Battle Royale Read online

  Hi! We’re the Selwood Boys!

  We can’t wait for you to read our new series, written by bestselling kids’ author Tony Wilson. These books are all about our childhood, growing up in Bendigo, Victoria. With four footy-mad boys in one house, you can probably imagine the things we used to get up to!

  In these stories, Tony has taken inspiration from all the funny things that happened to us as kids, and then he’s added even more!

  We’ve loved making these books with Tony and we hope you love reading them.

  Troy, Adam, Joel and Scott

  THE SELWOOD BOYS

  COLLECT THEM ALL!

  OUT NOW!

  Book 1 – Battle Royale

  Book 2 – The Miracle Goal

  OUT SOON!

  Book 3 – Hit the Road

  Book 4 – Versus the Street

  DEDICATION

  For Mum and Dad

  — Troy, Adam, Joel and Scott

  For Harry, my number one footy star

  — Tony Wilson

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  An Excerpt from The Selwood Boys: The Miracle Goal

  About the Selwoods

  About the Author

  Copyright

  ONE

  1996

  ‘One on the trampoline!’ Mum called from the back door. ‘You know the rule! I don’t want any trips to the emergency department!’

  All four boys froze. They were a sweaty mess of bodies, arms and legs all tangled up together.

  ‘Don’t move or say anything,’ Troy whispered.

  ‘If we’re quiet, she’ll go inside,’ Adam added.

  Joel tried not to breathe too loudly. His head was under Troy’s knee, Scott’s nose was under Adam’s armpit, and Sally the dog was leaping about under the trampoline, yapping madly.

  ‘Boys, you are being sensible, aren’t you?’ Mum called a second time.

  If only Mum knew. They were only halfway through a Battle Royale, and it was anything but sensible. The rules were you had to get everyone else off the trampoline. And . . . well, there weren’t really any other rules. Mum turned slowly to go back inside. She stopped, and it looked like she might come outside.

  In that moment, Joel noticed how close he was to Scott’s bum. ‘Scooter, don’t you dare fart,’ he whispered.

  ‘Okay, boys,’ Mum said, finally closing the door. ‘Nothing stupid, all right? Dinner in fifteen.’

  Scott started giggling. Joel knew what was coming. He started to push at his brother’s knee, desperate to get away. But it was too late. Scott let loose.

  ‘Scoo-ter!’ Joel complained, trying not to breathe in the foul smell.

  Troy pulled his arm from under Adam’s back to block his nose. ‘Aah, Scooter, that’s disgusting! Quick, check your nappy!’

  Scott used the trampoline to spring at Troy. ‘I don’t have a nappy!’ he yelled, his arms suddenly around Troy’s neck. ‘I’m six! I’m big! I DON’T HAVE A NAPPY!’

  Troy tried to stand up, but now Scott had both arms around his neck.

  Adam switched into his wrestling-commentary voice. ‘Oh my, have a look at this. Mr Wonderful Troy Selwood has been set upon by Scooty Doo. Scooty Doo — the tenacious little warrior. He has Mr Wonderful in a headlock. Will he use his famous “killer nappy” move?’

  ‘Aaaaargh!’ Scott roared again and leapt from Troy’s neck towards Adam. ‘Stop saying stuff about nappies!’

  The twins were laughing so hard they could barely stand up. Joel and Scott saw their chance. They grabbed whatever legs they could reach and threw the twins from the trampoline.

  ‘It’s an upset!’ Adam went on as he and Troy fell across the springs. ‘The two heavyweight champions are out and it’s just Scooty Doo and Boundary Boy in the ring.’

  Now it was Joel’s turn to complain. ‘Boundary Boy? I’m not Boundary Boy! I’m Gary Ablett. I’m Yablett!’

  The twins shook their heads.

  Troy grinned. ‘Sorry, Joel. You’re definitely Boundary Boy. You might get to play one day, who knows, but while you’re an actual boundary umpire, your wrestling name is Boundary Boy.’

  Adam put on his most serious face. ‘Sorry, Boundary Boy. It’s just the facts.’

  Joel angrily picked up his little brother in a squeeze hold.

