For Bernie Langtry: 'Well done, Trinner. Best on Ground', by son Gary Langtry and daughter Jenny Dean - 2013

26 August 2013, St Michael’s, Wagga Wagga, NSW, Australia

Dad, Pop, Trinna, Bernie. However you knew him we hope you enjoy the story of Bernard John Langtry.

It will come as no surprise to most here today that Dad’s story will have a strong football influence and so it is that we start with pre-season training.

Bernie’s preseason training started on 8th October 1926 when he arrived at Gurwood St hospital in Wagga as the youngest son of Phil and Mary. Before him Mary, Tom. Kath, Frank and Doughy, so the birth of Bernie made a full household.

Bernie completed his schooling at the ripe old age of 13 in Marrar & Coolamon. He then worked on various jobs including time with his father in the family Stock and Station business.

Later in his early 20’s Bernie, along with his brother Frank, purchased property around Marrar. Eventually, as things evolve, part of that purchase, “Currawong” became the building blocks for Dad’s future.

1st Quarter         We won the toss, siren sounds, the ball is bounced.

Around this time, Bernie was given the nickname Trinner.

No one seems to know how it came about, and there were many variations. Dad had his favourite version but whatever the true one is, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that the name stuck.

During this quarter, one Trinner Langtry was eying Norreen McKelvie. Nor was oblivious to all this but Trinner “used to hang around” to ensure that he collected the mail when Nor was working at the Post Office. Their first encounter was at the Wichendon Vale hall dance. They went as single’s and came home as a potential couple in Trin’s car. This was despite the very best effort of Nor’s older brother Squeak, who followed them all the way home to ensure Nor’s safety.

The love affair continued and was sealed by marriage at Coolamon in November 1957. Incidentally the wedding was on a Wednesday morning as the parish priest at the time was far too busy on the weekend with other matters.

This marriage was to last more than 55 years and produced six wonderful children, Terry, Gary Jenny, Mark, Anne-Maree and Helen.

This established a very happy family time in the Langtry household. There were special times. There were challenging times.

There were regular visits from Kath and Mick to collect mushrooms and just be around the farm. Trin worked with Frank and Elitha on the farm and there was much involvement with Tom and Doughy and his older sister Mary who many will know as Sr Benedicta. They were all regular visitors.

2nd Quarter        Marrar 2 points ahead. Trinner’s worried. Kicking to the silos.

Trinner was now establishing himself as a more than handy footballer. Trinner played for Marrar over a period of 13 years, mostly on the wing. He believed his big achievements were being Captain Coach of the 1953 premiership team and a South West League representative player.

However, his football career was much much more than that.

Over his lifetime he was a player for 13 years, Captain Coach for two years, President for three. He was a selector at both club and league level for “who knows how long”, strapper for ten years, gatekeeper and life member of the Marrar Football Club.

Such was his service, he was recognised by the AFL as one of the elite, for having given more than 50 years continuous service to one club. His medallion was presented to him at a special function sponsored by the AFL.

His passion for football was legendary and even more so when you consider that Nor had ABSOLUTELY no interest in the game whatsoever!

However, Nor was at the premiership win of 1965. After the game Trin was EXTREMELY excited after a long drought of near premiership wins. On packing the children into the station wagon after the game, a head count revealed that Trin had 3-month-old Anne-Maree still folded up in the pram and packed into the boot. True story.

Another thing that may not be well known is that Trin took a year off football to assist Nor in her training for the Catholic Church prior to their marriage.

And after football, then there were bowls. And that is a whole new story.

His interests extended naturally to the Marrar Pub.

A number of years ago it was believed that there was a strong likelihood that the historic cricket and football trophies, which reside in the Marrar Hotel may be sold for profit. Pub patrons decided it was time to take matters into their own hands.

The trophies “somehow” were hidden on the farm. For the trouble caused Trin received a visit from the Junee Police. A brief explanation guaranteed the preservation of the trophies and Trinner’s good name.

Bring out the oranges. Its half time.

3rd Quarter         Trinner gets the loose ball from the pack and kicks it forward.

Trin was also a dedicated farmer. He was among the first to grow Canola in the area, which was a forerunner to the many yellow paddocks that we commonly see at this time of the year.

Wherever possible, Trinner was loyal in business. As an example, he maintained each year the buying of stock from the Armstrong stud. A tradition over three generations that has continued for more than 75 years.

Lamb marking was a farming job. It was shared with Trin and his brother Frank. The job would always start off easy enough but would quickly progress to discussions about sport or politics. Then move on to opinions about politics or sport then quickly deteriorate to arguments about anything in general, leading to many unmarked lambs and a complete meltdown of the system.

Long before weather apps, Trin had his own built-in radar. Every morning, regardless of where he was living, he would walk out the front door, assess the situation then walk to the back door, again assess the situation. Then come in to tap the barometer. This ritual happened every day.

Trinner was awarded a long service badge for 50 years continuous service to the Marrar Fire Brigade. Trin loved a good fire and particularly the “clean up” afterwards.

Dad’s lack of mechanical knowledge was well known. Like his good friend Tom Pattison, he was of the belief that a hammer and a shifter could fix most things and what couldn’t be fixed could be sent off to Cliff at the Marrar Garage. Cliff got a lot of work!

There have been many books written on the study of body language. They need not have bothered. All they had to do was turn up and watch Trinner as a spectator at the footy. He must have been exhausted at the end of every game where he was a spectator. He would kick, ride every bump, grimace at every tackle and he would comment about the very doubtful parentage of every umpire.

He tried…. but only with limited success at being a balanced supporter.

All of us kids knew that the timing to get money for lollies and drinks out of Trin at a footy game was crucial.  Ask during the quarter time and half-time breaks, not a chance. Ask while the ball was in play and money to get rid of the kids was guaranteed.

We can’t close the premiership quarter without mentioning some football facts according to Trinner.

·       You can’t trust paid players

·       Football is a wet weather game

·       I doubt the footy club can financially survive

·       Can’t STAND Cootamundra

·       Merger with Coolamon? Not going to happen

4th Quarter         Trins agility on the wing is showing. He’s gotta be a chance for the three votes today!

It was never going to be easy to move trin off the farm and to leave his beloved Marrar. Time goes on and a move to Wagga was inevitable. The move turned out to be a winner.

There have been many fulfilling relationships formed at Settlers village and within the Probus group since their time in Wagga. These relationships for both Trin and Nor have lead to travel, walking groups, coffee mornings and craft, but most importantly incredible support.

Retirement as well was a time for Trin to share quality time with his much-loved Grandchildren.

Time on in the last quarter was not easy.

The challenges in the last few months were eased by the wonderful care at RSL Remembrance Village. And for those very special people who were regular visitors to Dad, we thank you.

The recognition of Trin’s work, family and community involvement is shown by your presence here today.

Well done, Trinner. Best on Ground.

