With the game scheduled for Harcourt Park in Upper Hutt, the boys were prepared for a big trip. A last minute reschedule to marginally closer Maidstoned Park didn’t sway us – we were already tripping. Tiberius, ever the showman, thought a journey to the upper reaches of the valley was not far enough so embarked on his own version of the Lundy 500 after getting Stoned in Palmerston North. Stent put in a transcendental contribution from Sydney. He was there in our minds (as was Mrs Colin), which made them there.
Marky Mark, who is just the man for a long trip (so far it is a continuous 58 years excluding foetal exposure), set the tone. He was heard to comment on how beautiful the autumnal colours were. The depth of the purples, the richness of the chartreuse and the vividness of the beige were something to behold. Danny thought the strangely intricate details on surfaces, richness of sound, brightness of colours, and complexity of his mental processes were due to a visitation from God. Meanwhile, under the effects, the strength of Mingus had quadrupled to be equal to that of a small boy.
There was not a fat belly, grey hair, nor receding hairline to be found. We were euphoric, expectant, our bodies were a-tingle and full of comaraderie and goodwill. Our skills were silky and the fantastical became common-place. Even when Skeatsy kneed the opposition keeper in the head – drawing blood - the Assistant Gardener was overcome by a fit of giggles.
A second half goal by Zeus was a thing of beauty and, through dilated pupils, drew much admiration. In fact, the chest down and volley was so sublime that we began to see the sounds and smell the colours and taste the feel. It is common, at this stage, to feel some nausea. But Carl had the entire teams sickness covered, although it was due to a hangover from the night before rather than synasthesia.
We were collectively in a place where an $11 jug of Panhead ale was not just a possibility but a reality. Were we delusional? No. Just selective. The very young, fit and fast opposition put 7 past us. Assistant Gardener complained that the ball was moving a fair bit, but someone was heard to comment “only a bit more than you.” this was always going to be a bad trip. I’m still traumatised and suffering flashbacks. Marky, got any horse tranquiliser left?