  ‘Oh my!’ Adam shouted, back in his American commentator voice. ‘There can only be one king! Boundary Boy has Scooty Doo in a waist lock! Look at the speed and power! He’s surely the greatest boundary umpire in the world of professional sports entertainment! An eight-year-old bundle of pure boundary-umpiring rage!’

  ‘Oh no,’ Troy joined in. ‘Is he going to do his famous Boundary Toss? Careful, Scooter. Scooooo-ter!’

  The twins were laughing again. With a frustrated grunt, Joel heaved his brother off the trampoline. Scott’s chest gave a little oof sound as he hit the ground.

  ‘Yes!’ Joel shouted, above the twins’ taunts. ‘Yablett wins the Battle Royale! Yablett’s the champ.’

  ‘Boundary Boy,’ Adam corrected.

  ‘That hurt,’ Scott said, still on the ground. ‘That was too rough . . . Boundary Boy.’

  ‘Yablett!’ Joel shouted, his eyes ablaze. ‘I’m Yablett! I’m not a boundary umpire. I want to be Yablett!’

  Joel loved the Cats and adored the team’s biggest star, Gary Ablett. Each of his brothers barracked for different AFL teams. Adam loved the Hawks. Troy, like their dad, supported Fitzroy. Scott loved Richmond. But Joel’s obsession was Geelong. The thing he loved most in the world was an old blue-and-white Geelong footy with Ablett’s face printed on it. Joel slept with that footy every night.

  ‘Boys, dinner’s on the ta-ble!’ Mum sang from the patio.

  Troy held out a hand, offering to help Joel down from the trampoline. ‘Calm down, Joely, we’re just teasing. Of course you’ll play soon. But for now, you are Boundary Boy. Come on. Let us help you down.’

  Joel reached out for his brother’s hand.

  Troy pulled it back quickly and ran it through the side of his hair. Joel was left grasping at air, and nearly fell off the trampoline. One leg went through the springs.

  ‘Sorry, Boundary Boy.’

  ‘Oww!’ Joel yelped, pulling out his leg. ‘You wait. I’m going to be as big as you two one day. And next year I’ll be playing!’

  ‘We know,’ Adam replied, laughing and giving Troy a high five. ‘But for now, Joel Selwood, you’re our favourite little boundary umpire.’

  Troy nodded. ‘And you just have to concentrate on being the best boundary umpire you can be.’

  TWO

  Joel was a great boundary umpire, actually. He didn’t plan to be. Before each game, he’d vow not to take it too seriously, not to worry about his throw-ins. His plan, after all, was to one day be a champion player, maybe a star in the AFL. He was only running the boundary at Adam and Troy’s matches for the free chocolate bar after each game.

  But once the ball was bounced, Joel just couldn’t help doing his best. When it came to footy, he couldn’t help trying to do his best with everything.

  He kept up with the play.

  He shot his arm into the air and blew his whistle loudly when the ball went out of bounds.

  He took pride in his throw-ins.

  If he wasn’t half the size of the bigger players, he could have been boundary umpiring in the AFL. It didn’t help that he had a mop of baby curls on his head. And that he wore Adam’s black footy socks, which were too big and sagged around his ankles.

  It was never the Strathdale Sharks kids who heckled him. It was mostly kids who played for the opposition. The faster he ran, the more perfectly he threw the ball in, the more pointing and laughing he heard from over the fence.

  ‘Hey, Selwood, why don’t you umpire the big time?’

  ‘Yo, dude, we’re not at the MCG!’

  ‘Good work, Curlsy! Where can I get one of those wigs?’

  ‘Your throw-ins are straighter than your hair!’

  Joel never said a word. He didn’t think he could. He was an umpire, after all. And if he caused a scene, he might not get his chocolate bar.

  ‘Can I cut my hair short?’ Joel asked his mum the evening before the twins’ home game against the Raywood Swallows. The Swallows supporters were the worst.

  His mum ran her hands through his bouncy shag. ‘Oh, Joely. You said you’d give me at least another few months with your beautiful curls. You said you’d keep them until you were nine.’

  ‘I know I said that,’ Joel began, ‘but — but . . . they hang it on me.’

