KB, you legend

I had just watched Carlton, the team I despise more than any other, defeat the Dogs at Etihad. Carlton were terrible, the Dogs worse. I had a few beers on board and was waiting by my brother-in-law’s car under the stadium when I noticed a sprightly older gent walking toward me in the otherwise deserted car park. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I blinked just to make sure and then my wife Jill said, ‘Isn’t that Kevin Bartlett?’ ‘Yes, it is’, I replied in reverent tones. KB, along with Richo, is my all-time favourite Tiger. I am 46 years old and my formative years as a Tiger were all about KB. I grew up in Burnie, on Tasmania’s north-west coast, and the local team was the Burnie Tigers. There are a lot of blokes my age from Burnie who follow the Tigers. I also follow the Tigers as my older cousin Roger, who played for the St.Marys Tigers on Tasmania’s east coast, threatened to bash me if I followed anyone else. As KB got closer I thought to myself, ‘Bugger it, I may never have this opportunity again.’ and approached the legend. ‘KB, you legend!’ I called out, beer obviously playing a big part in my highly un-original introduction. I went through the usual, ‘You’re my favourite player’ spiel and ‘I still reckon you could get a kick, have you thought about coming out of retirement?’ and many other things he no doubt found fascinating. He was charming and seemed happy to have a chat with a slightly drunk bloke in an underground car-park. I even made him laugh with a witty remark that I can’t remember. We chatted for a bit and I noticed he looked a bit bemused. ‘So are you a Tigers supporter?’ he asked. ‘Eh? Um, yes.’ I replied. ‘It’s just that you’re wearing a Bulldogs cap’. My heart sank. I had worn Jill’s Dogs membership cap to the game and this was the cause of his confusion. ‘No, no, no, no! ‘ I said. I had to dig myself out of this hole. I took the hat off then remembered how I could convince him of my loyalty. ‘Look’, I said, pulling my trouser-leg up, ‘Jack Riewoldt’s socks!’ (how I got those is another story). At this stage he gave me the sort of smile given by sane people to lunatics, said, ‘Nice to meet you’ and walked off. I couldn’t have been happier. ‘Jill, that was KB!’ I said. ‘He seemed like a nice man’, she replied. ‘Yeah, he did.’ And in my eyes that makes him even more of a legend.

– Joe Crawford, Launceston