Specky Magee and the Battle of the Young Guns

by Felice Arena

  ‘Well, I’m telling you, Speck – he better have a good reason for us not training or I’m done.’ Sols was still angry, but to Specky’s relief he was starting to cool down.

  ‘Okay, mate, let’s grab those bottles. The boys are having a break and we better fill them before our new coach goes off his head again.’

  Specky and Sols jogged over to the group. Everyone was stunned as Specky passed out the drinks. Here was their best player, who was starring for Victoria and about to play on the MCG, reduced to the role of water boy.

  ‘What’s the go, mate?’ asked Robbo, as Danny, Gobba and the Bombay Bullet gathered around him.

  ‘Dunno,’ replied Specky, doing his best to keep his own temper in check. ‘He just said he would speak to us after you guys finished.’

  Specky’s team-mates all seemed embarrassed as Specky and Sols handed out the drinks. All except the new boy, Kyle. And as his dad wandered off to set out some cones for the next drill, Kyle called out to Sols.

  ‘Hey, you, bring us another drink, will ya? I haven’t got all day! The water boys were much quicker at my old school.’

  Sols looked ready to kill him.

  ‘I’ve got it, Sols,’ said Specky quickly. The last thing he wanted was more trouble. He handed Kyle a bottle of water.

  Kyle shot a dirty look at Specky as he took the water in silence. Specky got the feeling that his comment at the gym the other day had made him a real enemy. And Kyle didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would forgive and forget.

  When training ended, Specky and his team assembled in the change rooms. Mr Rutherford stood at the front of the group.

  ‘Now, I’m not stupid, and I know that all of you are wondering why Simon and Paul didn’t train with the rest of the group today,’ he said. ‘The simple reason is that while I love football as much as the rest of you, I place a higher importance on school work. With that in mind, two of you failed the Maths test I set you earlier today. There are no prizes for guessing who those two were.’

  Everyone whipped their heads around to look at Specky and Sols. Specky couldn’t believe it. He looked over at Sols, whose face was bright red. This was so humiliating.

  ‘That’s right,’ added Mr Rutherford. ‘Mr Magee and Mr Solomon. Now, I know you might think that this is harsh, and Simon and Paul probably feel embarrassed at the moment, but I’m doing this to make a point and to set the ground rules straightaway. If your school work is not up to scratch, you don’t play football. It’s as simple as that.’

  There was uproar in the change rooms and the voices echoed loudly in the tiled room. Mr Rutherford allowed the boys to talk for a minute, and then called for silence.

  Specky thought his whole world was caving in on him.

  ‘So they’re not playing next week?’ said Robbo. ‘We’re stuffed without them. This is the finals. We need the best side! We need Specky and Sols!’

  ‘Now just relax,’ Mr Rutherford said, raising his voice. ‘We all want Simon and Paul to play in our next big game. So I’m going to let them play this time because today’s test was unexpected. But make no mistake,’ Mr Rutherford added. ‘I am deadly serious about this. Both boys will be required to sit the exam again next week, and should they be unsuccessful then that will be it as far as football goes for this season. You attend this school to acquire an education, first and foremost, not to enhance your football careers, regardless of how talented you may be. One day, you’ll realise that I’m right about this and you may even thank me.’

  Everyone began to file out of the change rooms, with Specky shuffling dejectedly at the end of the line.

  ‘Simon,’ Mr Rutherford called. Specky stopped and turned around. ‘I know that football means the world to you, but you have to find a balance between sport and your school work.’

  Specky just stood there, not trusting himself to speak. He felt like a total loser.

  But Mr Rutherford had one final thing to say. ‘Okay, I know that you’re feeling angry at the moment,’ he said. ‘If you study hard for this exam, there shouldn’t be a problem, but I understand it’s not easy, so I suggest you get some help. There was one student in your class who scored one hundred percent in today’s test. It was Samantha Shepherd – I think you call her TG? If you’re friends, perhaps you could set up a study time with her. I know you can do this, Simon. And I certainly want you on the team.’

  9. full-on tension

  ‘And here comes Jack Magee, the little brother of AFL legend Specky Magee. Look at him fly! And he marks it on the final siren! The crowd goes berserk!’

