Image Description: A man staring intently into the distance whilst sitting on a sofa.
By Campbell Williamson
It’s a cold evening in the middle of Winter. Rain falls on your roof and wind howls under your front door. As the cold rolls in and you try to relax on the couch with a blanket.
And you turn on your TV.
And there’s no AFL on.
And you cry. Gently.
The tears roll off your cheeks like rain off the roof as you wonder what the Saturday Night Football team are up to on this cold wintery night. Is Brian Taylor in good spirits? is Richo still being mocked relentlessly? is Lingy still there?
And dear Bruce, what’s Bruce McAvaney up to tonight? He’s probably at home, amusing himself with his little football figurines at the kitchen table, while his wife sighs audibly from a distance.
He’s probably weaving his favourite action figure, Dustin ‘Dusty’ Martin, through a sea of opposition players. He’s probably commentating softly to himself, mumbling things like “special” and “clever.” And you nod knowingly to yourself thinking that the figure of Dusty is probably two sizes larger than the other players, purely for the symbolism of it all.
And then your thoughts turn dark. And you think of Basil ‘Big Nose’ Zempilas, this stories villain, and you picture him sitting by the harsh glow of an energy efficient LED light. He’s violently scribbling down his dumb little pre-packaged commentator calls that he mass produces and shoe-horns into games, out of context.
Lightning flashes outside the old Zempilas home, and in that cacophony of illumination and noise, you see that there’s a whole mountain of them, these terrible calls. My God! And now Basil is laughing maniacally, and he honks through his nose.
But then Dennis Cometti, the Doyen of Football, enters the room with a cape blowing behind him. A trademark grin is spread on Cometti’s face as rain pours down outside. Basil looks up from his work, the harsh LED light deepening the ridges on his face.
And it’s in your living room that you see this battle between good and evil. You cheer for Cometti and you boo for Basil and for a moment, you forget the cold. You picture Cometti strolling up coolly to Basil and you hold your breath.
You can’t believe what you’re seeing.
Cometti is sitting down. He’s conversing with Basil in his dulcet tones and they’re sharing a laugh and – what’s this – Cometti’s placing a gentle hand on Basil’s shoulder in a show of fatherly compassion. And they both nod before Cometti turns with a whoosh of his cape and fly’s out of the room. He takes all of Basil’s old calls with him; Basil won’t be needing them anymore. He turns and says, “that’s centimeter perfect,” and leaves without another word.
As you return to your living room, it doesn’t feel quite so cold anymore. Without a moment’s hesitation, you put on old re-runs of My Kitchen Rules.
Image courtesy of Pexels.