Archive for December 14th, 2008

5 Minutes with the Maestro

Posted by Wilson in celebrity, rugby on December 14, 2008

“Hey guess what?”
Most mornings don’t usually begin with a question like that. It’s either a “Io – ” head-straight-to-workstation or a “Yadra” head-straight-to-workstation start. It’s the morning, what’d you expect? Coffee and a bright eyed PA to greet you with a sunshine smile and the morning paper? Not in my version. Or paygrade.
I had just entered the office. It was a sunny Wednesday morning, and my late night WoW sessions didn’t bode too well with my somewhat rebellious bodyclock. Entering the front door, I was greeted, nay, assaulted by the company secretary, M. She grabbed my hand and practically yelled the question at me, wild-eyed with excitement.
“Hey hey guess what?”
I groaned as loud as I possibly could, trying in vain to dissuade her morning hype with my late night darkcloud of a mood. No luck.
“Guess what guess what?”
“What M?” I started to walk towards the kitchen, excited secretary in tow. “Caaaiiittta thing sa morning saraga and you already want to take my hand and play baseball with the thing. What- “
“Serevi’s coming to the office!”
I stopped cold.
“…Who?”
By now she knew I was listening to her, and pressed her attack.
“You know that Serevi is coming to our office today saraga this morning? For one photoshoot?”
Needless to say I was shocked.
“Serevi? Serevi ga Serevi?”
I jiggled my feet in a lame attempt of a goose step.
“That Serevi?”
“Yes! That Serevi! The one and only!”
M laughed and clapped her hands in a fit of girly excitement. My jaw dropped and I had to surpress the urge to abandon my age bracket join in nilly-willy with the mini-celebration.
“Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit,” my mind raced. I needed to record this monumental moment. I was going to see the King of the oval ball, the maestro of the pitch, the legend of a nation that revered all that was sevens and rugby-ish.
I was going to meet Serevi.
The question that raced through my head first off was, if you’re going to meet someone famous, and you wanted a piece of history to take home with you, what would have been the best memorabilia/surface to have signed?
I did a quick mental check:
Rugby t-shirt: None. Nada. I came to work in my bloody ‘save-the-whales’ hippy t-shirt and jeans. It was Wednesday, so of course I was in my mid-week crisis wardrobe mode. And I didn’t think I’d have want Serevi to sign on some dinky whale. I liked that shirt. 
Rugby Ball: This would have been really great as something to be signed on, if only there was a ball within the premises. Unfortunately, being a fairly straight forward desk and computer office, sports was somewhat of a foreign notion to most of the staff. So that was quickly struck off the list.
Rugby Poster: Any self respecting rugby fan will tell you that their wall must and I stress, must have at least one poster that depicts the oval ball in action in order to prove their dedication towards the only manly sports in the pacific. Bonus points if its those cool adidas All Blacks posters with them turning lions into fur coats. Alas, this was not my room, and no rugby posters were within reach. Sad I know.
Female Breasts: of which I had none. Last time I checked. But judging by the adulating gaze that M would be giving Serevi, I’m sure hers would have been supplied free of charge, pen or no pen.
Flat Stomach: No luck here as well. Fiji Bitter has seen to that.
After racking my brains for what seemed like an eternity, it finally hit me and I resisted the urge to punch myself in the kidney for not thinking of the solution earlier.
A photograph!
I needed a camera. And quick.
 
To be continued…

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