Billy Slater 1 Read online

Two metres.

  Josh raised his hands to catch the ball. The crowd of parents and onlookers roared. The ball touched his fingertips. Josh felt its hard yellow hide slide into his grasp as he dived for the line. The crowd gasped. He was over! He was over the line!

  Unfortunately, the ball wasn’t.

  Josh watched helplessly as it bounced over the dead-ball line. He had fumbled it right at the last second.

  The crowd went silent.

  Then came the sound that would haunt Josh for days: a single loud, long ‘Boooooooooo!’

  ‘Good one, butter-fingers. Can’t you even catch a ball?’ Corey muttered, walking past him. ‘He should have passed it to me.’

  The final whistle sounded and Josh’s team left the field, their heads down.

  Josh’s head hung lower than all the rest. The Ravens had lost the first game of the season and it was all his fault.

  Later that night Josh still couldn’t get the game out of his mind. All he could see was that yellow football slipping out of his hands while Corey’s words echoed in his ears.

  Can’t you even catch a ball?

  It put him right off his favourite dinner of sausages and mashed potato. Not that the meal looked that appetising. The sausages were grey and shrivelled and the mashed potato was cold and lumpy.

  The annoying thing was that Josh could catch a ball. When he played footy in the playground at school or out in the street he had no problem holding onto a pass. Even at training he had rarely dropped a pass. So, why couldn’t he do it when he really needed to?

  ‘Still thinking about the game?’ asked Mum.

  Josh shrugged.

  ‘Never mind, there’ll be plenty of other games for you to score a try in,’ she said, offering her best Caring Mum smile. ‘Eat up. A full stomach will make you feel better.’

  Josh looked down at his plate again. ‘These sausages look a bit . . . weird.’

  His mother’s face tightened into a frown. ‘I had to cook them in the pan because I couldn’t get the gas on the barbecue to work.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Josh’s dad usually cooked the sausages on the barbecue and they were always golden-brown and juicy. But he was away, working interstate. Josh knew his mum wasn’t happy about it. Sometimes, when he was in bed, he could hear her arguing with his dad on the phone.

  ‘What about Grandad? Couldn’t he –’

  ‘He’s gone out to the club with his bowls team,’ his mum said sharply.

  ‘Oh.’

  The awkward silence was broken by a familiar sound in the Brown household.

  ‘Waaaaaaahhhhhh!’

  Josh’s mum sighed. ‘There’s your sister, right on schedule. If you don’t want your dinner, scrape your plate into the dog’s bowl, then throw it in the dishwasher. I need to feed Chloe.’

  ‘Sure.’ Josh watched his mum leave the room. ‘No problem.’

  He gave his sausage to their big, black and ever-hungry Labrador, Harry, and placed his plate in the dishwasher. Then he plonked down on the sofa, just in time for the last half of the game. It had been the same every night lately. With Dad away and his mum busy with Chloe, Josh always ended up in front of the telly alone.

  ‘Fifth and last. Up goes the bomb. It’s a high one, but Billy Slater is there to take it . . .’ a commentator yelled with ­excitement.

  ‘Yep, no doubt about it – Billy Slater is as safe as houses,’ said another commentator.

  Billy Slater was Josh’s favourite player. He never dropped the ball under pressure and he was great at making breaks as well.

  I wonder how he does it, thought Josh.

  ‘Now Slater has it. He beats one, he beats two, he beats the fullback and he’s over to score! What a try! Simply amazing work from the fullback!’

  Amazing. Josh wondered if he would ever do anything amazing in a game. He was interrupted by a sudden jolt against his leg. It was Harry shoving him with his nose. ‘Wanna go out, boy?’

  Josh opened the door and let Harry outside. It was a clear and chilly autumn night. Josh stepped out onto the back verandah and looked up at the stars. If his dad were here he would point out his favourite football constellations. ‘There are the goalposts,’ he would say, ‘and there’s the ref’s whistle.’ Finally, he would smile and whisper, ‘Look, Josh, there’s you scoring a try for Australia.’

  Fat chance of that, thought Josh. I can’t even score a try for the Ravens.

