‘I know it wasn’t my fault.’ Ron frowned. ‘What wasn’t my fault?’ Gordon was about to explain. Surely his father must have blamed himself. Ron would never have believed the story about Owen slipping. He must have been solving the puzzle, on his own, left to his imagination. What theories about the true cause of Owen’s death could he have cooked up, tested, discarded, rebirthed, and finally settled upon? Gordon understood that he had created his father’s bitterness. By lying about Owen’s death, he and Sam had wanted to save Bluebird. Instead, they had preserved Bluebird’s worst, unleashed its fantastic powers of disappointment and blame.

‘Dad, I need to tell you something.’

‘Not interested.’

‘It’s really important to me. To us.’

‘Look, they’re serving lunch.’

In the grandstand, the spectators were supplementing the school-provided chicken and salad lunch with some purchases from the bottle shop. Leaving Gordon dumbfounded and silent, Ron beetled towards Red Cap, who knocked the cap off a stubby and offered it to the thirsty and grateful old man.

‘Don’t get me wrong, Gordo,’ Red Cap said when Gordon came over, ‘we’re here to support Benny, but jeez, why didn’t anyone tell us cricket takes a whole day?’

Gordon, given no choice, surrendered his father to the mob. Meanwhile, the St Pat’s innings hiccupped. The openers were out and Daniel came to the crease, to defend against the new ball and set a platform to chase Cobcroft’s score of 199.

‘At least they’ve got plenty of time,’ Gordon said, watching the back of his father’s head.

‘Yeah, time,’ Tonsure Man said, looking stricken. ‘Anyone know if that new swell’s kicked in?’

Gordon focused on the game. Daniel was batting with a boy whose name was Joel Something, and the St Pat’s innings began to settle. Daniel and Joel were talented, even Gordon could see that. Pity Ben couldn’t. Or maybe Ben could, but didn’t care? He still believed he would play for Australia. The poor kid had drunk the Kool Aid about ‘desire’ and ‘will’ and ‘hard work’ and ‘belief ’. It was almost an article of the national faith in sports that natural talent was less important than desire. You never heard a champion attribute their success to the talent they were born with. It was only ever desire, will, hard work and belief. Ben believed. He did not realise that the mantra of desire, will, hard work and belief rested on a foundation of natural talent that was beyond not only Ben, but beyond the best boys Ben had ever played with, and the best boys they had played with. But Ben believed in belief, and you had to love him for that. What would it do to him to discover that Daniel was a fraud? Leave aside the disappointment of forfeiting today’s final: what would it do to Ben’s belief in belief?