A tale of Robbie Deans and his spare time

Robbie Deans checked his watch and there were 1820 minutes left to go. He took a deep breath and fingered the letter from Suncorp stadium.

It was a bill for a hair fracture to the window of the coaching box at the park. Robbie sighed… it was hardly a perceptible sigh to anyone else, because it was a quiet guy sigh.

Robbie had felt like Steve McQueen with his lucky escape this week when the Wallabies saw off the Springboks and that scary Peter De Villiers bloke, who really seemed to believe those crazy things that he kept saying.

Peter had unnerved Robbie with his loud rants about conspiracies, cheating and little grey men from space. He was glad that it had been Peter that had been run out of town and not Robbie.

Robbie had not liked it when just days leading up to the Springbok encounter, he had found those Men in Gold measuring up the size of his office and shifting around the furniture.

But all was good now, and he could finally play what was in front of him. The only problem was it was the All Blacks and that guy Graham Henry, who even scared himself, so tough and full of gruff.

Sometimes Robbie suspected that Quade Cooper played for the Wallabies because he was scared of Henry, too.

“Damn that spear tackle, damn that spear tackle to hell,” Robbie thought out loud, because he certainly wouldn’t be caught saying that out loud, lest it expose his carefully groomed soft speak guy persona. And Robbie suddenly felt Quadeless, more Quadeless than he had ever felt before.

He looked down again at the three copies of the newspaper that showed the photo of Henry’s hand and also his plan. Robbie started a small fire in the corner of his office, it was probably good to burn these photos sooner than later he thought.

1819 minutes Robbie thought, and he could finally show that he had the plan to make the Wallabies play like the All Blacks by beating the All Blacks and then everyone will know that Robbie was the best All Blacks coach ever.

And then …

Robbie stopped and paused. Wallabies, I’m the coach of the Wallabies, was heard emanating from the quiet, lonely guy as he walked through the golden corridors slowly counting down the minutes.