  Specky’s baby brother, Jack, gurgled and giggled as Specky waved a soft toy football in front of him on the lounge-room floor. After what had been one of the most humiliating days of his life, Specky didn’t feel like doing much else after training. Mr Rutherford had shot him down and he was doing everything possible to get his spirits back up. Playing with his baby brother, he thought, was a good start.

  ‘And Jack Magee thumps the footy through the big sticks and it shoots over Grandpa Ken …’

  Specky looked up to see that Grandpa Ken had dozed off on the couch. He had been watching a lame game show on the TV. As Specky grabbed the remote and turned down the volume, he noticed that the house was unusually quiet. Alice was supposedly studying at the Great McCarthy’s place, and their dad wasn’t back from work yet. His mum was having a nap, since Specky was giving her a break from Jack. Having a one-month-old baby in the house meant that none of the Magees were getting enough sleep these days.

  ‘So, did he win the car?’ mumbled Grandpa Ken, coughing as he woke up.

  ‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Specky. ‘I haven’t been watching.’

  ‘Well, it’s a ridiculous show anyway,’ added Grandpa Ken, sitting upright. ‘Can’t believe I conked out like that.’

  Specky turned back to Jack. He sensed his grandpa was watching him. There was an awkward silence. Specky wasn’t really in the mood for talking. And there was no way he was going to mention that he had failed his Maths test and had a nightmare of a training session. He hoped his grandpa would doze off again.

  ‘So, how was your day today, boy?’ asked Grandpa Ken.

  Specky sighed. So much for hoping.

  ‘Yeah, good,’ he fibbed.

  ‘Yeah, good?’ said Grandpa Ken. ‘What sort of answer is that? How was training this afternoon? Big State champion like you – bet your school team-mates are over the moon to have you in their side.’

  ‘Nah, it doesn’t work like that – it’s the team that counts.’

  ‘Come on, don’t be modest. I bet they love it. So, anything exciting happen today? Come on, tell your old grandpa.’

  It was weird for Specky to hear that. After all those years of just getting cards at Christmas, having a grandfather in his life would take some getting used to.

  ‘Come on! Talk to me! You moped in here like you’d just won the wooden spoon.’

  Specky shrugged, but he liked that his grandpa seemed genuinely interested in his day and that he dropped footy references every chance he got.

  ‘Something good must have happened today,’ he pressed. ‘Gee whiz, I think it’s a good day when I pee and don’t miss the toilet bowl.’

  Specky snorted. It was an image he didn’t want to think about for too long, but it made him grin. It was the first time he had smiled all afternoon.

  ‘Um, well, there was one good thing,’ Specky said, as he gently tickled Jack’s tummy.

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘I was approached by a sports management company. This guy came up to me before school today and handed me his card.’ Specky reached into his pocket and handed over the business card.

  ‘This is fantastic, kid!’ bellowed Grandpa Ken suddenly, startling baby Jack, who started to cry loudly. ‘Well, you don’t just let an opportunity like this pass you by. Let’s call him now.’

  ‘What?’ Specky gulped. ‘Now?’ It was all happening so fast. He picked up Jack, and tried t
o calm him down.

  ‘No time like the present! Seize the day … carpe diem and all that! Where’s the phone?’ Grandpa Ken got up off the couch, waving the card at Specky.

  ‘Um, I think I should wait till my dad gets back,’ said Specky. ‘And I’m not sure I need a manager.’

  ‘Course you do! And what would your dad know anyway? He’ll probably over-think it, as he does everything, and before you know it, you’ve missed the boat.’

  Specky felt uneasy about his grandpa’s last comment. There was some truth to what he said – his dad did like to think things through before he did them – but he didn’t like Grandpa Ken putting him down like that.

  ‘Is everything okay, Simon?’ Mrs Magee shuffled into the room, still half-asleep with pillow creases across one side of her face. She took Jack from Specky, and he immediately stopped crying.

  ‘Sorry, Mum,’ said Specky.

  ‘It’s fine. I needed to get up anyway and start dinner,’ she said, checking Jack’s nappy.

  ‘I can make dinner,’ Specky offered. ‘I can make rogan josh, if you like.’ Specky prided himself on being able to make a mean curry.

