JAMIE RUSCOE ISN’T the most popular boy at school, but he has enough hand-eye co-ordination to be part of things. If there’s a game of stingers during recess, he’s handy to have on your team. Footy, cricket, soccer? Never the first picked, but a useful extra body. He can run, though he isn’t the quickest; he can throw, though not the hardest; and he can kick, though not the farthest. Catching is easy for him, and that’s his best asset. Most of all, he can read a situation. Jamie knows he’s too quiet to be well liked, and not quite good enough to be admired. Because of this, he makes an effort to speak when he’d prefer to say nothing – and any time a game breaks out, he plays as hard as he can. 

It’s a surprise then when Todd Mitchell invites him to hang out after the last day of school in 1982. Todd’s the halfback of the under-twelve footy team, and wicketkeeper/batsman of the under-twelve cricket team. Although not mates, they’re friendly enough, mainly because they live on the same street and, occasionally, walk home together.