The boy is playing Dodgeball. Supposedly, I’m watching, but in actual fact, I’m not.
In actual fact, I’m keeping one eye on the football, one finger on the phone screen writing this, and one (or more) ears on the cheesy dance music which inevitably accompanies these high energy sports on neon mats.

I have coffee. It’s all good.

There are no fewer than three of the Springbok Dodgeball team coaching today. I’m not sure which other sports you could get this sort of access to such expertise on a Sunday afternoon.

The boy has just been knocked out (not in the unconscious sense) early on in this game. I think he needs all the help he can get.

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