  ‘Nah, let your mother get on with it,’ interjected Grandpa Ken. ‘We’ve got things to do.’

  ‘What things?’ asked Mrs Magee, looking a bit annoyed.

  Grandpa Ken didn’t seem to notice. ‘More getting-to-know-each-other stuff,’ he exclaimed. ‘We’ve got men’s business to talk about.’

  Mrs Magee shot Specky a curious look before leaving the room.

  ‘So, where’s that phone?’

  Specky’s heart was racing as his grandpa dialled the number.

  ‘Hello, Mr Dobson. I’m Simon Magee’s grandfather, Ken Magee … Well, that’s why I’m calling you. We’d be very interested to hear what you have to say … Yep, yep, okay … And who do you currently represent? Not just AFL players … really?’

  Grandpa Ken turned and winked at Specky. Specky smiled. He still wasn’t 100% sure about all this, but Grandpa Ken was pretty cool. He was starting to feel excited about the idea of having a manager.

  ‘Well, very good. You’d be more than welcome to come tonight after dinner.’

  Specky’s face dropped. Did he say tonight? But what would his parents think? Before Specky could get his grandpa’s attention to reconsider talking to his dad first, Grandpa Ken had hung up the phone. The meeting was on.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Grandpa Ken said. ‘When he gets here, you leave it to me.’

  There wasn’t a lot of conversation at the dinner table. Specky wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day. His dad had come home in a grumpy mood because his art gallery had lost the rights to exhibit a very successful artist, and Alice had had a fight with the Great McCarthy, something about priorities and not spending enough time with each other.

  Specky’s mum soon moved to the lounge room with baby Jack, leaving Specky, his dad, Alice, and Grandpa Ken at the kitchen table.

  The sound of forks scraping against plates filled the dining room. There was a lot of tension in the air. At one stage, Specky glanced up from his meal and caught Grandpa Ken staring at his dad. He wondered what he was thinking. Why don’t they get along? he wondered.

  ‘So, Dad, I’m sorry about you losing that artist contract,’ said Specky, trying to start some kind of conversation on a safe topic.

  ‘Thanks, Si, but that’s the way things go sometimes.’

  ‘What sort of artist was he?’ asked Grandpa Ken. ‘A bull-dust artist?’ He laughed at his own joke.

  But Specky’s dad wasn’t impressed. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t swear in front of my kids,’ he said coldly.

  ‘Kids! Come on. They’re almost adults. And it was hardly swearing!’

  ‘Well, swearing or not, kids or adults, don’t use that language in this household.’

  ‘Just trying to lighten things up,’ Grandpa Ken said under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘You never did have much of a sense of humour.’

  Specky saw his father was barely holding himself back from snapping at Grandpa Ken.

  ‘I’m SO outta here,’ said Alice, getting up out of her chair. ‘As if I need more stress and tension in my life.’

  ‘Oh yeah, Alice, I totally forgot that everything was about you,’ Specky said sarcastically.

  ‘Whatever, dweeb!’

  Alice stormed off, leaving Specky sitting in awkward silence with his father and grandpa.

  DING! DONG!

  Phew! Saved by the doorbell, thought Specky. But then he remembered who it was and started to panic. This was going to be bad – really bad. He heard his mum open the front door and then her voice calling for them.

  Standing in the hallway was Brad Dobson.

  Grandpa Ken barged past Specky’s dad and welcomed the talent manager with a strong handshake. Mr and Mrs Magee just stood there looking confused.

  Stepping inside, Brad caught sight of Specky. ‘Good to see you again, champion,’ he said. ‘Let me know what you think of the boots and I’ll grab you another couple of pairs.’ Then he turned and smiled at Specky’s parents. ‘And you must be Mr and Mrs Magee. We love your son. We can do great things for him.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ stammered Specky’s dad. He looked confused at the unexpected intrusion. ‘What do you mean “great things”? I have no idea who you are, and how you know our son. I do know, however, that now is not a good time to find out the answers to those questions.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Grandpa Ken snapped. ‘This involves your son’s future. That’s why I called Mr Dobson here tonight. He works for one of the biggest sports management firms in the country and he’s been good enough to give up his time because he wants what’s best for young Simon here. Even if you disagree with me, it won’t hurt to hear Mr Dobson out, since he’s already here.’

