Dumby Red Character Analysis

Even though the Point was only a half an hour’s drive from the Port, the two towns didn’t have much to do with one another. The footy was really the only place where Nungas and Goonyas got to hang around together.

‘Nukkin ya?’ said Pickles. ‘Geez, you’re talking like one of them now.’

‘So what,’ I said.

‘Well I s’pose he is a mate of yours and all,’ said Pickles.

‘Matter of fact, he is,’ I said.

‘Then why’d you pass it?’

‘Dunno.’

‘C’mon, you must’ve had a reason.’

‘Cos Clemboy hadn’t had a kick all day.’

[…]

‘Christ, Dumby, I’ll never understand you blackfellas.’

‘And I’ll never understand you whitefellas.’

We both laughed.

I could do the same, couldn’t I? Protest. Not by setting fire to myself. That was a bit over the top. I’d retire, that’s what I’d do […] I’d tell them why, too. Because you cheated Dumby out of his medal, you lousy bastards.

And they all laughed, all the regulars. Especially Slogsy. But I didn’t. I don’t know why, I’d laughed at the joke before. But tonight it didn’t seem so funny any more. And I knew it had to do with Dumby and Clarence and Tommy.

‘BOONGS PISS OFF’ was still there. Seeing it reminded me of the night of the grand final Do. I hadn’t seen Clarence since then. Dumby either. I was having second thoughts about my retirement […] And maybe I’d been wrong about the McRae Medal. Mark Arks had played really well. And that pass of Dumby’s was lunacy.

That’s exactly how everything looked after the shooting. That’s how I felt, too. Inside and outside. Grey and heavy, like lead, like a sinker. If they dropped me off the jetty I’d plummet straight to the bottom.

‘Yeah, the footy club. Are they doing anything for Dumby’s funeral? He was one of our players, wasn’t he?’

‘No, I don’t think so, Blacky. Sport’s one thing, this is another. It’s better not to get the two mixed up.’

In the distance I could see the jetty – a blurry line floating above the water. Maybe Pickles and Dazza were sitting at the anchor right now, looking toward the Point, telling each other stories they’d heard in the front bar. […] What had Dazza said? Play with fire and ya gunna get burnt. Maybe, Dazza, but not burnt to death.

Even though the Point was only a half an hour’s drive from the Port, the two towns didn’t have much to do with one another. The footy was really the only place where Nungas and Goonyas got to hang around together.

‘Nukkin ya?’ said Pickles. ‘Geez, you’re talking like one of them now.’

‘So what,’ I said.

‘Well I s’pose he is a mate of yours and all,’ said Pickles.

‘Matter of fact, he is,’ I said.

‘Then why’d you pass it?’

‘Dunno.’

‘C’mon, you must’ve had a reason.’

‘Cos Clemboy hadn’t had a kick all day.’

[…]

‘Christ, Dumby, I’ll never understand you blackfellas.’

‘And I’ll never understand you whitefellas.’

We both laughed.

I could do the same, couldn’t I? Protest. Not by setting fire to myself. That was a bit over the top. I’d retire, that’s what I’d do […] I’d tell them why, too. Because you cheated Dumby out of his medal, you lousy bastards.

And they all laughed, all the regulars. Especially Slogsy. But I didn’t. I don’t know why, I’d laughed at the joke before. But tonight it didn’t seem so funny any more. And I knew it had to do with Dumby and Clarence and Tommy.

‘BOONGS PISS OFF’ was still there. Seeing it reminded me of the night of the grand final Do. I hadn’t seen Clarence since then. Dumby either. I was having second thoughts about my retirement […] And maybe I’d been wrong about the McRae Medal. Mark Arks had played really well. And that pass of Dumby’s was lunacy.

That’s exactly how everything looked after the shooting. That’s how I felt, too. Inside and outside. Grey and heavy, like lead, like a sinker. If they dropped me off the jetty I’d plummet straight to the bottom.

‘Yeah, the footy club. Are they doing anything for Dumby’s funeral? He was one of our players, wasn’t he?’

‘No, I don’t think so, Blacky. Sport’s one thing, this is another. It’s better not to get the two mixed up.’

In the distance I could see the jetty – a blurry line floating above the water. Maybe Pickles and Dazza were sitting at the anchor right now, looking toward the Point, telling each other stories they’d heard in the front bar. […] What had Dazza said? Play with fire and ya gunna get burnt. Maybe, Dazza, but not burnt to death.