Author’s note:
I have written an account of my life to the age of 13 and posted it on this blog under the title One Man’s Journey. It received lots of good comments that have encouraged me to continue and it has become a work in progress. In the meantime one of the football clubs I played with asked me to write about my experiences with them to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Heidelberg Football Clubs 1964 Premiership. I intend incorporating it in my formal autobiography later but there maybe some who might be interested for the purposes of writing their own.
Memories Are Made of This
In the football season of 2014 two of my daughters children, Jack and Riley, playing for ‘’Pax Hill’’ (the same club that Bernie Quinlin started his career with) in the Traralgon junior competition won the under 10s premiership. The eldest boy Jack, this year will move to under12s and at some stage will play his 50th game.
The skills of the boys for their age is surprisingly good and they are coached by people of thoughtfulness and a love for the greatest game on earth. I take the boys to training, watch them play, and help out with the coaching if I am physically able.
I tell you this in order to draw some comparison with my own entry into Australian Rules football. My brother, Philip and I became enamoured with Australian Rules Football at an early age. It consumed our early boyhood. We were avid collectors of football cards and swapped with other kids at school. One of my earliest memories is of making paper footballs with rolled up newspapers and rubber bands and kicking them in the streets of Brunswick. The first game we ever saw was when a cousin took us to see Carlton play at Princess Park.
The first game I ever played in was at Brunswick Tech where I spent a short time as a student. I didn’t have football boots, instead hammering stops into a pair of school shoes. It wasn’t until, as a 14-year-old, that I played my first fair dinkum game with the Thornbury Opportunity Youth Club who played in the Preston District Junior Football Association. The next year I was appointed captain and won the competition best and fairest amassing 3 votes in every game bar one. Football absorbed every aspect of my life. I played under 16 Saturday mornings, under 19 in the afternoon and on Sundays fronted up for an open age competition where a supporter paid me five shillings for every goal I kicked.
The following year my brother and I joined a newly formed club ‘’Thornbury Colts’’ coached by John Foster, and played in an under 21 competition, the title of which escapes me. However, Philip won the competition best and fairest and I was third. Invitations were received to train with Collingwood. We excitedly accepted the invite and one night trained with the likes of Thorold Merritt, Bill Twomey, Des Healey and many other champions of the day.
My time with Collingwood thirds was somewhat of a failure. Eventually I was asked to leave. They said I had not lived up to the expectation they had of me. I had not, in my youthful ignorance told them that I had gone through a bout of Asian flu and was still recovering. Physically I was drained and had little energy.
In 1960 now aged 18, John Foster arranged for me to play the last practice game of the season with VFA club, Preston. VFA at the time was played without the wing positions. I prided myself on my running ability so it didn’t concern me. Much to my disappointment I wasn’t selected for the first half. I then found myself on the half back flank opposed to one of their star players Kevin ‘’Icy’’ Bergman.
I must have played well because I was selected to play in that position for the first match of the season the following week. Vivid memories stay with me of being shirt fronted by former Essendon ruckman, Doug Bigalow after my first kick and elbowed by Victorian wicketkeeper Ray Jorden on trying to rise from turf. After training the following Thursday I was paid the then princely sum of three pounds for my efforts.
I won the best first year player award and Collingwood revived an interest. Pat Foley was the coach, and Claude Howard the captain. The following season Pat was replaced as coach by ‘’Tubby Edmonds’’. Edmonds came from Hawthorn where he had coached the seconds. As is sometimes the case, coaches can define a player’s future either positively or negatively. He took an immediate dislike to me and my brother, who had joined me from Collingwood seconds. Phil lasted the season before transferring to Coburg where he had a successful stint before ending his career with Eastern Districts club, Kilsyth where he won the competition best and fairest. As for me, well I eventually played 50 games with Preston before joining Claude Howard who had been appointed coach, at Heidelberg.
As was the custom the team was selected on Thursday nights and pasted on the interior glass frontage of Sam’s Milk Bar in Burgundy Street. Other than Claude and Max Odgen who had also departed Preston, the names were unfamiliar to me but I well recall my first game.
There is nothing better than the thrill of the spectacular high mark. I took one on the half back flank and took of down the river side wing bouncing the ball and dodging players as I went. I delivered a perfect stab pass to a lead from Claude, kept running and upon receiving a hand pass found myself in the goal square, only to miss my shot from point blank range.
That was the beginning of a ten-year stay in which I immersed myself in all that was Heidelberg. Not just its football but its culture. In saying that I include the Heidelberg Cricket Club where I played for many seasons as an opening batsman and wicketkeeper. I also served as secretary for five years.
