Bruce McAvaney has become one of the sounds of Australian sport, and love him or hate him, you have to respect his impressive resume. But with football only on three days a week, what does ‘Mr Olympics’ do on a ‘normal’ work day?
6:42 Wake up. Such a strange dream; Brian Taylor and I were clinging from a cliff; herd of wildebeest stampeding beneath. Dennis Cometti came to rescue us but only helped Brian up, and I woke in up in a cold sweat. Not looking into it too much, everyone knows Dennis loves me asking him lots of questions.
6:55 Let Cyril the cat into the house and pat him for a few minutes. Get lost in his eyes as we share a little pre-breakfast moment.
7:03 Toast crumpets for Anne and me. Quietly murmur “Gee this is something special” to myself as the butter glides over their porous surface, settling into a thin, delicious film.
7:25 Pick the papers off the front lawn. Read up on the horses, Sapphire Monkey running in the fifth at Randwick.
Would monkeys make good butlers? I’m not sure. You feel like they’d look adorable in a tuxedo, but Anne’s allergic to bananas, and I’m less keen about them smearing faecal matter all over our new brown and gold wallpaper. Perhaps an ostrich; you could balance a glass or two of red on one’s back while it walked.
8:30 Arrive at the train station, text Dennis to see if he wants to grab some lunch today. 9 minutes early (as always), I settle into today’s crossword. Seven across: five letters, ‘delicious’. Cyril doesn’t fit.
9:22 Get off the train. Losing My Edge by LCD Soundsystem plays on my iPod. “Not today, Basil” I say to myself, “Not today.”
9:30 Get to the office. Gladys the secretary has the coffee ready to go. This coffee is brown, which reminds of the Brownlow.
How is Gillon going to fare long term at reading the votes? Early signs were that he just can’t hold up the play like ‘Drew’ could; he just didn’t have any feel for the theatrical.
As Australia’s foremost opinion in every sport I think it’s about time I’m given a chance at calling the votes. A Bruce hosting, then throw to Bruce calling the action – Brucophonic. Gee now that’s got sizzle, doesn’t it? I wonder when Gil will return my calls about that.
10:14 Think about Cyril the cat for a little while. “I’ll give him quite the chin scratch when I get home” I think to myself. “You feel like all a cat needs is food and a scratch to be happy. Why can’t people be the same? Why won’t Leigh return my phone calls?”
11:25 Quick Google Image search of Cyril Rioli, purely for research purposes. You feel he gets even more mercurial with every passing year.
12:10 The next Olympics are less than 12 months away, how exciting is that! Just doing a bit of research on Rio on lunch break, these ‘Favela’ hotels I hear about sound charming. One thing’s for sure, I’ll definitely need a couple of new pairs of Speedos for the beach there, the beach scene up there is ‘on point’. That’s something those young people say isn’t it?
1:16 Fire off a text to Jim Courier. “Hi Jim, not sure what time it is over there, love the hair but just a quick question, can you remind me which one’s top spin?”
1:48 Practice my gravelly voice in the bathroom mirror for a while. Make a mental note to pull it out when Buddy kicks a goal on the run on Sunday. It’s bound to happen, but why did he have to leave the Hawks? My beautiful Hawks, I’ll never leave you.
2:59 A bit more Rio 2016 reading. Have to make sure I get those local player names right. Ron-all-deen-yo. Nay-mah.
3:14 Check my tipping at The Roar. Always disappointing to get 3 out of 9, but at least that snotty punk Rob McHugh’s fallen down the table again. Picking the Hawks for the PowerPlay this week, that’s a special little option isn’t it?
4:15 Finishing work a little early today. Pop into the elevator to head to ground. Why does this building have a ‘Lower Ground’? Ground is indisputable; to have two grounds would be to defy the very definition of ground.
Shoot Anne a text. “Hi darl, Ravioli for tea? Also, who’s your greatest military force in history?” “Not now,” she says.
4:50 Hop off the train and begin the stroll home. Shoot Brian Taylor a text. “Greatest military force in history? Napoleon’s Grande Armée? Roman Legion?” “Hawthorn, 1982-1991.” Brian was never one for deeper discussion, Dennis always knew that.
5:25 In the front door. “Good evening Darl,” I say to Anne, pecking her on the cheek, “so lovely to be here with you again.” Cyril claws at my leg. I scoop him up in my hands and give him a good petting. He purrs.
7:45 Watch that Rob Sitch impersonation clip on YouTube seven or eight times. I’m not bitter or anything, just want to collect a few dozen pointers if I ever feel the urge to speak to him again. Text Dennis about the world’s greatest military force. Hmm, he never responded about lunch.
8:57 Have one last look at the horses from today. Sapphire Monkey ran last. Just thinking on it, maybe Llamas are a safer bet for a butler. But then how to fit a suit…
9:42 Think about names for a bit. Why did I have to be born a Bruce? Bruce is such a dull name for someone working in sports. “Why couldn’t I be a Tyson?” I ask Anne. “Why not a Lance? A Cyril?” Anne wearily looks up from her book, “I love you” she says with a sigh of resignation.
10:15 Put Cyril out for the night. Cat fights have broken the silence of the night over the past couple of weeks; I pray he’ll be ok. Anne’s already in bed, I think it’s time to join her. I wonder if it’s too early to ask Dennis to lunch tomorrow.
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