My American buddy Bart recently did an interview where one of the questions was: ``Do you think you could defeat David McMahon in a spirited game of thumb wars?''
Funny thing is, that question took me right back to The Yukon, on a travel-writing trip I made in 1999. There I was in the Gateway Lounge at Haines Junction on the Alaska Highway, when I was introduced to a unique type of wrestling ....
A bloke called Rich walked over to where we sat. He's about the size of a barn door. And I'm talking B I G barn. He admires my MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground) cap, asking me to toss it across the table to him. You don't mess with a bloke that size, so I just pass it over. He holds it admiringly, touching the gold letters on it and tracing the embroidered outline of the famous sporting venue.
"I collect caps," he announces. Somehow I find the courage to tell him that he'll have to wait until I get home and mail him one. He thinks about this for a moment, then decides he can trust me. He passes it back and says enthusiastically, "You do that and I'll send you a really good Yukon cap." To set the seal on our undying friendship, he offers to introduce me to squaw wrestling.
Excuse me? Squaw wrestling? I have this mental picture of being forced to fight him for a woman and I look for a dark corner of the Lounge. But Rich pulls one of his mates into the spotlight.
"Here, we'll show you what squaw wrestling is all about." He and his mate lie flat on their backs, their heads pointing in opposite directions. On the count of three, they both raise their right legs as each contestant tries to pin the other down. No contest. Rich has his mate pinned in a couple of seconds. His mate is a woman called Deb. We get the distinct impression she is very disappointed with her form.
It is my turn. The hopes and fears of our great nation rest on my shoulders. We line up and I formulate the perfect plan I'll go for his hamstring. One, two, three. I swing up and even before I can swivel, Rich has me pinned. Time elapsed: about half a second. Deb looks a bit happier now.
Determined to advance Australia's reputation, I offer to take on Rich at arm wrestling. We sit down opposite each other and I put my right arm on the table." Ah, my right hand is a bit busted. We'll do it left-handed if that's OK with you," he says.
It's OK with me. This is a far better contest and at one stage it looks as though Australia is about to make a big comeback before Canada makes it 2-0. Much later in the day, I surmise that I have probably been had. The next time I see Rich, I'll ask him if he's left-handed.