“There, that looks more like my football buddy.”
“Now I have two. Does that make me a super-special fan?”
“Only if you get your wife to sew them together into a super-special scarf.”
We both chuckled at the thought of Fran actually sewing.
“Well, maybe her mum can do it for you,” I suggested.
“She can’t sew for shit either. But her dad can.”
“What?”
“Yeah, from when he was in the Navy. They had to know how to sew to repair their own uniforms. Fran said back when she used to go to school it was her father that always did their school mending.”
“Wow. I can’t picture that.” And seriously, if you had ever met Fran’s dad, you wouldn’t be able to either. The man had the handgrip of a steel-jaw trap. A needle would get lost in his meaty paws.
Our queue finally started to move, and we made our way into Mecca. As usual, we were in the nosebleed section—the one where you get vertigo just from looking down and seeing the building drop away from you down into the faraway oval.
“I think these seats are even worse than the last ones we had,” Roger said. “If possible.”
I grunted my agreement, and he suddenly perked up.
“Hey, do you think if you-know-what continues happening with you-know-who, you might be able to score us better tickets?”
“Roger!” I hissed. “Shut up!”
He looked hurt. “I didn’t mention any names.”
“Yeah, well, you’re still no Mata Hari.”
“Who?”
I considered strangling him with his new scarf, but decided against it. One of the teams from Auskick were playing on the field, and the crowd was suitably ooh-ing and aah-ing for the little kids as they were able to do what very little of us could; that is, touch the hallowed ground of the G.
“Do you think we’ll ever see one of your kids down there one day?” I asked Roger. He looked horrified at the thought of there being a kid in his future. But I saw the little smile he tried to hide as he stared at his knees and then looked back at me. “Maybe we’ll see yours before mine.”
I scoffed at that for many reasons. Logic was never part of Roger’s repertoire.
TIGERS AND DEVILS | 61
“Hey,” he said instantly, “there are plenty of ways it could be possible—”
Thankfully, my mobile rang. “Hold that thought.”
My smile could not be hid when I saw Declan’s name pop up on the screen.
“Hello?”
That voice, starting to become so familiar to me, came through loud and clear. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No,” I said honestly. “Perfect timing, actually.”
Roger’s eyes narrowed.
“I just rang to wish you luck for today.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Only because you’re not playing us, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I still want to have that talk with you, you know.”
Yikes. “You know, normally when someone says something like that, I dread it.”
“Not in this case?”
“Okay, a little bit. But looking forward to it more than any other time.”
“You’re so quick with the compliments, don’t strain yourself.” Declan snorted. “I was thinking we should make a bet for when the Tigers play the Devils.”
“Oh. Really?” A thousand and eight possibilities ran through my mind, and I bet Roger could tell just what I was thinking by the way he was looking at me.
“A carton of beer. Good beer. Not the cheap shit.”
Fuck. That wasn’t one of my thousand and eight possibilities.
“Of course,” Declan said slyly, “I think the loser should help the winner drink it.”
Aha! That was more like it. “Sounds good.”
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to the game. I’ll speak to you soon.”
“Yeah, good. You know how to reach me.” I felt like slapping myself in the head as soon as I said it.
Declan chuckled. “You’re on speed dial.”
Cheesy. But I liked it. And I had a sneaking suspicion he knew that I did.
“See you, doofus,” I said, and I let him go.
Roger’s mouth was hanging open. “ See you,
“Now I have two. Does that make me a super-special fan?”
“Only if you get your wife to sew them together into a super-special scarf.”
We both chuckled at the thought of Fran actually sewing.
“Well, maybe her mum can do it for you,” I suggested.
“She can’t sew for shit either. But her dad can.”
“What?”
“Yeah, from when he was in the Navy. They had to know how to sew to repair their own uniforms. Fran said back when she used to go to school it was her father that always did their school mending.”
“Wow. I can’t picture that.” And seriously, if you had ever met Fran’s dad, you wouldn’t be able to either. The man had the handgrip of a steel-jaw trap. A needle would get lost in his meaty paws.
Our queue finally started to move, and we made our way into Mecca. As usual, we were in the nosebleed section—the one where you get vertigo just from looking down and seeing the building drop away from you down into the faraway oval.
“I think these seats are even worse than the last ones we had,” Roger said. “If possible.”
I grunted my agreement, and he suddenly perked up.
“Hey, do you think if you-know-what continues happening with you-know-who, you might be able to score us better tickets?”
“Roger!” I hissed. “Shut up!”
He looked hurt. “I didn’t mention any names.”
“Yeah, well, you’re still no Mata Hari.”
“Who?”
I considered strangling him with his new scarf, but decided against it. One of the teams from Auskick were playing on the field, and the crowd was suitably ooh-ing and aah-ing for the little kids as they were able to do what very little of us could; that is, touch the hallowed ground of the G.
“Do you think we’ll ever see one of your kids down there one day?” I asked Roger. He looked horrified at the thought of there being a kid in his future. But I saw the little smile he tried to hide as he stared at his knees and then looked back at me. “Maybe we’ll see yours before mine.”
I scoffed at that for many reasons. Logic was never part of Roger’s repertoire.
TIGERS AND DEVILS | 61
“Hey,” he said instantly, “there are plenty of ways it could be possible—”
Thankfully, my mobile rang. “Hold that thought.”
My smile could not be hid when I saw Declan’s name pop up on the screen.
“Hello?”
That voice, starting to become so familiar to me, came through loud and clear. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No,” I said honestly. “Perfect timing, actually.”
Roger’s eyes narrowed.
“I just rang to wish you luck for today.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Only because you’re not playing us, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I still want to have that talk with you, you know.”
Yikes. “You know, normally when someone says something like that, I dread it.”
“Not in this case?”
“Okay, a little bit. But looking forward to it more than any other time.”
“You’re so quick with the compliments, don’t strain yourself.” Declan snorted. “I was thinking we should make a bet for when the Tigers play the Devils.”
“Oh. Really?” A thousand and eight possibilities ran through my mind, and I bet Roger could tell just what I was thinking by the way he was looking at me.
“A carton of beer. Good beer. Not the cheap shit.”
Fuck. That wasn’t one of my thousand and eight possibilities.
“Of course,” Declan said slyly, “I think the loser should help the winner drink it.”
Aha! That was more like it. “Sounds good.”
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to the game. I’ll speak to you soon.”
“Yeah, good. You know how to reach me.” I felt like slapping myself in the head as soon as I said it.
Declan chuckled. “You’re on speed dial.”
Cheesy. But I liked it. And I had a sneaking suspicion he knew that I did.
“See you, doofus,” I said, and I let him go.
Roger’s mouth was hanging open. “ See you,
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