The cup of tea next to him had gone cold hours ago. Hed made it this morning and then forgotten about it. His hand reached for it out of habit anyway and he took a sip before he realised. Cold tea! It shouldve been a beer in his hand. He and Des always had one together at the ground on game night. Just the one. They werent big drinkers but it was all part of it.

When he first met Des at the steelworks they were the only two pommies on the shift, the only two tea drinkers and the only two who knew what real football was.

So it was natural that they gravitated towards each other. They both struggled to cope with the heat at first too: the roaring heat from the furnaces inside and the blinding sun reflecting off concrete and water outside.

It was nothing like the gentle warmth theyd craved back in England. They could understand why most of the men headed to the pub for a cold one after knock off and they were a good bunch of blokes just happy to have a job.

But the two of them fell into the habit of wandering to their cars together, more often than not talking about their old football teams back in England and then ending up back at Dess for a shared pot of tea.

It was over one of those shared pots that Des suggested it: Were not in England anymore, Moz, and I for one wont be going back. Its time we found a team to support here.

And so they started going to the local matches. The boys were called Newcastle KB United back then. Typical Aussie thing to do, Des had said, to name a team after a beer.

Now they were called The Jets and Morrie and Des had been going to matches together for over thirty-seven years. It had ended up being a lifeline, especially after the steelworks closed. They lost contact with so many of their mates then but Des and Morrie had their soccer games to go to; every home game if they were up to it. Des had even managed to see the semi-final last year. Best match of the season. Morrie hadnt realised how sick Des was that day. Des hadnt told him. He was gone a week later.

Morrie fiddled with the dial. Hed read in the paper that you could listen to the games on ABC radio. It wasnt the same as being there but hed give it a go. He looked at the clock. It was still half an hour until kick off. The boys would just be finishing up their warm up out on the field.

He loved that part too. He loved all of it: the anticipation beforehand when the result could go either way, the stadium filling up, kids in their red and blue caps lining the fence, teenagers clambering over the back of seats to sit with their friends, even some young couples bringing babies in bassinets and of course the rusted on members like Des and him whod had the same seats for years.

He loved it best when he could feel the energy of the fans spread out around the stadium coming together to get the boys over the line. Something special happened when you were all cheering and clapping together. You felt part of something bigger.

The knock at the door startled Morrie. Itd been weeks since anyone had been inside his place. Apart from his trips to the shops once a week he hadnt seen anyone much at all. He shuffled forward in the chair and hoisted himself up.

The faces at the door were familiar but Morrie couldnt quite place them at first. Then it came to him. It was the young couple with the two boys who sat in the row in front of them. They always bought hot chips with tomato sauce for the kids at half time.

He remembered that theyd been at Dess funeral too. Des used to chat to them sometimes and joke with their boys. He was a friendly bloke like that. People warmed to him.

Hows it going Morrie? asked the man fiddling with his keys. He looked uncomfortable, like he was struggling to find the right words, just like Morrie usually did.

We probably shouldve called earlier but you know we got side tracked by by stuff, you know, and this first home game kind of crept up on us. The thing is, Des told us you see, that last match he was at you know, that you might need a lift to the ground this season?

Morrie thought of all the reasons he could say no: he was too old and tired, he wasnt ready, he didnt want to hold them up, he didnt have a season ticket anymore. And then he thought of Des; Des thinking of him when he was so sick.

Just give me a few minutes, he said and turned into his bedroom to get his wallet and his scarf.