But as he pulled out of the car park, the lyrics of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ started up in his mind. He whizzed along the highway beneath the pale light of the moon, which reflected white on the water, and he sang the words out loud. It was as if he was hearing the song for the first time. He wondered how it was, after all these years of singing the lyrics that it had only occurred to him tonight what they were truly about. He’d never really thought about the words before, simply shouted them at parties and around campfires as part of mateship and having fun.

No doubt the song spoke differently to everyone, but for him, tonight, it was about many things. The journey of life. Making choices and getting it wrong. Facing death. Gaining wisdom. Confronting the past. Forgiveness and redemption.

He sang the song again, tipping his head back as he blasted out the words, knowing that somewhere deep inside him a change of path and forgiveness of his father might one day be possible.

29

29

When Leon arrived at the football ground for the semifinal, it seemed the whole town had turned out. The car park was crammed with utes and four-wheel drives, nose-in around the boundary. Leon felt a surge of excitement. After a slow start to the season, it was amazing the team had made it this far. He’d been partly responsible for their success—he had that much to be proud of.

Players in tracksuits migrated across the oval to the clubhouse, while fans hung over the rail, waving scarves and streamers, calling: ‘Carn boys.’ ‘Carn the Lions.’ ‘You can do it.’ ‘Give ’em heaps.’ Leon saw Wendy waving at him from over near the goalposts. He grinned and waved back. Suzie was there too, but no Max; Leon wondered where he was. Shane was at the door to the change room, high-fiving everyone as they entered. His smile faded a little when he slapped hands with Leon … or was Leon imagining it?

In the change room, the men sprawled on the benches and it was crowded and rowdy, thick with the fug of sweat and Deep Heat. Leon tossed his bag on the floor and sat to pull on his boots. Mooney arrived a few moments later, swaggering in as if he’d planned a grand entry. The team gave an encouraging roar—just what that man didn’t need. He already had too much of an ego.

Now that everyone was present, Robbo puffed like a peacock and strutted round the room, red-faced and excited. ‘First time in a decade we’ve qualified for the semis,’ he said. ‘And it’s thanks to Mooney’s star goal-kicking efforts.’ He didn’t mention Leon, even though he’d scored at least as many goals as Mooney. Mooney was most-valued player, they all knew it. But he was erratic: one week on fire, the next caught up in brawls.