‘Thank you so much, mate,’ I say, taking a few steps to test it. I’m mobile again, even if I’m not a hundred per cent.
‘Glad I could help,’ Brick says. ‘Donald’s on his way – he’ll assess you properly.’
‘Could I get some Deep Heat on it?’ I ask.
Brick gets Donald’s approval, then I slide onto my bed and wait for him to pull my shorts down again. Brick rubs Deep Heat all over my buttocks. His hands are warm and strong. It’s nice how rhythmic his touch is. I ask him to do my back and my legs, too, and he does, so I get another five minutes of his hands all over me.
‘Donald will call when he’s here,’ Brick says. ‘Feel better soon, mate. We need you back out there booting goals.’
Once he’s gone, I stand in front of the mirror, hard-on poking out of my footy shorts, and jack off at the thought of letting Brick rub oil over every single muscle of my body.
Donald agrees my piriformis was the problem, but stops short of calling it a syndrome. He gives me stretches and tells me I’ll be monitored closely for fitness for next week’s game.
The pain is way less intense the next day. I have to get ready early: Tessa is rocking up at nine to take me to the Fox Footy studios for a live TV interview. It’s one of their pre-game shows: a panel of retired footy greats and journos doing footy news and analysis.
In the Uber on the way to the studio, Tessa winds a pen in her curly hair and gabbles the club’s key messages at me. ‘You might get a question about the Pride Game,’ she says. ‘Do you have something natural, off-the-cuff you can say? If you have an LGBT family member, that could be nice to bring up … if it feels organic?’
I’ve thought about this a lot. Boycotting this Pride shit could legit wreck my career. Over the last couple of years, coaches and players alike have copped fines and multi-game suspensions for using slurs like ‘cocksucker’ or ‘faggot’. I’m pissed, but Doug’s right. Not worth it. Especially not when the team is struggling, and the boys need me.
Plus, boycotting might make that psycho DM me again. Don’t wanna provoke him.
I’ve decided if I get any questions about it, I’ll do what they did in that episode ofSouth Park. I’ll say ‘stunning and brave’. Everyone who knows that episode will know I’m pulling the piss, and everyone else will think I’m being a good woke little team player.
‘I don’t have any gay mates or family,’ I tell Tessa.
‘Then just mention how important inclusion and diversity are for the club,’ she suggests, distractedly checking her emails on her phone.
I decide to test my theory. ‘I could say gay dudes are “stunning and brave”.’
Tessa takes a few seconds to process what I’ve said; she’s reading an email.
‘Change “gay dudes” to “members of the LGBTQIA+ community”,’ Tessa says. ‘“Stunning” is a bit much, but “brave” isgreat. Definitely use the word brave.’
We get greeted at the TV studio by some producer lady. Some tech guys come to fit my mic. We wait in the green room until the producer lady ushers me into the studio.
‘Good luck,’ Tessa says. ‘I’ll be watching on the monitors.’
TV interviews are always so quick and hectic. You get two seconds to say g’day to the hosts, then boom, you’re live on air being watched by punters all across Australia.
Today’s panel of three is made up of Dunk, Katy and Hardwick. The interview is mostly led by Dunk, a tough, blokey ex-Adelaide player who was a three-time All-Australian full-back. He’s now forty and has a bald head shinier than Tom Hawkins’ biceps.
‘Joining us now, key West Coast Eagles full-forward, and maybe a smokey for this year’s Coleman, Kade “Hammer” Hammersmith,’ Dunk announces. ‘Hammer, morning mate. Not the way you’d want an interstate trip to pan out – how’d you pull up after that crushing loss to Collingwood at the G last night?’
I do okay in media interviews. I’m not as well spoken as Sniper but I’ve got my own style and don’t need to say much to get people on side. I’m interviewed about everything from stepping up into the Polak role this season to the shitty match-up on the Collingwood full-back last night to hamstring injury recovery to whether I’ll make All-Australian this year.
Then Dunk throws a curveball.
‘And how’s the relationship between you and the young gun, Oshy Byrne?’ Dunk prods. ‘A superstar in the making, and after last night’s four-goal performance, he’s hot on your heels for leading club goalkicker. Have you played a mentor role to him, the way Steve Polak did for you?’
I have a flash of the memory of putting Deep Heat on Oshy’s mouthguard.
‘Yeah, important to get around the younger lads and give ’em some pointers … when you’re young you think you know everything, and you don’t … so yeah, I’m keeping young Oshy on the straight and narrow, haha.’
‘What advice would you give Oshy that you wish you’d had at his age?’ Katy, a former AFLW champion, asks. ‘If he was here, now, what would you say to him?’
I stare down the barrel of the camera. ‘Don’t shy away from contests,’ I say, happy to get a little dig in. ‘Don’t be afraid of the hard ball get. And listen to your elders, champ.’
Katy laughs. I said it in a way that sounds jokey, but Dunk smothers a snort: he gets how brutal it is to champ a bloke on national television. I hope Oshy sees this.