In football terms I don’t believe I ever fulfilled my potential. Injuries, attitude, priority and probably alcohol prevented it. Many of the friends I made, and they were numerous, attended my wedding. The club was integral to my life, not just for football but socially. It was, and still is, a club rich in tradition.
I joined the committee and served for a number of years in many capacities from social secretary, property steward, marking the boundary lines. Helping with the juniors etc. There wasn’t a task to meaningless to do. All while trying to play footy. The best clubman trophy was awarded to me on five occasions. I even started the running group which I think is now called the marathon ions.
The committee was a collection of legendary names. Reg Wynd, Terry Hogan, Ivan Sheahan and Secretary Dick Sullivian all with longevity of service that was nothing short of admirable.
Although only five eight and a half inches I played in most positions for the club, particularly when key position players were unavailable for whatever reason. My best season was undoubtedly 1965 in which I finished third to Colin Hodgson in the best and fairest. It was a period that bequeathed the club with many fine players. Billy Elsworth, Gorden Dixon, Brian McMahon, Ray Norman Max Ogden and Polly Perkins. Polly had the ability to pick up votes simply by attending training.
Many young players commenced their careers whilst I was playing. Dick Young, Jimmy Painter, Colin Hodgson, Billy McWhinnie, Wayne Skinner, Neil Jordan and following that group came the likes of Brian Smout John Faithfull, Ron Best and John Murphy,
The Premiership Year
We won the 1964 Premiership in a most unlikely fashion. At the latter end of the season we were soundly defeated by the other teams that made up the final four. Somehow Nut McMahon was able to extract from a youthful group of players, an unforgettable finals campaign and we defeated Greensborough in the Grand Final. Some said that we were lucky but if luck is when enthusiasm meets opportunity then that was us.
Old fashioned firebrand speeches of the time meant little to me but I became absorbed, or sucked in by the emotive quality of Brian’s, grand finale, half-time speech. I felt exceptionally motivated. It was a feeling that insinuated itself throughout the team. We became inspired. Although time has dimmed my recollection of the game itself and my personal contribution, I believe I responded to his appeal for a bigger effort. I do recall the ebbs and flows of the game though. How we kept coming back from seemingly desperate positions. Champion teams get up when they can’t.
Premierships, regardless of age, sport or circumstance produce in one an indefinable feeling. Words like exhilaration, elation, euphoric or ecstatic serve to explain it to some degree but it is something uniquely felt rather than explained. Some experience it once in a life time, others multiple times and others not at all. Supporters experience the residue of it but that in itself is no small thing.
The Sunday morning celebrations of that victory remain indelibly etched into the very essence of my being and will remain there forever. It is probably fair to say that Heidelberg have had better premiership sides but not one as young, who were able to overcome adversity with so much courage and determination.
Anecdotes
It is odd that some things retain a place in one’s memory that are of little consequence yet others that may have a particular relevance don’t.
Perhaps I was laconic as a player. I’m not sure but it took me awhile to get into gear. One day I was playing centre half forward at our home ground. My opponent was former Collingwood player, Duncan Wright, infamous for knocking out Peter Somerville in the 1965 VFL grand finale. Early in the first quarter from the forward pocket boundary I heard the voice of Neil Peacock.
‘’Not having a go today Lordy’’.
It seemed to spark me into action and I went onto kick five goals for the game.
Another such occasion was when playing alongside Brian McMahon I took two excellent marks and each time felt a whack to the back of the head. Later ‘’Nut’’ confessed that it was he who had stirred me into action. Was I really that lazy?
I think it is fair to say that I could write a book of on and off field Heidelberg antidotes, full of both humour and tragedy and if I were encouraged-no…… don’t tempt me.
So I finished my football life in the seconds fitter than I had ever been. Along the journey I had met with John Toleman, a friend of Brian McMahon who was to become the proprietor Sportsworld, a sporting goods store in Burgundy Street. He got me running on a daily basis. Very fit I became but time had passed me by. Had I had a mentor who understood me I might have been a better player and played longer but I remain to this day unsatisfied. I don’t think I ever completely played up to my ability.
I ran the boundary for a season and gradually disappeared from the scene. Other things were beckoning.
The Heidelberg afterlife.
Like most fathers I expected that my son Jon might take up football but life is an experience of random often unidentifiable patterns and indiscriminate consequences that don’t always have order nor require explanation.
The Greensborough Sporting Complex opened and I joined the squash club. Squash at the time was experiencing a surge in popularity. With some coaching I eventually played ‘’A’’ grade and enjoyed the sport immensely. My children Jon and Nicole started playing and as juniors went on to play for Victoria. Jon in particular was extremely talented and might have gone onto to play internationally but at the age of 16 developed severe shin splints and on the advice of a surgeon retired. He was unable to play sport again. He was sponsored by Geof Hunts Company and Geof was of the opinion that Jon was one of the most fluent hitters of a squash ball he had ever seen. I became President of the club and for five years was the Victorian Junior coordinator of squash. I am a life member of the Victorian Squash Rackets association.
