Monday, December 05, 2005
Hamish McShanks Secret Diary - Part 68
Hamish McShanks Secret Diary w/e 4th December 2005
‘C’mon Kenny where are you?’ I pulled the drawstrings tight on my hood and shivered as the raindrops pitter-pattered off my head, what had started as light drizzle was now fairly steady rain. I was just about to head back to my car when I saw an approaching vehicle ‘bout time to’ I grumbled as Kenny pulled up in his car. My hand reached out for the door handle vroooooom! He shot forward a few yards. ‘Aha ha most amusing’ I took another few steps vroooom. The car sped off again ‘oh he’s a card that Mr Gilchrist’ I mumbled through gritted teeth.
Five attempts later he finally let me get into the car and I wedged myself behind the passenger seat. ‘Bit slow today aren’t you Ham?’ Kenny’s grinning mug was filling the rear view mirror ‘you’re a very funny man Mr Gilchrist, I don’t now how you think them up, really I don’t’ I replied whilst scraping as much mud from my shoes over the pristine upholstery ‘Aye yer so sharp one of these days ye might cut yerself’ I continued, grinding the dirt into the carpet with my toe.
We were off to play volleyball in deepest darkest Prestwick. I had planned on driving until my brother had phoned to offer me a lift. I didn’t hesitate to take him up on it, as it’s a pretty dreary drive. Of course had I known it was the ‘G Man’ driving I would have declined. For those of you who don’t know, Kenny and I have some ‘issues’. Well I say ‘we’ when of course I mean ‘Kenny’. He’s still a wee bit bitter about a coaching decision at the Perth volleyball tournament two years ago. In my defence I’ll simply say, it turned the game, we won, and the cone was there on merit. Needless to say the boy blunder didn’t see it that way and has held a bit of a grudge ever since.
Confirmation, if it were needed, that he hadn’t forgotten came at the first set of roadwork’s. Most people may clip the odd traffic cone when they are zooming through those mobile chicanes. Kenny went straight through; in fact he was straddling the cones for a full quarter mile. Thump thump thump thump ‘Eeeer Kenny’ thumpthumpthump ‘don’t you think-‘ thumpthumpitythumpthumpthump ‘we should perhaps get back on the road’ thumpthumpthumpthump. I was starting to feel a bit dizzy with the blurry red & white pattern burling over the bonnet of the car.
Kenny wasn’t listening; in fact he was accelerating hard and gripping the steering wheel so firmly his knuckles were turning white. I must say they did provide a nice contrast to the crimson of his face. Bizarrely the large vein on his temple was actually pulsating in rhythm with the thump thump thumping of the cones as he feverishly scattered them to the four winds. I was going to press the issue on safety grounds but he had a fiercely determined look in his sticky out eyes and I decided that I would be safer taking refuge behind my paper ‘Okaaaaay’ I whispered under my breath.
The remainder of the journey was mercifully cone free and by the time we arrived at the sports hall Mr G had returned to a more natural pink colour. Conversation had dried up during the cone rampage and there was a bit of a bun fight as we all scrambled over one another to collect our bags and get out of the car as quickly as possible ‘gerroutofit ye fecker’, ‘Aaaah my eye someone’s poked my eye’, ‘you fecking eejit you stood on myoommppff’. There were quite a few cuts and bruises by the time we got to the changing rooms.
Unfortunately the fighting didn’t stop there. We have, how can I put this, a number of larger volleyball players in our team (you’ll note I didn’t say taller). However we only have two large shirts, and even they are a bit on the figure hugging side. It was another twenty minutes before we separated the combatants and finally get changed.
My older brother, who was coaching us, finally lost the rag and bellowed ‘Look just settle down for Christ sake!’ This was met with an awkward silence apart from one particularly sullen player in the corner ‘s’my shirt number eleven, I always get number eleven’. Neil ignored the muttering and started his team talk ‘Right boys, today were playing blah blah blah and we need to focus on yah de yah yah and if we don’t pull our fingers out of blah blah blah’. Neilly’s team talks are all the same, ye’ve heard one, ye’ve heard them all. I tend just to nod a lot and ‘yeah uhuu hmmm right’ and that seems to do the trick. He tries his best …… bless.
