by Felice Arena
Me again: Mum and Dad said they’ll call you tonight. Cya! Alice
Specky paused before replying. He thought about his mum’s offer and wondered who he’d invite home during the holidays.
Despite Alice’s lame joke, Specky felt he had made a couple of good friends since arriving at Gosmore. One of them was a boy called Alistair Singleton. Specky glanced over to the far end of the library and saw Alistair lounging in one of the large leather armchairs. He was deep into a book that was as thick as two bricks stuck together. Everyone called Alistair ‘Worm’, because he was a total bookworm. Most of the boys in Year 9 thought Worm was kind of a geek. But that didn’t worry Specky.
Worm had been the first person to make him feel welcome, and had generously helped Specky find his way around the large campus. He had told Specky about all the ins and outs of life at Gosmore. And Worm was a die-hard lover of Aussie Rules, even though he admitted he wasn’t much of a player, so they had lots to talk about. Worm took great pride in being the school teams’ official statistician and part-time umpire for the junior sides.
Yeah, maybe I’ll invite Worm, Specky thought. And Tim, too. His other good mate was Timothy Barton, who was also a new student and, like Specky, had won a sporting scholarship to Gosmore. In fact, Tim and Specky were the only two scholarship winners to the prestigious college that year.
Specky looked back at the screen and began typing to Christina. He told her all about Worm and Tim. But a few moments later he was distracted by two boys kicking about a rolled-up paper ball. One of them was Lachlan Prendergast, or ‘Sticks’ as he was known because he was skinny as a matchstick. The other was Craig Hart, nicknamed ‘Whispers’ because he had an incredible knack of surprising opponents on the footy field, seemingly taking possession of the ball from out of nowhere. Specky had been really impressed by how Whispers had played in last year’s Diadora Cup match. He was almost as tall as Sticks, but since Specky had seen him last he’d bulked up.
Specky looked around and realised that Mrs Leggiamo was nowhere in sight. She must have left the building, he thought, so everyone was starting to muck about a bit. He was keen to join Whispers and Sticks, but held back when he saw them being ambushed by some other boys.
Warren Grizzle, or ‘Grizza’ as everyone called him, was a tough, in-your-face character. Built like a solid brick house, he was a talented footballer, a star ruckman, who took great pleasure in rubbing people up the wrong way. He was full of himself and loved being in control. And even though he was a loyal member of the footy team, most boys kept out of his way – except for his sidekick, Damien ‘Piggie’ Pigton, who stuck close by him like a sucker-fish on a great white shark.
Specky watched as all of a sudden Whispers and Sticks’ kick-to-kick game turned into a full-on competition between them and Grizza and his mate. The library was transformed into a football field, and, before long, other boys had joined in – chasing and bumping one another to get hold of the paper ball. Specky was about to get stuck into the action – but Worm pulled him back as he passed the armchairs.
‘If Mrs Leggiamo catches these guys, then they’re all looking at a week’s suspension. And you can’t afford to do that as a scholarship winner, right?’ he exclaimed.
Specky looked at Worm blankly.
‘You can’t afford to be suspended as a scholarship winner,’ repeated Worm, noticing Specky’s confused expression. ‘Then you’ll have to be reviewed by the school board. And they could end your scholarship. So, I wouldn’t risk it, if I were you. Mrs Leggiamo will get back any second now and she’ll go right off!’
Specky considered Worm’s warning. There was no way he wanted to risk getting kicked out of this amazing school – famous for producing AFL legends. Playing for the AFL was a dream he hoped would one day become a reality for him. So Specky stopped himself jumping into the now out-of-control game, which was just as well because he could see Mrs Leggiamo’s hippie hairdo over the top of some magazine displays. She was headed their way. Suddenly, the Principal’s voice echoed through the school speakers.
‘Excuse me, teachers and students. This is Principal Stevens. Would you all please assemble in the Randall Theatre as soon as possible. Teachers, this assembly will replace the last period of the day. Can I have the Under Fifteen Australian Rules Football boys seated in the first row. Thank you.’