  A moment later Harry returned from the darkness, holding a tennis ball in his mouth.

  What’s the point? thought Josh. ‘Sorry, boy, not tonight.’ Josh went inside and closed the door. Perhaps playing footy wasn’t going to be as easy as he had first thought.

  ‘Okay, lads, gather round,’ called Coach Steve.

  It was training day for the West Hill Ravens and the team had just finished their warm-up laps around the field. The boys came and sat around Coach behind the goalposts. Josh sat off to the side. No one had mentioned the dropped pass, but he still felt guilty. He was sure no one had forgotten the reason behind the team’s opening-game loss.

  ‘All right, who remembers what I said at training last week?’ asked Coach Steve.

  ‘You said Blake was a goose,’ said Ravi.

  ‘Yes, I did say that and for good reason,’ replied Coach. ‘You should never run around with your trackpants on your head. It’s dangerous. But that’s not what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Oh, I remember. You said you would buy us pizza if we made the finals,’ said Tai.

  ‘Yay! Pizza!’ cried the team.

  ‘Ah, no, I didn’t say that. I think I would remember,’ Coach Steve said sternly.

  Tai shrugged. ‘That’s what I heard.’

  ‘Well, you heard wrong. If you lot can’t remember, I guess I’ll have to remind you. Last week I promised you a surprise guest at training today.’

  ‘Oh yeah, now I remember,’ said Blake.

  Coach smiled broadly. ‘Maybe you remember me telling you that when I lived up north as a boy I played footy for –’

  ‘Australia!’ cried Tai.

  Coach shook his head. ‘Stop interrupting, or you’ll be running another lap around the oval. Now, as I was saying, as a kid I played footy for –’

  ‘Hey, look – a taxi!’ Blake pointed over to the car park. Within seconds the boys were all on their feet, trying to get a look.

  ‘He’s here,’ said Coach Steve.

  ‘Who’s here?’ asked Tai and Blake and Azza and Ravi.

  But Josh didn’t need to ask. He recognised his hero straight away. ‘It’s –’

  ‘Billy Slater,’ finished Coach Steve. ‘We used to play footy together, and I knew he was in town for a game, so I asked him to give the team a special training session.’

  ‘OMG! Billy Slater’s gonna train us?’ asked Azza.

  ‘Yep!’ Coach Steve waved for Billy to join them. The whole team swarmed around Billy and began asking a thousand questions all at once.

  ‘What’s it like to win a grand final?’ asked Tai.

  ‘What’s it like to play for Australia?’ asked Azza.

  ‘How many tries have you scored?’ asked Liam.

  ‘And how many tries have you saved?’ asked Blake.

  ‘How much money do you get paid?’ asked Corey.

  ‘Corey, that’s a bit personal,’ warned Coach Steve.

  ‘But that’s what I was gonna ask, too,’ said Cameron. ‘Is it a million dollars?’

  ‘Cameron!’ yelled Coach Steve.

  Billy chuckled. ‘How about you guys ask one question at a time and I’ll try to answer them all.’

  Josh was the only one who wasn’t asking questions. He was still in shock. His all-time footy hero was standing right there in front of him.

  Coach Steve walked up beside Josh. ‘I thought
you’d be a bit more excited. Aren’t you a fan of Billy’s?’

  Josh nodded. He did want to ask Billy a question, or at least tell him he was a big fan. Instead, his mouth just hung open like one of those laughing clowns you throw ping-pong balls at in carnivals.

  Coach Steve whistled to get their attention. ‘How about we show Billy what we can do?’

  The boys all cheered and ran towards the field.

  Suddenly, the elephant-sized butterflies were back. As Josh stood in line, waiting to run up to take a pass from his hero, all he could see was the ball crashing to the ground. To make matters worse, he had Corey breathing down his neck.

  ‘Don’t drop it this time, butter-fingers,’ Corey hissed in his ear.

  Josh ran towards Billy. Don’t drop it. Don’t drop it. Please don’t drop it!

  When Billy slipped him a simple pass, Josh reached out his hands to catch the ball and . . . it slipped right through them.