  ‘Who does?’ Mum asked.

  ‘The Swallows kids. The ones who aren’t playing. I think they know me from the shops.’

  ‘They tease you for having curly hair?’ Mum asked, genuinely surprised. ‘Why would they do that? Your hair is adorable. It’s perfect.’

  Joel shrugged. ‘Only you think that, Mum. Other kids — I dunno. Ask Adam and Troy.’

  His mum looked up in the direction of the twins, who were in the kitchen taking turns sculling milk directly from the bottle. Before she could say a word, Adam was talking.

  ‘Adorable, Mum. We love his hair as much as you do.’

>   ‘Perfect,’ Troy agreed, wiping away a milk moustache. ‘And any kid who teases him for his perfect do will have us to answer to.’

  Joel crossed his arms, waiting.

  Troy opened his arms wide. ‘Come here, my little boundary boofhead. Come and give us a hug.’

  ‘Boys!’ Mum warned, as Joel gave an angry cry and charged towards his brothers.

  The twins had already turned and were running for the back door.

  ‘Boys! Settle down! Boooooys!’

  The Selwoods lived in a dead-end street in Strathdale, just out of Bendigo. It was a great family home. Not huge, but with a cul-de-sac at the front (good for footy), a tennis court at the back (very good for footy), and three bedrooms between four kids — the boys adored it. The house was red brick, with a neat front garden and a double garage at the end of a concrete drive.

  Joel and Scott stood by the car, waiting for Dad. Rain roared onto the tin roof and poured off the garage door.

  ‘C’mon Dad, we’ll be late!’ Joel yelled.

  The boys could barely hear themselves over the sound of the rain.

  ‘Huh?’ Dad emerged slowly, carrying his cross-country gear.

  ‘Daaaaad,’ Joel whined. ‘You’re taking ages. I’ve got to umpire!’

  ‘Yeah,’ Scott said. ‘You’re taking aaaages!’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Dad said. ‘Hold your horses. We’ll be there in plenty of time. Don’t worry. Everyone will have a good chance to get completely saturated, soon enough.’

  It was the day of the Under-12s game against the Raywood Swallows. Dad drove Joel and Scott to the game in the six-seater Falcon. The twins were already at the ground. Mum had dropped them there early to make the team meeting.

  ‘You sure you want to run the boundary today?’ Dad asked Joel as the car rolled crunchily across the sodden gravel car park. ‘You’ll be earning your chocolate bar in this weather. It’s raining cats and dogs.’

  ‘Will the cats win?’ Joel asked.

  Dad laughed as he opened the driverside door. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Against the dogs. You said, “It’s raining cats and dogs”. I’m going for the cats.’

  ‘It’s an expression, Joel. It just means it’s bucketing down.’

  ‘They should say it’s raining cats and cats,’ Joel said. ‘No need to mention the dogs. The Cats are the best! The Dogs will be lucky to make the eight.’

  Both boys slammed their doors. Ducking under raincoat hoods, they jogged for cover.

  ‘They should say it’s raining tigers and dogs,’ Scott said in his high little voice. ‘Tigers are the toughest cats.’

  ‘The Tigers are hopeless,’ Joel said. ‘Where are the Tigers on the ladder?’

  ‘Yeah, well, who cares,’ Scott said. ‘We’ll win the flag this year. We’ve got Richo.’

  Dad grinned. ‘You both have a rare ability to relate everything back to footy. My point is, we’ve only walked fifty metres from the car and I’m absolutely soaked. Do you reckon you’re okay to run the boundary in this, Joely?’

  ‘Wish I could play,’ Joel said.

  ‘I know you do, mate.’

  ‘Why can’t I?’

  ‘It was the same for the twins,’ his dad told him. ‘No competitive matches until you’re nine. You don’t want to get burnt out by the time you’re twelve. That happens to some kids. They play a hundred games before they’re in the Under 14s!’

  Joel knew he’d never get sick of footy.

  ‘So, Joel, do you want a week off the boundary?’ his dad asked.

  Joel lifted up his face and felt the rain splash down on his cheeks. He loved days like this. Mud, water, players sliding everywhere. Next year he would get to play in the glorious mud. For now, at least he could still be part of it — out there running the boundary.