The warm up was excellent, I was hitting the ball rather well if I do say so myself, I was making spectacular pickups and pinpoint accurate sets. I was basically playing out of my skin. The fifteen minutes flew by and we were ready for the off. I felt very confident; surely I’d done enough for a starting spot. We gathered round for some final words of wisdom from the coach and to hear the starting line up. ‘Okay lets really get stuck in blah blah blah and I want to hear blah blah blah lots of commitment and ya de yaa yaa particularly in defence blah bah’, ‘yeah uhu hmmm right’ I nodded encouragingly
‘Okay here’s the starting line up Kenny at zone 1, Dicksy at …..’ the list went on ‘and finally Morgan at zone 6, okay guys lets-’, ‘woooh wooooh there Tiger, I think you might have made a mistake’, ‘sorry’, ‘you seem to have got the numbers mixed up, I am number eleven’, ‘yes’, ‘Well you haven’t mentioned my name’, ‘that’s because you’re on the bench’ I looked at him incredulously ‘Okay boys so we need to concentrat-‘, ‘didn’t you see the warm up’, ‘yes?’, ‘I was on fire man!’ He patted me soothingly on the shoulder ‘Ham Ham Ham I’m looking for the right balance in the side’, ‘Well ye wont find it while your head is stuck up your backside! Are you blind I’m red-hot today!’
With hindsight telling your coach he has his head up his arse is unlikely to push you up the pecking order. Neither is scuffling with him on the sideline and having to be restrained by two of your teammates likely to raise your profile in any helpful way. I do think that strapping me to the bench with duct tape was taking things a bit far though. I looked like Hannibal Lecter as they wheeled me from side to side during the changeovers.
The final insult was when Kenny came across to gloat ‘Alright Ham, having fun are we?’, ’yoognnffmaastard’ my expletives were strangled by the duct tape across my mouth. ‘Tut tut Ham, such bad language’ I glared at him as he pulled a brown envelope from his pocket ‘I think you’ll find this was the balance your brother was interested in, his bank balance’ and with a cheery grin he was gone.
Doei
‘C’mon Kenny where are you?’ I pulled the drawstrings tight on my hood and shivered as the raindrops pitter-pattered off my head, what had started as light drizzle was now fairly steady rain. I was just about to head back to my car when I saw an approaching vehicle ‘bout time to’ I grumbled as Kenny pulled up in his car. My hand reached out for the door handle vroooooom! He shot forward a few yards. ‘Aha ha most amusing’ I took another few steps vroooom. The car sped off again ‘oh he’s a card that Mr Gilchrist’ I mumbled through gritted teeth.
Five attempts later he finally let me get into the car and I wedged myself behind the passenger seat. ‘Bit slow today aren’t you Ham?’ Kenny’s grinning mug was filling the rear view mirror ‘you’re a very funny man Mr Gilchrist, I don’t now how you think them up, really I don’t’ I replied whilst scraping as much mud from my shoes over the pristine upholstery ‘Aye yer so sharp one of these days ye might cut yerself’ I continued, grinding the dirt into the carpet with my toe.
We were off to play volleyball in deepest darkest Prestwick. I had planned on driving until my brother had phoned to offer me a lift. I didn’t hesitate to take him up on it, as it’s a pretty dreary drive. Of course had I known it was the ‘G Man’ driving I would have declined. For those of you who don’t know, Kenny and I have some ‘issues’. Well I say ‘we’ when of course I mean ‘Kenny’. He’s still a wee bit bitter about a coaching decision at the Perth volleyball tournament two years ago. In my defence I’ll simply say, it turned the game, we won, and the cone was there on merit. Needless to say the boy blunder didn’t see it that way and has held a bit of a grudge ever since.
Confirmation, if it were needed, that he hadn’t forgotten came at the first set of roadwork’s. Most people may clip the odd traffic cone when they are zooming through those mobile chicanes. Kenny went straight through; in fact he was straddling the cones for a full quarter mile. Thump thump thump thump ‘Eeeer Kenny’ thumpthumpthump ‘don’t you think-‘ thumpthumpitythumpthumpthump ‘we should perhaps get back on the road’ thumpthumpthumpthump. I was starting to feel a bit dizzy with the blurry red & white pattern burling over the bonnet of the car.
