The Story of Tom Brennan

by J. C. Burke

  'What are you talking about?'

  'You know why I got someone else to head the footy camps at St John's?' He started to crack his knuckles one by one. 'Because part of me didn't believe in that "winning is everything" mentality. Part of me knew there was more than that.'

  'Dad, what are you going on about?'

  'I'm not sure,' he said. 'I'm not sure of anything anymore.' His body leant against the railing then turned to me. 'No, there is one thing I'm sure of. You were lucky.' He nodded to himself. 'Not only has God given you a gift, and that I mean sincerely. You also had Dan. Now, he was good, but he was never going to be as good as you, and I think deep down he knew that. Did you? Did you realise how much better you were? How much more natural ability you have?'

  The old man was freaking me out. AlI I could do was shake my head.

  'But you had someone who wanted to teach you, who wanted to kick a ball around with you all day, every day. Every waking moment, you boys worked on your skills. Kicking, passing. There were nights your mother and I had to drag you to the dinner table. Then in summer you'd be straight back out again. An instinct developed between you two. You knew where he'd be and he'd know your next move. Brothers.'

  Dad's eyes were starting to glaze, but I knew he wasn't going to stop until he'd said every last word.

  'And then when you had the fortune to play together at St John's, it was like – music. But it was like that because of all the time that went before. That's why you're lucky, son. For what it's worth now, your brother gave you a fair go.' He looked at me, and all the pain and disappointment he'd endured sat deep in the lines on his face. 'I know it hurts, Tom.' Gently he touched my shoulder. 'But we can't undo what's done. Bennie's is giving you a chance and, as pathetic as it may seem to you, it's still a chance.' Again I heard his swallow, loud and dry. 'No one's above anyone, surely you know that by now.'

  'Dad.' That's the only sound I could make. 'Dad.'

  'Take it, Tommy,' he sighed. 'Do everything you can to make the most of it. It's not like you not to try. I know every one of them could learn from you. They deserve a fair go, like you did.' Slowly he nodded and said, 'Here's a challenge. Show me how good you really are. 'Cause I know you're better than this.'

  Well, if that speech didn't make me feel like the scum of the earth, I don't know what would.

  I'd learnt the old man was spare with his pearls, and more than that he was fair. He'd always taken a gamble on me, telling me things even if he thought they'd get my nose out of joint. With Daniel he didn't, because the backfire was always monumental. So I accepted his challenge and turned it up. Besides, what else was I going to do with myself? I couldn't stare at the try-line thinking of Chrissy Tulake for the rest of the season.

  Every session I trained hard, like I was back at St John's. I managed to teach the boys a few things: slide defence was one of them, and they got it too. The arvo activities weren't so bad once you got into them. I pissed myself senseless when we tipped, or rather rolled, Wiseman out of his canoe.

  I'd meant it when I said the Bennie's fellas were okay. They were top blokes. They knew how to have a laugh and not take things too seriously. I guess when it came to footy I just wasn't used to that attitude. Winning had been everything at St John's, but now I was confused, 'cause I think Dad was trying to tell me that wasn't enough.

  I lay awake on the top bunk, his words turning over and over in my head. Some words stayed longer than others, and some refused to budge at all.

  FIFTEEN

  At the end of camp the boys filed back onto the bus, still put out over the fact that the nursing students were away on hospital rotation. Brad Wiseman was convinced Harvey had arranged it that way. We all got our money back and Miles Harrigan retained stud status without having to prove himself.

  'I can't believe no one put a buck on me,' Wiseman must've said fifty times a day. Rory and I'd pat him on the back and say, 'Next year, mate. Next year.'

  Dad and I waved them off as Soupe chucked a farewell browneye from the back window. That was it, footy camp over for another year.

  'Let's go,' Dad said. 'I told your mother we'd try and be there by dinnertime.'

  The next morning I saw Daniel. The old girl thought it'd be nice if I saw him on my own. At the Crisis Centre that was possible, even though I was still a minor.

  One guard led the oldies off to the left for their appointment with Daniel's social worker, while another had me follow him through further security points to where Daniel was waiting for me.

  I got a shock. He looked awful. His head was shaved, and for the first time he looked like a prisoner – like all the others. He was so thin his green tracky looked five sizes too big, and he was slumped in the chair, his head hanging down. But when he saw me coming he sat straight, his eyes lighting up, and he smiled.

