Cousins in sticky situation
Patrick Smith | April 22, 2009
BEN Cousins entered the Richmond boardroom. As always, he held his mobile phone to his ear.
Uneasily, he slipped past the famous Tigers Wall Of Knives. He had a quick glance and took in the collection of Jim Bowie blades, each with a name and date inscribed meticulously. There was Kevin Bartlett 1991, Allan Jeans 1992, Robert Walls 1997, Jeff Gieschen 1998. The rest became a well-polished blur until he saw an empty space at the bottom of the board. Pencilled in chalk was "Reserved for Terry".
Cousins looked about the room. At the head of the table sat Gary March, the club president. As Cousins' eyes panned the room, he realised it was March and nobody else. He thought this odd but sat down nonetheless, putting both hands on the table. The mobile phone remained stuck to his ear. March looked a little perplexed. Cousins, used to this response, explained the phone had been sewn on to his ear. He said it was the brainchild of his manager Ricky Nixon, who thought of it one night when driving his car to catch a tram.
The idea, Cousins said, was to give him some respite from the media. Every time he saw a camera crew, he would automatically put his hand on to the phone attached to his ear and pretend to talk. He did it a lot because he saw a lot of camera crews. When he rented a house, when he went to training, when he didn't go to training. So rather than fumble for his phone every time the media appeared from behind a bush, Nixon had the phone permanently attached to his client's ear. "It has proved very tricky to charge so I don't make many calls on it," Cousins told the president.
March then formally welcomed Cousins and said that the Tigers were keen to pick him up in the pre-season draft. So far, Cousins had passed all tests, though the medical officers reported the Brownlow medallist complained of a continual ringing in his ear. The doctors thought more than likely that it was a bad case of tinnitus though they had not ruled out a wrong number.
March opened the folder in front of him, checked some details and sought to make Cousins feel at home. "I have relatives named Cousins," the president said. "Or do I have cousins called Nephews? Never mind, we are one big happy family here at Punt Road." Cousins did not feel any easier and, sensing this, March tried another tack. "So you come from West Coast. How long have you lived in the States then? I love the West Coast. New York, New York and all that, eh? Eagles fan, too, I see. No better song than Hotel California. Well, maybe their cover version of Freo Way To Go is as good. It is quite haunting."
Cousins shifted in his seat and, desperate to change the subject, said he welcomed this one last chance to play league football and hoped that he could convince March that he would offer the club at least two good seasons. March said that it was not enough to convince him but that he had to impress both general manager of football Craig Cameron and director of football Tony Free. As he finished his sentence, March pointed to two cupboards at the back of the room.
"Craig and Tony are very much back-room boys," March said. "So much so that they have asked to be locked in those cupboards so they can go about their business undisturbed. Isn't that right Craig, Tony?" With that, Cousins heard a knocking sound coming from the cupboards. "That's Tony on the left and Craig on the right," March said. Hearing this, Cousins' hand instinctively edged towards the mobile stuck on his ear.
The footballer regained his composure and asked was it necessary that Cameron and Free be housed in cupboards. "Well, yes it is," March said. "Early doors - excuse the pun - the boys got on the front foot and were seen in public. That didn't go as well as we had liked so we thought of housing them in the cupboards. It is not as though they don't have their own key. They've got Fox footy, too."
March and Cousins then fine-tuned a likely contract, with Free and Cameron hitting the walls of their cupboards in approval where appropriate. March said all that was required now was for chief executive Steven Wright to sign off on the documents. "Pity that we haven't seen Stevie for a while. In fact, I've never seen Stevie at all. Never met him. I'm told he is very good, though. The Missing Persons Bureau keeps us up to date as best it can. He is very shy. Mostly, we leave the documents outside the front door and during the night, Stevie will dash in from the dark, grab them, do what he has to do with them and return them next night. We have learnt never to leave anything out when there is a full moon. Too bright for Stevie," March said.
With only Wright's signature required to seal the deal, March said it was time to meet the coach. The doors to the boardroom swung open. Terry Wallace, strapped upright to a trolley and wearing a mask remarkably evocative of Silence of the Lambs, was wheeled in. "It is important that you know Terry has our full support," March said.
Cousins' hand slowly, and in a tremble, reached for his phone. It's been there ever since.
http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,25367672-7583,00.html
