A version of this already appeared on our twitter account. I thought I’d reproduce it here for those who don’t follow us there. I’ve done some minor edits.


Imagine finding out that you could have not been able to walk if you’d taken a bad hit in a footy game because something is wrong with your back.

So you go and get surgery and you watch your teammates have their best season in years without you. And it burns. You know it burns. So you work your ass off to make sure you can function again, let alone play. You do the rehab, you do the work, because your career, the thing that feeds your family, is in the balance.

And you keep working. Eventually you find your way back. But it’s hard to come back. You’re behind the pace, and you get tired, and your knees hit a dude in the back, and suddenly you’re back on the sidelines.

And there’s so much discussion and anger about you. It was your fault. You’re a grub. You’re not up to it. You’re an idiot who always does the wrong thing and the wrong time.

And you know this could be it for the season. What if the coach doesn’t want you back? What if the club doesn’t? What if the people don’t want you back?

But Coach knows he needs you. So week 1 is the finals and you walk back into a top 4 side and everyone agrees that you have to deliver against the best in the league. Your team and your career depend on this. No pressure.

The biggest game of the season and on the way out to the field a fucking firework hits you in the fucking eye. What are the fucking odds of that? Are you fucking cursed? Somehow it’s OK, and eventually you get onto the field and you do your bit. But it’s clear by the end you’re tired. That fitness you needed hasn’t come back. You needed those games you got suspended for. The trainer is giving you everything he has to keep you going.

Then, when the game is on the line, a ball falls at your feet. You pick it up and nonchalantly stroll at the line like you’re playing with your kids.

And at that point, with it all on the line, you fucking throw a perfect flick pass that stumps FOUR FUCKING DEFENDERS. FOUR. FUCKING COUNT THEM.

You are a god B J Leilua. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you.


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