A day in the life of Eddie, originally 'published'  7 September, 2003, and time to pull it out again (so to speak) with the joys that Eddie is having at the moment with the Wobblies.

Read on dear reader...

3.35am: Once again fell out of bed onto the floor. If only Mrs. Kefu was 56.3% smaller and not refusing to leave my bed until Steve gets back in the team.

4:48am: This is getting ridiculous. Still not sleeping. Decided to get up and head to the trusty computer and its statistics package to try to justify picking Steve at inside centre again.

4:52am: If one more cheeky sod thinks it’s funny to e-mail me that bloody “Memo from John Mitchell” again…

5:00am: Scanning web for comments on the Wallabies. Once again “Nick the Aussie” is calling me a FluffyBunny on some Kiwi website. How cute.

5:05am: Yawning too much though so retreated to the couch to try to get some decent sleep.

7:35am: Not good. SMH says Rod MacQueen has turned down a coaching role in the UK to pursue “other business interests”. Looks like truth to the rumours he wants to get back into the business of running the Wallabies.

7:44am: Back on the computer. Finally figured out that “Nick the Aussie” actually hates me! Resolved to dampen down this criticism before Sir John of Arfu finds out.

7:45am: Sent Steve Kefu out with Nick’s contact address with the command to silence him.

7:46am: Plans have ended in custard. Steve tripped down the front steps and broke his nose. How will I get rid of Mrs. Kefu now?

7:48am: Abused apartment management about deliberate foul play on the part of the architect.

8:15am: Received another anxious phone call from Georgie. I insisted once again that I was not trying to dump him and replace him with Andrew Johns.

8:17am: Andrew hasn’t responded to my last 12 faxes, 25 voice messages or 83 e-mails. Sent him another text.

10am: Began assembling for first team training of the week.

10:10am: Dragged Patricio Noriega out of the nearby McDonalds.

10:11am: And found Owen Finegan hiding in the corner.

10:12am: Ditto Matt Dunning.

10:15 Released Phil Waugh from his straight-jacket for training, cunning sod must have been watching Baakies Botha too much during the game as he’s almost gnawed through the straps.  Make mental note to replace straps.

10:20am: Began fitness session after warm-ups.

10:21am: Matt Dunning is limping off the training field with claimed “sprained legs”. 

11am: Gregan is still running a half marathon before passing the ball from the base… surreptitiously sent Andrew Johns another text telling him that International Rugby makes you 83.74% more attractive to groupies at the bar.

11:15am: State of abject panic. Received by courier a restraining order from Andrew Johns’s lawyers banning me from being within 5kms or making any contact with him in any manner. Sir John of Arfu won’t be happy about this.

12pm: Back at the hotel. Checked mail before team lunch and found replies from Paddy O’Brien, Mark Laurence and Spreaders to my correspondence to them about cheating tactics at the ruck and slowing the ball down from all the other top 5 nations. Unfortunately the refs all seemed to send me a bland reply from the usual template...

12:05pm Dragged the usual suspects out of the next door McDonalds.

12:30pm: Phonecall from Sir John of ARFU. Avoided talking about the World Cup. Didn’t tell him of the setback with Johns yet.

12:50pm: Bad news from the doctor. The 40m sprint has given Matt Dunning multiple stress fractures. Took him a comfort Party Pack from KFC.

12:55pm: Team off for a round of golf whilst I deal with press commitments starting with the press conference at 1:30pm. Must come up with a way of getting rid of Mrs. Kefu.

12:56pm: I wonder if Preston Campbell is interested in rugby?

1:30pm: Press conference time. In a superbly crafted opening sentence I managed to insult Clive, condemn the Springboks and prove my vast knowledge of intricate statistics.  Wonder that if I increase my speech by 12%, decrease the nouns by 5% and quicken the rate of my pronunciation by 2% whether I would sound like a South Australian gala or just Bob Dwyer during his later years as a coach.

2:30pm: Watch a replay of ACT vs the Blues in 1999, and marvel at their cunning tactics, don’t know for the life of me why they don’t seem to work so well these days.  I mean for goodness sake I’ve still got most of the players from back then as well; obviously it’s those obnoxious NSW and Queenslanders that are lousing things up for the rest of the team.

3:00pm Receive word that Phil Waugh has escaped from his straight-jacket, send out a memo for staff to check all local sheep farms, he hasn’t taken the recent loss to NZ very well.

