by Tony Wilson
‘I’m sorry, Joel. We’ll miss you this week, but I have to respect your mum and dad’s decision on this one.’
‘What about the selectors?’ Joel asked, feeling his voice crack. ‘What about Wayne Baker? He’s coming up from Castlemaine to watch me.’
‘Wayne will watch you another day, Joel,’ his coach said. ‘There’s no hurry with any of this, Joel. You’re playing really great footy. Just think of it like you’ve got a strained muscle. It’s only one week.’
‘But we might lose!’ Joel said.
‘And we might not!’ Mr Gallus was laughing into the phone. ‘Losing isn’t such a bad thing, Joel. Especially for Under 10s. And it’ll be a good test for the team. They’ll have to fill your shoes, Joel Selwood.’
The week stretched on, and Joel kept waiting for Mum to change her mind. She’d be doing laundry or making school lunches and look up to find four boys staring at her like wounded puppy dogs. ‘Stop looking at me with your sad eyes,’ she said on Friday. ‘The weekend will be over soon enough. You’ll have served your week, and we can get on without the deliberate naughtiness.’
Joel and the twins went running with Dad on Saturday morning. Mum said that runs with Dad were within the terms of the grounding. The twins went to work on Dad.
‘She’s gone nuts,’ Adam said. ‘You’ve got to talk her around, Dad. She doesn’t understand how important tomorrow’s game is.’
Dad didn’t budge. ‘No, boys. This is as much my decision as Mum’s. We’re rock-solid on this. You need a week to think about pulling your socks up, and making life a little easier for Mum and me. It’s only one week.’
‘But, Daaaaaaad!’ Joel groaned. Except Joel couldn’t think of another actual argument. He’d already pleaded them all, and more.
Maybe the worst part of the punishment was that they couldn’t even attend their games. Not even as spectators. This time, ‘home and school only’ really meant home and school only.
Joel and his brothers sat miserably on the couch. Usually, on the morning of a game they’d be rushing around, cleaning boots and scrubbing mouthguards. Today they were in their normal clothes, eating dry biscuits and watching Road Runner cartoons. Beep beep! Joel wondered if he should get up and do something but he felt too flat to move. His brothers were in the same bad mood. Wile E. Coyote was such a dope.
The minutes dripped by, like wax falling off a candle.
‘Our game starts in ninety minutes,’ Adam said, still staring at the TV.
‘Ours begins in an hour,’ Joel replied.
Mum stood at the door in her tracksuit pants and sneakers. ‘I’m sorry, boys. I know this is a tough punishment. Can we get through today and then have a really good fresh start?’
Scott was the first to give Mum a hug. He wasn’t missing a footy match of his own. But he was missing going to the footy, which was his favourite time of the week. Joel and the twins walked over to Mum, too.
‘We’re sorry, Mum,’ said Troy. ‘You’re right. We’ve been pushing it. We didn’t like the Behaviour Bank thing.’
‘Yeah, sorry,’ said Joel.
Adam joined in the hug. ‘Sorry, Mum. We’ve been idiots.’
Mum wrapped them up in a big hug. ‘Boys, I’m going to have a quick walk with Loretta and Kelly now. Why don’t you have a kick on the tennis court? Do something. Dad’s picking up some things from work. Don’t sit around on the couch and mope.’
Mum headed off and the four boys had the house to themselves.
‘We’re here alone. We could ride down to the footy?’ Scott suggested.
Joel’s was the voice of reason. ‘Nah, Mum and Dad would hit the roof. They’d just extend our suspension — probably make it two weeks!’
‘Four, I reckon,’ Adam added.
They slouched off the couch and over to the kitchen table. Troy pulled out the Monopoly board. They played a half-hearted game for half an hour. Joel couldn’t believe he was sitting there, when he should have been hunting the footy for the Sharks. They were interrupted by a knock at the door.
‘Help!’ a woman’s voice was calling, even before they opened it. ‘Maree! Bryce! Is anybody there?’
Adam ran to the door and opened it. Joel and the others were right behind him. It was Judith MacVean from three doors up. She was carrying her one-year-old toddler, Jasmine. Jasmine looked like she was sleeping, but her lips were puffy and her mum looked very worried.
‘Boys, can you please call an ambulance for me?’ Judith asked. Her voice was wobbly and her eyes were red. ‘I think Jasmine’s allergic to peanut butter.’