Gary Langtry

For Andrew 'Andy' Smith: 'Cheer, boys, cheer we’re for Melbourne', by MUFC club president Andrew Donald - 2023

25 January 2023, Le Pine Funeral chapel, Essendon, Melbourne, Australia

During the last Test Match, I took a friend from Sydney to the Museum at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. On display were handwritten rules for the game of Australian football and dated May 1859, being the first recorded rules of the game. On Saturday, 28th May 1859, University played St Kilda in our first match with the match reported in Bell’s Sporting Life published on 4th June. Such was his longevity that one half expected to see the words “Timekeeper A. M. Smith Esq.” recorded in the match summary. Although self-evident, such is the esteem in which Andy was and will forever be held, we have called upon our most senior official to deliver this eulogy on our behalf.

Fifty-year celebration

On Saturday 4th August 2012, the Blacks held a luncheon in the old pavilion to celebrate Andy’s fiftieth year of honorary service to the Blacks and to the men’s football programme at the University. That service included occupying nearly every post, including two years as president of the M.U.F.C. in 1984 and 1985, performing a myriad of tasks for Blacks and managing teams in the M.U.F.C. intervarsity programme.

 As one would expect, the luncheon was fully subscribed with attendees from five decades from the halcyon days of premierships in the Victorian Amateur Football Association’s A Section to the equally celebrated premierships in the sections below.

The renowned scribe and keen observer of life, the Black Hack (one suspects a nom de plume) observed in his article published on 9th August 2012, “in any case, my choice of attire for this Saturday gone was a very straightforward affair. It was Andy Smith Tribute Day and a V-Neck pullover was the only way to go. As I packed my tram timetable and handkerchief in order to complete the outfit, I considered all that had occurred during Andy’s 50 year tenure – from wars to droughts, from colour TV to iPhones, from woollen to lycra jumpers – and that if Andy were to have a sav blanc for every year of service he could give you an opinion on all of them.”

A marvellous luncheon was had on a memorable day for the Blacks.

 The universal theme from those speaking on behalf of generations of Blackers was a deep affection for Andy and a genuine appreciation for his tireless work. Of course, Andy’s service didn’t end there and continued for more than a decade and into the 2022 season during which after more than sixty years of service Andy called time on his life as an official and life as a spectator beckoned.

Ern Cropley

Andy was chuffed when, in 2014, the new pavilion was aptly named the “Ernie Cropley Pavilion” after his great friend and house mate of many years, “Croppo”: curator of the hallowed turf for fifty years and described on the M.U.F.C. website as “the most colourful and best-known and best-loved character in University cricket and football circles.”

Blackers’ reflections upon Andy’s passing

 I have been provided with many reflections, a selection of which is as follows:

“A wonderful selfless servant of the club.”

“Andy was there at my first game in Reserves in 2001 and last game 2015.” He loved regaling me with stories of swindles he and my old man got up to at intervarsity games in the seventies. Something along the lines of cash bets and getting the opposition drunk with free booze before the games. I loved his brutal assessments post-match which were delivered with love.”

When letting a Blacker down lightly having missed a mark at a crucial time in a match “Moff, your old man wouldn’t have dropped that.”

“A warm man who made everyone welcome. No one went through our club without being bailed up by Andy for a chat.”

“Heart and soul of the club and part of the old firm along with Jack Clancy who schooled new players on the history and what it meant to play for Uni Blacks.”

 “So loyal and such a supporter of all who represented the Blacks. I rarely got to the Pavvy without a post-mortem and a 3.2.1 of the best and, at times, a 3.2.1 of who shouldn’t be in the best.”

 “My earliest memory of the Blacks was in 2001 after playing a practice match at Williamstown. My first game of football in years, lying on my back after the game exhausted with no skin on my knees and dazed. I am jolted out of my daze when Andy’s dogs are doing a great job at licking the wounds on my knees with Andy standing beside them with a cheeky grin.”

 And I remember a conversation out at C.B.C. St Kilda’s ground in Murrumbeena around 1990 when I was Blacks’ secretary Andy “Can you look after m’dogs, while I time-keep?” Me “Do I have to?” Andy “Yes”

And one final quote which transcends the generations of Blackers and ultimately defines the mood “Part of the Blacks’ furniture who helped make the University Main Oval such a special place for us all.” Such a special place for us all.

The A.M. Smith Perpetual Trophy for the Best Clubman

 Presentation nights represent the finale to a season and provide a serious forum in which serious awards are presented, serious speeches are made, and a club reflects in an earnest manner about the season just completed.

The best club person award is more than an award for significant contribution but is an acknowledgement of the value of the selfless acts of one person for the benefit of others (and the cohort generally) and an appreciation that those acts underpin a club’s very existence.

In the early nineties, the Blacks annual award for the best clubman was changed to the A.M. Smith Perpetual Trophy as a permanent acknowledgement of Andy’s contribution to the life, times and prosperity of the Blacks. To better understand how valuable this work is, it is worth spending a moment on the concept of the best club person. Although awarded on an annual basis, the truth is that usually the recipient has years of honorary service week in week out under his or her belt: managing the teams, keeping the time, field umpiring the reserves, (back in the day) numerous trips to V.A.F.A. HQ to register players, sweeping out the rooms after an under nineteen’s match, spending hours on a Saturday morning preparing for a legendary Blackers’ afternoon tea, sitting in a car listening to a player earnestly express his feelings about his relationship failure of three months.

The list is endless but, in essence, for up to eight months a year, it is assuming operational responsibility for the logistics in deploying more than a hundred players and officials to somewhere in metropolitan Melbourne and dealing with what has now become the complex business of running a community football club especially in a grade where the competition is fierce.

But Andy was not simply an official who came on matchdays, kept the time and went home. He was far more than that. He knew all the players and officials young and old well and was a welcome and active participant in the Blacks’ social life including the famous Black Spot which for many years held top billing on Thursday nights at the Clyde.

Andy’s love of the game of lawn bowls

It would be remiss of us not to talk about Andy’s love of lawn bowls a fact well known to all at Blacks. We enjoyed the fact that it gave him so much joy. We note that the Moonee Ponds Bowling Club was established in 1891 is situated in Queens Park, a beautiful garden, a short distance from here and is noted for having among the best bowling greens in Victoria and priding itself on providing a great family environment to around 150 social and bowling members.

It is a rarity for a person to be a life member of three sporting clubs with the M.U.F.C. (since 1980), the M.P.B.C. and the Carlton Bowling Club now the Princes Park Carlton Bowls Club.

Andy’s health no bar to his support for the Blacks

Over the past few years, Andy had his health issues but that didn’t stop him from attending the footy and expressing his views about all things Black in his usual forthright manner.

Last year, I visited Andy at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. Our salutation was that of two blokes who had known each for a long time as I was allocated to Blacks in 1979. We vaguely nodded at each other. Shooting the Blackers’ and general M.U.F.C. breeze and happily discussing the Blackers’ return to the Premier Division where the Blacks belong, well over an hour passed effortlessly.

