‘Rightio, boys! Just wait for the others to join us,’ cried out Specky’s team manager, Bobby Stockdale. ‘We’ll head to the gate as a group, so hold on until the last few come through customs.’
‘Can you believe we’re actually going halfway around the world?’ asked Dicky Atkins, one of Specky’s closest mates on the team.
‘It’s unreal,’ replied Specky, grinning. ‘Although I’m pretty relieved the goodbyes are all over and done with.’
‘I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to say goodbye to those two hotties, Speck,’ smirked Skull, flopping his arm around Specky’s neck.
Lenny Morgan was known to Specky and his team-mates as ‘Skull’ because he shaved his head before every game.
‘Give him a break, Skull,’ said Brian Edwards, another of Specky’s close friends in the team. ‘He was ducking and weaving like Gary Ablett on Grand Final day when his ex arrived on the scene. Talk about daggers flying between those two chicks.’
Specky was sure his face had gone bright red. So much for hoping no one would notice! He shugged, trying his best not to look concerned. ‘TG and Christina are just good mates. We’re all just good friends, that’s it.’
‘Yeah, right!’ snorted Skull.
‘Magee, you’re not going to give me any trouble over in Ireland, are ya?’
All of the boys stopped talking as their coach, Jay ‘Grub’ Gordan, waddled over with the rest of the team. Grub was the most revered junior AFL coach in Australia. He had coached the Victorian team in the junior carnival and had been unanimously appointed to take charge of the national side as well.
Specky, Brian, Dicky and Skull had all played under Grub and understood his gruff manner as well as the high standards he demanded. He could be harsh in his criticism, and praise was delivered only sparingly. Specky had enormous respect for Grub, and knew that no one had had a bigger influence on his career in such a short span of time.
‘Um, err, no way, Grub,’ Specky stuttered, even more embarrassed that Grub had heard the boys ribbing him.
The entire team fell silent. They were never really sure what Grub was thinking and where he would go with something.
‘I don’t want mobs of young Irish girls hangin’ around our hotel all day, trying to get a glimpse of the young Aussie who thinks he’s a heartthrob or the next Elvis or something.’
‘The next who ?’ asked Skull.
‘Speck is a heart-throb! Oooh, Elvis, I love you, Elvis,’ stirred Dicky, pretending to be a lovesick female fan.
Dicky was the only one of them who dared to joke around with Grub. He got along with everyone and was the real heart of the team – always roaring encouragement from the field or the bench and making everyone feel better when things went badly. He looked much older than he was – Specky and his team-mates called him the man-boy and he already had hair on his chest – but he was really just a big kid. Dicky could even make Grub laugh with his clowning around. But this time Grub just looked at him sternly.
‘Don’t you start, Atkins!’ he barked. ‘How about we stop with the muckin’ about and check you’ve got your passport, money and documents. That goes for all of you!’
Dicky immediately did as he was told. As he patted his pockets, a troubled look appeared on his face and he dived for his backpack.
‘Atkins? What’s the problem?’ asked Grub. ‘You do have your passport on you, don’t ya?’
‘Yeah, I do, I mean, I thought I did,’ stammered Dicky, now rummaging around in his bag, a little more frantic with every passing second. ‘I know it’s here somewhere.’
Dicky spilled the entire contents of his backpack out on the floor, right in front of a line of passengers making their way to the gates.
‘My mum said this would happen to me,’ he said, as books, pens, magazines, packets of lollies and a Nintendo DS machine went flying everywhere. ‘I had it ten minutes ago – I just showed it to that customs dude.’
‘Well, you better find it quick smart,’ said Grub. ‘Or you’ll be kissing this trip goodbye.’
Specky had never seen Dicky look so stressed out before – not even in a heated match situation.
‘Here you go, Atkins!’ Grub said, finally, a slight grin on his face as he tossed the navy-blue passport at Dicky’s feet. ‘It dropped out of your back pocket after you went through customs. Lucky I was right behind you, lad.’
‘Thanks, Grub! You saved my life!’ exhaled Dicky. ‘Forget Speck. You’re Elvis! I love you, Elvis! I love you!’ Dicky jumped up and gave Grub a big bear hug.
Specky and the others laughed and some of the other passengers even applauded as they strolled by.
‘All right, all right, that’s enough,’ said Grub, rolling his eyes at Bobby Stockdale. ‘This kid is going to age me by ten years before the trip is over.’