‘She ate some?’ asked Scott.
‘I think so,’ Judith replied.
Troy sprinted to the kitchen to dial 0-0-0. ‘Ambulance!’ he said into the phone.
Adam walked Judith to the couch, so she could sit down with Jasmine. Scott wet a face washer in the bathroom, so Judith could dab Jasmine’s lips.
‘Our phone’s not working, and I don’t have a mobile phone,’ Joel heard Judith say.
Joel thought of something he could do. He sprinted out the front door and down the drive. Then he did a U-turn and fetched his bike and helmet. He didn’t have Dr O’Connor’s number, but he did know where he lived. Mum had driven him there when he needed stitches after the Scorpions game. It was just the other end of Harley Street. It was worth a shot. Just in case Dr O’Connor got to Jasmine before the ambulance.
Joel pumped his legs and urged his BMX to go faster. He fixed his eyes on the road. ‘Please be okay,’ he thought to himself. ‘Please let this little girl be okay.’ Joel flew down the Harley Street hill and then veered into Cheriton Drive. He tore up the hill, his legs screaming at the pace at which he was forcing them to ride.
Soon, he was in Dr O’Connor’s car, telling him about Jasmine and the peanut butter, speeding home. A few minutes later, he was leading their family doctor into their lounge room. The little girl was still lying in her mum’s arms. The doctor spent just seconds checking her breathing and vital signs before pulling a pen-like object out of his bag.
‘An epipen,’ he said quietly. He stuck it into Jasmine’s leg and clicked it to give a dose of something. He smiled at Judith, who was grey with worry. ‘Adrenaline,’ he said. ‘It’s good stuff. It’ll work quickly.’
An ambulance screamed into the Selwoods’ driveway, just as Jasmine’s breathing was returning to normal. Two young female paramedics sprinted up the drive. They were almost overtaken by Mum, who was running even faster.
‘Oh my God,’ she said, when she spotted Joel. ‘Are you okay? Is everybody okay!’ Her voice was quavering and her hands were shaking.
Joel ran forward and gave her a hug. ‘We’re okay,’ he said. ‘The ambulance is for baby Jasmine. She had an allergic reaction.’
Joel came back into the lounge room with his mum. Judith was cradling her daughter, but she was smiling now. The tears Judith was crying were tears of happiness. ‘Thank God,’ she said, crossing herself and glancing at the heavens. ‘Thank God for this doctor, and thank God for your boys,’ she said. She leaned into Mum and sobbed on her shoulder.
Troy handed Judith and Dr O’Connor a glass of cold water each. Scott was returning from the bathroom where he’d wet the face washer once again. The paramedics checked the baby’s vital signs again and talked with Dr O’Connor.
‘She’s stable and breathing normally again,’ one of the paramedics said. ‘We’ll take her to hospital to keep an eye on her, but the adrenaline seems to have worked.’
Judith kissed all the boys on her way to the ambulance — one by one. ‘God bless you,’ she said, over and over. ‘Thank goodness you were home.’
Joel thought the house was strangely quiet after the ambulance left. They didn’t feel like returning to their game of Monopoly.
‘Want to play footy on the tennis court?’ Adam asked.
Joel and Troy shook their heads. Joel felt quite exhausted. Maybe it was the speed of the ride to Dr O’Connor’s house that had taken it o
ut of him. Maybe his body had been flooded with its own adrenaline, and now he was feeling flat?
After her initial gush, Mum had barely said a word as she made them sandwiches in the kitchen. Joel saw her touch her fingers to her eyes. Her back was shaking. There were tears on her face! Mum was crying.
‘She’s going to be okay,’ Joel said, walking into the kitchen to give Mum a hug. ‘The doctor says he got here in time. You don’t have to be sad.’
‘Thanks, Joel — that was just very emotional for me. It all came flooding back.’
‘What did?’ Scott asked.
‘When it happened to me,’ Mum said. ‘When I was the frantic mother like Judith was today. When I needed help with a sick baby in my arms.’
‘Was that with Adam?’ Troy asked.
Mum nodded as she picked up her cup of tea. ‘Yes, it was Adam. You were eighteen months old. You both normally woke up in time to watch Play School, but on this day Adam didn’t wake up with you, Troy. So I left him asleep — and he slept and he slept. I eventually decided to go and wake him, except …’
Mum was really teary now.
