Hard Cuddles. James Harding
kid that used to take home the participation award without fail. I was the Hawthorn of participation awards back to back to back. Fuck me it used to give me the shits, because in my mind I really fancied myself as a Usain Bolt type operator.
In grade three, I decided to do something about it. I engaged my father, who was a keen runner, and explained to him that he was to take me running with him. I explained that there was a school running race coming up and I was tired of losing. He must have admired my ambition because we started training straight away.
He was running regularly at the time and decent distances by memory, so at the start he would just ease me into it, by taking on a casual 3km run at slow pace. Here I was running next to him feeling like Robert De Castella. I’ve always been like that—anytime I take on a task or a goal, I always think I’m the best out there. Positive visualisation; I did that even at a young age, still do. A long time before spirituality, hacky sacks and kale smoothies hit Brunswick Street.
As we got closer to the race, Dad really ramped it up. Towards the end I remember him telling me the runs we were doing for training were the same distances he would run by himself. It was an incredible feeling; training for something and putting in the hard yards. After the run we would cool down in the backyard and I would talk to him about the race. Dad would emphasise the importance of lifting my legs up high and using my arms to generate a good stride and pace. I explained that this kid Jacob was my only real competition, but I was sure he wasn’t running big distances, putting kilometres into his legs in preparation. Probably sitting on the couch watching cartoons and stuffing his face with lollies. I was so competitive. This sort of mindset, hating the enemy was something I had most of my life. If you weren’t with me, then fuck you. This lolly eating couch potato didn’t stand a chance. I was going to tear him apart.
When it came to the big race day, I was nervous. I remember going to the toilet a lot, a trait I inherited from Dad. I had done all the training and all the work, I was completely prepared but I was still nervous as hell.
As we lined up on the blocks, I looked down the line at the competition. Jacob was looking straight ahead, it’s go time. Bang the gun went and I was off, I knew right from the start that I had everyone covered in that field. It was an incredible feeling; I was out to an early lead. I had a nice little buffer on Jacob, even to this day I can still feel that feeling of flying like Linford Christie across the couch grass. As we approached the halfway mark, I wanted to make sure of my victory so I started to zigzag, cutting off any other runner who might have been a threat. Again I have always had a win-at-all-costs mentality, if I have to cheat to win, then so be it.
As I crossed the finish line first I was flying, it felt like a blur, I was moving that fast. I felt incredible. the teacher came over with the winner’s ribbon and I thought, wow, I have actually done it. I looked in the crowd for the old man so I could rejoice in victory with the bloke that got me there, my trainer. He came over and he had a tear in his eye. Looking back, I'm pretty sure he was crying from laughter because I had cut all of the other runners out of the race. It was a special moment in my life.
I learned a valuable lesson. If you want to achieve something worthwhile, no one is going to give it to you—you need to earn that shit.
YOUNG ENTREPRENEUR LAWNS/LOLLIES
‘My best entrepreneurial advice is to start.’
— Dave Morin
Making money has always been a passion of mine. I am a bit of journeyman. I’m not afraid to try something new. Ever since I was boy I always had some sort of small business going. I had employees from as early as ten years old. My first business was a car wash; I would wash our cars and then head next door and wash their cars. Showing incredible foresight and business nous, my enthusiasm for the art of the deal became evident when the next-door neighbours’ kids wanted to be involved as well. They were too young to know anything about payment, but old enough to help out. So I gave them cloths and buckets and got them doing the heavy lifting, so to speak. I became a director of car washing and finances.
At the end of the wash I would get the neighbour to hand over the money, thank the boys for their help and choof off home. 100 per cent profit and another happy client.
Then there was the lawn mowing round. I would fill up the lawn mower and whipper snipper with petrol, grab the rake and broom, lay all the equipment across the lawn mower and walk around the local area, cold calling potential customers, setting up a nice little round. I especially targeted overgrown nature strips. It is hard for the occupants to say no to a young kid ready to go with all his gear and your garden is a shambles. I employed a few friends to help but the profits shrunk too much for my liking. So my little brother was engaged to help me out.
Next was my first real crack at employment. It was five days a week and a Saturday morning at the local chemist. This round was a truly prized position and one I had to wait some time to get. I did the bulk of the days, my sister did another day or two and I sub-contracted Carlos to do the big days I didn’t want to do.
The job involved riding my bike with a backpack and delivering tablets and medicine to elderly people who couldn’t leave their houses. I was drug dealing even back then. It was a prick of a job when it rained, so occasionally Mum would drive us in the car. When I initially took the job on, I did it every day to get a feel for it and I learned what days I would get the best customers, meaning the ones that would give generous tips. Mr Edbrooke was a beauty, smoking his Camel cigarettes, he would put his hand in a loose change bowl and give whatever he scooped up. One day I received about $14 which was a fortune then. Another notable tipper was the big rock spider that lived on McKinnon Rd. He would regularly tip $5 and really enjoyed it when the kids dropped off his supplies. He would come to the front door salivating, overwhelmed by the younger company. We were all warned about him; you had to stay on your toes at his place.
Then there was the confectionery wholesaler next to Malvern station. I made up an order list of all the different bits and pieces: sherbets, pineapples, snakes, violet crumbles, raspberries, all of the favourites. Then off I would go around the neighbourhood taking orders and cash. I would tally up my orders and head to the wholesaler to buy sweets in bulk. When I got home I would break them into smaller bundles, repackage and on-sell it. This was quite a good business, the feedback was very encouraging and it appealed to the customer’s weakness: sugar, door-to-door sugar. My customers would go inside with their loot and disguise their addictions by saying, ‘Oh I’m just supporting the young kid having a go, great to see a young fella with that drive.’ Make no mistake about the choice of product on my part, I knew exactly what I was doing.
It was this last business that really opened my eyes. It was interesting to see how easy it is to sell your product to an addict. They loved it and would eagerly await your return.
SHINER…DAMIAN AND RIKKI STORY
‘Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you’re a man, you take it.’
— Malcolm X
I copped a lot of shit for only starting puberty in year nine. I was a late developer. My legs didn’t really have any hair on them and for that, a few of the guys suggested I was most likely a little light on hair in the pubic region as well. Damian was the ring leader; a skinny Italian kid with two older brothers. Damian was a talented footballer and most likely would have been drafted, had he not been vertically challenged. He was an interesting looking individual. He had an abnormally large forehead that was really long and on the right side of this forehead he had this lump. To match the lump Damian had a massive nose. His side profile looked the Himalayas, but I let all of this go, I didn’t mention it ... until much later.
Damian the Lump and a couple of guys started calling me Shiner. Boys being boys all joined in and it wasn’t long before this shit got out of hand. I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of this sort of foul slander and the Lump was really enjoying himself.
One day we were in the gymnasium watching the seniors play basketball. This was always fun because we got out of class and basketball is a game that I have always loved. The Lump decided it would be a good idea to get the rest of the class to start singing ‘C’mon on baby wax my shiner’