A new heading! One of the favourite’s of our Aussie Refugee Groundskeeper here, absolutely loves this thing. Also, completely despises it.
Taddie
Charlie King’s OAM started the topic regarding Taddie, now we finish it. Starting here, the worst of the worst on a sporting field and we get better. Well, we get better before we get worse, Basketball, the worst. Again, however, let’s start where we start.
Living with Mum also gave me a second opportunity, play a season of football with my older brother. Beautiful experience getting to share a common interest with Danyel, one we both adore with all our hearts.
Danyel was a good Australian rules footballer, really good foot skills, however was in and out of the senior side. Dominated many reserves games but could not translate it consistently into first grade.
Country Australian football, basically social football, the first grade is generally called Seniors, the second grade Reserves, so we will use these words from now on.
Danyel was always up the top of the reserves club vote count for best player throughout the season, also found himself in the pointy end when it came to the the league best and fairest. Like another beautiful man we are about to discuss, Danyel’s leg speed was the thing that really stopped him. His fitness was good, had all the attributes to be successful in the upper grades with the exception of speed.
There are a lot of really good reserves footballers who do not translate their dominance to Seniors, pretty much each case has to do with leg speed. Scotty, this ridiculously diculously beautiful man were he to have a couple of extra yards of pace could have been a great country footballer.
Runs all day, never ever slows down, works his arse off and then some. The shittiest of shitty nights at training Scotty worked and worked and worked. He worked for the team, doing his best, knowing that he was never consistently going to reach the upper grade. It did not matter, Scotty loved the Rokewood Football Club and the Rokewood Football Club loved him. Everybody adored Scotty, absolute jet of a human being.
Reserves footy, he never stopped, the final siren was running as hard as the first, putting yards and yards on his opponents. Played in the midfield, excellent position for him, made for it. Put Scotty in seniors and nothing changed with the exception of the opponents around him slowing down by the end of the game. Unlike reserves they slowed down to Scotty’s pace, he was even now, but not ahead. Senior footy would always be tough for him.
Before I continue, there is another man at Rokewood who has the same name as Taddie, he is not a cop, him and Taddie are two completely different men, dragonflies and slugs. Please, do not get them confused should you ever meet. Taddie very short, the other Craig, not short.
The year Taddie coward punched Scotty he was playing for the Carngham-Linton Football Club, he was the playing Coach. A role model for everyone, particularly the young boys playing in the under 17 and 14 years age groups.
Carngham-Linton, anyone ever heard of them? Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting club.
Previously, the two or three years previously, Taddie was the senior coach of the Rokewood Senior side, I was the assistant coach in the one season I was at Rokewood. Scotty was in and out of his senior team, him and Taddie played, trained, drank piss, hung out together around the club for at least three years before the incident we discuss occured. Apparently supposed to be mates.
Team selection was a headache, mostly it was pretty simple until it came to Scotty and Danyel. Every conversation, they are too good to be playing reserves but how do we find a way to translate the dominance to the first grade, we never found a way. Both would come up and play well enough but would be outplayed too often, again simply not fast enough to make our decision consistently easy.
Grand Final, I’m going to say 2007 or 2008, the year after Mum died, maybe the one after that. Already, there were many stories about Taddie going around, the dirty DIRTY piece of shit he is but fortuntely I never had to witness it, he was injured most of the year I played. Also, I was not at the Grand Final mentioned.
Danyel told the story to me, the second time I watched as his heartbreak could not be contained amongst the words. First time, Fred striking Rachel when she was a toddler.
This year, I am almost 100% certain that Scotty won the league best and fairest for the reserves, best player in the competition. Not surprising.
Back to the GF, reserves grand final, second grade grand final, young kids just coming into seniors, older men running around for the last time, mates who come together to have fun on the football field, competitiveness isn’t always a priority.
The very first play. The siren to start the game goes, the umpire throws the ball up beginning play, two seconds later the game is stopped, a man is out cold in the centre of the ground. Not a single player has a posession, kick, handball, hit out, tackle, shepphard, mark or any other statistic, yet the game is stopped.
Scotty is lying on the ground limp and lifeless.
Let’s talk about the scenario in Aussie Rules first. At the start of each quarter and after each goal the ball is brought to the middle of the ground. In the centre there are eight players, four from each team, moving around a space about 5 metres squared, it is tight, it is chaos, the ball is the only thing that matters but it cannot be predicted where it will end up, one has to focus.