As I left, our exchange embodied the idea that the ties that bind are often in what is not said. Me: “S’pose I’d better go” Andy: “S’pose you’d better.” Me: “Good luck with the operation.” Andy: “Thanks”.

Loyalty

In an age of fatuous over-statement, the word “loyalty” gets a fair work-out but one wonders how often its meaning is considered or used carefully. Synonyms are “faithfulness”, “constancy”, “commitment”, “dependability” and “reliability”.

In the mid-nineties when the Blacks were collapsing through the grades, at a low ebb, and where resources were very thin, one A.M. Smith stayed the journey, continued and remained faithful to the cause: constant, committed and dependable. Values which by his conduct Andy imparted to generations of University footballers who have gone onto to lead the way in business, the professions, academia, the arts, science, government and public administration and in professional sport.

Vale Andy

Our condolences to Andy’s family. We thank them for giving us an opportunity to speak.

“Cheer, boys, cheer we’re for Melbourne. Now we’re on the road to victory. We will beat them all round, at our home and any ground” the first lines of the traditional song of the University Football Club and successfully reintroduced into the Blacks after Andy led a long campaign.

And so we say goodbye to a favourite son. Blackers unum et omnia, Blackers one and all.

For Allan Jeans: 'What a man', by Cameron Schwab - 2011

20 July 2011, Melbourne Cricket Ground, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Allan Jeans was never a dreamer, he was way too pragmatic for that, but clearly understood that he had the capacity to make or break dreams, and that often proved a heavy burden.

It would be rare that a football conversation would pass with Yabby without some reference to a player who he had dropped from a grand final team.

One sensed that the moment was burned into Yabby’s soul as it surely did with the player concerned. These memories for Yab, were as profound as the outcome of the game itself.

In our game dreams become hope. Hope becomes expectation, often without substance or rationale.

For a man like Yab, with a propensity to personalise obligation like no other, he was often required to do some very heavy lifting.

So it was when Yab was appointed Senior Coach of the Richmond Football Club in 1992. Such were the circumstances of his appointment, and whilst he would never be so indulgent to say it himself, he clearly understood that dreams had already become expectation by the time he had donned the yellow and black tracksuit.

Here was a proud football club, Tigerland, dragging itself up by what were very frayed boot laces, its skin recently saved by the shaking of tins, and the passions stirred by the appointment of an icon coach arriving into the dilapidated rooms which seemed to be held together by nothing more than the smell of liniment, ankle tape and the ambitions of young men yearning to be led.

Our game likes to look at the events of history as a predictor for the future as though somehow we can will these events to repeat themselves.

When Allan Jeans was announced as coach of Richmond, immediate reference was made to the appointment of the first non-Richmond person for almost 30 years, in fact the first since Len Smith in the mid-60s, who himself was the first non-Tiger coach that anyone could recall.

The appointment of Len Smith at Richmond would be a catalyst to a great Tiger era, after many years in the doldrums, with the Tom Hafey coached club becoming the team of their generation. Nothing less was expected of Allan Jeans when he became coach of Richmond.

Adding to the colour of this story was Len Smith, the lesser-known brother of coaching legend Norm was also a great mentor of Yab’s.

Len is widely credited for the invention of the modern running game, and his handwritten exercise books on football are the stuff of football folklore.

Len shared these notes with a young Allan Jeans, although Yabby somehow never seemed young, as he prepared his St Kilda team for the 1965 Grand Final.

To say the Saints were inexperienced on the big day would be an understatement. It was only their second Grand Final and their first since 1913.

Yab kept the letters from Len, and I am sure he read them often, particularly in the last months of his life. They gave him context as the coach he was then, and the coach he would become.

History in fact did repeat, as with Len Smith, Yabby’s stint as Senior Coach of the Tigers would be very short – just one season before ill health cut short his time, but in many ways didn’t reduce the impact on those young ambitious men, most of whom would reflect on the time shared as the most significant of their lives.

The reason for this is simple. For Allan Jeans, identity was fundamental, and he educated and coached based on ensuring you had an understanding of where you have come from, where your place is now, and providing a clear understanding of where you were heading.

This was not a compartmentalised thing – it was one continuum – much like the game plan he preached and his famous three phases.

The basis from which he built this was trust, and Yab was the type of person who trusted easily, and trusted freely.

Whilst he had a somewhat intimidating veneer, his warmth and wisdom quickly become apparent, as he did what he could to help you find who you are, what you want to be, and what you want to stand for.

And for many young men finding their way in this most distracted of environments, identity can be elusive.

You quickly learn however, to benefit from the Yabby’s wisened methodology meant leaving your ego at the door, opening yourself up knowing that your confidences were safe, and you would be emboldened by Yab’s preparedness to reciprocate your openness.

Whilst the Yabby voice is legendary, his silences were often more profound.

“I was born with big ears, so I figured I might as well use them”, he would say, and listen he would. He also had a unique way of creating the space required for you to work it out for yourself – surely the best form of coaching.

He was also the master of the metaphor, often used to provide perspective and reality for a player who may be a tad ahead of himself so as to ensure they knew their place in the natural order.

I remember him talking to a young Tiger Tim Powell, who had played a pretty good game off half-back at Victoria Park against the Magpies. After receiving praise, Powelly mentioned his disappointment at not being given a chance to play on Peter Daicos who had kicked a match-winning 7 goals.

“Son, you’re a car salesmen aren’t you?” asks Yab.

“That’ right” says Powelly,

“Well let me put this in a way that you should relate to”.

“Well Son, you’re a Volks Wagon, and Daicos he’s a Mercedes Benz”.

“Now, do you understand?”

“Yes I do.”

“Success needs no explanation, failure accepts no alibis”, he would say, knowing fully that building resilience means you have to learn from your disappointments. That’s how you find out who you are.

Identity based on self-awareness.

And perhaps his best measure of character, “It’s not how you get knocked down, it’s how you get up”.

When Yab arrived at Richmond, he was asked to have a photo taken with the famous tiger skin that adorned the Richmond Board table. He refused. It wasn’t a snub, he would often talk of the club as ‘your club’, rather than ‘our club’, which could be misconstrued by those who didn’t know the man.

In his mind, he had to earn the right to be a part of it. For him it wasn’t a matter of signing a contract, it was about building respect, which he had earn the right – pay the price.

He had a deep respect for the game, the clubs and its people. He understood the Richmond story, the club from ‘struggle town’ that had once been mighty and wanted to be mighty again.

But the weight was heavy, and his health faltered, and so did the dream. He got through the year on pure courage, and his overwhelming sense of duty.

Somewhere from his moments of silent reflections these past months, he realised that he wanted Richmond to be recognised on this day as one of his clubs. “They were good to me” he said, “I want people to know that, please tell them”.

That photo with the Tiger skin was never taken, but the learnings are imprinted in the minds of those who happened to have the good fortune of spending just one very tough season listening to, and being listened by, Allan Jeans.

