I don’t want to talk too much about Friday night. I feel a bit silly, not because it was my first loss as a Docker, but because as I jogged off at half time I lapped up all the comments from the crowd. “Let’s go Frankie.” “You’re best Frankie.” “You’ve got these Bombers Frankie.” And I felt like we’d won.
Ross wasn’t happy after the game. Mayney was all hang dog. I could hardly eat – all I had was one pizza, six snakes, two ham and cheese rolls and some other stuff. The only one who was happy was Lukey Mac because we told him it would be his 200th game next week.
The good thing about a Friday night game is that you’ve got the weekend off. It’s better if you win of course. During recovery at South Beach I just wanted to bark at skateboarders but Ballas told me pull my head in.
After that the weekend was all ours. On Sunday Micky Barlow had a Bali brunch at his place. There were plenty of Bintang singlets, Clancee’s got a collection of them, and Sandi wore a sarong. I wore the shirt my Aunty G bought me back from Bali last week. Ross and Bondy dropped in, I think they were checking that the only Bintang was on chests but they didn’t have to worry.
This week we’re heading down to Lonnie and the Hawks. At the brunch Ross told me I might have to take Buddy if he plays up the field. “Bring him on,” I said, not in words but in the way I looked my coach straight in the eye.