  'Hey, Tommy.' He squeezed my hand tight.

  'How're you going?' God, those first few minutes were difficult.

  'I'm okay,' Daniel nodded. 'Wasn't for a while, but I'm getting there.'

  'Good. Good to hear.'

  'So how was it?'

  'How was . . .?'

  'Footy camp, mate,' Daniel laughed. 'You forgotten already?'

  'Wasn't bad.'

  'They still the worst footballers around?'

  'They're okay,' I shrugged. 'Just different.'

  'Different how?'

  Since Dad's rave I'd been giving it all a fair bit of thought, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on it.

  'You know, Dan, they really enjoy playing. It's not just about winning.'

  'Can't see the point,' Daniel frowned. 'I mean, it's all about winning. Isn't it?'

  'Dunno.'

  Daniel shook his head. 'What's up with their coach?'

  'Harvey's a solid bloke,' I told him. 'He knows they're not the best team in the world, but I think he makes them feel like they are.' I couldn't believe what I was saying, yet it made sense. 'Harvey's, like, it's about being part of a union, where what you do affects others. He kept going on about it being a life skill, not just a sport thing.'

  'Hah!' Daniel scoffed. 'What did the guys think about that load of crap?'

  But I was beginning to think it wasn't a load of crap. Something was dawning on me. Something I thought I'd never feel.

  'St John's was all about winning, wasn't it? Retaining the Wattle Shield. That's all we were hungry for.'

  'What's wrong with that?' Daniel replied.

  'I'm not sure,' I said. 'That pressure was always there. Not from the old man, I think we did it to ourselves. It was like it was the only thing that mattered to us and the Billi. Maybe that took something away from it.' I shrugged. 'Just a thought.'

  'Geeze, mate,' he said. 'Sounds like you've been having a bit too many of them.'

  'The best thing about playing in the firsts at St John's was playing with you, Dan.' As I said it I realised that towards the end it had become the worst thing too – trying to carry him as his game slipped and he stopped caring about us, the Brennan brothers. 'I guess it's just different now.'

  'It's all different,' Daniel sighed, ''cause I fucked up.'

  'It's not . . .'

  'No, I did.' Daniel's voice was firm. 'I did, Tom, and that's what I'm trying to get a handle on.' He nodded his head a few times. 'But I'm going to get there. I got Jerry, my mentor, and Mrs Kumar, the social worker. She's been really good. Top lady. She's been good to Mum too. And then there's Theo. I got to keep it together for him. He's been flipping out, bad.'

  'Yeah?'

  'And all you lot,' he kept talking. 'You, you've stuck around. I don't know why, but you have.'

  'We're family, mate.'

  'That's the hardest bit. All the people I've hurt.' A tear slid down the side of his face. Quickly he wiped it away. 'Fin.' His Adam's apple bulged just like Dad's. 'Fin's the hardest, though, mate. It was the thought of his birthday at the rehab centre that sent me off. I just couldn't get this picture out of my head, Fin in a wheelchair. Remember, Tommy, I h
aven't seen him since . . .'

  We squeezed hands. I smiled even though I felt my heart cracking.

  'Brendan told me Aunty Kath's thinking of visiting.'

  'Yeah?'

  'I don't think she will,' Daniel said. 'Can hardly blame her.'

  'She's pretty busy with Fin.'

  'I'll see her one day, and I'll see Fin too.'

  I tried to smile but it didn't come out right.

  'I'm going to get there, Tommy,' Daniel whispered. 'I'm going to get there, I promise. I'm going to walk out of here one day, and I'll make it up to you all, I swear.'

  'Yeah, mate. Yeah.'

  We wouldn't be back at Coghill till late. Already the winter sun was starting to sink on us.

  'I hate driving in this light,' Dad said.

  'Why don't we stop at the next servo and have an early tea?' suggested Mum.

  So we did, and when we got back to the car Mum opened the back door and said, 'Keep me company, Tom?'

  'What? In the back?'

  'Yeah.' She smiled holding her hand out to me. 'Please?'

  'Don't mind me,' Dad grumbled. 'I'm used to being chauffeur.'

  'Joe,' Mum laughed. 'Don't get the sour grapes on me.'

  I got in the back and she wrapped her arm around me.