What a man.

for Jim Stynes: 'There's never been anyone like Jim Stynes and there never will be', by Garry Lyon - 2012

2 April 2012, St Patrick’s Cathedral, Melbourne, Australia

Big Jimmy would have loved this.

He thrived on a big crowd. If he was here, he'd have us all standing up, waving our hands above our heads, and singing, and turning to the person next to you giving them hugs and shoulder massages. It's the sort of weird stuff he did and it took us a long time to get our head around it.

He loved to take people outside their comfort zone, to get them to do things that they didn't think they were capable of, which is not surprising really when you strip it all back to the very start of his extraordinary journey.

How else is a young lad form Ireland arrive on the doorsteps of the Melbourne footy club, another world away in very sense of the word, if he wasn't prepared to step out of his own comfort zone?

It was to be a consistent theme throughout his time here. That he would struggle initially was inevitable. That he would eventually fail was likely. That he eventually debuted as a Melbourne Footy Club player in 1987 was admirable. That he was the best and most dominant Australian Rules footballer in the country four years later, was to begin to understand and appreciate the sort of athlete and person we were dealing with.

Consistency was a cornerstone of Jim's footy career. He was consistently our best preseason performer, defying logic as he powered up mountains, leaving us all in his wake. There's enough team mates of ours here to know that he was consistently our worst in season trainer, as he hobbled around the training track from Monday to Friday, attempting to overcome all manner of injuries from the previous game. He was a horrible trainer during the season.

And then he was consistently our best performer when it mattered most, as he wheeled himself from contest to contest, game after game, year after year. So I wanted Jim to be consistent today, and he would be disappointed if I didn't take the chance to have a laugh at his expense. It's what I enjoyed doing most with him. So here's some home truths.

If he wasn't tight with his money, he was very careful with it. You only had to look at the way he dressed to realise he didn't spend money on a wardrobe. I've never seen a man get more excited about a club issue of a pair of runners every year. Mainly to discard last year's and move into the new fashion.

Which is why recently he turned up at our blazer presentation night, only a ... You know where I'm going with this Sammy ... a week or two ago, and he was crook and his eyesight was failing him. And I realised how crook he was because the raffle tickets were being handed around. Jimmy wasn't a big raffle ticket buyer, he was a $5 man. And I saw him and Sam arguing, having a blue over the envelope, and there was 20s and 10s and 50s flying everywhere and I thought, "Shit, Jimmy's crook. He's going for a 50." And it wasn't until two days later I spoke with Sammy and she said no, even with his failing eyesight, she saw Sam put a 50 in, and he was diving in to try and get 45 out.

He wasn't opposed to stretching the boundaries in the pursuit of victory either, and at the risk of starting an international incident, and I know there's a strong Irish contingent here, I've got to get this story off my chest. Some of my favourite times with him were in the International Rules series where I was coaching and he was assistant. And they were tense times, and we were always in the back of my mind wondered whether he was a double agent or not. And we got to the game and Croke Park, 75-80,000 people there. Not sure who you were barracking for either Brian.

And I said to him, "Jim, get the walkie talkie sorted out. Make sure we've got two way down to the bench."

And he said, "Yeah okay, okay." So he's fiddling around with it, trying to get onto the right channel and all of a sudden he said, "Shut up, listen." And there was a cross reference and we logged into the Irish coach's box.

And I said, "Jim, you can't do that." And he said, "Shut up." So for the first five minutes, we listened to the coach of the Irish team make his moves, and we trumped them and we eventually went on and won the game, and I reckon the next day I heard or read somewhere they said the Australians were well prepared, they anticipated every move the Irish team made. Damn right they did, because Jimmy was listening to the coach all the way through.

So he was a bit deceptive. He didn't lose his temper much, but he did on that day. The game was really close and it got towards the end of the match, and we were a few points down and he was in charge of our whiteboard, with all the magnets and the men around it. And someone did something wrong and I smashed the table in frustration, stuff went flying everywhere but I kept watching the game. It was about 30 seconds to go and I said, "Jim, who's on number 20?" Nothing. So I was getting a bit agitated at this stage, so I said, "Jim, who's on number 20?" And there was still nothing. I said, "Jim, if you don't tell me-" and he cut me off and he said, "Well how to fook do I know? He's crawling round on the floor trying to pick the magnets up." They'd been flying everywhere. Fook's an Irish word for flaming, so we're okay with that.

That was about it. That was about it. It's all I got. The truth is finding fault in anything he did was a fruitless exercise. I sat down and wrote a list of words that best describe him as a footballer: consistent, reliable, dependable, trustworthy, honest, strong, durable, sincere, loyal, courageous, caring and resilient. They're wonderful qualities to possess in a footballer. They're even more significant qualities to possess as a man. And what I find most amazing of all, is that all the kids from around the world we could have attracted in the game when Melbourne took the audacious steps of looking beyond our shores in the albeit unlikely hope of unearthing a footballer, we found him. Jim Stynes. And as a result, we knew never to question the boundaries of what one man is capable of achieving on the playing field, but also to never question the ability of the same man to have an impact away from it. There's never been anyone like Jim Stynes and there never will be, which is why we loved him, and we miss him so much today.

for Daniel Kennedy: 'He was a true hero to us all', by Sean Dooley - 2005

4 July 2005, Leongatha, Victoria, Australia

Daniel Kennedy was born in Barham NSW, second child to Pam and Peter, on the 18th of October 1983. 1983. The 80s weren’t that long ago— I’ve still got shirts from then. I think I’m wearing one now. Normally at a funeral the person you’ve come to farewell was usually born in the 1920s or 30s. There is a whole life that has been lived that we can celebrate. Dan’s life was only just beginning. This shouldn’t have been the whole story. It just seems so wrong.

Dan Kennedy was a remarkable person. Now I’m only a second cousin and probably most of you here knew him a hell of a lot better than I did. But even though I rarely saw Dan more than a couple of times a year there are few people that have made a bigger impression on me.

Over the past few days talking to those who loved him, it dawned on me that I wasn’t the only one to feel this way. And I am not the only one who feels so ripped off that Dan has gone. But this is not the sort of attitude that he lived his life by. I’m sure he had his moments of despair and self-pity like the rest of us but the Dan Kennedy that we all knew wouldn’t have dwelled on the negative stuff for too long; he would be out there trying to make the best of things, to make the most out of what we’ve got. Dan took whatever life threw at him head on; he didn’t have time for making a fuss. He didn’t want fanfares, he never asked for anyone’s pity. He just wanted to get on with living.

And he was always this way. As a baby Dan basically skipped walking. By the age of 9 months the family had moved to Tarra Valley and later, Toora, and Dan went from crawling straight to running. At first it was chasing after his big sister Melissa, and then later, running from his little sister Amanda. And he didn’t really stop running, as was evident by the number of accidents he had as kid: running into a fence and damaging his front teeth, running through another fence—barbed wire this time— and straight into a dam where he almost drowned himself. It was amazing he even made it to Toora Primary school at all.

