Almanac Book Extract: Michael Fiddian’s novel ‘The End of the Game’

 

 

 

 

 

 

This extract is from Michael Fiddian’s new novel for young adults The End of the Game. To set it up:

 

 

It’s the last training session before Duneldin’s first Grand Final in over a decade, but instead of the team being united and ready, there is an unseen tension. Tom, a 16 year old new kid watches on as Albert, the best player on the team who only five days ago was racially abused by a drunk supporter, is making a point to the team’s captain, Mitch, about whether it’s skill or race that has seen him get appointed as the club’s skipper. 

 

---

 

For the next half an hour Fitz ran some basic drills that were obviously designed to get the boys moving and to get the ball in their hands, and Tom appreciated the simplicity of the thinking – they wouldn’t need to do anything new to win the game given how they had played throughout the whole year, and the training was designed to let them know. Similar drills, similar result.

 

What was different was the next stage of training. Instead of doing what he normally did, which was run a small scratch game where the forwards played the backs, he put out two witches hats, about ten metres from each other and stood in the middle of them. “Right, this is it. The last drill of the year. On Sat’day, we were a bit weak in getting the ball from our opponent. In fact, there were a couple of times where we seemed to quit on the fight, and this Saturday, we can not have that!” He emphasized every syllable, His intensity dragging the boys away from anything that might have been a distraction, including each other. “So here we go. We get two lines on the cones. I kick the ball out, and you go one on one, battlin’ each other to get it back to me. You can tackle and bump at about eighty percent, and it’s got to be a legal disposal that hits me on the tit. Got it? Got it.” The boys split, and smiled at each other. They had done this kind of drill before, but to have it as the final hit out before the end of the session was Fitz’ way of sending a message about how he wanted them to play. Tom found himself second in line, and when his time came he was pitted against Benny, who easily won the battle – he was faster than Tom and got to the bouncing ball before Tom had covered most of the required distance. Benny kicked a perfect drop punt back to Fitz, then turned and waggled a finger at him. “Ahh, Benny, he’s quick too, boy. You better crank it up!” and then he laughed, and Tom did the same. He went to the back of the line, and waited for his next turn.

 

Before that happened though, there was a ripple going through the lines. At the top of the cones stood Mitch on one side, and Albert on the other. Tom didn’t know if this was manufactured or it was fate, but anticipation ran through everyone, waiting to see what would happen. Mitch stared intently at Fitz, waiting for the ball, while Albert only had eyes for the captain, checking to see which way he would move when the contest started. Fitz lobbed a ball into the air, expecting to see an aerial contest, but it never happened. Mitch elevated for the ball, but as his right foot left the turf, Albert timed a bump so perfectly that he didn’t even need to leave the ground to take the mark. The hit left Mitch sprawled on the ground while Albert plucked the ball from the air one handed, and then fired a twenty metre handball to Fitz, who only nodded his appreciation.

 

Tom’s next time up he faced Scotty, the ruckman, and this time did better. Scotty wasn’t known for his skill on the ground, so when Fitz rolled a grubber toward them both, Tom made the most of his opportunity, getting down low, taking contact, then rolling with the ball before hooking a left foot kick over his shoulder that Fitz took over his head. Fitz complimented them both on their effort, and the two boys ran back to their line, nodding at each other.

 

Tom again turned his attention to Albert, who was making sure that he would be matched up against Mitch – this time there was no doubt. There weren’t even numbers in the lines so every opponent should have been different, but there the two of them stood on the cone, waiting to go again. This time Mitch looked at Albert, and Albert beamed back at him, lifting his head in a challenge. Mitch dropped his eyes and his shoulder, and this time when Fitz kicked a grubber toward them, Mitch aimed his shoulder at the centre of Albert’s chest, not even looking at the ball. It was a fool’s idea. Albert moved toward the ball, then just as the impact was expected, shifted his weight so he could rock backward, almost stopping. Mitch was unable to change the angle of his attack, so went flying past Albert, missing him completely. Albert didn’t miss his opportunity though, and stuck a foot out so that Mitch would trip and hit the grass, hard. Albert had an easy time flicking the ball into his hand as it got to him and then kicking on his natural right foot, before running over to where Mitch was sprawled to offer him a hand up. No-one was surprised to see that the offer was rejected, and that Mitch ran back to the line with blood boiling in his neck and cheeks.

