Chapter Twenty-Seven

THE OTHER question—where did Ambrose and Daniel have to go?—was answered a few minutes into the halftime break. The Dockers, trailing Geelong, left the field for the clubrooms, probably to be yelled at by their coach, and the junior-league kids ran on to play their little games as part of the experience of playing “on the big oval.”

Football commentators began to gather in front of TV cameras to give their opinions on how they thought the game was going, while mascots cartwheeled on the sideline and danced to the music.

The giant screens on each side of the oval flickered with images—replays of marks and tackles that had been made. Then some of the sideline commentators’ voices came up, and the screen cut to a known figure with a microphone.

“Yes. Thanks for that, Tony. I agree, the Dockers have their work cut out for them today if they want to bring down the Cats. Geelong have really fired up in the last fifteen minutes. But before I get into that, I have some opinions I want to ask. Because joining me here on the oval today are some surprise figures—Hawthorn player Ambrose Jakoby and former player Daniel Egan.”

The camera zoomed out to find Ambrose leaning on his crutches and Daniel standing beside him. Next to the commentator, they looked big and fit.

“So tell me, Bro-Jak, who do you think has the upper hand in the game at the moment?”

For a moment Ambrose clenched his jaw. Then he put on his genial smile and answered pleasantly. “The scoreboard obviously shows Geelong in charge of the game, but as you would know, the scoreboard doesn’t always show the full picture. Fremantle still have half the game to play, and with the hometown advantage, things could change really rapidly.”

I laughed at his nonanswer.

The commentator shoved the microphone Dan’s way, and Dan grinned his trademark devilish grin and was happy to take the stage. He mentioned Fremantle’s strong back line that Geelong couldn’t penetrate and said some stuff about how they needed to move the ball around more. Then he said that Geelong should keep the ball off their opposition and continue to win those center bounces.

There was a little bit more discussion between Dan and the commentators back in the box, but then the conversation turned.

“So, Ambrose. What brings you to the game today? A possible trade to Fremantle? Or are you checking out the opposition?”

No, he was tagging along with the guy he’s recently asked to move in with him.

Ambrose laughed. “No. Nothing so sinister. As you know I’m recovering from my ACL operation, and I’ve come home to spend some time with my family. My mate, Shane, thought it would be a great idea to support the Pride Round, so we’ve put together a party up in the stands.” He pointed to his T-shirt. “Equality’s the way to go.”

There was a huge cheer from my friends, obviously following on with the interview. To my surprise the camera cut to the stands where we were sitting and showed a wide shot of the group, with Vinnie standing and waving his banner and all my friends in their various rainbow uniforms. It was encouraging to hear an echoing cheer from around the stadium.

I waited with bated breath for the interviewer to ask Ambrose why he was supporting marriage equality and hanging around with a bunch of gays. But instead he asked if the operation had been a success and what sort of recovery period he was in for.

Then Dan grabbed the microphone, waved at the camera, and sent a big hello to his wife and daughters back home. They wrapped up the interview soon after, and Vinnie patted my leg.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it? Even though it was my idea to come today, not yours. And that he called you his mate.”

I leveled a stare at him. “No matter what else happens, he is my friend, Vinnie. The friendship comes first and last.”

Vinnie frowned. “It does? For me, the love comes first, and the friendship grows from that.”

I shook my head. “No. For me, the love comes from the friendship we have.”

He smiled. “Then when do you move?”

THE THIRD quarter hadn’t started when Daniel and Ambrose returned. Most of us had taken the opportunity of the break to use the toilets and buy overpriced pies, chips, nachos, and drinks. We were standing in the aisles, loudly debating a new seating arrangement—Liam insisted on sitting behind Jackie, and we all knew that would be a disaster. Jamie was sitting next to me in the third row and placing bets on the proceedings.

“Ten-to-one that Vinnie gets upset when Ben won’t give up his seat next to Aaron.”

“No bet,” I whispered. Ben never let Vinnie boss him around. It was some sort of “older brother versus older brother” thing. Vinnie was the oldest brother in his family, and Ben was the oldest in his family. They often butted heads.

“Twenty-to-one that Sandra manages to avoid Jackie. She sat next to her for a quarter. That’s probably her limit.”

“No bet,” I whispered again. Half a game was a quarter more than any person should have to sit next to Jackie.

“Ten-to-one Tony ends up next to Aaron.”

I wasn’t sure on that one.

“Fifty-to-one that Patrice tries to sit next to Ambrose. I think she fancies him.”

I’ll tear the bitch’s eyes out.

“You reckon?”

“What odds would you give me that Vinnie’s going to start bossing everyone around in the next minute?”

I chuckled. “No bet. You know what he’s like. Organizing is his forte.”

Vinnie managed to maneuver Liam so he was at the opposite end of the row from Jackie, Tony scored the seat next to Aaron, and Vinnie got pissy when Ben refused to give up the seat on the other side of Aaron for Vinnie to sit next to his boyfriend.

“Ben, come and sit next to my dad. Tate, you’d better not be flirting with my sister. Hiram, I know Frankie looks scary, but he’ll behave if you promise him some sort of chocolate bar. It worked when he was three. It still works with him now. Lachie, if I see you do that again, I’m telling your grandmother. Oh, hi, Dan. You can sit over there with Kee. I left you a seat. Jamie, you move down here next to Ricky and let Ambrose sit with Shane. Ben, please? I just want to sit next to Aaron for one quarter. Lachie, I saw that and I’m so messaging Nonna. Jamie, move it!”

Jamie heaved a sigh and obediently stood in the aisle so Ambrose could take his place. Instead of sitting one chair over from me, he sat right next to me and placed his thigh over mine so his knee didn’t have to bend. Luckily no one was on the other side of me.

Jamie whined. “I was talking to Shane. Where am I meant to sit now?”

Vinnie heaved an exasperated sigh. “Since Ben won’t move, you can sit between Ricky and Dad.”

Poor Jamie’s eyes went wide. Sit between two football-mad men for a quarter? “No. Oh my gawd, Vin. What are you trying to do to me?”

“Shuddup and sit down.”

“I wanted to sit next to Shane.” Jamie gestured toward me and pointed. “Why does Ambrose get to sit next to Shane? Why can’t—” He broke off suddenly, and his gaze flew to mine. Then he flicked his eyes over to Ambrose, sitting next to me, and back. He widened his eyes dramatically.

“Oh. My. Gawd.” His hands went up to his cheeks. I felt myself getting red. “Oh. My. Gawd,” he said again. He wasn’t shouting it, and I don’t think anyone was paying him much attention, but Vinnie poked him in the ribs and whispered something.

Jamie’s eyes got even wider, and then he scrambled over Liam and Ricky to sit in the spare seat. I wanted to hide under my chair. With Jamie in his place, Vinnie grumbled something and went to take the only spare seat—the other side of Ambrose, but Ben stood up and said loudly, “Here, Vinnie. Why are you sitting up there? You should sit down here next to your boyfriend. I don’t mind sitting next to Bro-Jak.”

I bit my tongue as Vinnie muttered something about Ben needing a swift kick, but he stood and swapped seats.

We all settled down to watch the game, and Jamie didn’t once complain about his position.