3. special announcement
Caught in the middle of a mini-stampede, Specky streamed into the school theatre with his fellow Gosmarians. Most of the students were already there. To Specky’s surprise, it felt more like the start of a Grand Final match than a school assembly. Everyone was stamping their feet and chanting the Gosmore song – which had the same tune as the Carlton Blues song.
We are the migh-ty Knights
We are the grand old Gosmore Knights
We’re the boys that always fight like men
We’ll be the victors at the end…
Feeling a little overwhelmed by all the unexplained excitement, Specky wasn’t sure if he should sit in the front row with his football team. He hadn’t officially been welcomed as a player to the side since coming to Gosmore six weeks before. That was supposed to happen tomorrow at the first footy training session of the year. As he tried to decide what to do, he caught Tim trying to get his attention.
‘Come on!’ he yelled, waving Specky to join him in the front row.
‘Are you sure we should be here? We haven’t been named in the side yet,’ Specky asked, quickly sitting beside Tim.
‘Yeah, I just saw Mr Farrell outside and he said we should definitely sit here.’
‘Well, he’s the coach, I s’pose,’ said Specky. ‘But this is bizarre, isn’t it? Everyone’s so hyped about this Boots of Glory match.’
Behind them the rest of the school had broken out into another chant. ‘Boots of Glory! Boots of Glory! Boots of Glory!’ they shouted.
Principal Stevens walked up onto the stage and the chanting stopped abruptly. Specky and Tim gave each other a bewildered look. They couldn’t believe that everyone had gone dead silent – as if they had been turned off by a switch. Principal Stevens approached the lectern in the middle of the stage, and in his deep voice started speaking into the microphone.
‘Boys and teachers of Gosmore,’ he began. ‘As Principal of this great college, I’m very proud to inform you that the moment has arrived. I’m here to formally announce our intention to go into battle against our fierce and respected rival, Salisbury College.’
The theatre erupted into deafening cheers and applause. Principal Stevens waited for it to die down before continuing.
‘That battle, as you well know, takes the form of a football match played every twenty-five years, a match steeped in tradition and history. Many of you would have fathers and grandfathers who played in or witnessed a Boots of Glory match.’
Specky leaned toward Tim and whispered, ‘It’s like some secret club going to war or something!’
‘Yeah, I know. It sounds pretty full-on,’ replied Tim, his eyes still fixed on Principal Stevens.
‘So, I’m happy to announce that the Boots of Glory match against Salisbury College will be played in seven weeks’ time.’
Once again the theatre burst into raucous cheers, whoops and whistles.
‘Okay, okay!’ the principal bellowed, even though he was clearly as excited as the students.
Everyone eventually settled down to hear what Mr Stevens had to say next. He turned his attention directly to the boys in the front row.
‘A few days prior to the big game, a gala dinner will be held for the Under Fifteen team and their families. The highlight of this evening will be the official presentation of the Boots of Glory guernseys to the team members by a surprise special guest; and, of course, the unveiling of the actual Boots of Glory, which we are proud to have had in the Principal’s office for the last twenty-five years.’
Specky glanced down his row to catch Whispers, Sticks, Grizza and the other boys hanging on to Princ
ipal Stevens’ every word. He sensed how important this announcement was to them all, even though he couldn’t fully understand the hype surrounding it.
‘You’ll receive more details about this dinner at a later date from Coach Farrell… who I’d like to call on now to say a few words.’
Coach Farrell, a stocky athletic-looking man, stepped onto the stage and approached the lectern.
