DIABETIC DEMON
Barnaby Howarth

Sport has been an institution in this country for as long as the sun has shone on our corrugated iron rooves. Wherever there is a stick or something sort of round, Australians will make a healthily competitive sport of it. In fact, even without such tools we will find a way to play peacefully and with the honourable roots of sportsmanship firmly implanted in our psyche: British Bulldogs anyone?

Now, hands up all those Diabetics who thought when you were first diagnosed that your sporting pursuits would be seriously effected. Anyone? I know I'm definitely one.

I was always a very keen sportsman as a kid playing Aussie Rules as well as basketball, cricket, volleyball and every now and then I'd wax up the stick and hit the surf. When I got the news that those extra trips to the loo weren't because my bladder was shrinking, I was a little concerned that I wouldn't be able to take part in sport as I had been. Thankfully, my endocrinologist assured me that although I would have to be a little more careful, if I listened to what my body was telling me I had a green light in the exercise department.

Barnaby
I checked out of hospital and the very next day headed down to Wollongong for a school basketball tournament where we would play five games in two days. My endo was hoping I'd ease myself into it a little more slowly but … In my first game as a Diabetic, I had two nerve-racking free throws to tie up the game with 8 seconds left. I was trembling but somehow managed to nail both of them and level the scores!
 "… my father burst in and handed me a honey sandwich like I was a little boy at school who'd forgotten his lunch."

Bloody lot of good it did though. Some guy from the opposition came down and hit a three-pointer on the buzzer to win the game for them.

I didn't have any trouble with hypos during that, or any of the subsequent weekend matches, as my father, the hypo Nazi, was always on hand to shove a Mars Bar down my throat.

With the confidence flowing, I was picked to play first grade football for the Pennant Hills Demons at the age of 16. At halftime in my first match the game was well and truly in the balance. There I was in the sheds: a little smooth-bottomed boy amongst all these gigantic men, keeping quiet while these colossal beasts moved about, some angry, some focussed, some talking tactics but all very, very big. Then it came time for the coach to give his address. We all sat still taking in the changes of positions. Some players got blasted, others praised and I was starting to feel as though I belonged in here with these men and their sweaty beards; in fact, I nearly felt like a man myself.

At this point my father burst in the door, strolled over and handed me a honey sandwich like I was a little boy at school who had forgotten his lunch. As I tried to discretely devour the sugar-boosted sandwich, my face went redder than a tomato splattered over a stoplight.

Thankfully, we won the game, so the honey sandwich incident was laughed about rather than blamed for a loss. But this was a crucial lesson. One of the first things I'd recommend when undertaking exercise, whether it's with a formal sporting organisation or just a jog with a friend, is to explain to the people involved exactly what Diabetes is and how it works. Tell them that if your BSL feels a little low that you'll have to stop and have some sugar. Don't wait until it happens and try to explain as they will most likely freak out. Let them know that if it does happen that it's no cause for panic. Tell them anything that you can foresee happening that would appear to be out of the ordinary for a non-Diabetic, like someone bursting in and giving you a honey sandwich at half time (although not even I could see that one coming).

This worked in my favour recently when we played a match at the SCG. About 10 minutes before half time

I felt thirsty; that unquenchable thirst only Diabetics know. My little brother was running water for us so when he came past I asked him to grab my insulin pen and have it ready for half time.

 
 Paul Kelly (the AFL's most courageous player) said "Mate, you're a braver bloke than me.""
My brother scooted off to the change rooms and a few minutes later he returned to the middle of the field with my Humalog pen in his hand. I told him that I meant for him to wait until half time but the ball was miles away so I quickly dialled up, lifted my jersey and shoved the needle into my guts - right in the middle of the SCG with only 10,000 people looking on. As I'd informed my team about Diabetes and they were now well accustomed to my stabbing routines, they hardly batted an eyelid. Although a few of them questioned the appropriateness of the location!

I was voted best on ground in the Grand Final that year, then picked to play in the TAC Cup, a national Under 18 competition that is the nursery for the AFL. I was selected to play on the supplementary list with the Swans in 98, soI got to train full time with the side, attend all the functions and get all the gear, but I could only play reserve grade. This was an awesome experience.

There's one story that springs to mind in my time there. We'd all just finished training and were getting showered and heading home but I had to have a shot first. I pulled out my needle, lifted my shirt, and had a stab. I hadn't noticed but Paul Kelly and Tony Lockett were watching me do this and as I looked up, Plugger just shook his head and said "Fuck that," and Kell (who, I'll remind you here, was voted the AFL's most courageous player three times) said to me "Mate, you're a braver bloke than me."

Barnaby is a member of the Reality Check Working Party. Born and bred in Sydney he has just moved to Melbourne to do pre-season with the Demons and have one final crack at making the AFL before he gets too old.