But he didn’t stop running then. Pam would send Dan off with his lunch every morning and every afternoon it would come home in his bag untouched. Not that he didn’t like the sandwiches she made, just that he was so busy running around at lunchtime that he never had time to eat it. Pam soon learned not to make tuna sandwiches, or anything that would go off after sitting in a school bag all day.

For those of you who knew Dan only in the last few years when the leukemia and the complications of the treatment had ravaged his body, it may come as a surprise that Dan was an outstanding junior sportsman. Following the influence of Pam and Peter, Dan was into virtually every sport going. Little Athletics was his first competitive sport, but he also excelled at basketball, footy, cricket and word is he had the strongest throwing arm in the district. He won a number of athletic events at regional competitions and placed in a few at state level. Dan represented the Alberton Football League in the under 13 & 15 teams, made the representative sides for basketball and cricket and in 1998-99 won the “Dean Jones Alberton Junior Cricket Association Player of the Year.”

He not only played with the Toora Under 16s cricket team for seven years, but being a small town, often the adult teams were a few blokes short and Dan was more than willing to fill the breach. Pam remembers Dan filling in for the senior team when he was eleven. The ground was a cow paddock in the off season and the mongrels made him field down at fine leg amongst all the divots and everything else. Not the easiest surface to pick which way the ball would bounce. By the end of the days play Dan had more divots in him than the cow paddock. It was around this time that at a game played at Tarwin when they were again short of numbers. Dan trotted out onto the field to fill in and following was his six-year-old, three-foot-high sister, Amanda. It was a scorcher of a day and a number of the older boys were feeling the heat and had to leave the field. Not those two idiot Kennedy kids, they stayed out under the blazing sun the entire day.

In February 1999 the family moved to Leongatha as all the kids were attending Mary McKillop College. Dan joined the Leongatha Football Club and commenced playing on the U16 team.  During a match towards the end of June he kicked a goal as the half-time siren sounded. As the huddle formed it was realised that Daniel was nowhere to be found. He was still lying where he had kicked the goal, unable to move as he had torn his hamstring. Little did anyone know that this would be the last time Dan would play footy.

In August 1999 Dan didn’t seem himself.  A trip to the doctor ensued. Blood tests were taken and results came through at 10pm that night.  Midnight saw Dan at the Royal Children’s Hospital which was to become his second home for the next six years particularly Ward 6 East. Dan’s footy and cricket days were over. But he didn’t let that get him down, merely turning the same tenacity he showed on the sporting field to dealing with his disease. At times the treatment seemed worse than the cancer but Dan never allowed his spirit to remain unbowed for very long. The horror of what he went through never changed who he was. For instance, he hated using his mopep. A mopep is a small blower that he needed for clearing the gunk from his lungs. Dan didn’t think he needed to use it but the physios insisted. He usually managed to wangle his way out of it by distracting the physios—chatting with them, cracking as many jokes as he could so that by the end of the session he hadn’t got around to doing his exercises.

For six years Dan was in and out of hospital and it’s just impossible to imagine what he had to go through. And as strong and resolute as Dan was he wouldn’t have been able to fight as well as he did without the unbelievable support of his family. Pam, Peter, Melissa, Amanda, his grandparents Jan and Tarz and I’m sure many others that I don’t know about provided the most sensational support crew and were the strength Dan needed when he’d used up his own reserves. Amanda even went the extra step when in 2003 Dan relapsed and it became apparent that he needed a bone marrow transplant and she volunteered to be the donor. Some families would break under such strain, not this one. They not only continued to love and support each other but were able to help Dan live as normal and productive a life as possible in the times he was out of the hospital.

The leukemia didn’t totally spell the end of Dan’s sporting days. In remission he was well enough to take up lawn bowls and was soon playing pennant at Toora and actually skipped a Division 5 rink at Corinella soon after.  The highlight for him was making it into the final of the ‘100 up’, which he played against his father, Peter.  He was unsuccessful at his first attempt but turned the tables 3 yrs later at Leongatha when he got to beat Peter in the 100 up final. Now his old man might try and claim he was playing dead that day but I wouldn’t be believing it.

With treatment started in preparation for his bone marrow transplant, the bowls pennant finals were nearing and Dan was hoping he would be well enough on the day to play.  As it turned out he was too sick to compete but someone up there must have been in his corner because that day the rain and hail came down by the bucket load and with the green underwater the match was postponed to the next Saturday, by which time Dan was fit enough to play and they went on to have a memorable win.

Though he had an incredible struggle, and several times we all thought we’d lost him, Dan kept on fighting and making the most of the times when he was well. When he first started treatment he used to come down to our place at Patterson Lakes to go fishing with my Dad who was also undergoing cancer treatment. Though there was a fifty year age gap, Dan and Baz really bonded as they reeled in bream after bream after bream. Later when asked by the ‘Make a Wish’ Foundation what he would like to do for his wish he chose a trip to Cairns, deep sea fishing where he caught a nice 3-and-a-half foot shark and a couple of large Coral Trout.  He was still speaking of that trip the week before he died.

Another habit I think he might have picked up from my old man was a love of the races. Sick of running down to place his bets at the TAB, Pam soon set up a telephone account for Dan. He was so good at the caper that he soon had the nurses and doctors and even the hospital chaplain coming to him for tips. Even in the intensive care unit he had a form guide by his side. Once Dan turned 18 he gained a membership at Stony Creek Race Club and would attend as many meetings as possible with Rex, Coral & Mook, summoned to pick him up and deliver him home.

Dan was an avid Carlton fan. No one is exactly sure why Dan chose to barrack for Carlton— Peter is a Bulldogs supporter and his Mum goes for Melbourne. But typically, Dan chose his own path. It was as if he didn’t want to take sides and that too was typical of Dan. Always fair and considerate of others, the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause a fuss.

But last year we did get to make a fuss over Dan. The family had to twist his arm but for those of us lucky enough to attend Dan’s twenty-first, it was an incredible experience. It was a real celebration of life and I know that it meant the world to Dan and he felt it was the best thing he had ever done. Having his 21st allowed Dan to reconnect with some of his mates from school and for the past year he felt like he was back involved in real life, one that didn’t involve hospitals and needles and isolation units.

And then came the infection that led him to hospital for the last time. He was going to have some of his toes amputated but Dan dealt with it in typical fashion. I spoke to him just after he’d gone in and within minutes we were joking about how toes were over-rated anyway. He was like that right up to the end. Solid, unflappable, going about what he had to do with as little fuss as possible. But I reckon just like his twenty-first, he wouldn’t mind the fuss we are making today. It’s so good to see so many people here who like me feel blessed just for having the chance to know such a wonderful person as Dan Kennedy.

Sure, he wasn’t here for anywhere near long enough but the way he lived his life, rose to meet every adversity with grace and courage and acceptance, is an inspiration. In just twenty-one years he showed us all how to go about living. As Peter and Pam said to me, he was a true hero to us all. And you can’t argue with that.

