Funny to watch the coverage of the curbside box-on between James Packer and David Gyngell in Bondi Beach yesterday. A couple of key position sized millionaires incompetently attempting to knock each other’s block off is good for a laugh, but as fighters they make great media moguls. I can see the news value, but it’s more amusing than anything else.
Part of the draw is that they’re best mates – best man at each other’s wedding. Afterwards they made separate announcements that their friendship of 35 years would continue. I imagine them having a big laugh about it over a beer even as we speak.
I don’t see the drama in best mates coming to blows. It’s just about part of the territory I reckon – if you haven’t done it yet then you’re not really trying.
That’s not to say I’ve come to blows with my mates. About 6 years ago Cheeseboy and I had drifted apart sufficiently for something to be said about it, and we’ve been jake ever since. JV and I had some tense moments on a trip to Europe about 10 years ago, either about his snoring or my get up and go, but nothing ever eventuated from that. JV is just too agreeable.
With Whisky it was different, and no surprises. We’re both competitive, and often with each other in the way of mates. We’ve both got strong personalities, strong willed, confident, and with healthy ego’s. People like us will always clash from time to time no matter how close we get in between.
The worst incident was about 5 years ago when a push and shove developed late one night, furniture tumbled over and we roared at each other like old Silverbacks protecting our turf. It’s become the stuff of legend since. Whenever we’re in the same town someone will always bring it up with a grin. That’s as it should be. We piss each other off big time occasionally, but we share a strong bond too. And fact is the things that make us clash sometimes are the things that also bring us together. That’s the way of things, and no complaints.
We’re all big boys, and a little bit of biff does no harm.