This is my favourite football story.
It was in the early 80's when Carl Ditterich moved up to Brisbane as coach of Coorparoo Australian Rules Football Club. It was big news at the time.
My best mate at the time Neil Perryman had decided to have a crack at first or reserve grade and I went along to training one night just to watch. I hadn't played for two years ( I think) because I officially retired from football at the end of Under 19's. Well, I thought I had.
Now at this time I actually had my right hand still bandaged at the time after it had been crushed in a printing press a few months earlier.
So I'm watching the training the fathers of a player Wayne Clarke who I only knew as Mr Clarke came and spoke me. He said that even though Coorparoo had signed Carl Ditterich they were short of players and now that I've arrived it was necessary that I return. I thought I should explain that I was recovering from a crushed hand. 14 stitches and 78 micro stitches ( they are figures you never forget) and that I wasn't overly keen. I was also a shift worker so training was one week every fortnight. he said " None of teat matters.
So I turn up training and quickly became a favourite of Carl's, the crushed hand angle may have helped.
So about three weeks in Carl calls a group of rovers aside. I was one of that group. Now in that group was a bloke I will call Rosco. Although short, physically he was a Greek adonis, every muscle in his body rippled and he was the fastest player in the club. BUT his Achilles heel was that he was weak as piss and a show pony.
So we start this drill and Carl throws the ball out in Rosco's direction and Rosco is first to it, does a baulk or two runs rings around me and gives it back to Carl. I feel a bit eeerrrrr.
Next time it's me and Rosco again and Carl throws the ball to Rosco's side and once again he runs rings around me. once again I'm feeling eeerrrr
Ok, so the third time Carl throws the ball to my side. Now as I'm positioning myself to pick up the ball, Rosco just drags me off without me having touched because he's showing Carl that he's Rosco and I'm just a piece of shit.
BUT I reacted as I only can. When his hands grabbed me without the ball I swung around with my left elbow and and I elbowed him right in the middle of his fucking forehead. Rosco gave out a scream, I thought "Fuck what have I done" and here's Rosco with blood just pissing out of his fore head. What will Carl think? His gun rover. I'm petrified.
Carl looks at Rosco and says "You, get off the field mate" and to all the rest of us he says "Lets continue boys".
And although I had plenty of good moments on the field in my time , splitting that gutless squibs head open in front of the king of the elbow will always be my favourite individual moment.