Goodbye Dan.

for Tom Hafey: 'Tommy shaped our lives, he was a father figure and mentor, he was an advisor', by Kevin Bartlett - 2014

19 May 2014, Melbourne Cricket Ground, Melbourne, Australia

Tommy was pretty lucky to kick a goal with his first kick in AFL football, because it was the only goal he kicked.

I can remember Tommy turning up to my daughter Cara's engagement party, and he turned up in just in a pair of shorts. No shoes, no top. And my son-in-law said to him, 'aren't you wearing a shirt, Tommy?'

He said, 'I didn't think it was formal'.

Now for those that don't know, Tommy drove a Jeep, D'you know that? He drove a Jeep. He drove a Jeep, all over the country. He didn't buy a Jeep, he drove a Jeep. He shot a commercial for Jeep, and the deal was that he’d get a new Jeep every three months.

Jeep figured that a man over eighty would drive to church on a Sunday, and maybe pick up the paper.

 Jeep figured that after three months, it would have fifteen hundred ks on the clock, and would be sold as a new car.

Jeep didn't figure that after three months, that it would have eighty four thousand kilometres on the clock, and would be sent to the wreckers.

Tommy drove a Jeep alright, to every football club and netball club in the land.

He had some favourite sayings; 'If you want loyalty, get a dog', That was to all the football committees that sacked him.

'You'd run faster if chased by a crocodile', that's what he used to say to players when he thought they could run a lot faster than they were on the field.

 He always answered the question, 'how do you like your tea, Tommy?' with, 'Hot and strong. If not I'll send it back', and he did.

 'He's so slow he couldn't catch Humphrey B Bear'. That was a player that just couldn't run.

And of course, 'Sensational, but getting better' was his favourite one.

Tommy actually thought that getting up at five twenty in the morning and walking across the road in his Speedo's, swimming across Port Phillip Bay and back, in icy water, and then running ten ks, followed by a thousand sit-ups and a thousand push-ups was a great way to start a day.

He didn't convince me, nor many of his friends.

And then of course, he saw himself as a beach inspector, because then he'd walk along the beach to pick up syringes. His record was thirty eight in one day, he was really proud of that record. No gloves, just put 'em in the towel.

His first training session at Richmond as coach was two laps of the ‘Tan. He said 'Do your best' and off we all went. We never saw him again. Except for the several players he lapped. Those he lapped, please put up your hand in this room. The next training session was ten 440s with sixty seconds break in-between, and then the third one, which was on the Friday night (we trained the Monday Wednesdays and Fridays) the third training session was twenty 200s. Twenty 200s, I should say, with a sixty second rest.

Tommy ran them all until he absolutely dropped because you had a little chunky legs and he ran those four-hundreds, and that's where the legend was made, and everyone at the club said, well how good is this. Because all of a sudden you had this coach who turned up and he's beating everyone around the ‘Tan, and he's beating everyone in the four-hundreds, and he's beating everyone in the two-hundreds. I mean, it was quite remarkable. And the legend was made.

You know, nothing much has changed in football, Tommy's first game as coach of Richmond was against Carlton at Princes Park. And the siren didn't work at the end of the game. So, nothing has changed in football.

And they couldn't find the cow-bell to actually ring.

We believe to this very day -- just a Carlton conspiracy. The game actually continued on, and a policeman on his horse charged out onto the ground to alert the umpires that the game had ended. Richmond full back was a young man called Billy Walford, I played with him in the under nineteens, he was playing full back that day in just his fourth game of AFL football, recalls that he had to run around the horse to actually contest the ball. That should have alerted the umpire that the game was over. The Tigers won by six points, and of course, the Hafey era began.

That game was the start of the clubs golden era of premierships, '67, '69, '73, and '74. When a little club, of course, hadn't played in finals for twenty four years and Tommy took over, with a bunch of very experienced players in Roger Dean and Neville Crow and Mike Patterson andBull Richardson -- Freddy Swift, of course was there -- and a bunch of young kids came up from the under nineteens. A lot of us came up and then he went out and recruited of course, Royce Hart came across from Tasmania, Barry Richardson from Saint Pat's College, Michael Green, of course, also in the under nineteens came down from Assumption College.

And then in 1967 against a very very formidable Geelong side, which at that stage had  the likes of Polly Farmer and Doug Wade, and Billy Goggin and Gordon Hynes, Kenny Newlands and Sam Newman, I mean they had a fantastic side, they were a team of champions like they are today. And Richmond of course, did not have one player who had actually played in any final until that final series. And in that grand final, Richmond won its first grand final in twenty four years against Geelong.

And then of course it carried on in '69, '73 and '74 and Hafey's Heroes were born.

I had the best seat in the house, of course, at Carlton, when he coached his first game, because I was 19th man, so in those days you sat next to the coach. I told him at half time that he didn't have a clue, for I was the greatest rover in the game and I was on the bench. I was eighteen at the time. He ignored me and the following week he dropped me. Should've kept my mouth shut, I reckon.

Most Saturday nights there was a function at Tommy and Maur’s, which was fantastic, Tommy believed in keeping everyone together and it was always at Tommy's and Maur’s. He'd go out and buy the Kentucky Fried Chicken or the Fish n Chips. The players could have a drink, there'd always be a cup of tea on of course around the kitchen.

He would say, of course, at training on the Thursday night, 'there's a function on at my place, it's not compulsory, not compulsory to attend’, he always made that point, ‘not compulsory to attend’, but if you didn't, you won't be selected the following week. There was always a rider, and it was always a packed house, at Tommy and Maur’s.

Tommy was proud that every birthday and every twenty-first, engagement and wedding was a club function, he prided the club on that, that it was a club function, because that's what he thought football was all about, getting the players together, and the wives, and the girlfriends, getting all the kids there, because he felt if you had a happy club, you're going to have a very very good football club.

And that's what Richmond was.

Tommy shaped our lives, he was a father figure and mentor, he was an advisor, and he was a conduit that actually joined us all together.

Tommy's time at Collingwood was an extraordinary one when you look back at it. Wooden spooners to a grand final draw in 1977 was incredible.

I can remember when Tommy rang me and told me he was going over to Collingwood, I was so upset and disappointed that he'd decided to leave Richmond. He rang me and said he was going to resign as the coach of the Richmond Football Club, which to me and I said, ‘Well reconsider, because the players love you,’ and he said, ‘No, I have to move on.’

So it was with great disappointment when he did. But he took Collingwood from wooden spooners to that grand final, and Tommy still maintains they would have won that if the great Phil Carman had've been able to play after being suspended, I think, against North Melbourne. He'd kicked five goals in both games they played that year. So he was a mighty loss and they drew that first grand final, and lost the second one.

Of course, in total, five grand finals in his first five years including that drawn grand final, and then he was sacked.

