Bang Goal.

"What about me?" asked Ringo from the back seat as Knacker pulled away from the Housing Commission carpark.

"What about you?" the coach replied in a tone that Ringo would have detected warning signs in if he weren't stoned and pretty fucking thick to begin with.

"Why don't I get a blindfold? I could tell Jimmy what's happening?"

"The kid's got a point," said Shaun.

Knacker shook his head at the state of the youth today.

"There should be something under the seat."

Shaun reached gingerly under the passenger seat and rummaged around. He eventually found, amongst the old McDonald's drink cups and empty lighters, something that felt soft and furry.

He fished it out and held it up. It was an old Wombats footy sock.

"Hey!" exclaimed Knacker. "I've been looking for that. That's the sock I was wearing in my last game. Put it on son."

He gestured to Ringo, who received the sock with some distaste but still tied it around his head.

"It smells," he said, "And my eyes are stinging."

The rest of the journey was conducted in silence. Soon, they reached their destination.

The MCG.

The two men led the boys through the carpark and to the gate Knacker had arranged for his mate who worked on the groundstaff to leave open.

"Ringo son," he said, "I'm giving you a packet of ciggies here. I want you to smoke them one after another until there's none left. If you can do that, I'll give you ten bucks. But I want to see the butts. No cheating. You can take the blindfold off after the third dart."

Ringo accepted the offer gladly.

The three turned and went inside the great hallowwed cauldron.

Shaun and Knacker had discussed what they'd do next beforehand. While the coach gently took the younger man down the race and onto the oval, guiding him with one hand and holding a large sports bag he'd taken from the car in the other, Jones went up to the glass fronted media suite.

He went up flights up stairs and down a seemingly endless corridor. He heard a sharp crack of thunder and the strip lighting flickered. Along the corridor hung paintings of the greatest ever to play the greatest game. When he got Knacker's portrait, he stopped and looked, saw the old bloke in his prime, fresh, new again.

There was another peal of thunder and he could have sworn he saw Knacker's portrait wink.

He hurried to his station, ensuring the small camera he'd brought was fully charged and operational.

On the field, Knacker and Jimmy had reached the centre square.

"Stop here," ordered Knacker. Jimmy stopped.

Knacker slipped his blindfold off and Jimmy blinked in the dark, registering where he was slowly, finally, amazed.

"Time for the test," said Knacker, grabbing a beaten up old Sherrin from the sports bag.

"What's the test, what do I have to?"

"Everything and nothing son. And do it now," Knacker said, booting the footy difrectly up in the air, rocketing above them as lightning split the sky in two.

For a second Jimmy was lost, alone, abandoned in the vastness of the black MCG night. Then he felt Knacker nudge him slightly, knew immediately what to do.

Never taking his eyes off the ball, he stuck his arse out ever so slightly and manouevered the bigger bloke away from its path. As it fell, he extended one padded arm loose at the shoulder. At the first touch of leather on palm, he brought his hand back into himself and pivoted, took those two quick steps away that he'd never forgotten how to take, broke into a longer stride.

He saw the white line of the centre square looming up, took and bounce and loped one more long stride before, just as the 50 rose, lunging his left leg back and going bang fucken goal through the big sticks at the Jolimont end.

The ball hung in a magical arc, stopped for a moment by the biggest crack of thunder yet. In the media box, Shaun Jones stood open mouthed in awe.

As the ball rattled around the empty seats, Jimmy turned to Knacker and walked back.

"Did I pass the test," he asked.

Knacker took a moment himself. Imagined standing just here in a few years time on a little stage, holding up the premiership cup with the young bloke standing in front of him.

"Yes, Jimmy," he said, "Yes you fucken did."