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This is the part I hate about football, this time before, the pause, the no man's land. I can deal with losing, not well, but it is manageable. I bury myself in other tasks, I weed in the garden, I have a kick with the lad, I go for a walk with the old dog Harry, I forget while the energies rekindle like a flame thought dead but springing back to life.
But this time before, this time when the thought of losing surfaces, this is much harder. This I find difficult to handle. My mind plays tricks inside my head, shows a replay of a game yet unplayed where all manner of disasters strike the team. To combat this I play other variations of the unplayed game out where we dominate, where we run riot like that time we kicked 30:30 against Hawthorn. Now that was a win.
The knot inside grows as the hours tick away as Saturday draws near. I am like an old milking cow. I know the games can be played in a variety of times and days but the guts still tick to that 2.10pm start of my youth. Saturday is the day even when we do not play. Weekends are ruined when we play on a Sunday; the anxiety is so great I cannot do anything except wait.
Funny thing is the better we are playing, the better the team, the worse this anxiety is. In '95 I almost vomited every Friday morning. The thought of the boys losing was too much. For the past few years the anxiety has been minimal. But now, this first game of the season I can feel the knots turn into serpents and writhe coldly in my stomach.
This Saturday Prender players his 50 so that’s another reason to be anxious. If anyone deserves a win it's Prender. He has copped plenty of flak over the course of those games yet no player can give more than he does every time he runs out onto the ground. No one's favourite yet I bet he is loved by his teammates. Prender will give his all, that's all anyone can ask. The rest is up to the selection committee.
Plus it's the Roos who often find a way of hurting us when they should not. Remember Blighty’s torp. A cosmic joke upon the Bluebaggers that one, or the flogging to end that horrible season or last year's stolen four points? The Roos manage to feast to often upon the bluebagger carcass.
So this week I am beside myself with nerves, the butterflies are more like crows; their beaks threaten to tear my insides apart. I cannot wait for that first ball held aloft to begin our season and yet, and yet dread grips me because I believe we will win, I think we have a team of youngsters ready to shock the football public, I think we have a style of game that will ruin many more fancied chances. Yet, yet, the lingering odour of defeat wafts through my mind.
This is the first of many games, just 1, a single bid for four points, but it is also the first game, an important step and it is against the Roos and I remember other games against them, other times we should have won and so, so this time we will win and I'll be there screaming with my son when we do. This is the start of season '05. This is when we show the ground we have recovered.
Go Blues!
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This type of slight is alien in the more cultured part of the world - Walsh. Its up there with mad dogs, Englishmen and the midday sun!
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