We had a lunch date at the Commonwealth Cafeteria, we had lunch three times a week for ten years -- Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Tommy would always drop in and we'd have lunch at the Commonwealth Cafeteria, 'cause I worked at Telecom, well, I attended Telecom. I became very good at darts and chess and so Tommy would drop in and we'd have lunch at the Commonwealth Cafeteria on the twelfth floor at the top end of Spring Street.

He came to my work on this particular day and I said, 'How're ya going, Tom', and he always said 'Sensational, but getting better', and he said, 'but there has been better days'. And I said, 'Why's that, Tommy?' and he said, 'I've just been sacked as coach of Collingwood’.

He was shocked by that because he had a phone call to come down to the Club, and he went down to the Club and he expected them to say ‘keep going,’ they'd started the season pretty ordinary, ‘keep going, we're a hundred percent behind you, you've done a mighty job.’

But, he was sacked.

And he came to my work, and when he told me that I said to him, 'Well, let's forget lunch, you've probably got so many things on your mind'.

He said, 'Don't be crazy, lamb roast is on the menu today!’

So we went up to the top of the twelfth floor of the Commonwealth Building and there we were having lamb roast and I kept thinking to myself, the biggest story in football is about to break, and here's Tommy having lunch at the Commonwealth Cafeteria -- because he had this great ability to just move on. Just move on. He didn't believe in rejection at all, and was already looking forward to the future.

He loved his time down at Geelong and it was great to see Bruce Nankervis here today, the only person I ever got reported for striking in AFL football. So it’s great to see Bruce, it was an accidental king-hit, too, Bruce, I'm sorry about that. 

But he did love his time down at Geelong, by the sea. In his first game as coach of the Cats, Gary Ablett Senior played his first game for the Cats on a wing, and booted four goals.

Everyone's entitled to an off-day, even Gazza.

In the centre, playing his first game was Greg Williams.

Greg Williams had written a letter to Tommy, asking him to give him a chance. He'd been rejected by Carlton, and he'd been a great player up in Bendigo, but for some reason he wrote this letter to Tommy saying that he was slow, he was small, probably had attributes that some people didn't like, but he said he could win the ball a lot, he could pass it off, he’d like to be a team person, and he liked to bring other people into the game, and he begged Tommy for a chance.

And that's how he got down to Geelong. Tommy answered the letter, got him down there and Greg Williams lined up in the centre in that very first game Tommy coached down at Geelong.

And on the other wing, of course, was the great Michael Turner. Not a bad centre line. Abblett, Williams and Turner. Second only to ... you know who. Bourke, Barrett and Clay.

In Sydney, he did great things, Tommy, in Sydney.

I don't think he quite gets the recognition that he deserves in shaping the national game.

He became coach in 1986, was a great admirer of Geoff Edelston, I know he has a lot of critics, but Tommy said he was absolutely fantastic, in the way that he helped generate interest up there in Sydney.

And with a group of players that went up there, Greg Williams followed Tommy up to Sydney, Gerard Healy, Bernard Toohey were some of the guys that went up there, Geoff Edelston, always, Tommy speaks so highly of.

 He became coach in 1986 after the Swans had finished tenth the previous year, in a twelve team competition. Not easy up in Sydney then, as you know, not even easy today.

In his first year he had Sydney rocking and rolling, and finished second after the home and away season. Which is not a bad effort. Second on top of the ladder. He drew crowds of forty thousand to the Sydney Cricket Ground, can you believe that, in 1986, and forty thousand people went to Sydney Cricket Ground to see Sydney Swans play Hawthorn. And thirty eight thousand turned up to the SCG when they played Carlton.

These are massive figures. This is in the mid nineteen-eighties, could you imagine, even today those figure would stand up and people would be thrilled.

In 1987, the Swans in round sixteen, versus West Coast, Sydney kicked 30.21. In round seventeen, the next week, versus Essendon, his team kicked 36.20. And in round eighteen, the very next week, against Richmond, they booted 31.12.

So, thirty goals, thirty six goals, and thirty one goals. He had Sydney rocking.

What a way to play football. Three weeks of football the likes we've never seen before or since, was when Tommy, of course, was coaching the Sydney Swans.

The following year, the Swans finished seventh, now that today, gets you into the finals.

Back then it got you the sack. In fact today, if you finished seventh you might get a three year contract extension.

Since then of course, he devoted his life, he's inspired and motivated children, young adults around the country, and those in industry.

Tommy started that when he was down at Geelong, there was no full time coaching in those days, so what he did was, to fill in his time, and he thought it'd be great for the Geelong Football Club, to get out there and promote the club, that he would travel around to all the schools in Geelong, and talk to all the kids, as the family has mentioned.

He loved that, it was fantastic. And you heard those great stories, but he wanted to do that. One, you could follow Geelong, and two, he thought it'd be great to educate the kids on living a good life.

Tommy related stories of course, of AFL players, to everyone at every talk, every speech he made. Because he didn't believe in rejection at all, it was just to motivate you to actually go on to do bigger and better things.

He related stories of AFL players being cut from their clubs and then went to other clubs to win Best and Fairest awards, Brownlow medals, win premierships, become All-Australians and captain their clubs. He had a list as long as his arm that he could give some demonstration to kids, to say, if you got knocked back, don't worry about it, pick yourself up, dust yourself down because I've just told you of all these guys who've gone on and done great things.

And he also loved telling about cricketers who left their State, batsmen and bowlers and wicket keepers who went to another State, and then of course, went on to play for Australia in test cricket.

He loved that, he loved those stories. Because he felt they were uplifting.

Tommy of course, lived in Canberra for a period of time, as we know, and played rugby league up there as a young boy, and then when he went to Sydney, he really embraced Rugby League. And he got a lot of the Rugby people around to take training and also for tackling and that was one of the strengths of all Tommy's sides, was tackling.

He only had one player that never tackled, that was me. But, it was impossible for me to tackle because I had the ball all the time, so...

But he used to get it in for the other players, and he did that up in Sydney and the idea was to make them the strongest tackling team in the business, so he loved rugby league, he loved it. He loved Australian Rules Football, it was always number one, but he loved the toughness of the people in rugby league. He loved the way that they went about it, he loved their character.

Just recently I was visiting Tommy in hospital and Craig Bellamy was there. He coach of course, of Melbourne Storm, he loved Melbourne Storm, what a fan he was of Storm, and CEO Frank Ponissi was there as well.

Great friends of Tommy, and they came in to see Tommy.

And Tommy was in bed and I just thought I'd wind him up a bit by saying to Craig Bellamy there in the company of Frank Ponissi as well, I said, 'How do you rate Billy Slater, Tommy?' And he said, 'Billy Slater! Billy Slater would win the Brownlow medal in his first year of AFL footy, he could open the bowling for Australia, he could beat Usain Bolt at the Olympic Games, and he could ride the winner of the Melbourne Cup.'

I think it's fair to say he had a high opinion of Billy Slater.