Along the way I had become more work ambitious. I left the job that had sustained me for twenty odd years and purchased a quarter share in a printing company. Later I sold my share and took on the position of National Marketing Director for an innovative high tech printing company. After a dispute with the owner about the company’s future direction I decided to go into business on my own. It was a major decision but I thought to myself. What is worse? Failing at something or simply not being prepared to have a go. John Lord marketing did grow and represented the final 23 years of my working life. Upon retiring we moved to Traralgon where we now live.
In 1999 I became involved with The Australian Republican Movement and chaired the Diamond Valley area committee. At different functions I met the likes of Barry Jones, Malcolm Turnbull and Sir Rupert Hamer.
During this period my wife Virginia enrolled me in a painting class at the old Greensborough State School. It was something I had always wanted to do and my interest flourished. When I retired I pursued it further and now have a ‘’Dip of Fine Arts’’ and specialise in portraiture. I have exhibited, been commissioned, and sent work to the America.
At age 60 I decided I wanted to fulfil a lifetimes desire to learn a musical instrument. Music had always been a large part of my life. It is something I recently found that I share with fellow premiership player Dick Young. We both have extensive libraries although I suspect my tastes might be a little more catholic. I found that my age was against me in terms of coordinating eyes and fingers. Grade four in theory was about my limit and playing for my own pleasure was also.
I did however find that I had a natural feel for melody and wrote around twenty-five songs in the Sinatra style. My teacher at the time also performed on ‘’Hey Hey its Saturday’’ individually and singing duets with Coleen Hewitt. I now have a CD of 13 of my compositions with him doing the vocals. Something of which I am most proud.
As if to prove that there is life after football I also developed an interest in amateur theatre and became intimately involved. Over the years acting and directing has become part of my life and there are some fine theatres and companies in Gippsland in which I am involved. My last part, mid last year, was as the High School Principle in the musical ‘’Footloose’’
To those who would say they are not creative I would say this. We are not necessarily born with creative attributes. Sometimes it is born from a simple preparedness to just have a go. It is something I have taken with me all my life and I have seen the evidence of those who say they can’t, find out that they can.
Writing clubs exist everywhere. I joined one in Traralgon and begun entering short fiction stories and poetry in various competitions and have won awards for both. Three years ago one of my political articles (yes I am proudly left-wing) was noticed on Facebook by a prominent blogger. He invited me to write for his blog ‘’THE AIMN.’’ I now write general social and political commentary, poetry and short stories on a regular basis. In the three years I have been writing I have had 600,000 reads of my work.
Other than that I have kept up my love of reading, done courses in political philosophy and public speaking.
An invitation
One morning in September of last 2014 the phone rang. It was Max Ogden. I had caught up with Max a couple of times over the years at the Wangaratta Jazz Festival. We both liked modern jazz and he played piano. He invited me to the 50th Anniversary of the 1964 premiership I was somewhat hesitant because I had always been of the view that people change over time. I knew I had. It had not even occurred to me that 50 years had passed since that momentous event. Then with some apprehension I accepted.
The phone rang a second time and the voice said ‘’Lordy’’I immediately recognised the voice of Des Luckman who to this day remains the most unforgettable character I have ever met. A man of unconcealed passion and empathetic compassion, who wore his heart on his sleeve like no other I have met.
I had the photograph of the premiership team on my computer screen in front of me intently perusing every face. We chatted away for most of an hour talking about those still with us and those who had left us, and the circumstances in which they had. Des took me on a journey of nostalgic enlightenment bringing me up to date, filling in gaps that had only been snippets of information I had casually picked up over the years. The news of the deaths of many of my former teammates left me feeling dank and morose. I felt a pang of guilt for not making an effort to stay in touch. After all, some of the players had not just been mates, but true blue ones at that.
When finally I put the phone down my eyes had become moistened and I let my tears have their way.
I have always been of the view that ‘’you can go back to the place but not the time’’ The anniversary day was to prove me wrong. I was overcome with incredible melancholy. A yearning for something that once was, or at least the feel and taste of it.
It was as if time had stood still, nothing had changed. Appearances may have, but the language had the same intonation, the same tigerish warmth. The same empathy of mateship, of comradery that could still be felt with every handshake. I may have found another life after football but that rich vein of black and yellow, the spirit that is Heidelberg still filled the labyrinth of mind. ‘’Great stuff’’ as someone once said.
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