10 | August• 2017“And Nils?”
And so we name-checked the whole
E Street Band as we crossed the
railway yards, on the one-kilometre
walk from Jolimont
Station to AAMI Park.
It got louder and louder,
butheseemedtobe
coping. Then a nervous
moment. Security told
me I couldn’t take in a
backpack. It wasn’t a
standard backpack. It was
a child carrier of the type
you buy at camping
shops. Usually, they are
used with toddlers, but because Jack
is slim hipped, and still unable to walk,
we use it in situations where a pusher
or wheelchair don’t work. With the
noise of the concert, we guessed Jack
would appreciate being close.
I explained Jack’s cerebral palsy.
“Without this I reckon he hasn’t got
a chance,” I said.
“Fair enough,” said the most
sensible security officer on earth,
then he ushered us in.
We found our way to the back of
the stadium, using lifts and ramps
that took us halfway around the
venue. We found our spots. Plenty of
room. Not too loud at all. The calm
before the storm. Springsteen was still
40 minutes away.
“Will Bwuce play ‘American Land’?”
Jack asked, which is Bruce’s thumping
Pogues-ish ode to American
immigration. Jack’s favourite.
MY STORY
Do you have a tale to tell?
We’ll pay cash for any original and
unpublished story we print. See page
6 for details on how to contribute.“Maybe,” I said.
“Will he play ‘Badlands’?”
“Definitely.”
Then it started. The
“MELBOOOURNE”,
the clapping, the drums,
the music. ‘American
Land’ it was.
Jack shrieked as he does
for the YouTube songs. He
called Bruce’s name. He
called Steven Van Zandt’s
name. He jiggled, he
rocked, he had a ball.
For 12 songs. One hour
and ten minutes.
Then he broke. ‘Youngstown’ broke
him, and he asked to go home. We
tried to stay on another couple of
songs, hoping a favourite track might
revive his exaltation, but it wasn’t to
be. I messaged Ned, still patiently
waiting for us outside the stadium.
“Outside in ten?” Then we did a
handover on Swan Street. Jack, with
the noise behind him, was euphoric
again. I returned to the show. Jack
earbashed Ned all the way home about
what he’d experienced. Then he told it
all again to Tamsin.
His first words to me when he
woke up the next day were: “I’m a
Bwuce Springsteen fan. I’m a Bwuce
Springsteen goer.”We found our
spots. Plenty of
room. Not too
loud at all.
The calm before
the storm