  Specky’s dad looked like he might lose his temper, to Specky’s relief, his mum stepped in and convinced his dad to hear Brad Dobson out. But they insisted that Grandpa Ken had to leave the room. This infuriated Grandpa Ken, but Specky could see that he wasn’t half as angry as his dad was.

  ‘Right, we’re doing this only because my father invited you here and it would be rude to turn you away just because he has over-stepped the mark,’ said Mr Magee, matter-of-factly.

  ‘You weren’t to know that,’ said Specky’s mum. ‘But I’ll be up-front and say that we don’t believe for a minute that Simon needs representation.’

  Without missing a beat, Brad Dobson launched into his company spiel.

  ‘Our company represents some of the best athletes in this country. Over ninety percent of AFL players have representation. AFL is a business. And young guns like Simon here need guidance. What I saw at the final was a superstar in the making – the way he moves, his skill level, the cool head on his shoulders. We think he’s going to be the hottest football prospect to emerge on the scene since Chris Judd and Nick Riewoldt. And even if you don’t believe he needs it now, when the time comes for Simon to be drafted, I’d like to think you’d come to me first for representation …’

  ‘Um, you can stop right there, Mr Dobson.’ Specky’s father had heard enough. ‘Simon, if you wouldn’t mind going to your room while I see Mr Dobson out.’

  Specky stood, and awkwardly shook hands with the manager. He left the lounge room, but he stopped just outside the door. It was amazing to hear someone talking as if he was definitely going to play in the AFL one day. Even though he wasn’t sure he liked the look of Brad Dobson, it was hard not to be flattered into believing everything he said. Specky knew it wasn’t right to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself – this was his future they were talking about.

  ‘Mr Dobson, let me get one thing very clear here,’ Specky heard his father say. ‘You will not approach my son again, ever, without first contacting his mother or me, and you are not to meet with him without both of us present. Okay?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m hearing you, Dave. You
don’t mind if I call you Dave, do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Okay, sure. But let me give you a few days to think things over and I’ll be back in touch for your answer. I’ll get working on the paperwork, just in case, shall I?’

  ‘We’ll ring you, if we ever feel Simon needs your assistance,’ replied Mrs Magee.

  ‘We want to start moving on a plan for Simon,’ Mr Dobson pressed. ‘Got some big sponsorships all ready to go. A couple of the big teen-sports clothing companies and a major shoe brand are beating our door down wanting to throw stuff at him. I’m telling you, Dave, we’ll make him a fortune.’

  Specky sprinted upstairs as he heard his father and Brad Dobson make their way into the hallway.

  ‘We’re not giving up on your son, Dave. We’re here for him.’

  Specky peeked from behind his bedroom door and watched his father show the manager to the front door.

  ‘Mr Dobson, I’m not completely familiar with the role of a sports manager, but if there ever comes a time where Simon does require one, you can be assured that providing him with a free pair of football boots will be very low on the qualities that we will be seeking. Goodbye, Mr Dobson.’

  ‘What? Were they the wrong size?’ echoed the sports manager’s voice from the other side of the door.

  ‘Well, what did he say? Are you going to sign with him?’ asked Grandpa Ken, hurriedly limping down the stairs.

  ‘This has nothing to do with you,’ said Mr Magee. ‘And I don’t appreciate you inviting strangers into my home. That man should never have approached Simon directly – it’s totally unprofessional.’

  Specky ventured out of his room only to find himself once again smack in the middle of his father and grandfather eyeing each other off. It was definitely no fun being caught between these two.

  ‘Fair call,’ said Grandpa Ken, turning to look at Specky. ‘But can you blame me for taking it seriously? That boy is a superstar and it looks to me like you’re getting in the way of him fulfilling his dream.’

  ‘What? How dare you!’ Mr Magee seemed calm, but Specky knew that tone in his dad’s voice – it meant that he was so furious he was trying not to shout. He was very glad he wasn’t the one in trouble, but he was worried. What if his dad kicked Grandpa Ken out of the house? Specky felt like he’d only just got to know him. If he left now, he might not see his grandpa for another ten years.