23 September: CG (mom), TW, JH, TH, AW (mom), and the good Guido (2).

I was fresh back from 3 weeks in Fiji. I was in rhythm with my natural cycles, the moon and the tide. This is a good place to be.

There’s a 90 kilo pig. I’m in a village on a remote island. And the village is keen to feast. The chief instructs to kill the pig. Humanely. He has no desire to kill it, and feigns an obligation to the kava bowl. “Knock it out first blow. Axe to the head. Then knife to the throat. Don’t fuck it up. Do. Not. fuck it up. I do not want to hear it”.

We lost 3-2. There was a lot of nanna absence. Few overseas. Few sick. Yep, it’s the tail end of Melbourne winter. Some absence is accounted for. Others are just hiding, quivering in a hole.

It’s 5am. The men dig a big hole, then light a big fire within it. Lots of volcanic rocks are thrown atop. All the fire is then removed. The rocks glow white hot. The pig is so big it has to be cut into pieces. These are then woven tight with palm leaves. Then thrown onto the hot rocks. Then covered in more palm leaves. Then the entire pile covered in earth. It steams hot for hours. What an aroma. And then we feast.

Gill saved numerous goals, and appeared to spend much of the game horizontal. In the air, arms outstretched, just saving goals like a man possessed. Guido, our latest regular ring-in, kicked our only 2 goals. And I had nearly ‘pussied’ the ring-in request.

It was strange to be back in civilisation and wearing shoes. But it was great to be back with the nannas on a court, kicking a ball.