The Arafura Games are with us once again. The city is full of lost looking athletes with ID badges on, and helpful looking volunteers in green shirts. The restaurants, souvenir shops and nightclubs are all rubbing their hands together with glee and the traffic around Marrara Stadium is above average, but not too bad.

Also, apparently there’s lots of sport on.

Last night I went to watch the sepak takraw. It was a double banger for me, because not only did I get to watch my mates playing for the NT team, I got to watch some of the really good players with the Malaysian and Thai teams. It’s pretty amazing watching those guys hanging upside down in the air and still kicking the ball with so much power.

The NT side? Not so much, but it was still awesome to see them out there representing the Territory and showing what they could do, which was a darn sight more than most people. Once again it made me feel nostalgic for the old days when I used to be able to do that. I went looking for my old NT sepak jersey, but I think it might be in the pile of stuff still in the cupboard at my parents’ house with my scout uniforms, astronomy books and various other pieces of evidence of things I used be good at. Come to think of it, I don’t know how I managed to get through high school without getting beaten up every other week. I’d love to get myself back up to that level, but somehow it seems consigned to the past almost as comprehensively as my maths competition certificates.

As if to punctuate the point, today I’ve been off work nursing a bung ankle. The mild post-viral arthropathy I get from time to time decided that this week is the week (probably due to the rapid onset of the dry season) to not be quite so mild and I’ve been having trouble walking, let alone turning back flips. I have it all under control, with a large dose of rest and an even larger dose of ibuprofen, but I can’t for the life of me figure out when I stopped being the guy out there doing cool stuff and turned into the guy sitting at home taking pills and whingeing about how the weather makes his joints ache. I’m only twenty-mumble years old for heaven’s sake.

What I should really do is stop whinging to my computer and get up and do something about it. Unfortunately my ankle is still having none of that so I guess it’s DVD o’clock. Now let’s see, will I go with Evita, or Four Weddings and a Funeral?

Yes okay, forget high school. I don’t know how I get from here to the weekend without getting beaten up.

Shove it



Garry with 2 Rs

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