“Remember Bounces?”

My best mate Matt lived next door to me in Dubbo. We walked to school together (on those days that we bothered to go), hung about in the afternoons, and spent most of our weekends together. Each morning, Matt would jump over the fence between our houses, let himself in the back door, and use my hairspray (it was the ‘80s, after all). My dad was a pharmacist, so I had an endless supply of wanky hair products.

My hair was dyed jet black and Matt's was bleached pure white. People called us 'salt and pepper'. I remember Matt had to put a little bit of the blue dye that old ladies use to cover their grey in order to get his hair that whiter-than-white colour. We both used to do our hair by placing a book on our heads (Asterix or Tintin books were the right size) and then blow-drying the hair up into the book while emptying half a can of hairspray. After peeling the book off (trying not to rip out too much hair) we peered through the sticky mist into the mirror and made sure we'd achieved just the right amount of ‘80s style.

Unlikely Gallic ‘80s Hair Care Accessory.
The lost Fall album.

Matt used to spend most of his time over at my place. I could understand why. His family were… interesting. I once went next door to visit him and was greeted by his Mum breast-feeding her daughter. Don't get me wrong – breast-feeding is perfectly natural, but it can be a bit unsettling when you're fourteen and it's your best mate's Mum doing the feeding. Especially if she then proceeds to take a pot-shot at you in some sort of bizarre breast-milk/water pistol attack.

We were pretty tight, Matt and me. Most days after school, we'd hang about together at my place doing the usual stuff - listening to music, watching TV, and playing games. Music was the Jesus and Mary Chain, The Cramps, and The Sex Pistols. TV was whatever was on. The games were C64 – Paradroid, Crazy Comets and a bizarre little gem called Bounces. Bounces had that something extra. I suspect it was a pirate copy because I remember Matt and me had to work out what you were meant to do without a manual. And Bounces took some working out.

Hair – big in the ‘80s.

The game took place in a sealed, squash-like court with a side-on view of two opponents - a knight and a viking, each equipped with a short sword. The game started when a ball was launched into the court. The ball would start to bounce around in a computery, Breakout style, and you had to avoid the ball or, even better, catch it and throw it at your opponent. If the ball hit you then your opponent got a point. If you managed to get close enough to stab your opponent you also got a point. This was made harder because you were attached to the wall by a big bungee band. If you stood still for any length of time, the rubber band would drag you back to the wall. I am not making this up.

Lest we don’t quite remember.

I can't remember if Bounces had a single-player option - and if it did, I can't remember ever playing it alone. It was one of those games that you absolutely had to play with a friend. If you were the viking, your opponent was a chinless, spoilt, upper-class git. If you were the knight, your opponent was an in-bred, unwashed, uneducated peasant. You'd laugh, swear, win, lose, win again, lose again, blame the joystick, slam the joystick on the table, and eventually, reluctantly, put the joystick down when the third and final warning to come to dinner was heard. It was one of those equally infuriating and hilarious experiences that has you swinging from anger to pant-wetting laughter in a heartbeat. Exactly the kind of experience that brings people closer together.

Matt and I had a falling out about fifteen years ago. I can't even remember what caused it. We still bump into each other through mutual friends, and we’re polite, but there's nothing there any more. Or, if there is, it's that poisonous simmering resentment that only exists between fallen-out friends. So far, neither of us has been big enough to say: "For fuck's sake! Let's just get over it, already!".

Maybe I should take the initiative. I've thought of a great opening gambit: "Hey Matt, Remember Bounces?"

THEMEADOWS, December 2003

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The hows and whys of ball-bouncing
Melvin’s Trampoline Plaza. The place for hardcore bouncing fans
The true story of the Bouncing Bomb
Bouncy Bouncy

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