Toby has heard it all before; the jibes, the sniggers and the constant stream of jokes. Even he had to laugh when he heard the one about hoping that when he died the Vikings would be graveside so that they could let him down one more time. Every game day if he couldn’t be at the actual match he would make sure he donned his favourite 2007 home game jersey and settle in and watch on the 52” screen that he had purchased primarily for getting the best high-definition picture possible.
Dressed head to toe in dark clothing, baseball cap and hoodie at the ready, he conceals himself amid the shrubs. His heart is pounding as he maintains a waiting vigil.
This had been talked up by the experts as “their season” and he had only narrowly avoided putting his boot through his screen when it seemed the team had failed to learn anything from the previous match as the score against his side mounted at almost a point-a-minute at one stage. Feeling his frustration increasing, he turned the television off before the end of the game for only the second time he could recall.
His hands grip tightly to the baseball bat and he rehearses in his mind how he intends to launch his stealth attack. It’s the second night he’s spent here on reconnaissance, making extra sure he found the right time to execute his plan.
It’s the talkback radio that finished him off. The constant stream of angry fans and dismissive radio hosts who clearly don’t share the love of his code. He still doesn’t know what it is about this particular team that draws such a primal response in him when he has never had such a passion about any other code or team but he is now a committed card-carrying member of the fan base, swept along by the fervour when they have been riding the crest of a wave. Of late though it’s been one negative headline followed by another and he’s determined to do what he can to ensure this team turns the ship around.
Mickey Flanagan, the key player for the Cobras, returns to the hotel after the last team practice. If anyone can prevent his Vikings breaking the hoodoo it’s this guy. He doesn’t normally believe in violence; the last person he intentionally hurt was Dale Strathcairn in form 3 but hell, his twenty years of allegiance to this outfit hadn’t come with any bragging rights yet.
He steps out of the shadows, weapon concealed and hoodie down. The distance between them diminishes in an instant, the approaching footfall alerting him to a presence.
The bat rises and hesitates just as Flanagan turns…
Andrew Hawkey
Dressed head to toe in dark clothing, baseball cap and hoodie at the ready, he conceals himself amid the shrubs. His heart is pounding as he maintains a waiting vigil.
This had been talked up by the experts as “their season” and he had only narrowly avoided putting his boot through his screen when it seemed the team had failed to learn anything from the previous match as the score against his side mounted at almost a point-a-minute at one stage. Feeling his frustration increasing, he turned the television off before the end of the game for only the second time he could recall.
His hands grip tightly to the baseball bat and he rehearses in his mind how he intends to launch his stealth attack. It’s the second night he’s spent here on reconnaissance, making extra sure he found the right time to execute his plan.
It’s the talkback radio that finished him off. The constant stream of angry fans and dismissive radio hosts who clearly don’t share the love of his code. He still doesn’t know what it is about this particular team that draws such a primal response in him when he has never had such a passion about any other code or team but he is now a committed card-carrying member of the fan base, swept along by the fervour when they have been riding the crest of a wave. Of late though it’s been one negative headline followed by another and he’s determined to do what he can to ensure this team turns the ship around.
Mickey Flanagan, the key player for the Cobras, returns to the hotel after the last team practice. If anyone can prevent his Vikings breaking the hoodoo it’s this guy. He doesn’t normally believe in violence; the last person he intentionally hurt was Dale Strathcairn in form 3 but hell, his twenty years of allegiance to this outfit hadn’t come with any bragging rights yet.
He steps out of the shadows, weapon concealed and hoodie down. The distance between them diminishes in an instant, the approaching footfall alerting him to a presence.
The bat rises and hesitates just as Flanagan turns…
Andrew Hawkey
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