Tommy loved setting himself goals, we heard the girls talk about this before, you know, silly ones, I used to say to him, 'you're crazy', 'you're silly', 'why wont you have a cake or biscuit?', because forty five years ago in a New Years resolution he got up and said ‘I'm not going to eat cake and biscuit any more.’

I mean, how stupid is that? Then he decided that he wasn't going to eat sweets for the last thirty five years, he hasn't even eaten a sweet. And of course, we heard the girls talk about it, he told me, he said, he rang up the start of this year, I had New Years Eve with him, he said, 'I'm going to read twenty books this year, twenty books, that's my goal', Twenty books. Always sporty books of course, nothing too heavy, always about sport, and people who'd done great things.

He said, 'I'm going to try ten new restaurants this year,' that was another thing he wanted to do, always had to go to ten new restaurants, didn't mean that he didn't go to the old ones, he did eat mainly at Dimattinas, I will say that. Frankie was always very kind with the bill.

Then of course, he had to go to five concerts, five new concerts a year, that was important to him. Five new concerts. Had to go watch people sing, loved it when it was down at the Palais there, and they had the local Go Show was on there recently, and back to the rocking and rolling from forty five years ago. His great mate Danny Finley was there of course, with MPD, ‘Mike, Peter and Danny’ -- managed Tommy for so many years and did a marvellous, marvellous job. When Tommy was at Collingwood, at Sydney and at Geelong, and he was a life-long friend, and Danny of course, was a famous drummer in ‘Mike Peter and Danny’, MPD, Little Boy Blue, Little Boy Sad, I may even sing a few bars if I keep going ...

But, he loved to go to concerts, he loved music and we heard it before, his beautiful granddaughter Sam, singing a marvellous song.

And of course, the other thing he loved to do was ring everyone in Australia, that's what he loved.

No matter where he went, around the country, for some reason, Tommy had this, this memory where he knew where every former player lived, every former player resided, so if was giving a talk somewhere, he'd go fifty ks out of his way because he'd knock on somebody's door and he'd say, 'You won't believe who I saw the other day', and then away he would go.

He would do silly things, in actual fact, he would do things like -- he was a workaholic, he did love talking to people all the time. He had to meet people, he had to be there in their company.

He'd go to Mildura and I'd say, 'What are you doing this weekend, Tommy?' and he'd say, 'I'm going to Mildura.' I'd say, 'that's great',

 'On the Monday,' and then, 'I've got to get up very early Tuesday morning 'cause I've got to drive to Shepparton for a dinner, a luncheon there at Shepparton.'

I'd say, 'That's fair way, Tommy', 'Oh no, she'll be right', so then I'd say so what then, home?'

He'd say, 'No, I've got a function in Mildura.'

I used to say, 'Tommy if you're in Mildura, and you've got to drive all the way to Shepparton, I mean it's a bit difficult to go the whole way back to Mildura, isn't it?',

 'No, no, no, no. She's fine.'

Of course, he was a shocking driver, as everyone knows. Shocking driver.

He got pulled up once, out the front of Punt Road, got pulled up by the (police), he was sitting at the lights -- Tommy drove very very fast, by the way, very fast. He was sitting at the lights, and he was looking in his rear vision mirror, and he was very late for a speaking engagement. And he was at the lights, waiting for the lights to change, and then he took off. He knew the police car was behind him. The police car, very quickly put on their siren and pulled him over. And Tommy was in a hurry.

So the police pulled him over, and as you know, when they pull you over, they sit in their car for a short period of time. Tommy was pulled over in his car. But unlike most people who sit in their car, he jumped out of his car, he ran back and he said, 'I'm in a hurry, what's going on?'

And they said, 'Well, you were travelling too fast'

He said, 'That is rubbish!' he said, 'I saw you in my rear vision mirror, I'm not going to take off and break the speed limit when I can see you in my rear vision mirror!' he said. 'That's rubbish!'

The bloke said, 'Well we clocked you doing seventy five ks.'

And Tommy said, 'Check it out, it's wrong!', and ran back, jumped in his car and took off.

I said to Tommy, 'What did they do?' He said, 'They just sat there in amazement.' Just took off!

Tonight, on behalf of Tommy, I'd say, go home, do five push ups, have five sit ups, go for a walk or go for a jog, and say “sensational, but getting better”.

And always remember, Tommy drove a Jeep.

For Jack Clancy: 'Did I tell this gentle giant that he'd got my name wrong?' by John Clanchy

3 April, 2014, The Boulevard, Kew, Melbourne, Australia

Read as part of a memorial event for Jack Clancy. Posted on the tribute site by novellist John Clanchy.

As a lanky, shy, stripling teenager entering Melbourne Uni in the early sixties, I was keen to make new friends by joining the MU Football Club. I set out for the ‘Pavvy’ one March evening with a pair of boots, shorts and a school footy jumper and was welcomed into the warm and lively company of the under-age first year players (the ‘Juniors’). No coach had been appointed for the Juniors at that stage of the year, but a friendly giant had volunteered to coach and look after us in the meantime – a typical gesture of generosity which marked all my interactions with Jack in the ten years which followed.

After our first training session, this gentle-tough giant handed out application forms for joining the Victorian Amateurs Football Association.

‘Fill them in now,’ he told us. ‘We want to make sure you’re signed up and eligible for the first game of the season.’

I didn’t know that Jack was still playing competitive footy himself (captaining the UniReds ‘mixed-age’ team). So I was surprised when he took a form himself and standing bent over the table next to me began to fill it out. I was even more surprised when out of the corner of my eye I saw he’d filled in the first line (Name) and had written J. Clancy.

I was in a terrible dilemma. Did a long drink of a pimply adolescent tell this gentle giant that he’d got my name wrong – that he couldn’t spell – in the face of the astonishing fact that he was so careful of his new charges that he wasfilling in my form for me, and the even more astonishing fact that, among us all newbies whom he’d just met, that he’d remembered my name? Or did I just stay mum and accept the fact that I’d be registered under the wrong name and would have to live with it for as long as I played footy?

I said: ‘Sorry, sir. That’s not how you spell it.’

Jack looked up, laughed, and said, ‘Maybe but that’s how we’ve spelt it for a couple of hundred years.’

‘Perhaps, but it’s not right,’ I said.

‘Don’t be nervous, son,’ he said. ‘You know how to fill in a form?’

‘Yessir.’

I saw in his eyes he was thinking, How did this idiot ever get into University? But also saw that it was immediately blocked out by a second thought: This kid’s so stupid, it’s possible he could actually play football.

‘Okay, son,’ he said, ‘just relax, and do exactly as I do.’

He went back to filling in the rest of his form, and I started on mine.

Moments later I saw him look across and check on my progress and note that I’d filled in the first line (Name): J. Clanchy.

Our eyes met – and I read in his a sudden terrible concern.

‘I didn’t mean it literally, son,’ he said, one hand on my shoulder, the other already reaching for a fresh form.

Vale Jack Clancy. A gentle giant, if ever there was one.