The first time I played with the under-nineteens was like that. Then, when they shifted me up to the seniors as an uncoordinated sixteen-year-old and I did an interview with the sports reporter from the Highland Times, I knew I’d hit the big time. But the paper came out and they’d spelled my name with two d’s and the interview said that I was playing with the seniors because they were so down on numbers. Dad read the article and told me not to worry about it. ‘Don’t listen to them, Adam. You don’t have to be the best player in the whole world, just do the best you can. They might think they’re Goliaths, but you have the determination of David. You’ll get on.’ On the train back to Mum’s flat, I saw the city skyline afire with sunset. So many people, hidden away like ants. And Melbourne isn’t even a big city by world standards. Suddenly my thoughts were flying out the window and looking down on me sitting with my chin resting on my fist until I was lost in the silver streak of the train.
