet up in the social club, I’ll shout you a beer and then I’ll explain to you in a friendly manner just why that insults me SO much, and the memory of a dear, dear friend of mine.
( God help me)
