Softly softly

 

soflty

As I left training tonight Bondy saw me and said: “Be careful Frankie, just… be careful.”

 

With everything that’s been going on it’s a bit touchy around the club right now.

 

Let’s not say anything about my job as a mentor… nothing.

 

And this week, if I get a game, I’ll be the only one of the ‘Triple Treat’ left – no Ballas and no Son Son. And that means not much fun.

 

Ross is not happy and everyone is just putting their head down and training and working and shutting up. But I’ve got a contract to write a column…

 

First I went to Micky Barlow. “No Frankie I don’t want to do an interview about the funny things other players do when they come to my place for a meal and who eats the most and who never does the washing up.”

 

Then I went to Sandy: “No Frankie I don’t want do a story about how it’s hard being a tall person on a plane and how sometimes you sleep on my foot on the way home and how cute that it.”

 

And Hilly: “No Frankie I don’t want to do a test to see who is the fastest of us two and then go to a cafe and have funny conversation about being quick.”

 

And Zac D: “No Frankie I don’t want to do a You Tube thing where I spin around and make myself dizzy then try to kick the ball and then you do a story about it for your website and say something like it didn’t make any difference.”

 

And Barra: “Not this week Frankie…”

 

And Pav: …

 

Duff told me once that his dogs Bear and Harley like Roo meat. I can’t wait for Friday night.

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