‘Except … Adam didn’t wake properly. He just half-opened his eyes and I knew something was very wrong. He was pale and boiling hot.’
Joel knew Adam had gone to hospital when he was little, but hadn’t heard the full story.
‘Was he dead?’ Scott asked fearfully.
‘What do you reckon, smarty-pants?’ Adam said, tapping the side of his head. ‘I’m here in front of you, aren’t I?’
‘You might have been saved,’ Scott said defensively.
‘He was saved,’ Mum continued. ‘We were so lucky. That day a lovely neighbour called Kerry Byrne helped me. I screamed out over the fence and she minded Troy while I packed the car for the hospital. Kerry phoned Dr O’Connor for me.’
‘Dr O’Connor?’ Adam asked. ‘The same doctor? He saved me, too?’
‘Absolutely he did. He was a young doctor then. He’d just finished university. He’d studied childhood illnesses in his final year, and he knew it was meningitis. The hospital didn’t believe him when he called ahead, because meningitis is so rare. But he was right, and he made the hospital call a specialist. And that probably saved your life, Adam.’
Mum walked over to give Adam a hug. Joel swallowed and felt a lump in his throat. It had been an emotional afternoon. ‘Today you were the good neighbours,’ Mum said. ‘Today the Selwood boys were the heroes.’
Troy shot her a cheeky grin. ‘Maybe we deserve a reward.’
Mum laughed. ‘You know what? Maybe you do. You certainly earned your punishment, but today, I reckon you’ve earned a reward, too. What do you say to a game of footy?’
Joel glanced at the clock above the microwave. ‘My game’s over,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s too late.’
‘Ours, too, Mum,’ said Troy.
‘No, not club footy,’ Mum said. ‘A special footy match. Organised by me. Starting at four-thirty.’
‘What sort of match?’ Joel asked.
‘Leave it to me,’ Mum said. ‘It’s my surprise.’
Joel didn’t know how she did it in time, but Mum had made a banner. It was made out of sheets of newspaper, stuck together with sticky tape. The words ‘Super Selwoods’ were written in red paint. Mum and Dad were holding the banner across the kerb.
‘Yaaay!’ cheered Dad. ‘Go Selwoods!’
Troy had claimed the captaincy. ‘I’m the eldest,’ he’d said as they pulled on their jumpers.
‘Yeah, right,’ said Adam. ‘By a whole eleven minutes.’
‘Eleven minutes is eleven minutes.’
The four brothers stomped out of the house in their boots. They were playing in Troy’s and Adam’s Vic Country guernseys — navy blue with a white V. There were four jumpers, one for each boy, because the twins had made the team two years in a row. The Vic Country jumper was enormous on little Scott. The armholes dipped all the way down to his hips.
Joel loved wearing the Big V. He thought of the game he’d missed that day. The selectors would have been there. They might have made up their minds about next year. But it wasn’t too bad. Like Dad said, next year was a long way away. There’d be plenty of time to impress them.
Besides, this was fun. Mum hadn’t just organised a banner. She’d chosen a Team Selwood theme song for breaking through her banner. Mum pressed play on the portable tape deck. Angry Anderson’s ‘Bound for Glory’ rang out over the street.
‘Go, boys!’ yelled Dad.
‘Bound for glory! called Mum, punching the air. Joel noticed a red ‘S’ painted on each of Mum’s cheeks in red lipstick. She was really getting into this.
Their stops clicked on the road as they sprinted for the banner.
‘Owwwww!’ Troy moaned as he hit the newspaper and bounced straight off it. Joel and his brothers roared with laughter. The sticky tape Mum had used was too strong to break through. Troy had red paint all over his face from the banner.
‘Muuuum! The paint is still wet!’ Troy groaned.
Adam laughed and pointed at his eleven-minute-older brother. ‘Serves you right for being the boss,’ he said. ‘You know what? You can be captain. Captain Painty Head!’
Scott loved this and said ‘Captain Painty Head’ about forty times. They clomped across the road and the song faded out. As they trotted onto The Parkland, Joel looked for the other team. Mum must have organised Selwoods versus The Street.
Where was The Street?
