Well, the potato sack race was the final event of the inter-denomination church sports day. Looking at that start line, it seamed seamed again that the Coopers lightweights were to be out classed by those champions from Mt. Gravatt. Once again, whilst everyone else was focused on the finish line goal, David was working on the goal of finishing the line that was so focuses. See, while they were all lined up at the start and concentrating on getting to that finishing line as quick as, David’s mind was busy figuring out how to finish them off right there at the starting line. He called the team together and explained his strategic plan. So simple in its execution yet, so complex in its intent. Bancroft, Pip and Tom were told to position themselves in the middle of the competing line and not to look back for any reason. The solid bookends, David and I, took up our strategic positions on either side of them. Like loaded coiled springs, the potato sack line crouched in anticipation of the starter’s gun. BANG like kangaroos bolting from the Pal pet hunting team, our three designated contenders jumped straight out of the blocks and headed for that finish line with faces set like flint. David and I also jumped with all the intensity and vigor of our fellow teammates the only difference was that our jump was at right angles to the start line. Now as I lay on top of the Mr. Gravatt pillar that started so intently and fervently beside me, I watched in amazement as the two sides of the potato sack line fell like choreographed Japanese dominos. Coopers won the trifecter. Coopers won the day. The trophy we carried home that day was inscribed Won by Coopers Plains it should really have read – Won by Cooper’s incredibles