  ‘Nah, I’m okay, Dad. I’ll do it.’

  ‘It’s gonna be cold and slippery,’ his dad said. ‘Do you want to wear gloves? I brought Adam’s because it’s so wet. He never wears them, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Might keep you warm?’ He held them out to Joel.

  Lots of players in the AFL had started wearing gloves to help them grip the wet ball. Even his hero, Gary Ablett, sometimes wore gloves.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. He took the black gloves and with a bit of fiddling, pulled them over his wet fingers. His hands were immediately warmer.

  He clapped his padded palms together.

  He’d be like Ablett.

  A small, mop-haired, boundary-umpiring Ablett.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ he said, clapping his hands again.

  THREE

  Joel would never dream of telling Adam and Troy to their faces, but he loved watching them play. Not just because it was footy, and Joel could watch any footy. He really enjoyed watching Adam and Troy. It was one of the reasons Joel volunteered as boundary umpire. Running the boundary meant he got to watch the game, hear the game, feel the game, from within the boundary fence. It was the next best thing to playing.

  And he hated sitting still. He was so not good at sitting still.

  Even by the Under 12s, the twins were magnificent footballers. They were excellent at other sports, too — especially tennis and basketball — but footy was their number-one passion.

  The twins were naturals. It was really hard to tell them apart. It was even harder to decide which one was better. Adam’s hair was a little longer, but not by much. Troy’s shorts were a little baggier, but Adam wore loose shorts, too. Adam’s jumper was number eight, and Troy wore thirteen. Troy was more likely to kick big bags of goals, because he usually played forward. But Adam was equally athletic, equally strong overhead, and dominated games from centre half-back.

  There was one match against Quarry Hill when Adam went forward and kicked seven goals. There were many days that Troy kicked bags of five, and one day he kicked nine.

  Every week, Joel watched Adam and Troy and learned more about footy. They ran to the right spots. They worked hard when they didn’t have the ball. They attacked the ball at full pace, and jumped into packs and marked the ball at its highest point. When they dropped a mark, they never gave up, fighting for the ball on the ground. They tackled, they chased, and they encouraged less-talented teammates. They used their voices to demand the ball, especially from each other. Some people thought they had ‘twin magic’, a special connection that helped Adam find Troy, and Troy find Adam. But Joel knew the truth. They just spent all their spare time practising together — all their time just being together.

  The other player Joel loved to watch was Nick Dal Santo. Nick was a close friend of the twins and a beautifully balanced onballer. He often joined their backyard contests. Nick played in the midfield, just as Joel hoped to when he finally pulled on the boots.

  ‘I’m going to be a good player,’ Joel would tell himself, as he dashed around the boundary.

  He ran faster and faster. His breathing rattled in his ears and his chest, but it felt good to push himself hard. To never allow himself to get behind the play.

  He was determined to be a player. He was determined to be a star.

  ‘Hey, Gloverboy! Throw it in, Gloverboy! Haw! He’s wearing a glove. Get it — Gloverboy.’

  Joel didn’t have to turn around to know who was sledging him. It could only be Leo Kransky, the Raywood Swallows’ massive ruckman. He looked like a hulk. He had a man’s voice and a man’s body, even though he was still in the Under 12s.

  The rumour was that Leo Kransky already shaved every day. One of the reasons for the rumour was that Leo Kransky lumbered around, giving people corkies in the upper arm and saying, ‘Feel my face, doofus. Do you know I shave every day?’

  Leo Kransky was the toughest ruckman in the Bendigo Junior Football League. He wasn’t agile, and he wasn’t particularly skilled. But he was twenty centimetres taller than everyone, including the twins, so he got his hands to the ball, and could kick long and straight.

  Leo Kransky was tough.

  Leo Kransky was heavy.

  Leo Kransky was annoying.

  Today, he was forced to be annoying from the sidelines. He’d been suspended last week for stepping on an opponent’s hand. When the umpire spotted it, Kransky apologised and said it was an accident. But the umpire reported him because he’d stepped on another hand in the first half and said that was an accident, too.