Some short funny stories by Wayne Carey and John Longmire

FREE FALLING by Wayne Carey

In 1990 the team went over to New Zealand, And in between training sessions and watching some of the action at the Commonwealth Games in Auckland, we had some time off to sample the sights.

The boys were pretty intrigued by the bungee jumping craze which seemed to be the latest Kiwi novelty. Anthony Rock had run out of money, but he was keen to make everyone join in whatever was going , whether it be bungee jumping or white-water rafting.

He found amazing ways to make a bit of money, one which must remain ‘n club’’. He was also good at saving it, he and Shaun Smith managed to convince the bungee jumping operator to let them go for free, if they did it naked.

Despite the large mixed crowd, it was no problem for either of them. ‘Rocky’ wasn’t shy. In a flash, he’d lowered his shorts and away he went. The crowd loved it, and so too did Rocky!.

THE RUN OF MY LIFE by Wayne Carey

When your life depends on it, anything is possible, even running a hundred meters in under nine seconds.

It was the last night of our gruelling week-long stay just outside of Christchurch in 1991. We’d exhausted ourselves mountain climbing, hiking and white-water rafting after earlier completing vigorous training and fitness sessions three times a day.

To relax a little the night before we were due to fly home, Anthony Rock and I went down to a pub in town. It was a bit rough, but by this stage of the trip so were we and we had a good time, staying until stumps. As we walked out, we passed two big Maoris who looked like a world championship wrestling tag-team. The were taller than us and twice as wide. Something must have been said, probably by Rocky knowing him, but it was nothing too serious and we staggered around the corner, looking for a cab to take us back to camp. Just as we stopped, a car pulled up and the two big fellows from the pub jumped out. They were intent on destruction and not interested at all in conversation. They wanted a little sport, us!.

In situations like these, you act instinctively. Just like in the Westerns, we split, ‘Rocky’ careering off one way and me the other. Unfortunately for me, their car was facing the way I was running and they jumped back in the car, forgot about Rocky and went after me. I raced off and at the end of the street came a pie van, filled with Chinese guys who wondered what the dickens was happening. I lay down underneath the van, hoping the Maoris hadnt seen me.

They got out of their car and slowly walked towards the van. One laughed, thinking he had me. But on hands and knees I crawled out the other side and sprinted up the street. Carl Lewis would have been proud of me. I must have broken even time, but my pursuers were still just behind, revving their car up the footpath in the chase. I was pretty tired, we’d been going flat-out all week but survival was the name of the game. Coming to an alley, I ducked behind a pole and waited.

The car slowed down as it approached and I tensed myself to race off again. I didnt dare look, just gradually turned myself around the pole as the car went past. As soon as it was out of sight, I dashed off in the opposite direction, found a cab and went looking for Rocky. He was already in a cab trying to find me. Back home the boys thought itwas hysterical , but at the time, I couldnt see too much of a funny side. The size of these boys make me look like a mouse. If we find ourselves in Christchurch again, I’ll make sure someone tall is with me. Rocky’s good company but hes a short-arse!.

HAUNTED HOUSE by Wayne Carey

When North Melbourne’s interstate and country recruits come down to the city, they’re all put in club houses that are pretty central to everything. I used to board with Wayne Schwass and ex-north players, Dean McRae, Liam Pickering , Brenton Harris and Steve Hamilton. We were the Dublin Street boys, while close by, also in Strathmore, were the Lamart Street boys. Their ring leader was the fun loving Johnny Longmire.

There were plenty of high jinks. We often conducted midnight egg-throwing raids, which sometimes raged at one house, untill supplies were procured from the local 7-11 store and counter-attacks launched at the other house.

Johns girlfriend, Shelly is a hairdresser and one day she came home with a big hairdressing dummy, a fierce Chinese looking guy, which John thought would be ideal in causing a bit of mischief. With a few alterations and additions, the dummy really did look mean. John named it Max and it had been used to initiate North Melbourne recruits ever since.