3:15pm: Time to do some talent spotting for the future for some new young backs and especially wingers.  Particularity disappointed to see that the Brisbane Bronco’s under 19’s weren’t playing, though the Newcastle Knights development side is, I wonder how that John’s boy is getting along??

3:30pm: Bah!! I see those dammed kiwis are starting Brad Thorn in the team this weekend, dammed sods stealing our league talent. Shows the appalling lack of depth in NZ rugby that they have to stoop to poach league convert’s to play for their national side.  Luckily we do nothing of the sort to have to boost our forward power, speaking of that I must really have a word to Jeremy Paul, Totai Kefu, Patrico Noreiga and that Panaho chap about our line-out this week-end.

4:00pm: Still no word on Phil Waugh, still I think there’s a 74.45% chance that they’ll find him with-in the next hour.

4:32pm:  Slightly concerned about Corne Krike’s comments about suing us, really you’d think that some people would take being called a filthy cheating b*stard scum-of-the-earth type thug a little better than what he has.  Defamation he says, wonder if I can extract the same leverage against Mrs. Kefu if the media ever find out about us??

4:45pm: Phil Waugh recaptured. Relief.

5pm: Interviewed by the “Rugby Planet Website”. Managed to slip in a few remarks about how England would never win the TriNations, barely qualify for the Sydney club competition, the 6 Nations was a farce of a competition, and how Clive Woodward and his Dads Army wouldn’t progress past pool play.

5:10pm: Deflected the insolence of the interviewer to question my England assertions by reminding him that Super 12 rugby is 16% less physical than test rugby and only 4% separates the top and bottom S12 teams, so that means that our recent narrow and undeserved losses to the English shows that there is only a 0.938% difference between the teams, and I can fix this easily for the next game by using a calculator, a thesaurus and a Jedi mind control trick.

5:30pm: Leave interview to find out that the minders blunderingly put Phil Waugh into Steve Larkham’s cotton wool suit by mistake and he has escaped again. 98% chance I’ll throw a tantrum at the minders.

5:55pm: Waugh recaptured just before trying to climb up the outside of the nearest high-rise building with a Barbie doll in his pocket. Relief.

6:05pm: Is that Rod McQueen up ahead?

6:05:05pm: Swerved but missed.

6:15pm: Players are back from the golf game. ‘Bernie’ Larkham was apparently mistaken by the bus driver for a delivery to the mortuary. Taxi sent to retrieve.

6:30pm: Urgently brought team dinner forward by half an hour. Cannon is learning bad habits as he was chewing on poor wee Elton’s shoulder.

7pm: Team tactics session for half an hour.

7:15pm: Team tactics session seems to have turned into a group therapy session to ease the pathological fear that the league boys have of the side-line.

7:32pm: Georgie storms out to spend the night in a hotel with his family.

7:42pm: Finally got to start to explain the importance of not getting caught flatfooted in defence to Latham.

8pm: Team tactics session finishes with Tuquiri and Sailor hugging each other and holding back the tears about the sideline. Progress has been made

8:10pm: Campese is being interviewed on the radio and is not being complementary. Quickly ring Sir John of Arfu on the grounds that he can’t hear the interview while he’s on the phone to me. Confirmed my suspicion that voodoo dolls are worthless as Campese isn’t screaming in agony. 

8:15pm: E-mail from Clive Woodward asking for Campo’s address in order to send him a Christmas card.

8:25pm: Alan Jones is walking under my balcony

8:25:03pm: Bugger. Pot plant missed.

8:30pm: Released Phil into his cage for the night.

8:45 pm: Thankfully there is still no sign of Mrs Kefu. Hopefully she is still looking after her clown younger son who now has a clown like nose.

8:48pm: Despondent. Didn’t check the bedroom. Mrs Kefu in her usual spot. Fled downstairs into a taxi.

9:10pm: Arrived at different hotel. Spotted Georgie dashing out of sight up a stairwell.

9:20pm: Massive tantrum. Clive has also forwarded me the “Memo from John Mitchell” e-mail. 

9:25pm: Video review session. If I look hard enough I’m sure I’ll find some holes that the inside pass will work for.

11:30pm: Clearly I’ll need different camera angles. Obviously Channel 7 has given me the wrong ones. Decide to give up for the night and go to bed.

11:45pm: Cowering under the covers. Mrs Kefu is banging at the door with Steve in tow…