On Saturday night, I dreamed a dream that I hadn’t dreamed for a long time. It used to come and go while I was at high school, and turned up again a few times at university, but I had thought it was long gone. To this day, I’m yet to figure out exactly what it all means. Continue reading Nightmare
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I dream of hoisting the Provan-Summons trophy. I’m out there in the middle of ANZ Stadium, my arms held high, in a state of absolute ecstasy. In the distance I can see people cheering, cameras flashing and flags waving, but in my head there is silence, nothing but a sense of calm that I’ve experienced very few times before. It’s as if I am sitting alone on the side of a snow-covered Himalayan mountain, marvelling at the magnificence of the world both below and around me, or lying flat on my back in the middle of the desert, mesmerised by the brightest and fullest night sky anyone has ever witnessed. A star moves slowly from one side to the other; a painter’s careful brush stroke against the pitch black canvas. A colourful row of prayer flags waves softly in the breeze.
More than ten years ago now, I visited San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art, affectionately known as the SFMOMA. I’m no art buff and definitely couldn’t identify a Monet from a Manet, but it was well worth the visit. There were wacky sculptures, impressive photos of things both old and new, and even a triple-barrel Elvis with guns drawn.
Pop quiz, Warrior Nation: You’re heading to the Gold Coast with your season on the brink of self-destruction, and when the whistle blows you’ll face a Titans team just as desperate as you.
What do you do?
You know that when you’re at your best, you can match it with anyone in the NRL, but the moment you take your foot off the pedal, bad things happen.
What do you do? Continue reading Speed