Whether it is a recommendation from a friend, seeing a poster down at the pool or joining a club at University, all underwater hockey players remember how they found their way to the game.
The house of my childhood is being demolished. Strangers in HiVis jackets and steel capped boots have already been through with sledgehammers and crowbars to gut the interior and once the bulldozer comes only a pile of rubble will remain.
I did a lot of hitching when I was a kid. I never used to have trouble getting a lift but standing there in Pakenham with four-days growth and a lot less hair than I once had, I realised that I had become a skeezy old hitch-hiking weirdo. Nobody in their right mind would consider inviting me into their car. Or so I thought.