  ‘Never mind, you’ll get the next one,’ Billy said with a smile.

  Josh turned and slinked away. Could it get any worse?

  ‘I knew you’d drop it,’ said Corey. ‘Why do you even bother?’

  Tears sprang to Josh’s eyes. Not wanting anyone to see him upset, he turned around and ran.

  ‘Things look pretty desperate for the Ravens here, down by two with less than a minute on the clock.’

  ‘It’s their last-chance miracle play, all right, Roy. But will their prayers be answered?’

  ‘We’re about to find out as McGill takes the tap. He gets the ball out to the five-eighth, who dummies and gets a great ball away to the fullback. Cotter streaks away. He’s just got the cover defence to beat. They’re closing in on him. He needs some support. There’s no one there. Looks like the Ravens will come away empty-handed . . .

  ‘Hang on. Here comes the new kid, Josh Brown, from out of nowhere. Cotter tosses it over the heads of the defence and . . . What a magnificent take from Brown! He’s into the gap. Shut up shop, they won’t get him now. It’s try time!’

  ‘That was all class from the winger. What a bright future this lad has, Roy.’

  ‘That’s putting it lightly, Mike!’

  Josh climbed out of the back garden. He dusted off the leaves he’d collected from diving to score a try right behind his mum’s favourite azaleas.

  Harry was running in circles and barking excitedly. He loved to be involved in Josh’s backyard games of footy, even if he rarely made a convincing tackle.

  There’s nothing like commentating a bit of fantasy footy to make you feel better, thought Josh. And he really needed it after the way training had finished. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in the change sheds.

  When Coach Steve had asked if he was okay at the end of training, Josh told him that he wasn’t feeling well, which wasn’t that far from the truth.

  The only good thing to come from it was the news that Billy Slater was going to be the Ravens Under 11s mentor for the year. Coach explained that a mentor was someone who gave extra advice and tips, and that Billy would be helping out when he wasn’t busy with his playing commitments.

  ‘Hmmm, looks like someone fancies their form,’ came a croaky voice from behind.

  Josh turned around, his cheeks flushing a bright pink. ‘Oh, hi Grandad. I didn’t realise you were there.’

  ‘You need to be careful you don’t ruin those flowers, or your mum will have your head.’ Grandad’s eyes twinkled. ‘Why don’t we head over to the park? I can show you a few things from my day, when people really knew how to play footy.’

  Josh thought back to when he had ‘practised’ with his grandad once or twice before, and how it had ended badly both times. The old man had a bit of a quick temper. ‘Um, I’m a bit tired. Maybe some other time.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Josh could see the disappointment in his grandad’s face. Suddenly, he felt guilty.

  ‘Well, let me know if you ever want some tips. I used to be pretty good back in the day.’

  ‘Okay,’ Josh said quickly.

  Grandad opened his mouth as if to say something else but stopped himself. Then he just nodded and headed back to his flat, a little converted garage that sat alongside the main house.

  He had lived with them since Josh’s grandmother had passed away four years ago. Josh used to love going over there when he was younger. He’d sit on his grandad’s couch and watch ABC4Kids for hours. But he didn’t go there much anymore. His grandad was always complaining, usually about the government or teenagers. It could get a bit depressing listening to all that yelling at the radio or the TV.

  Josh watched his grandad through the window of his flat. He was standing beside his kitchen sink, staring at the kettle.

  Maybe I should have gone to the park, thought Josh, heading back to the house. It’s not like I can get much worse.

  Saturday came and the Ravens were set to play against their local rivals, the Craxton Comets.

  Josh and Grandad headed off to the game. This time, Mum had to stay home because Chloe had an ear infection. Josh felt like he was coming down with an ear infection after listening to his sister cry non-stop for hours the night before. He was so tired from being up all night that he had completely forgotten to be nervous about the game.

  That all changed about ten minutes before kick-off, when he was taping up his boots. The elephant-sized butterflies were back, and this time it felt like they were playing Twister in his large intestine.

