Any given Sunday
The rise of Allan “Hollywood” Sharm*n as a footballer has been beset at all times by the sufferable prejudices of other awesome, at the same time extraordinary men. There’s no need to lay blame anywhere but certainly this is a great medium in which to do so….now, Geoff Everett! I blame Geoff “DOG” Everett!
First it was Everett’s iron grip on the international full forward post whereby he defied extreme age, injury, constant pressure from the club committee (and his wife), Hollywood’s youthfulness, irrepressible domestic form and new Ray Ban sunglasses to hold office in the least populous but most coveted region of the football field, the goal square. For a more figurative effect Everett not only held office but he erected barbed wire fencing around it, locked and bolted the doors, changed his facebook status to ‘The Boss’, rigged up a Victorian era security system, begun distilling whiskey and eventually refused to field questions about his lengthening sideburns without wriggling his shoulders, puffing a heavy ivory pipe, looking pensively at his antagonists, his pipe, back at his antagonists and then cheerfully declining comment. You can live in a goal square if you try hard enough and Everett did just that! Sideburns of course would be optional but be mindful of the high esteem in which they are held by selectors.
Meanwhile, unable to make any sort of impact in less glamorous positions and seeing no inroads to the intricate Everett psyche, Hollywood began unraveling - his demise crystallizing recently when he was offered a two year contract by China to captain/coach the Reds and potentially show the Asian football world his fading goal kicking power. Time will tell how damaging Everett has been to his favorite minion but punters suggest it could go either way. On the one hand you have a man in his ‘very’ late twenties, eager to pick up the gauntlet Everett so merrily lobbed over the Patana fence all those seasons ago. On the other hand you have a man, in his ‘very’ late twenties, with a lot of anger. Anger that has until now only manifested itself in arm wrestles but there’s been fair indication recently that Hollywood could completely explode and start punching people at any time. In the event that he boils over in Thailand his solid history and enduring popularity with the people would see him quickly forgiven, however I’m not sure the Chinese would be so favorable.
Ah we have digressed! The Everett and Hollywood saga reaches far beyond the white lines of the footy field and the ambulances that get bogged in the gravel parking lot. Indeed their relationship is more tightly wound than the laces of one of the brand new Kangaroo brand Sherrins that bob around violently in Noodles’ other footy bag in the boot of his other car. Case in point, not too long ago Hollywood was beaming after a series of well received, occasionally comic comments only to be struck down by a quick Everett retort; “You’re just a young loser!” Immedietely thrown into disarray Hollywood spent the following three weeks playing hacky sack with Laos’ laborers in an abandoned Mcdonald’s parking lot. Eventually satisfied that breakfast isn’t served all day at Mcdonalds Hollywood got back on his feet only to be quickly struck down again by another impossibly timed Everett announcement: “I’ve seen you play football Hollywood and you’re no good at sport!”
A completely illogical revelation by any stretch of the imagination but bold enough for Hollywood to trip on his hacky sack, bust his famous goggles on a half eaten box of McNuggets and be checked into ‘Sunday’ rehab by his loving girlfriend Angela.
And so it’s here we find ourselves, on any given Sunday, in rehab.
Hollywood’s bouts of rehab have become hugely popular over the last few years, peaking recently at The Duke of Wellington Clinic when Tigers’ coach David Patterson was refused entry at the door on the simple grounds that too many people were already in stage three of their weekly recovery (grabbing jumpers) and that Patto-by coaching the club-is one of Dog’s successors and therefore unquestionably in ‘Dog’s group!’ Patterson might have been forgiven for this latter indiscretion if not for Hollywood’s shirt already lying on the floor – torn to shreds by mates eager to fast forward stage three and get to some singing. The reader should note at this point that rehab is vital to survival and that that any act, no matter how senseless, if it’s performed on a Sunday, and is coupled with alcohol, it constitutes rehabilitation. Of course this statement holds firm in even the sharpest mind: once, long ago, a young Albert Einstein quietly doubted the alcoholic component of Sunday rehab, but upon inventing bubbles in beer he quickly refuted his own stupidity and hit the gas. Legend has it that after quickly concluding his theory of relativity a young Einstein excitedly poured himself the frothiest beer imaginable and surfed an epic swell from Tasmania (his home) to Melbourne without spilling a single drop. As Einstein emerged from the water bystanders noted that he appeared quite drunk but very pleased it was Sunday!
The fact he was singing a quite melodic remix of his old favourite ‘You Beauty!’ in perfect pitch and still holding a beer would indicate stage four of his weekly recovery.
So what about the future of Sundays? Given that two of Bangkok’s sickest (and therefore profitable) individuals (Hollywood and Sammo) will soon be declared fit and leave our shores? Frighteningly Sunday sessions could quickly become a thing of the past as clinics city wide close down on account of sliding profits and boring outdated playlists. That is unless fresh faces can step up and quickly learn that matters of the mind are hardly a waste of time, and that by steady logic are best dealt with on the last day of the week. But let’s not be grim, there are still a few weeks left.
And so, where will Everett be during Hollywood’s final recovery sessions? No doubt sitting in his little fishing boat, drinking some Leo and reminiscing about all the goals he’s kicked. “Hollywood, who is Hollywood!” he would say if quizzed.
There is little doubt that he laughs at the simplicity of it all but in all honesty where would you rather be: in a boat or in rehab?