Hard Cuddles. James Harding

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СКАЧАТЬ ball and, for fuck’s sake, keep your wits about you. Players were always splitting each other down the middle. This was a time when the hip and shoulder was considered a skill. I remember one passage of play in front of the Bob Rose stand. The Richmond defenders had Daicos hemmed in on the boundary and went to push him over. As they did he held out the ball with one hand, dropped it onto his boot and dribbled it through for a goal, his sixth for the day, from memory. The Collingwood faithfuls went off tap, the maestro in front of the social club went bang. I looked around and everyone was high fiving and hugging, I’m pretty sure I probably tried to high five someone, it was just exhilarating for a young bloke. Gee, Daicos was an out and out champion and he loved to play Richmond.

      We ended up winning comfortably and there were joyous scenes as we all sung Good Old Collingwood Forever. Dad was rapt, he wasn’t a drinker but that didn’t matter. He used to get that merry after a big win, he may as well have been blind. The walk back to the station with the Collingwood faithful was always entertaining—grown men pissed, playing kick to kick and jumping on each other trying to take speccies. The overall vibe was extremely upbeat.

      As we headed towards the city, we approached a station and that is when the fun really started. One pissed Richmond supporter had enough of the jubilant scenes and, against his better judgement, thought he would let the Collingwood-packed train know what he thought of them. The sneaky prick got off and waited till the doors looked, and I repeat, looked like they were about to close. Then he leaned into the carriage from the platform, popped his head in and yelled ‘All Collingwood supporters are fucked.’ An utterly imbecilic act by a desperate man. To this day I’m not entirely sure what he was hoping to achieve. Dad and I were close to the action. What I remember is seeing a hand shoot from inside the train to grab this Richmond moron by the scruff of the neck, dragging him back into the carriage. It was on. Dad managed to shield me from the altercation, but I still got to see this bloke get a fair old trimming. I was very young but I do remember seeing blood on the wall of the train. Jesus, he got a flogging. After this all calmed down, they dragged him off the train like the disgrace that he was. Dad tried to be diplomatic about not drinking too much and sending a message that violence isn’t the answer. ‘Fuck that’, I thought, from that day on Collingwood and me have been inseparable. Through good times and bad, my love for the Magpies has never wavered. What a great day.

      And for the record I have met the great man Peter Daicos. He is one of the most beautiful blokes you will ever met, really humble and understated. Just a lovely human being.

      THE RUNNER

      ‘It’s supposed to be hard… hard is what makes it great.’

      — Jimmy Dugan from A League of Their Own

      As a young bloke I couldn’t win a sports event to save myself. At primary school sports I was the kid that used to take home the participation award without fail. I was the Hawthorn of participation awards back to back to back. Fuck me it used to give me the shits, because in my mind I really fancied myself as a Usain Bolt type operator.

      In grade three, I decided to do something about it. I engaged my father, who was a keen runner, and explained to him that he was to take me running with him. I explained that there was a school running race coming up and I was tired of losing. He must have admired my ambition because we started training straight away.

      He was running regularly at the time and decent distances by memory, so at the start he would just ease me into it, by taking on a casual 3km run at slow pace. Here I was running next to him feeling like Robert De Castella. I’ve always been like that—anytime I take on a task or a goal, I always think I’m the best out there. Positive visualisation; I did that even at a young age, still do. A long time before spirituality, hacky sacks and kale smoothies hit Brunswick Street.

      As we got closer to the race, Dad really ramped it up. Towards the end I remember him telling me the runs we were doing for training were the same distances he would run by himself. It was an incredible feeling; training for something and putting in the hard yards. After the run we would cool down in the backyard and I would talk to him about the race. Dad would emphasise the importance of lifting my legs up high and using my arms to generate a good stride and pace. I explained that this kid Jacob was my only real competition, but I was sure he wasn’t running big distances, putting kilometres into his legs in preparation. Probably sitting on the couch watching cartoons and stuffing his face with lollies. I was so competitive. This sort of mindset, hating the enemy was something I had most of my life. If you weren’t with me, then fuck you. This lolly eating couch potato didn’t stand a chance. I was going to tear him apart.

      When it came to the big race day, I was nervous. I remember going to the toilet a lot, a trait I inherited from Dad. I had done all the training and all the work, I was completely prepared but I was still nervous as hell.

      As we lined up on the blocks, I looked down the line at the competition. Jacob was looking straight ahead, it’s go time. Bang the gun went and I was off, I knew right from the start that I had everyone covered in that field. It was an incredible feeling; I was out to an early lead. I had a nice little buffer on Jacob, even to this day I can still feel that feeling of flying like Linford Christie across the couch grass. As we approached the halfway mark, I wanted to make sure of my victory so I started to zigzag, cutting off any other runner who might have been a threat. Again I have always had a win-at-all-costs mentality, if I have to cheat to win, then so be it.

      As I crossed the finish line first I was flying, it felt like a blur, I was moving that fast. I felt incredible. the teacher came over with the winner’s ribbon and I thought, wow, I have actually done it. I looked in the crowd for the old man so I could rejoice in victory with the bloke that got me there, my trainer. He came over and he had a tear in his eye. Looking back, I'm pretty sure he was crying from laughter because I had cut all of the other runners out of the race. It was a special moment in my life.

      I learned a valuable lesson. If you want to achieve something worthwhile, no one is going to give it to you—you need to earn that shit.

      YOUNG ENTREPRENEUR LAWNS/LOLLIES

      ‘My best entrepreneurial advice is to start.’

      — Dave Morin

      Making money has always been a passion of mine. I am a bit of journeyman. I’m not afraid to try something new. Ever since I was boy I always had some sort of small business going. I had employees from as early as ten years old. My first business was a car wash; I would wash our cars and then head next door and wash their cars. Showing incredible foresight and business nous, my enthusiasm for the art of the deal became evident when the next-door neighbours’ kids wanted to be involved as well. They were too young to know anything about payment, but old enough to help out. So I gave them cloths and buckets and got them doing the heavy lifting, so to speak. I became a director of car washing and finances.

      At the end of the wash I would get the neighbour to hand over the money, thank the boys for their help and choof off home. 100 per cent profit and another happy client.

      Then there was the lawn mowing round. I would fill up the lawn mower and whipper snipper with petrol, grab the rake and broom, lay all the equipment across the lawn mower and walk around the local area, cold calling potential customers, setting up a nice little round. I especially targeted overgrown nature strips. It is hard for the occupants to say no to a young kid ready to go with all his gear and your garden is a shambles. I employed a few friends to help but the profits shrunk too much for my liking. So my little brother was engaged to help me out.

      Next was my first real crack at employment. It was five days a week and a Saturday morning at the local chemist. This round was a truly prized position and one I had to wait some time to get. I did the bulk of the days, my sister did another day or two and I sub-contracted Carlos to do the big days I СКАЧАТЬ