Heart of a Champion Read Online Free PDF Page B

other sporting skills were developing too. He’d pick up his Mum’s tennis racquet as soon as Noelene and the other ladies at her comp took a break for tea and cakes. They’d marvel at his non-stop energy as he pounded the ball at the wall or served endlessly into an empty court.
    Very early on, Pop bought Darren and Greg their first surfboards— special Midget Farrelly ‘foamies’ with rubber fins—during a day trip to Ulladulla on the NSW south coast. It was the start of Greg’s lifelong love affair with the beach and the surf. Every second weekend in summer the family would leave the shimmering red roofs of Greenacre and head down to the south coast beaches, usually Currarong, and the kids would surf until they were waterlogged. By the time Greg got his first fibreglass ‘woody’ at about the age of 8, he was already an accomplished rider.
    He was also a budding entrepreneur, holding down two jobs—a chemist delivery run and a paper run, both of which provided an unwitting training base for his future bike riding. The chemist run involved delivering medicines to older people in their homes or in the local retirement and nursing homes. ‘I only ever dropped something once. It was a bottle of medicine that broke. I was walking around. I thought: “That’s it, I’ll get fired.” So I told my boss and he said, “Thanks for being honest, Greg.”’
    He was just as earnest with his paper run. ‘You weren’t allowed to sell papers until after 7 o’clock—you couldn’t blow your whistle, because of the noise thing. I used to get there at 5 to get the best barrow—if it was raining, I’d get the best cover—and to get the best selection of magazines. I was always an early bird. I loved it.’ Greg showed early marketing skills on his paper run when he persuaded his clients to leave their money out so they wouldn’t have to get out of bed. It worked brilliantly for tips. ‘I still remember one vintage Christmas weekend when I pocketed $22 in tips.’ It was almost ten times his normal earnings.
    As his friends began to physically mature, Greg remembers feeling left behind. ‘When I got to about 12 years old, all the boys started shooting up and good old Greg Welch was still “Shorty”. All the boys were hitting puberty and growing up and getting beards and I’m still, you know, 2 foot tall! I remember that vividly.’
    Nevertheless, he was flourishing in a comfortable and safe world that revolved around home, school, the football oval, Noelene’s nearby tennis courts and, only two blocks away, the newsagency and the chemist shop.
    In 1977, Greg’s horizons expanded when he moved on to Punchbowl Boys High School, a 2-km (1.2-mile) bus ride away. His cheeky humour helped ease the usual transition from being ‘someone’ in the top class of primary school to a ‘nobody’ in the lowest class of high school. Greg quickly won a reputation for his sporting feats—especially as a cross-country runner and a squash player—although he also played hockey and tennis for the school and rugby league for the Greenacre Grasshoppers and, of course, there was always the surfing.
    â€˜I was good at sport. I was never great because growing up the size I was, I didn’t really see an opportunity for being a great football player or a great tennis player because I wasn’t powerful enough or tall enough to go to the net. On the squash court, I wasn’t terribly orthodox in my style but nobody could beat me easily. They’d have to run me around everywhere because I’d get everything back. It’d always be a difficult match against me.’
    As they grew older, Greg and his mates didn’t let being landlocked in Greenacre prevent them from enjoying one of their greatest passions. On weekends they’d catch the 5 am train out of Punchbowl Station, travel into