This week I did a three-hour Q-Ride motorbike licence test.

I can now ride scooters up to 250cc. The only down side of doing the test at Noosa was that it involved 38 roundabouts and given the weather since I got it, perhaps I would have been better off doing my diving certificate.

My opinion
You won’t find me lamenting the passing of that vile creature Valmae Beck/Fay Cramb. I’m only sorry that it didn’t happen sooner and slower.

Now I know that I’ll probably offend those do-gooders that criticise the likes of pro capital punishment people like myself but it seems to me our judicial system tends to favour the criminal instead of focusing on the severity of the crime.

With Martin Bryant for instance how can you justify keeping this man alive when he murdered 35 innocents in cold blood?

In the spirit of the game
Those country boys sure know how to have a good time. I happened to witness a football game between Sunshine Coast Grammar School and Gympie’s James Nash High School.

The Sunshine Coast Grammar team was excellent and had scored within the first few minutes.

As the James Nash boys were walking back to huddle behind the goal posts, as you do when you’ve been scored against, what struck me was they weren’t despondent at all.

In fact, one called to me “Hey Jamie, you rock” and then another yelled “I always liked Agro”.

I continued watching the game and although the country boys played hard, Grammar were just too good for them.

Gympie did score once though, right under the post and as their kicker took aim, I noticed again that the boys from the bush were laughing, joking and in high spirits.

Unfortunately the poor devil that was chosen to kick did so very poorly and the ball skidded under the cross bar instead of over.

At that point his team mates erupted with cheers, laughter and spontaneous applause. He grinned sheepishly and rejoined the pack.

Although James Nash lost the game they played hard and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. I couldn’t help but think that is what sport is all about.

Well done boys, you are the ones that rock.

Wally Lewis
The only name that I had any say in out of five children was the fourth child’s middle name.

Naturally being a man I named him after the greatest footballer ever to strap on a boot, Lewis.

Eleven-year-old Jackson Lewis Dunn has always known the name meant something to his dad but never really understood the importance of it until I showed him some old State Of Origin games.

Only then did he realise just how good Wally Lewis was.

Jackson asked if he could get a photo of him and Wally. “One day,” I told him as all dads do, “one day."

Before I knew it, two years had passed so I decided this week that I should just get it done.

I called Channel Nine and asked if Wally would mind and before I could say Queenslander, it had all been arranged.

I surprised Jackson with a State of Origin jersey, took him out of school Monday morning and father and son travelled to Brisbane for the shoot.

Wally was at his absolute best striding past me as if I wasn’t there thrusting out his hand and saying “Jackson, great to meet you.”

Wally then took Jacko’s shoulders in hand and said “Let’s get some photos done”.

With that, the mighty Lewis and my son strode off towards the Channel Nine gardens with me following behind. The snaps were over pretty quickly but it didn’t end there.

“Throw me your best pass,” said The King. Jackson obliged with the footy he’d brought to get signed and that was it, Wally and Jackson just kept passing to each other as if it was never going to stop.

For all that’s been said about Wally Lewis, he was so caring, mindful, gentle, accepting and inspirational to my son that day that no one will ever convince me that Wally Lewis is anything other than a LEGEND.
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