December 4, 2017 by writehandman.com.au
It’s rare somebody does something that makes their whole family, community and every single one of their friends think, gee he’s a freaken tosser!
My good mate John McAndrews, is a hilarious smartass and was a really good Rugby Union player. He now is a Hornswood man, but he was born and raised in small town New Zealand and had the honour when he was just twenty, of playing in their club’s first Grand Final in sixteen years. So pretty much everybody McAndrews had ever known, was at the game, in fanatical Rugby mode.
There was only a minute left in the Grand Final, they were two points behind and had the scrum feed on halfway. The big men packed down into the mass of heaving bodies, stinking of sweat, armpits and scrotums. The forwards (the only men on a rugby field worthy of true respect) strained like their very lives depended on winning the ball.
Behind the scrum John McAndrews eyeballed his opposite fullback, Tapana Tangaroa. They had been best mates for a decade and Tapana had always been a little bit better than McAndrews at… pretty much everything. McAndrews was really fast, Tapana was just a bit faster. They both played representative Rugby, Tapana played a little bit more. Tapana was getting better marks at Uni, had a car, could complete a Rubik’s cube and was one hell of a dancer.
McAndrews was desperate to overcome his best mate that day.
The hard men in the forwards having done all the work, hated giving their fate over to the glory-boy backs to potentially squander, but there was little choice. The half back passed the ball to McAndrews, who sprinted at the defensive line as hard as his fatigued body could. To his surprise, he burst through.
No time on the clock, and a sprinting John McAndrews only had one man to beat.
McAndrews feigned left, then right. Tapana rarely fell for his dummy or his sidestep, but it was make or break.
TAPANA FELL FOR IT.
McAndrews was away. He had forty metres to the try line. The open, Grand-Final-winning try line! Thirty metres. Twenty.
John McAndrews, was living his dream, his parent’s dream and the dream of everybody he knew. He glanced back, expecting to see his opposition fullback about to nail him. But Tapana was on the ground, and he was the closest defender! There was nobody between him and the line. Between him and immortality.
McAndrews (yelling to the crowd) – “McANDREWS SCORES THE WINNING TRY UNDER THE POSTS.” Still looking backwards while sprinting, he poked his tongue out at Tapana.
The game finished.
When he regained his senses, John McAndrews was lying on a gurney, staring at the roof of an ambulance. His team’s enormous, facially-tattooed Maori prop captain, was sitting next to him. It’s fair to say McAndrews was intrigued as to what had transpired.
Matui (in full Maori accent) – “It’s your first year Andrews eh, so you may not know that I’ve played for this club for twelve straight f#cken seasons bro.”
McAndrews (feeling terribly woozy) – “I certainly do Matui. You’re a club legend. It’s actually McAndrews… but that’s ok.”
Matui – “This was my first ever Grand Final bro. Didn’t think I’d ever play in one. To win one, was just too much to ever f#cken dream of eh.”
Matui nodded to himself and flexed his ham-sized fists.
McAndrews – “I’m just glad I could do my bit for the team Matui.”
Matui – “What the f#ck are you talking bro? After announcing to the crowd you were about to score the winning try, because you had your head f#cking facing backwards… you ran into the F#CKING POSTS bro! You knocked yourself out f#cking cold, dropped the f#cking ball and we lost the f#cking Grand Final eh.”
The gargantuan prop took a few deep breaths to calm himself.
McAndrews – “Oh.” That explained the neck brace.
His world tumbled in. He couldn’t speak, which was most unlike him. He wanted to vomit.
Matui – “You’re f#cking lucky you started fitting on the ground bro, a number of the lads wanted to beat you and when you get out of hospital I’m sure they will do just that eh.”
”Your father was too angry to get in this f#cking ambulance eh bro, so I had to do it.”
McAndrews felt like crying.
Matui (in a consoling voice) – “It’s not all bad f#cking news though Andrews. I have started a new award for the club eh bro. It’s for the player who makes the most STUPIED F#CKING PLAY of the season eh. We will call it the ‘JOHN ANDREWS IS A REAL F#CKWIT’ award.”
McAndrews – “You mean the ‘John MC Andrews is a real f#ckwit’ award?”
Matui didn’t smile.
John McAndrews – “So… who won the award this year?”
Matui didn’t smile.
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