Scotty was great in the centre, especially when others players emotions were getting the better of them, he was super calm, his personality in general is super calm. He was extremely good in this scenario simply because he was able to read the play, know where the ball was going to land, gave full attention to what he was doing. Gave no attention to potentially being snipered by the biggest coward a football field has ever seen.
Taddie was playing on either the half-back or half-forward line, he is not allowed to enter the centre square until the umpire has thrown the ball up, he is watching Scotty like a predator from 10 metres away.
Two seconds remember, two seconds is all it took for the umpire to throw the ball up and Scotty’s life being threatened. Ball up, Taddie sprints 10 metres with no other intention than to take out the league’s best player. He did. Danyel tells me Scotty was sitting on the bench for the rest of the day in pure sickness, how does this shit not break your heart as it does mine?
Taddie is a police office, a community role model, a coach of a country football team, a role model for young boys, he has committed this act in front of a huge crowd. Yet, nothing was done by anybody, even the umpires, not even a suspension, how do you justify this everybody who was there? He is a Pig is NOT a fucking justification.
There is more detail to this, the main one we talk about is the premeditation. Unlike many coward punches that are done through alcohol, emotion, blah blah, they are not premeditated, this cleary was.
The premeditation too, do you think it was only when Taddie was standing there on the ground waiting for the whistle when it entered his thoughts? You are wrong, absolutely wrong. Taddie knew at least a week in advance that he would come up against his old team and his mate the leagues B&F winner. He had decided what he was going to do at least seven-days before he almost destroyed a man’s life, and the lives of his family.
Yeah buddies, Scotty is a beautiful father, he has beautiful children, a women who loves him. All these people had to watch this, heartbreaking.
Sadly, this is not the only story I have heard of Taddie’s behaviour on the field. Yet, again, nothing has ever been done.
Australian Police, how many examples do we need people? The people protecting us who we expect to keep us safe. I am only a little way into what I have to share about them.
First Constable Elizabeth and her mate at the Colac Police station letting a man walk to a cliff knowing how vulnerable his position was, after telling him he would be priority watch.
Tasmanian Police going out of their jurisdiction to bully easy targets, premeditated bullying of people they knew, or thought they knew, did not have the education or understanding to stand up for themselves and their own rights.
Taddie now. There are many many more to share. Nothing is being done.
All these people carry a gun, Taddie, this man who premeditates violence to win games of football carries a deadly weapon by his side, is anyone really safe when Australian police are their protectors?
You cannot tell me police in Australia are making a difference, they are not, I have no sympathy or empathy for any of them. Every single police officer is allowing this shit, it happens in every station, yet continues and continues to be swept under the rug.
Australian Police, Australian Government, Australian public are we ever going to do something for the safety of our citizens?
Back to the match, Carngham-Linton won, apparently they sang the song, accepted their medallions, held the trophy aloft above their heads, celebrated their season afterwards.
Did you Carngham-Linton? Did you celebrate this win?
I bet you did, you disgusting filth of a football club, disgusting filth of human fucking beings. You are the most disgusting thing that has ever walked the pitch. The story above, Taddie, nope not just him, the entire Carngham-Linton football club was notorious for this.
First game I played against them struggled, the second was playing well until I was targetted with a disgusting knee to the quad when my eye was on the ball and I was in the air, felt like I was shot with a shotgun. Fuck it hurt, I could not play for two weeks after, could barely walk at all.
The last game a preliminary final, was dominating this one and was pretty damn lucky in the end, would have won easily had I not pulverised my hamstring at the very start of the third quarter jumping for a mark. Shotgun again, this time the sound as the hammy went twang. We lost by one point, I played centre half forward, won the clubs goal kicking that year and right up the top for the league, one point.
One point however, one more goal by me that day I know what the outcome would be. Unlike Scotty who when other’s slowed he caught up, I was head and shoulders above all but three players in the league from a fitness and pace perspective from the start, I did not slow down. As others slowed down I dominated more and more and more. One point to Carngham would have been a few goals to us, but then again it wouldn’t have been because of this pathetic disgusting violent club, I would simply have been another Scotty, another victim of coward shit on a football field.
Coward shit to win games! Do you still have that trophy, those medallions Carngham? Do you really? Like, how buddies?
Every story of this club is the same, the dirtiest of dirty dirty cunts. Yet, nothing ever done, so much nothing that when the league disbanded Carngham were one of the clubs which were accepted into a new competition, a better one, one with more exposure. You still doing the same shit? Fucking hope not.
