Nana started the "yeeha" in our family. That shout of joy, that sideways look, that unapologetic burst of happiness β that was her.
Nana, around 80, holding a beer in each hand, cheering me on. Mum, beside her, eating her dessert, letting her have both.
Before Frank, before TΔ«tahi, there was Nana β my godmother, the only grandparent I knew. She came to visit 2 or 3 times a year. She'd send one of us to the bottle store for a small brandy. Not a big one. Just enough for a laugh and a nap.
Once, she babysat me. I couldn't wake her up. I rang 111. The ambulance came. Mum and Dad came in the front door, talked to the doctor, then turned and said: "She just drank too much. She fell asleep." Now I laugh. Because the look on their faces β trying to explain to a terrified child that her nana was just drunk β that's a memory I'd pay to see again.
When I looked at Mum back then, I saw Nana. That's where Margaret comes from. Not from the scorecard. From the yeeha.
I was not a school kid. I was a rebel. Never passed a C.
I had a trade β screen printing. But industrial asthma forced me to stop. Dad rubbed his hands together and thought: golf.
The ladies in the Wellington Golf Union said I had to sell my Z650 Kawasaki if I wanted to get into the Wellington team. So I sold it. I never saw that bike again. They still wouldn't pick me.
My Kawasaki Z650 was green. I cleaned it every day. I parked it in the right spot. I'd get off the bike feeling cold β but I thought I was the Fonz. Fonzie. Arthur Fonzarelli. Cooler than cool. That's not a contradiction. That's a teenager.
I've used that word β "cool" β that act, all my life. That's who I feel I am. Until I want to be the green Hulk. Not angry. Powerful. Not breaking things. Breaking limits. The Fonz was cool. The Hulk is strength. I'm both. Depends on the day. Depends on the fight.
Dennis Sullivan β my teacher from the Hutt Golf Club (now known as Boulcott Farm) β had moved to Auckland. Dad said: "Go up to Dennis and Sheila. Play golf." I went. I was noticed straight away.
Then Dad asked me to come home. To play for Wellington. To win everything. I came back. I played. I won.
Looking in the mirror one day, I knew I had to step up my lifestyle. I was starting to shine.
I suppose that's how people knew I was always a rebel. I always said things that needed to be said. Not to shock. Because someone had to.