One of our newcomers was Adelaide’s Damian Murray, who was 203 centimeters tall and a genuine man mountain renowned for eating as many as twenty Weet-Bix each morning in a huge saucepan. John decided big Damian would be an ideal target.

It was a nice, windy night and John arranged for Damian’s house mates to go out, leaving the big fellow all alone in the house. First he employed the phone tactic, ringing up and hanging up as soon as the phone was answered. Then he rang back , doing some heavy breathing (he’s seen a lot of TV Longers, he knows all the moves!). Minutes later we assembled, hiding behind the hedge, making sure we had an uninterrupted view of what was to happen. The play was working perfectly. The light was on and the other boys made sure the curtains were open.

Armed with the mean looking Max. John tapped , quietly on the lounge room window, hoisting Max high into the air. Big Damian was petrified. He jumped out of the chair, swearing and carrying on. Seconds later we saw him dashing out of the house to his car and off into the night. We found out later he’d made a panicky phone call to Simon, the curator at Arden Street, and asked if he could stay at his house!. The boys laughted about that one for weeks.

Another time , Andrew Krakouer and Anthony Stevens were at another of the club houses. I borrowed Max and we went on a mission, waiting untill it was almost midnight until we banged on the door, rushed back behind the fence and waited for the door to open. Just as Andrew came out to see what was happening, I levered ‘Max’ up over the paling fence.

''Christ, theres a seven foot Chinaman out here....'' yelled Andrew and raced back inside, slamming the door at high speed. Fearing the worst, he ducked under his bed and didn’t move, according to eye-witness reports, for a good hour.

AND IN WALKED KANGA by John Longmire

The year before joining North Melbourne, I played a season as a 16-year old with Corowa. By rights I was a Swans player, but ealier that year they sold me sight unseen to North for about $15,000. I’d been undecided about playing in the Big smoke until John Kennedy, the living legend who was North’s coach came up one night. Ron Joseph, Dad and I were at a Chinese restaurant in Corowa and I almost fell out of my chair when John walked in the room. I was so rapt that a bloke of John’s stature had made the effort to come and see me. I was virtually theirs from then on.

Ron rang soon after the paper work was completed and asked, ''What are you doing at the end of the year?''
''We’ve got shearing and all that sort of stuff on.''
''How would you like to go to London?''
''Shit yeah, That’d be great.''
I put the phone down and realised how hard it was going to be to tell Mum and Dad about it. I’d never been further than Melbourne before!. But they wereas delighted as I was, especially as I would have an opportunity to play for North for the first time, in an end-of-season exhibition game.

This was the infamous game that became known as the Battle of Britain, when football was forgotten in favour of a series of running brawls. I was on the bench and had never seen anything like it before, The rules were thrown out the window as players from both sides fought. About five minutes after Alistair Clarkson had downed Ian Aitken, John Kennedy told me ''You’re on!''. It was a long walk from the bench to the forward line. I’d seen some wild blues in the bush but nothing like this. We won the game and while I didnt kick a goal, I got in a couple of hand passes and a kick to at least figure on the stat sheet.

‘Kanga’ Kennedy was as pleased as I’ve seen him after the game. After all, we’d knocked off the reigning premiers, not only at footy but in the fights as well!. We were staying in the same hotel as Carlton so the after-match was a little quite. We next stopped at Vancouver to play Melbourne for the Championship of the World. We were beaten, but it was all an unbelievable experience for me.

THE GOOD LIFE by John Longmire

Early on the trip to London, Donald McDonald and a few others tried to teach me the ropes, offering me drinks and generally initiating me into the ways of footy club trips away. The morning before the London match, we had a 6am training run scheduled. Ian Fairley and I were were first down into the foyer and Kanga said to us ''Run down to Hyde Park. That’s where we’re training.''

As soon as we were around the corner, Ian hailed a cab and down to Hyde park we went in style. The boys arrived half an hour later, red-faced and panting after running all the way.

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