This is the truth here too, I know Carngham from then, I do not know them from now, they might have changed, there is a chance.
The reason to play
All of the time playing football there were two opponents I absolutely loved, adored, wanted to play against. They were the best challenges I had on the football field, every moment was completely safe, both ways, we played bloody football, and football only.
A young fella from Quenbeyan in the reserves when I was playing for Ainslie. Seven or eight years younger than me, 15 kilograms lighter, had a step on me and the fitness to keep up. The last game I played against him was the best of the best, at half time I only had one possession, popped my shoulder in the process.
Incredible mark (catch most people outside AFL know this word as), pure leap, I heard him behind me gasp. Turned around saw my mate was playing on Simon alone in the football line, knew he had him covered, bombed the ball in, mark to us, goal. My opponent, pretty sure he hadn’t touched the ball yet. It was fucking great mates.
Half-time my shoulder is ruined, would not work, everyone’s heads are down when they come to me, were having as much fun as we were. Pure football, great to watch.
The other bloke was playing for Navarre am pretty sure, me for Rokewood. Just loved playing on him, same as the above but fitness and speed were the same, our bodies very similar, him a little shorter. Second game against them was dissapointed, they put him on our other strong forward, a taller stronger bloke on me.
Ran him to the ground, received easy marks all over the forward line, kicked 60 goals or so that year, only maybe 10 points, did not miss these ones. Quarter time and I already have five goals. Navarre make a change, a massive smile comes on my face. Just loved playing against him, we both got a good amount of the ball but nothing was easy, I did not kick another goal, he would not allow me easy space like his mate.
It’s what footy is about folks, all sport, challenging yourself against the best. Making sure they know they are safe playing against you, them letting you know the same, we play fairly, it brings out the best in everyone.
One can be competitive at any level. Reserves and seniors are no different in their importance, nor are professional versus amateur. It’s the fact people are out there socialising, being active, creating community together, building spaces of trust, looking after their bodies, loving lives that matters.
Just because you will only ever be a 2’s player does not mean the game is less important to you. You don’t have the physical capabilities of those above you, so what, you do the best with what you are given, exactly as your mates are. It’s the best you can do, the best you are doing, the same thing everyone else is doing.
Football, sport, is important, it gives everybody the chance to be their best. Safety allows them to reach their own potential, people return to sport, community grows again.
Make the reason to play the challenge, not the fucking result. Especially not a win that comes with weakening someone else, that’s no win at all. It’s heartbreaking really.
Nauiyu
The thing above with Scotty and Taddie. Heartbreaking. You know already from what I have written had the victim not have been him it would have been Danyel. No doubt about it, Taddie’s intention was to take out the best player on the team, absolute coward. Not much difference between Scott and Danyel, a few league votes, Danyel top five or six, the second best Rokewood player in the competition.
Scotty survived, he was really lucky, Danyel may not have. All it takes with one of these disgusting acts is to be hit exactly in the right spot, wrong spot, and people die. They die all the time. Australian Police, Australian Government, when are you ever going to do something about thugs legally carrying deadly weapons?
Apparently you are serious about this Aus Pigs, apparently preserving life is your number one priority, is it? Is it really?
Hey Daly River, Nauiyu, I have not forgotten about you. Not sorry for ignoring you as one of the beautiful places I spent all my time on in the DV work. Not at all, you do not belong with Charlie, you belong here.
This community people, many beautiful things to it, many many.
Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann, ever heard this name? One of the most beautiful things to ever walk this earth. Ridiculously beautiful spirit. I encourage you to look her up, read about her. Read about a thing she teaches called Dadirri, deep listening, we’ll come back to it and her here or somewhere else, we may not, who knows, who cares, it is fucking beautiful, she is fucking beautiful.
Footy in this community, the last game I ever played, only about 15 minutes on the field. Content, pure highlight of my football.
It wasn’t just about football, actually football was fuck all to do with it.
The men, these men, these beautiful beautiful men. Leadership, oh boy, leadership.
There are a few men I would love to talk about, I’ll keep it to just one. Adam Sambono. Sorry everyone else, but not sorry too, you don’t need me to apologise for using this ridiculously beautiful man as the example for how beautiful you all are, hey? I know you are alright with it.
Had forgotten about Adam, there was no reason for him to continue popping up in my head, while having every reason. