Johnathan Thurston - JT: The Making of a Total Legend

This book is for Samantha Thurston;

you made me a better person.

You have given me my world.

CONTENTS

IT WAS MOSTLY PINK, soft and fluffy on top, rock-hard and ribbed on the bottom. And boy, did it hurt.

No, Mum, I pleaded. Not the slipper. Please. Im sorry.

Too late...

Mum had already turned her night-time footwear into a weapon. Kicked from her foot and caught in hand, the slipper was a whip: cocked and ready to crack.

You are getting it, boy, she howled. You cant behave like that.

We got yelled at when we were bad. We got the slipper when we were worse.

Come here now, she said, her voice all no-nonsense and direct. Youre getting a smack. Come over here and get it now.

Oh no.

I stayed put.

Now, she said, even louder. Make me come and get you and youll get two.

She meant what she said. I slowly edged her way. Soft? I asked. Dont hit me hard.

I tried to look cute. It didnt work.

Ahhhh, I screamed as the rubber sole turned into a whip and smacked into my bum.

Im sorry, I cried. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Have you learned your lesson? she said. I dont want to have to do this again.

I nodded. I didnt stop the hysterics until I got to my room.

I shut the door and went to the mirror.

Jeez!

My bum had a size six shoe imprint forming on it.

She got me good.

Yep. Little JT, growing up in Brisbane in the 1980s, could be a bugger... surprise, surprise. I was as naughty as I was nice. And mostly I got what I deserved. Mum was the one to dish out the discipline. Oh, Dad had a big hand huge and it smacked me more than I would have liked, but mostly he was the threat and Mum was the reality. Mum would use Dad as a warning.

Do you want me to get your father? she would ask.

Duh.

The slipper only came out when I went too far. We dont smack kids these days, but back then it was part of raising a child.

So dont go calling child services, but, by all means, if you need some advice on slippers, give her a buzz.

Now lets get into my childhood: a tale of soft drinks, Space Invaders and, of course, Steeden footballs.

Hey, Johnny, you want to be our ball boy? Dad asked.

I looked at him and shook my head. Nup, I said. Im good.

Why on earth would I want to spend my afternoon chasing footballs when I could be playing in the mud with my mates?

Ill pay you a dollar, he said. All you have to do is kick the football back.

Now he had my attention.

How many cans of Fanta could I buy for a buck? Maybe 10. Red frogs? Like 100.

OK, I said. But you better pay up. And Im going to spend it at the canteen after the game. Dont tell me I have to save it for a car or something stupid.

My professional rugby league career began when I was four. I was employed as a ball boy for the Acacia Ridge Hotel A-grade rugby league team. I couldnt have cared less about football. I did it for soft drinks and sweets. Somewhere in Brisbane, on a suburban ground, this future Kangaroo picked up a football for the very first time because his dad offered him a dollar.

My father, Graeme Thurston, was an A-grade footy player. He played for Acacia Ridge Hotel and also another club called Browns Plains. And apparently, he was pretty good.

Oh, he was a tough bugger, one of his mates told me later. Real hard. I loved playing with him. When it was on, you wanted him by your side. Im glad he was in my trench.

Dad played a bit of hooker and also back row. He wasnt a big bloke, but what he lacked in size he made up for with heart. Apparently he would take anyone on. I cant remember too much of what he was like as a player, I was too busy chasing balls and thinking about how many red frogs I could buy with a buck. Other people have filled me in.

Not a thing like you, said another of his mates. Good, but a completely different player.

So, that day when I was four, I pulled up my socks and positioned myself on the sideline. The referee blew his whistle; it was game on.

Whack!

A pair of giants collided. That must have hurt.

Crunch!

Another couple came together on the next play. It was brutal, and I loved it. The men were huge well, they certainly looked that way to an all-skin-and-bone four-year-old and they were smashing each other. It was violent, fast and loud.

Was it better than throwing mud at my mates?

Maybe...

Soon the ball was hurtling towards the touchline. End over end, the football was a heat-seeking missile on a mission to take out the corner post. I would later find out it was called a grubber kick. But whatever, it was time to earn my buck. My little legs pumped as I ran down the field. I moved as fast as I could.

Oh no. Thats going to end up on the highway.

But then, all of a sudden, it pulled up. The thick, wet grass only the playing field had been mowed stopped the ball dead.

Pheeewwww!

I didnt want to chase it over the fence. I picked it up and booted it back onto the field. And I reckon that was my very first rugby league kick.

I cant say I fell in love with rugby league right away that didnt happen until I was about six. Until then it was all about spending the dollar Dad would give me, without fail after every match, at the canteen.

One ground had a Space Invaders machine, the old coffee-table type with the wooden base and glass top. Oh, how I loved that thing.

I would be on Dad as soon as the whistle went, my father exhausted, battered and bruised after his 80-minute war.

Can you give the dollar to me in 20-cent coins? I would ask.

He soon learned to keep small change.

I would then go and stack the coins on the top of the machine, and, one by one, they would disappear into its belly. Yep... Space Invaders, soft drinks and sweets; thats how I discovered rugby league.

I WAS BORN INTO a big family. And when I say big, I mean big. My mum Debbie Saunders is one of 13. She has nine brothers and three sisters. So that means I have nine uncles, three aunties and a busload of cousins.

I am not real good at maths, so I am not going to count. But what I can tell you is that family has been a big part of my life. My childhood home was a brick three-bedder in Brisbane. Brand new when we moved in, it was a housing commission house on Commodore Street, Sunnybank Hills, in the southern suburbs of Brisbane. And it became a hub for family Thurston and Saunders.

With a big backyard, and an even bigger front yard, our house was the perfect place for a big family to get together. I cant remember a time when the house wasnt packed, jammed and almost bursting the bricks it was made of.

My early life was all barbecues, family and fun. Did I mention I had a big family?

They might as well have moved in; in fact, some of them did. The rest would come round every other day. And that is exactly how my mum wanted it. She is the glue that holds my family together.

We have had plenty of drama over the years: fights and fists. But Mum has always sorted it all out. Yeah, she is the boss. No doubt about it. Just ask her. But seriously, the old lady could put her foot down. And when she did we all listened.

Dad, a fitter and turner by trade, used to work long hours. He would leave before I woke up and get home after sunset. He also spent a lot of time on the road. But Mum was always home and we became inseparable. Later on she would go and work for the Queensland Police Force as a liaison officer up in Brisbane. But in the early days she was always there to give me a big fat hug whenever I needed one.