Breaking Dad’s Tag

By Charley Gayfer

I put on my black and white leggings, my black and white scarf, and my beanie, my black and white ribbons and my Collingwood Jersey; the black and white stripes will never get old. My jersey still didn’t have a number. It was probably the tenth time Dad had asked me who I wanted on my jersey, but once again I couldn’t make up my mind, at this stage I had been think about Bucks, but I knew he wouldn’t be playing for much longer. I ran to the bathroom rushing to get all my black and white striped face paint on my face, just so we could be early to the game for once. Dad always got stopped by the crazy Collingwood fans, talking for as long as they could, once I would finally pull him away, there would always be someone waiting.

Dad and I finally got out that front door and got into his silver Mini Cooper. I never understood why Dad bought a Mini Cooper since he is 6 foot 2, driving pretty much the smallest car you could find. It is the most annoying car. It only has two doors and you would have to literally sit on your legs if you wanted more than two people in the car. Dad pumped up the Collingwood song as he does before every Collingwood game, just so he can get in the zone and get into his good old Collingwood spirit. When we hit the traffic I started to get worried that we wouldn’t get into the gates in time because I knew there would be someone wanting to talk to Dad like every other time. Dad rolled down the windows, opened the sun roof and hung his scarf out, then he turned the music up even louder, and started singing. It was all fine until the singing part.

The car park was packed. I wasn’t surprised, and as we drove along each aisle of cars I saw a little space about 2.5 metres long, “Yep, that’s the one Dad, quick!” As I almost drove into the park myself, Dad quickly parked and, we rushed to try and get to the gate. I was dragging Dad along , speed walking, almost jogging to get there, as we went around the corner, I saw a familiar face, and at this moment I knew we wouldn’t get in on time. It was Joffa,  in his Big Gold, shiny Jacket, White Hair and rounded belly. He had the biggest smile on his face and just before he could reach us Dad gave me a slight smile of “I’m sorry, this won’t be long”, but I knew that someone else would be waiting after. I watched them talk away, waiting there for them to finally say, okay well I better go don’t want to miss the first quarter, but at this stage I was sure we would miss the first quarter. I was so annoyed at this stage so I decided to step in and tell Dad that I really needed to go to the toilet, insisting that he should stop talking. Thankfully he said his goodbyes and we made our way up the stairs. We heard the siren and I had my fingers crossed, hoping that it was the siren to the first quarter. Thankfully I caught my eye on the TV on the way up and saw that there was no score I was so happy and I smiled to Dad, hoping he had forgotten that I needed to go to the toilet. We got to the first floor and some of Dad’s old footy mates came towards us. In a demanding tone I whispered into Dad’s ear that it had better not take long. All he did was laugh, because this time he whispered back: “Do you need to go to the toilet again”.

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