Both sailors had risked everything and were luckier than a worm coming back from a fishing trip not to break anything or themselves. It was too close to call, would Carter call a penalty shoot-out or would he go for extra time?
The Aussie crowd gathered round the podium, with the atmosphere so tense you could cut through it like a hot knife through butter. Sly old Carter wanted me to call it but why keep a dog and bark yourself? I told him unless he wanted a knuckle sandwich for his tea to stop being as wet as water and get on with it. “Well it’s six to Köster, and half a dozen to Stone” Carter exclaimed! “So no dramas, I am calling it an out and out draw and we will have to schedule a rematch for next season as I am out of here on the next plane. I have an unpaid $300 dollar tab at the tav and I have it on good authority the owner has loaded his shotgun and is on his way down! G’day you bloody whinging Aussies, I am headed home to ‘Blighty’! See ya’ next year!” Stone the crows Carter, I don’t know if you’re the most sausage short of a barbeque bloke I’ve ever met and dumber than a bag of hammers or you just think you’re so clever you can talk yourself out of wet cement. Don’t come the raw prawn with me, not paying your tab is a crime round these parts, you’re so low you could parachute out the belly of a snake. You’re as useful as sand in the desert, there’s no way we’re having you back here next year!