1991. I am meant to be completing the first year of a commerce degree at Swinburne, but in reality I am on a musical and literary journey, listening to the songs of Creedence Clearwater Revival and reading the works of Mark Twain. A few months in, having not lifted a pen for the entire semester and facing expulsion, I spin a fanciful story to the course authorities who take the bait and grant me deferral for the remainder of 1991. I am a free man.
Soon after I move to the Gold Coast with a schoolmate nicknamed The Mighty Weasel, a computer genius who, after hanging with the likes of Julian Assange, is now working for the Federal Cops helping to bust computer hackers. On the day of our departure from Melbourne, the Fed Cops give us a lift to the airport. Ah, the look on mum’s face when she sees two gun-clad hotshots in suits arriving to pick up her son. I bolt from the veranda with my oversized suitcase, not even stopping to kiss her goodbye.
We live with The Mighty Weasel’s grandma in a high rise apartment at the Monaco Tower in Surfers Paradise. It overlooks the Nerang River and is just a short walk to the beachfront, but more importantly only a five minute bus ride to Jupiters Casino – where we quickly gamble away every last cent of our money.
Eventually we commence work at a newly built restaurant in Broadbeach called Choices. It is owned by the business tycoon Reuben Pelerman who also owns the Brisbane Bears Football Club. During our training week, a white limousine pulls up to the entrance and Reuben steps out in shorts and sandals and one heck of a Queensland tan. He quietly addresses the group and repeats the line ‘the customer is always right’ on several occasions. This is his mantra. I last about two more days then split for the bush.
Me (left) replete with yellow footy socks, with a fellow cotton chipper, just outside of Goondiwindi.
I end up working on the cotton fields just outside of Goondiwindi. Yes, I’ve been listening to way too much John Fogerty. It’s not just the Creedence cover of ‘Cotton Fields’ that has captured my imagination, but also the legendary solo album by Fogerty, The Blue Ridge Rangers.
Strumming the guitar on the porch, trying to be John Fogerty.
We are staying at an old hospital that has been converted to a homestead, right on the McIntyre River. We have to rise at 3am in order to finish early and escape the soaring afternoon heat. We play rugby in the late arvos where I am called ‘Giuseppe’ for the first and only time in my life. I’m channeling Peter Daicos, dodging and weaving, even running backwards to avoid the merciless tacklers. After a while Mick, an indigenous teammate of mine, yells ‘The worst thing you can do in this game is run backwards,’ along with a few other choice words. Though this concept is at odds with the 360 nature of Australian Rules Football, Mick’s advice strikes a chord with me. I find it to be sage advice for life in general. Keep on moving. Don’t look back. I love the simplicity of it. It resonates a lot more than the advice offered by Reuben Pelerman.
More from Damian can be read Here.
To return to the www.footyalmanac.com.auhome page clickHERE
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
About Damian Balassone
Damian Balassone is a failed half-forward flanker who writes poetry. He is the author of 'Strange Game in a Strange Land'.
- Web |
- More Posts
Terrific Damian.
What happened next?
Love this Damian. I look forward to the next 30 editions of annual updates.
The craziness of our early adulthood and the improbable trajectories of our subsequent lives.
Your story of working the cotton fields reminded me of the description in “Demon Copperhead” (highly recommended) of the brutal work on tobacco farms in the US South today (brutality of the overseers only matched by the toxicity of the plants). Hope the cotton was kinder.
Thanks Dips, PB. I got back home just before Xmas after a 20 hour bus ride via Toowoomba. Saddled up for three years of Uni in ’92.
The cotton fields were hard at times PB, I remember one of the supervisors getting stuck into me one day when I was struggling in the heat: ‘you weak as piss Victorian’. I wasn’t a fan of the snakes either.
Enjoyable read, Damo, getting a bit of insight into what makes the man tick. .
Thanks Damian. How important are these journeys which we begin with boundless hope and return with a few grains of wisdom? And the photos are always at once nostalgic and melancholic. Keen to read more!
Enjoyable read Damian I’m totally with you re snakes I was mowing a lawn doing the edges when all of a sudden a snake is upright my knees might be stuffed but I was Usain Bolt they wanted me to come back to finish mowing pigs arse
Thanks Smokie, Mickey, from two fine practitioners of the memoir that is very encouraging. Spot on about the photos Mickey, I’m glad I kept them after all these years – in a shoebox at the back of a cupboard.
And Rulebook, I share your fear of snakes: the one thing I love about winter in Warrandyte is the knowledge that I won’t run into any on my walks by the river.
Ha – love it D Balassone.
The Mighty Weasel is a wonderful name.
I love the idea of your Peter Daicos-ing your way around the rugby field.
The creativity of it.
Play on!
Love it DB, what wild and winding roads we took, way back in our youth. I would love to know what your parents thought of your adventures!
Mind you, with CCR and Fogerty as companions, however wild a turn you may have taken, the music would not have let you down.
Looking forward to your next installment.
Cheers
Thanks ER. The Weasel nickname was inspired by the WWF manager Bobby ‘The Brain’ Heenan, also known as the Weasel. Cheers RK, re my parents, I think being the third child of four meant I slipped under the radar a bit. They had enough on their plate.
And yes, the roaring voice of Fogerty was a great friend,
though Zimmerman and Zevon were waiting up around the bend.