My father popped over yesterday, while I was at work. He passed a couple of things on to my wife. Things that “a new father would like to have”.
He left an envelope with three items in it:
- My HSC/VCE results. I’m terribly ashamed of my English score. Tanks was the best English teacher in the world, and I feel like I let him down with my utterly pathetic D.
- A newspaper snippet. It was from my school fete (before I even went to school), and it had a picture of a tiny me sitting in a big box, drinking soft drink from a glass bottle. With a straw.
- A goal umpire’s scorecard from the 24th of April, 1983. Montrose vs. Kilsyth. Signed by my dad (he was always helping out, no matter what we were involved in).
That last one seems pretty innocent, but it actually made me start to tear up (rhymes with ‘beer cup’). There was only one goal and one behind scored by Montrose that day, and dad had written ‘field goal snap’ beside the goal, and ‘both scored by <gizo>*’ at the bottom. The bit the got me is that I actually remember that kick; facing away from goal, I picked up the ball, threw it on my left boot and let it fly over my right shoulder and through the big posts. I’ll never forget that goal. And it seems my dad wont either.
I remembered last night that I used to be a little boy. I had forgotten that. I’ll try not to forget it again. For my sake, and for the sake of the Gosling.
* (Dad actually wrote my real name, I didn’t steal the ‘gizo’ moniker from my brother until a few years later. But that’s another story…)