  Despite his tummy troubles, Josh started the first half reasonably well. When the Comets’ lightning-fast centre came galloping down the sideline towards him, Josh stood his ground. As the centre tried to sidestep him, Josh threw himself at the centre’s leg. Josh held on, refusing to let go even as he slid down and caught a boot square in the face.

  The centre fell to the ground before getting the pass away. Josh managed to pull himself up and quickly get into position as marker. He could already feel the side of his face swelling up.

  Azza, the Ravens hooker, jogged over as cover defence. ‘Good tackle, Josh.’

  Josh grinned, chuffed at the compliment from the best defensive player on his team.

  ‘That’s it, Joshie! Great work, son! They can’t run without their legs,’ Grandad called from the sideline.

  What is he talking about? Of course they can’t run without their legs. Who can? Josh wondered. Sometimes his grandad said the strangest things.

  But the tackle wasn’t the only good thing Josh did in the first half. He made two decent runs from dummy half and even got a good pass away to Poppa, who made a powering bust up the middle. This gave the Ravens the field position to grab their first try two tackles later.

  All was going well – until the fight. Josh heard it before he saw it.

  ‘Come on, Ravens, make ’em eat dirt!’ Grandad had called cheerily from the sideline.

  A burly Comets sup­porter with a ginger beard responded, ‘Get it out wide, Comets! The winger’s got nothin’!’

  ‘Nothing? That’s my grandson you’re talking about, mate,’ Josh’s grandad shot back.

  What is he doing? thought Josh. Can’t he see that guy is at least six foot two and has biceps as big as basketballs?!

  ‘I’m not your mate, mate,’ snorted ­Gingerbeard.

  Josh watched in horror as his grandfather turned to face Gingerbeard. ‘Is that right?’

  This was terrible. The Comets were only a few metres away from the tryline, but Josh couldn’t take his eyes off the trouble happening off field.

  His grandad looked about half the size of Gingerbeard and was probably twice his age. Yet there he was, facing off with the Comets supporter.

  ‘That’s right. And your grandson sucks. Didn’t you ever teach him how to play footy?’ jeered Gingerbeard.

  ‘No, I leave that to his coach. But I’m sure I
could teach you a lesson or two,’ said Grandad.

  The rest of the team returned to the tryline. ‘Josh, get back in line!’ yelled Liam. But Josh wasn’t listening. His eyes were glued to Gingerbeard.

  Moments later, a Comets player slipped through the yawning gap in the Ravens’ defence, where Josh should have been standing, and scored a try in the corner. Josh barely noticed. His eyes were wide with terror as he watched Grandad and Gingerbeard go head-to-head.

  ‘Can you two zip it? I’m trying to watch my kid play,’ said a lady nearby. She was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a chihuahua in the other.

  ‘Mind your own business,’ said Gingerbeard, dismissing her with a wave.

  This wasn’t appreciated by the lady’s chihuahua. It growled, arched its back into attack mode and then leapt at Gingerbeard’s head.

  The lady’s coffee went flying. ‘No, Fifi!’ she yelled. ‘Get down! Naughty dog!’

  Gingerbeard went sprawling towards Grandad, who nimbly stepped out of the way. This set off a chain reaction, the likes of which had never been seen at an Under 11s rugby league match. Especially not during the second game of the season.

  Gingerbeard quickly recovered and lunged at Fifi, but ended up colliding with another Comets fan. The unsuspecting man let out a high-pitched squeal and stumbled over his own esky. Josh watched in horror as the man fell back, landing on a table where two big-haired ladies in Comets tracksuits were sitting. Raffle tickets, notes and coins sprayed into the air.

  People rushed from everywhere to help the ladies. Their immaculate hair and make-up was now besmirched with stray raffle tickets and clumps of grass. The poor Comets supporter who had been caught in the tussle was rubbing his backside and yelling at Gingerbeard. Meanwhile, Grandad stood there scowling his grumpy-old-man scowl and accepting absolutely no responsibility for the mayhem.

  The game was temporarily halted while Gingerbeard, Fifi and Fifi’s owner were escorted from the grounds. A stern-looking club official advised Josh’s grandad that it may be best if he removed himself from the supporters’ area for ‘unruly conduct’.