Tuesday, April 13, 2010

A gift from God

It’s 6 degrees in the outer Canberra suburb of Belconnen, and the sun is yet to rise. A lone figure strolls down the road towards a local park, football in one hand and four litre water bottle in the other. He enters the park, neatly places the ball and water by a tree and immediately starts running. An hour later, the rising sun sees him dodging and weaving between imaginary witch hats. Another hour and the suburb comes to life, cars starting, people walking, the muted greens and browns of Canberra seeing the light of day.

Our solitary athlete pays none of this heed, not for another half hour when he picks up his ball and now empty water bottle and leaves the park. He is covered in sweat and has the look of soldier returning from war. Grim, dazed, and battle hardened.

Canberra Raiders interchange player Brett Kelly is a polarising figure. “Some people have heard of me, some haven’t,” he quips. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing has come easy to Kelly in life. Not his first word (bobo, according to his mother), not his first job (kitchenhand at Hungry Jacks), and not a starting berth in the National Rugby League. The way he sees it, if he didn’t get up early and work harder than everyone else, he wouldn’t even be on the same page as the Thurstons, Inglises and Barbas of the world. “It’s definitely made me stronger,” Kelly says of his brutal training regime.

Injuries have derailed most of Kelly’s career, but he is starting to come good at the right time. Kelly finds himself at the end of a five man bench for the Raiders, coming off a surprise win over the slow starting Eels. Among the boys, Kelly’s nickname is Omitted, because of how often the phrase ‘one to be omitted’ comes after his name. He doesn’t mind. He has far worse nicknames for the other players, particular Alan Tongue, Dane Tilse and Joe Picker.

“I’ve put in the hard work, the long hours. It’s just a matter of replicating that on the footy field. It’s not rocket science,” Kelly says. Raiders conditioner Mark Colville has a big wrap on Kelly. “Mate, this c*** is eight, nine years older than most of the other c**** in this place, but he f******* trains the house down. This c*** is legit, he is a f****** NRL player.”

Kelly keeps to himself

As one of the older players in the club, I wonder if Kelly has any perspective on why the Raiders have been such a colossal failure in the NRL for so many years. Is it the coach, the players, the town? Does the salary cap work? Kelly says nothing, not even an ‘I don’t know.’ I’m not even sure he understood the question. But if last week’s win over the Eels is anything to go by, this year’s players carry no extra burden from years past.

No more than your average human anyway. Kelly understands the religious connotations of the suburb he was born in. “Jesus, every second person in my street used to bang on about living in the garden of Eden. Yes, I’ve got a mate called Adam. Yes, I know someone called Eve. And no, there's no apple orchards around here.” Kelly grows quiet for a moment. After a long pause, during which he appears to see through my very soul, he continues. “Knowledge is an awful burden to place on anyone. There’s too much. How do you make sense of it, act on it? But that’s the human condition. We are by nature curious creatures. Would you have refrained from eating the apple?”

I don’t know the answer to this question. But I do know that Brett Kelly is unlike any other player in the history of rugby league.

1 comment:

  1. Yesterday morning as I read this haunting story over breakfast, I actually had a tear in my eye, having recently peeled an onion. (What, you've never had an onion on your weetbix?)

    As with most great writing, I found some of the deeper questions remain (deliberately) unanswered in this piece, no doubt to tease, torment, and mock me for the rest of my days. Only by night will there be any respite.

    Questions such as ... what are the nicknames he has for those guys? Why was his first word bobo? Could it be he was trying to say daddy, and his father was a hobo? Did he simply not understand the question he was asked . . . or is it possible he just wasn't listening? Could he be deaf? Before agreeing to be interviewed, was Mark Colville aware he was going to be quoted? And, of course, the biggie - what would I myself do if ever confronted with an apple?

    Articles like this give the lie to the popular perception of rugby league journalists, namely that they are lazy, drunken, half-wits who wouldn't recognise an insight if one jumped up and bit them on the nose. You on the other hand are clearly someone who knows exactly what is happening to your nose at any given moment.

    And as for Brett, from now on I shall watch Raiders games on fox with added interest, thanks to your article. I'm certain that if I see him on the end of the bench, some of those questions will again rise within me. I can only say, many thanks.

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