‘Thank you, Principal Stevens. This will be short: for the footy teams from the other Years, I have a reminder. Training begins for all of you over the next few days. Times and the whereabouts are posted on the gymnasium noticeboard. As for our Boots of Glory team, I was to do this tomorrow at your first training, but in light of this momentous assembly, it is only apt that on behalf of my coaching staff, Mr Reager and Mr Brennan…’
A coaching staff! Specky thought. Excellent! He knew that most AFL sides had at least three, and sometimes up to five, full-time assistant coaches who helped out the senior coach, but it blew Specky’s mind that Gosmore Grammar had two assistants that worked with Coach Farrell.
He had wondered what assistant coaches did until he had read an interview in one of his football magazines that explained that each assistant coach was in charge of a different part of the team. There could be a back-line coach, a forward-line coach and a coach that looked after the midfield.
He wondered whether Mr Reager or Mr Brennan would be the man in charge of the forward line. He got excited about the prospect of having a coach who would be dedicated to working closely with the forwards, as well as having the famous Coach Farrell overseeing the whole thing. All of this extra, specialised coaching was bound to help him improve his game.
He allowed himself a wry smile at what Robbo and Danny would have made of all this. Coach Pate’s assistants were mums and dads who were able to get to training when their work allowed it. He would never stop appreciating all the volunteers who helped junior football clubs survive and prosper around the country, but his head was spinning with the excitement of having professional assistants at his new school. He felt as though he had taken a little step on his way to fulfilling his life-long dream.
Specky’s eyes followed Coach Farrell’s outstretched arm to see Mr Reager and Mr Brennan standing in the wings. He recognised Mr Reager, a tall grey-haired man, as the talent scout who had first spotted him for the scholarship to Gosmore. As for Mr Brennan, a bearded man about forty, Specky had only met him briefly when he had first arrived: Mr Brennan, who was also the sports coordinator, had made a point of stopping Specky in the corridors to welcome him to the school.
Coach Farrell paused before going on. ‘I would like to officially welcome two new students. Both of these very talented young men are scholarship students at Gosmore, and they’ll both be a part of the Boots of Glory team. Can Simon Magee and Tim Barton please stand, and could everyone give them a huge welcome.’
As the theatre filled with applause, Specky and Tim stood and acknowledged the entire school with nervous nods.
‘Well done, boys,’ said Coach Farrell. ‘For the rest of you, try to offer our Under Fifteen boys your support and encouragement whenever you can. Remember, they represent every single one of you. They will show our opposition why we are one of the greatest football schools in the country.’
4. the first boots
After the assembly the corridors were buzzing with excitement. Students couldn’t stop talking about the Boots of Glory as they made their way back to their lockers and then home for the day – most of the Gosmore day students lived in the nearby town of Lovettville.
Specky and Tim made their way through the crowded Year 9 corridor over to Worm.
‘All right, so tell us some more about this whole battle with Salisbury,’ said Specky.
I’m going back to the dorms,’ Worm said, closing his locker. ‘I’ll show you something that will explain everything.’
The dormitory building was made up of five floors. Each floor accommodated different Years. Specky and about thirty other Year 9 boys lived on the fourth floor. The top floor was occupied by the monitors – six Year 12 students who were assigned this job for a term at a time. Some monitors were sticklers for rules and would patrol the building like prison guards; others were a little more relaxed. According to Specky’s new friends, the current group of monitors were the least strict they’d ever had.
‘Okay!’ said Worm sitting on the side of his bed, and foraging through the top drawer of his bedside table.
Worm’s bed was close to the entrance to their floor. The room resembled an army barracks with the beds arranged in three long rows. Next to each bed there was a bedside table, a bookcase, a small wardrobe and a desk. All the furniture was set up the same way: in an L-shape extending from the head of the bed.
‘Aha! Here it is!’ Worm said, smiling. He took out a large book and tossed it onto the bed. The cover read: The Grand Old History of Gosmore Grammar.
‘Mate, I know you love your reading,’ said Tim. ‘But you’ve really gotta get out a bit more.’
‘So, don’t tell me,’ guessed Specky. ‘Everything about the Boots of Glory match is in this?’