Kenny wasn’t listening; in fact he was accelerating hard and gripping the steering wheel so firmly his knuckles were turning white. I must say they did provide a nice contrast to the crimson of his face. Bizarrely the large vein on his temple was actually pulsating in rhythm with the thump thump thumping of the cones as he feverishly scattered them to the four winds. I was going to press the issue on safety grounds but he had a fiercely determined look in his sticky out eyes and I decided that I would be safer taking refuge behind my paper ‘Okaaaaay’ I whispered under my breath.
The remainder of the journey was mercifully cone free and by the time we arrived at the sports hall Mr G had returned to a more natural pink colour. Conversation had dried up during the cone rampage and there was a bit of a bun fight as we all scrambled over one another to collect our bags and get out of the car as quickly as possible ‘gerroutofit ye fecker’, ‘Aaaah my eye someone’s poked my eye’, ‘you fecking eejit you stood on myoommppff’. There were quite a few cuts and bruises by the time we got to the changing rooms.
Unfortunately the fighting didn’t stop there. We have, how can I put this, a number of larger volleyball players in our team (you’ll note I didn’t say taller). However we only have two large shirts, and even they are a bit on the figure hugging side. It was another twenty minutes before we separated the combatants and finally get changed.
My older brother, who was coaching us, finally lost the rag and bellowed ‘Look just settle down for Christ sake!’ This was met with an awkward silence apart from one particularly sullen player in the corner ‘s’my shirt number eleven, I always get number eleven’. Neil ignored the muttering and started his team talk ‘Right boys, today were playing blah blah blah and we need to focus on yah de yah yah and if we don’t pull our fingers out of blah blah blah’. Neilly’s team talks are all the same, ye’ve heard one, ye’ve heard them all. I tend just to nod a lot and ‘yeah uhuu hmmm right’ and that seems to do the trick. He tries his best …… bless.
The warm up was excellent, I was hitting the ball rather well if I do say so myself, I was making spectacular pickups and pinpoint accurate sets. I was basically playing out of my skin. The fifteen minutes flew by and we were ready for the off. I felt very confident; surely I’d done enough for a starting spot. We gathered round for some final words of wisdom from the coach and to hear the starting line up. ‘Okay lets really get stuck in blah blah blah and I want to hear blah blah blah lots of commitment and ya de yaa yaa particularly in defence blah bah’, ‘yeah uhu hmmm right’ I nodded encouragingly
‘Okay here’s the starting line up Kenny at zone 1, Dicksy at …..’ the list went on ‘and finally Morgan at zone 6, okay guys lets-’, ‘woooh wooooh there Tiger, I think you might have made a mistake’, ‘sorry’, ‘you seem to have got the numbers mixed up, I am number eleven’, ‘yes’, ‘Well you haven’t mentioned my name’, ‘that’s because you’re on the bench’ I looked at him incredulously ‘Okay boys so we need to concentrat-‘, ‘didn’t you see the warm up’, ‘yes?’, ‘I was on fire man!’ He patted me soothingly on the shoulder ‘Ham Ham Ham I’m looking for the right balance in the side’, ‘Well ye wont find it while your head is stuck up your backside! Are you blind I’m red-hot today!’
With hindsight telling your coach he has his head up his arse is unlikely to push you up the pecking order. Neither is scuffling with him on the sideline and having to be restrained by two of your teammates likely to raise your profile in any helpful way. I do think that strapping me to the bench with duct tape was taking things a bit far though. I looked like Hannibal Lecter as they wheeled me from side to side during the changeovers.
The final insult was when Kenny came across to gloat ‘Alright Ham, having fun are we?’, ’yoognnffmaastard’ my expletives were strangled by the duct tape across my mouth. ‘Tut tut Ham, such bad language’ I glared at him as he pulled a brown envelope from his pocket ‘I think you’ll find this was the balance your brother was interested in, his bank balance’ and with a cheery grin he was gone.
Doei