 

The rest of the drill seemed to fly. Tom did well each time he went out, and was pleased with the way he handled the physical pressure from his opponent – but it was the Albert and Mitch show that people wanted to see. There were five in all, and Albert won them easily. Scotty, who had switched lines and now stood behind Tom muttered “Do you reckon Mitch has touched it yet?” Tom replied, “I don’t know if he’s even seen it, let alone touched it,” and Scotty grunted in agreement.

 

The final contest between Albert and Mitch made everyone stop and pay attention, even those members of the crowd who hadn’t been particularly drawn to the drill. Fitz fired a ball high in the air, and Albert moved to where it would drop. Mitch ran at Albert, hoping to knock him from his position and effect a spoil, but with perfect balance, strength, and impossible timing, Albert put his right arm out, grabbed Mitch’s jumper just below the neck and pushed him off. The intensity that it took amazed everyone, particularly Tom who knew how heavy Mitch was from previous strength sessions, and when Albert took another one handed mark and disposed of the ball perfectly with his left foot while still keeping Mitch away from his body, the team and the crowd erupted in applause. Fitz shook his head in amazement, and then yelled, “And that, ladies and gentlemen is how to give a lesson in football. Thanks Albert. It’s been a pleasure. Now do a lap and head to the rooms, and I’ll read the team.” Albert waved royally, and the boys looked on in awe.

 

The lap they ran together lacked the positivity of the first one – they were all exhausted and emotionally washed out, but there was a pocket of the boys, led by Mitch, who kept muttering about the whole thing being a set up, and that no-one would have beaten Albert in a game that was obviously made for him.

 

Tom, who had been silent up until then, felt something crack inside him, and he snapped. “That’s the point, though. You couldn’t beat him.”

 

Mitch leered at Tom, and replied, “Yeah? Could you?

 

Tom snorted. “Shit no. I would have been happy just to touch it.”

 

Mitch kept looking at Tom, even though he wasn’t the topic of conversation. “And why was it only me he beat? Why wasn’t it anyone else?” Tom started to answer, only to be cut off by Albert’s voice coming from the back of the group.

 

“Genetics mate. Genetics. Some people have good ones, some people have bad ones. Some kids have red hair, some kids freckles and some kids get made captain. It’s all genetics.” Some of the boys laughed, while those who weren’t in the class glanced around, unsure what was going on.

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

Albert ran his way through the group, and made sure he was next to Mitch. “It means what it means. Some people are good at footy, some people are better at footy, and some people get made captain. That’s all. Use your superior genes to work it out.” Mitch looked at Albert, wondering if there was a physical challenge involved, but he saw in his eyes that there was something deeper happening. He realised that a fight wasn’t what Albert wanted, but something else. He said “You’ll have to ask someone else about that. I didn’t ask to be captain, and I know it’s annoyed you all year, but I didn’t do it. Why bring it up now?”

 

“No reason. It’ll just be fun to see what happens after the game on Saturday, that’s all.”

 

The group went silent, unsure what had just happened. Tom’s gut tightened again, now sure that there was still a plan, that Albert was at the centre of it all, and the rest of the team were unwilling performers in his own private show.

 

 

 

 

The End of the Game, by Michael Fiddian, is available as a paperback ($21.99) and eBook ($8.99) at Popcorn Press, Amazon and at all good bookstores.

 

 

It is also available here:    https://www.fairplaypublishing.com.au/products/the-end-of-the-game

 

 

An earlier post on the book and author can be found HERE

 

 

 

To return to the www.footyalmanac.com.au  home page click HERE

 

Our writers are independent contributors. The opinions expressed in their articles are their own. They are not the views, nor do they reflect the views, of Malarkey Publications.

 

 

Do you enjoy the Almanac concept?
And want to ensure it continues in its current form, and better? To help keep things ticking over please consider making your own contribution.

 

 

Become an Almanac (annual) member – CLICK HERE
One-off financial contribution – CLICK HERE
Regular financial contribution (monthly EFT) – CLICK HERE