Then they trotted into sight like a well-drilled battalion. Clap, clap, stomp was the beat as Mum played Queen’s We Will Rock You on the tape deck. Joel couldn’t help but stare. The sight was both hilarious and threatening. The Hanns, the Fitzgeralds, the Marchingos and six others were clustered in a tight bunch, stomping away, all wearing green. Mr and Mrs Hanns raised a fresh newspaper banner for the Selwoods’ opponents to run through. This one said, ‘Nobody Beats The Street’.
Joel rejoiced when The Street team also couldn’t break through its banner. He was doubly pleased when bossy-boots Martin Hanns got red paint all over his face. He’d obviously made himself captain. Ha-ha! Joel thought. Their banner paint was still wet, too.
‘Captain Painty Head!’ Scott called, this time pointing at Martin.
Martin tried to wipe the paint off but ended up rubbing it through his hair. ‘What do I care?’ he said, sneering at Scott. ‘We’re gonna bury you today, Selwoods! You don’t even stand a chance.’
Joel did a quick head count of the team in green. The Street had, what was it, twelve — no, thirteen players! The Selwoods were just the four brothers. They had been outnumbered before, but this was ridiculous! Joel didn’t even recognise half these people.
‘Prepare for humiliation!’ roared Lucas Hanns.
‘This isn’t fair,’ said Adam. ‘It’s meant to be Selwoods versus The Street. Half of your team isn’t even from here.’
Fitzy shrugged. ‘You remember you said my cousin could play last time?’ Fitzy pointed at a dark-haired kid Joel sort of recognised from a match many months earlier. ‘That started the rule. If you have family staying with you, they can play.’ He swept his hand across the smiling members of The Street team. ‘We had a family barbecue today,’ he said.
‘And we did, too,’ smirked Martin.
The Selwoods were quiet. They couldn’t possibly win this.
‘Can I play?’ asked Mum.
‘Well …’ began Martin, ‘strictly speaking —’
‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ said Mum. ‘Bryce, we’re playing! We have to defend the Selwood name!’
Joel clapped his hands in excitement. This was awesome! Mum and Dad were playing! That brought the Selwood numbers to six. But they were still up against thirteen. How many Hanns and Fitzgerald cousins were there?
‘Can I play for the Selwoods?’ chimed a little voice to the side of the huddle. It was Tommy O, the red-headed prep kid Joel kicked with if his brothers went inside early. Tommy was tiny, even smaller
than Scott.
‘Okay, you can have Tommy O,’ said Dane Fitzgerald. ‘He worships you that much, Joel. He’s almost an honorary Selwood anyway.’
Hooray, thought Joel. It was now thirteen on seven, and Tommy O was better than Martin or Fitzy knew.
‘But we get our dads, too,’ said Fitzy. Mr Hanns and Mr Fitzgerald were being tugged out of conversations on the sidelines.
Joel grimaced. Fifteen against seven. This was going to be tough.
Mr Marchingo raised an aerosol party horn in one hand and a drink in the other. He’d designated himself as umpire for the big street match.
‘Everybody ready!’ he bellowed. Paaaaaaaarp! he blasted the horn.
It was so loud that Mr Marchingo startled himself and spilled his drink over his bald head.
Everybody laughed. With the banners, theme songs and uniforms, the match felt like a celebration.
Once the game began, Joel switched into full-on footy mode. Adam was in the ruck for the Selwoods, and he jumped high and early, right into the ribs of Mr Fitzgerald.
‘Ugh,’ grunted Mr Fitzgerald.
Adam palmed the ball over his head and Joel was right there, waiting for it. Joel dodged two opponents and three gum trees as he bounced through The Parkland. Then he stabbed a pass to Tommy O, who was right in front of the saplings that served as the Selwoods’ goal.
There was clapping and whistling from a growing band of spectators. Joel saw neighbours from their street and beyond arriving at The Parkland, some carrying picnic rugs and deckchairs. He even spotted Mr Norman, with bonkers Roxy on a leash, yapping away. Mr Norman was chatting to Mrs Marchingo and actually smiling!
‘Nail it, Tommy!’ Troy urged.
Tommy O made no mistake. The Selwoods had the opening goal.
Mr Fitzgerald wasn’t so keen on rucking at the next centre bounce. His eldest son, Fitzy, took over. Fitzy at least would make it a contest.
Again, Adam leapt higher, and again, he palmed it towards Joel. But this time Joel couldn’t move his arms because Lucas Hanns had grabbed him in a bear hug.