12/12/12

My friend Leigh arrived at 7.30am with a gentle knock on front door. He came specifically to see me and accompany me on my morning walk, which, I must confess, I have done only spasmodically recently due to pressures of work.

It was an honour that Leigh came to see me. We were teamates in the Greta FC premiership team of 1980. Not only that, we went to the same school in the 1960's, Caulfield Grammar, where we had no personal relationship or contact really, despite being in the same year. It was a big school. He was a year ahead of me in the age group football teams. He ended up vice school captain, I was expelled some time prior to that.

Leigh looked as fit as a trout. A little heavier in the top half perhaps, and white hair like mine, but in good nick. We walked, talked, and exchanged mental energy. We are bloggers, thinkers, seekers of truth, as different as you could be in some ways, (Leigh is vegetarian, does not drink alcohol, is athiest, rides a pushbike for recreation. I love meat, wine, believe in God, and walk rather than ride).

We did not talk football. We have both grown mentally and spiritually, since our time as footballers that brought us together as mates forever. Leigh was at Greta for one year, I for four, it was a lot of things aligning thing that saw us win the premiership that year. Leigh was best and fairest in 1980. He kicked five goals in the Grand Final, and even better, he kicked five goals in the last quarter of the prelim final in an an amazing performance, something akin to Superman, as we clawed our way back from a six or eight goal deficit at half time to overpower Beechworth and win by a street.

Leigh committed to do a blog post for every day of 2012. I have followed his every word. He's delivered, an amazing effort,  I speak two weeks shy of the finale, but he would not slip up now. Along the way he has gone from being unemployed, to finding his dream job, losing and regaining his good woman, and searching his soul. He loves his dog Jezza, and even his cat.

Lethal Leigh, you are a legend. I don't think you missed a game in 1980, in which case I think you would have played 21 games including three finals for the year. And I think you wore number 12 on your purple and gold guernsey.

Once things for sure, we won't see the next time 12/12/12 comes round, not walking this familiar Earthly plain anyway.