Looking after a mate’s bat
The first time I got drunk was New Year’s Eve, 1985. A group of high school mates gathered at Jason Jabba Ball’s house in Oak Park and drank whiskey because Bon Scott did, with a few beers as throw down.
I’d known Jabba for a few years. He was a tall brown-headed kid, solidly built without aggression. A lot of girls at high school fell in teenage love with Jabba. He was kissing girls long before I did.
The curse is dead – long live the curse
The weekend had a different feel to it. It was all about Russ, as it usually is when he comes up. I arranged for mates to share the joy, a double header weekend.
It was Russ that made the difference. He refused to talk about North losing. He refused to discuss The Curse even though everyone else wanted to.
Russ toasts a win for Boomer, and breaks the curse...
