I’m getting better at football, and even though I sit on the bench a fair bit of the time, when Mr Robinson gives me the nod and I’m out there, it feels pretty damned good. I’ve put on a bit of weight, and now when someone runs into me on the field or I’m caught up in the pack, I don’t get flattened the way I used to. Archie had been right. All that running comes in handy. I don’t have the best kick in the world, but I can run and keep running. A lot of the guys don’t do much exercise apart from the Saturday games; I’m in the gym with Archie every day. The Saturday after I’d spoken to Mr Khan, Mr Robinson calls us over at the end of the game and we plonk down on the grass, glad to be resting. He stands there, his ruddy face serious as he raises a hand. There’s silence, and then he grins. “Good news, boys. The Kwinana under-18s are coming here for a match in two weeks. Think we’ve got a chance?” “They any good?”