  'That's better,' she whispered, running her nose across my hair, breathing me in like she used to. I put my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes.

  'I'm sorry, Tommy.' The warmth of her breath brushed my ear. She smelt like Mum. 'I'm trying, I really am. I promise it'll get better.' She wrapped her fingers around mine and squeezed my hand. 'We're going to get through this. All of us.'

  Curled up against her, the hum of the motor rocking us gently, I fell into a sweet sleep.

  'You got any plans these Christmas holidays?' Brendan said as we were running.

  'Are you serious?' I puffed. 'I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow, let alone in six months.'

  'Want to go away?'

  'What? With you?'

  'Yeah. What's wrong with that?'

  'Sorry. Didn't mean it like that.'

  'Well, do you?'

  'Like, where are you talking?'

  'Nepal.'

  'Nepal?'

  'Yeah, Nepal.'

  'Where exactly is it again?'

  'Above India, Einstein.'

  'Yeah. Well, I knew it was somewhere around there.'

  'I thought we could climb to the Mount Everest base camp.'

  'What! What's wrong with a week at the Gold Coast?'

  'I'm serious.' Brendan stopped. 'Look, we're here.'

  We'd reached the top of the ascent. I'd made it up without even realising.

  Brendan cheered. 'You did it without a whinge. You must be ready.'

  'You sneaky bastard,' I panted. 'You kept me talking so I didn't know how far we'd gone.'

  He slapped me on the back. 'And you talked all the way up too.'

  I slapped him back. 'I'm turning into you.'

  We started running down, not talking, just the sound of our feet pounding the ground and our breath short and sharp.

  'I'm serious about Nepal,' Brendan said.

  'You mean this Christmas?'

  'This Christmas, Tom.'

  'So we wouldn't be here for Christmas Day.'

  'Nope.'

  'And you and me?'

  'You and me and Mount Everest.'

  'Gee.'

  'Give it some thought.'

  'I don't have any dough. I gave up my job at Kentucky after . . .'

  'We can work that out,' he said. 'You do a bit of work for me in the sheds, I'll give you a loan.'

  'Interest free?'

  'Yes, you little dickhead.'

  Back at the house Gran was frying up bacon and sausages. She seemed to be on some kind of feeding mission, which suited me. She'd finally mastered brekkie. It was the other meals that still made me nervous.

  'Two eggs, Tom?'

  'Thanks, Gran.' I gave her a peck on the cheek.

  'You stink, Thomas.' She screwed up her face but I could see a smile. 'Go have a shower. Chop, chop.'

  Kylie was staring in the bathroom mirror.

  'You finished, Kyles?'

  'I hate my hair.'

  'What?'

  'I hate my hair.'

  'Just leave it alone,' I said to her through the mirror. 'Stop putting all that crap in it.'

  'But I need the crap or it won't go right.'

  'Why don't you tie it back like you used to?' I told her. 'That looked okay.'

  'That was then,' she groaned. 'I'm not that person anymore.'

  'Well, can you think about it in your own room? I want to get in the shower.'

  She closed the door. I peeled off my sweaty t-shirt, getting a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I'm not one of those show ponies who love a good stare, but today I noticed my arms weren't looking bad. I gave my muscles a flex and there was a bicep sticking up on its own. I felt it. Not bad.

  Daniel had built-up arms but he worked on them. Before school, when we'd brush our teeth, he'd shove me out of the way so he could watch his muscles bulge as his arm scrubbed frantically up and down his gums.

  'Look at those pistons, Tommy,' he'd say. 'Go on, have a feel.'

  It was okay when I was ten, but after a while I'd have to tell him to piss off. 'I don't want to feel your muscles, you faggot.'

  He must've hated looking at his arms now – long, thin and wasted.

  I was looking forward to the lunchtime grudge match against St Xavier's, Bennie's brother school, the other big Catholic school in Coghill. Like Bennie's, they'd combined with a local Catholic girls' school.

  The boys had been talking about the game for a few days. The last two years they'd lost. Now they were deter-mined to make up for it. We had a few moves planned, and I knew they were looking to me to help them out.

  After our warm-up, the Xavier boys started to arrive. As they loaded off their bus, another bus arrived, chockers with Xavier girls. They were like a bloody cheer squad, all wearing the footy jersey over their skirts, some in beanies and scarves too.