Worm nodded. ‘Well, yeah. Although not everything about it is in this edition.’ Specky could tell that Worm was excited about having the chance to share the contents of a book with his new friends. ‘It was published thirty years ago, so it doesn’t have any information about the last Boots of Glory battle – which Gosmore won! But if you’re interested, there are yearbooks in the library that –’
‘Nah, nah, it’s cool,’ interrupted Specky and Tim in unison, sensing that Worm wanted to drag them both into the library for the next hour or two.
‘Just give us the summarised version,’ said Specky, who, although eager to find out more about the Boots of Glory, was now also itching to go outside and have a kick with the other boys. By the look on Tim’s face, Specky could tell he was thinking the same thing.
‘Yeah, just tell us how it all started and why it’s such a big deal,’ he tagged on.
‘Well,’ began Worm, taking a big breath. ‘Basically, the first Principals of Gosmore and Salisbury were footy freaks. It was one hundred years ago this year that John Regent, the Principal of Gosmore, and Arthur Danforth, the Principal of Salisbury, organised the first Boots of Glory football match between the two schools. Here’s a picture of them…’
Worm picked up the book, flicked to the middle pages and showed them two black-and-white photographs of the Principals.
‘Whoa, check out the moustaches!’ snorted Tim.
‘Yeah, that one would put the Big Dipper’s to shame,’ laughed Specky.
Specky was reminded of Robert DiPierdomenico, a former Hawthorn champion who played in five Premierships with the mighty Hawks. He was now heavily involved with Auskick, which Specky and his old Booyong High team-mates had participated in during their primary-school days. He was affectionately known as ‘The Big Dipper’, and his big moustache was his trademark.
Both Principals looked very similar with their slicked-back hair and long handlebar moustaches that curled up into large circles at the ends.
‘So, why did they call it the Boots of Glory match?’ asked Specky, urging Worm to continue.
‘Well, both Principals believed that their own schools were better than the other in every way, especially when it came to footy – there was no proof of this, though, since the two schools had never competed against each other. So the rivalry and the stirring grew and grew, until finally they sat down and came up with the Boots of Glory match.’
‘But why call it Boots of Glory?’ asked Tim, impatiently.
‘Okay, okay! I’m getting to that…’ said Worm, annoyed by Tim’s interruption. ‘When it came to deciding what the teams were playing for, the Principals suggested a trophy that could be played for by generations to come. They decided the trophy should be the actual football boots of the best player on ground. Of course, they agreed that the decision would have to be made by an umpire w
ho had no connection to either college. Actually, the first umpire was a guy from Tasmania.’
‘So, who was the best player?’ asked Specky eagerly.
‘He was from Gosmore. We won the first Boots of Glory match thanks to this guy,’ said Worm, turning the page and shoving the book under Specky’s nose.
The picture on the next page showed a boy posing formally for a photograph. He was dressed in Gosmore footy gear, kneeling on one knee and holding a football under his right arm.
‘He was called Frederick Cooper, but he was known as “Freddy the Flyer” because he was famous for taking some amazing marks and he kicked a bag of goals that day,’ added Worm. ‘Check out his stats.’
Specky glanced down under Freddy’s photo and read his player fact file.
‘Hey! He was the same height as me. And look, he played my favourite position – full forward,’ said Specky, chuffed by the similarities.
‘Great,’ muttered Tim, not sounding that impressed. ‘So, why is it that it’s only the Under Fifteens that play the Boots of Glory match?’
‘Well, there was no football competition between the two schools at the time so they formed just one new team. They chose the Under Fifteens because the senior students were too busy with their studies, and a lot of kids used to leave school after Year Ten.
‘Also, the Under Fifteen side, back then, wasn’t just made up of fourteen-year-olds. Twelve and thirteen-year-olds were allowed to play in it, too. Although, by the time the second Boots of Glory game came around, twenty-five years later, a football comp had been established with different Year-level teams. But they decided that the actual Boots of Glory match would still be played only by the Under Fifteens – to keep up the tradition.’