Anyone who has had the hots for Hugh Grant or Julia Roberts along the way (a large number I suspect…) may well recall the scene in Notting Hill where a group of men on the next table are talking quite unfavourably about Roberts’ character, before Grant and then Roberts confront the then speechless men about what they have just heard. For a bloke scared of suspense on my screen (I generally change channels), I love that stuff in films. How about Russell Crowe in Gladiator when he reveals himself as Maximus Decimus Meridius in the Colosseum? Now that’s gold!
Anyway, the ‘week that was’ is really limited to happenings on Friday as I was away on a school camp for the week and as a result didn’t get a chance to see Will. I can give you a rundown of a couple of phone calls we had throughout the week, but banter about BBQ sausages and who has taken a better mark in footy probably won’t interest you so much.
But this will.
After downing bags after Friday’s return from camp, my first port of call was to get a coffee from my local haunt. While waiting for my cup of liquid gold, I was startled to see six Murray heads staring at me from the front of the Bayside Leader. Like the Seinfeld episode with the Mrs Castanza doll, I could hear Gus asking ‘What are they putting in the cup?’ before turning to Will’s noggin, ‘A skinny latte? Seriously, you’re a 6”4 footy coach and you sip on skinny lattes!?’. My visions were interrupted my real-time conversation. On the end of the paper were two locals discussing the story while also waiting for their coffee when I heard one innocently say “I reckon he will be alright you know. These things often end well.”
This was it. The Notting Hill and Gladiator moment I had been waiting for. As one who knew details of both Will’s injury and subsequent recovery, I wanted to paint for them a deeper picture of how life had changed for Will. I wanted to tell them about the ‘extras’ that such an injury throws in for free – the nausea, the fear, the feeling of weightlessness and the increased risk of infection. I wanted to tell them that while we all hold out hope that Will’s range of movement improves over time, it isn’t as easy as “I reckon he’ll be right”.
Unlike Hugh Grant and Russell Crowe’s characters, I didn’t take that golden moment to reveal the truth. The moment I was waiting for came and went in the blink of an eye and I missed the cue for my Hollywood line. I walked out with both a coffee and instant regret.
So thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I get another crack at what I should have said on Friday afternoon: The fact is Will requires our help. From pledges to cake stalls to community days and fundraising dinners, everything counts. The HELP US HELP THE MURRAYS Facebook page has been established and of coursewww.wheretheresawill.com.au was launched last week. I encourage all and sundry to get amongst the action. Pledge, see what others are up to or encourage people you know by sharing the link – the more the merrier.
Speaking of which, have a look at the special pledge message left just now at Help us help the Murrays, it's worth a look.