I posed the question yesterday, “When did rugby league die for me?”. I think it answered it today while pondering the question – it could have been that it was never really alive and I was just doing it to please my Pop, but I recall a couple of heartfelt moments in the outer at a BRL grand final, so that may not entirely be the truth. If it wasn’t quite alive in me, any glimmer of rugby league interest was snuffed out in year 12 at Brisbane State High School. That was where Wally Lewis punched me out for drinking at his tap. Wally’s older than I am – he was repeating senior for the third time, I suspect (something to do with football) and I was unfortunate enough to blunder into his line of sight and stop to use a nearby bubbler. I’ve been fortunate in my life and can count the number of fighty incidents I’ve been involved in on one hand without resorting to the thumb, so ol’ Wal’s thump lives large in my memory.
Enough of the good old days – back to 1985 and May 29 where I was facing yet another quiet bloody evening at home.
A slight moment of interest concerning keys and cabs and keys in cabs and the report of a visit by Ian Gray who was delivering party invitations (Yes, by hand there was no email or texts). Ian was the responsible, sensible rebel. Lovingly referred to as Barbara for his motherly temperament (I assume). Already a lawyer, he had published a tiny music magazine for a while and he had a great knowledge and love of music. Ian left by 10 leaving me alone with a video that would change my life.
I cannot begin to describe the One Arm Boxer phenomenon. Or perhaps it’s the Jimmy Wang phenomonon – he is the master of single arm martial arts. There are many movies with this, or a similar title and all equally fanstatic. My favourite one armer is the One Armed Swordsman who is trackingdown the b’stard who killed his father (or his teacher, or someone or other requiring revenge) and the search has taken years and there are legions of bad guys attacking and being driven off and destroyed and finally, when the OAS is there facing the final boss – he gets his arm cut off early on the battle. What’s a one arm swordsman to do? Whip out the other arm that’s just been sitting there under your smock for decades waiting for just an opportunity to pop out and take retribution. Gold!