  'Check 'em out.' Dirty Wiseman, always looking. 'There's hundreds of them.'

  A big girl, squeezed into her jersey, came down the steps of the bus.

  'Look at that!' He whistled. 'Do you reckon I'm propping against her?'

  'It'll be the closest you ever get to a chick,' Jimmy laughed.

  'We should've told our girls to come down too,' Rory whinged.

  'Like who?'

  Twenty minutes of tapping boots, doing up headgear, getting the psych-up talk and yelling the war cry, and we jogged out of the change room to find a human tunnel lined with Bennie's boys and girls, chanting and slapping us on the back. 'Bennie's! Bennie's! Bennie's!'

  The cheering was almost louder than the Wattle Shield Grand Final. For the first time at Bennie's, I had butterflies. I was pumped, and more than that, I cared.

  'Let's do it, boys!' Tonelli called.

  From the kick-off we were on fire. The forwards took it to them and the backs were 'on song'. The first half was almost perfect, 10–0. The boys were rapt. 'Stay focused,' I barked. 'It's not over yet. Remember the last ten minutes. We've got to hold it together when we feel buggered.'

  'Ellas!' I yelled to the backs. This was the move I'd showed the boys towards the end of camp after I'd pulled my finger out. They loved it too.

  'Keep it up, boys,' Wiseman roared from the scrum.

  I picked up the ball and darted down the blind side, throwing a cut-out pass to Tonelli, who found our full-back hitting the line with pace. Marcus loomed up beside him. With a clear run to the try-line he caught a perfectly timed pass, leaving the Xavier cover defence in his wake, and bang, under the posts. Marcus threw me the ball to convert.

  'Mate,' I said. 'You make my job easy.'

  He grinned.

  We won 22–5.

  Every Bennie's kid there was stamping their feet and yelling the war cry. 'Bennie's, Bennie's, w
e are the red machine.' They were so loud we could hardly hear ourselves on the field, laughing and shouting.

  Then something happened that'd never happened to me before: Wiseman and Tonelli lifted me up on their shoulders. And the crowd went psycho!

  As we walked back to the bus I could still feel myself grinning.

  'God, I wish I'd been there,' Chrissy said, that beautiful mouth of hers smiling at me.

  I was exhausted, but there was no way I was going to miss out on dinner at the club. The fellas didn't know what I did every Tuesday night. I couldn't trust them. If they knew Chrissy was there, they'd turn up like sick puppies that you didn't have the heart to get rid of.

  'Choir rehearsals on top of extra lunchtime classes,' Chrissy moaned. 'I can't wait till the finals are over.'

  'You still thinking of nursing?' Brendan asked.

  'Yeah, I am.' She smiled. 'I'm going to apply to the nursing college at Barton Uni.'

  No! I wanted to yell. Anywhere but there. I didn't want her becoming a footy camp statistic.

  'That's where Tom had his footy camp,' Brendan nudged me. 'See you survived it, mate.'

  I glared at him. I didn't want Chrissy knowing what I'd said about it being too late for a Bennie's footy camp. She'd think I was up myself. Besides, I didn't think that anymore.

  'So you're going to do nursing?' I returned to the safer topic.

  'I think so,' she nodded. 'What are you going to do?'

  'Not sure,' I answered. 'I've thought about sports science, something like that. But I don't think I'd get the marks.'

  'I'll tell you what he's doing first,' Brendan butted in. 'He's going to climb to the Mount Everest base camp with me.'

  'So you're going to Nepal?' Jonny asked as he tucked into the biggest T-bone I'd ever seen.

  'Wow!' Chrissy licked her fingers. 'When?'

  'December,' Brendan said. 'If I can convince him.'

  'You have to go, Tom. It'll be fantastic,' Chrissy grinned. 'Jonny, when are you going to get over your flying phobia? You can't go anywhere interesting unless you go by plane.' Now her perfect mouth was sucking up long strands of spaghetti. 'Brendan has been dying to do that trip for years, Tom, but he can't get Jonny interested in anywhere unless you can get there by train. Which counts out pretty much the whole world.' I watched her lips curl around the fork. 'I mean, they can't sit around Coghill for the rest of their lives like an old married couple. Can they, Tom?' Her tongue licked some sauce off her top lip. I felt giddy. 'Can they?'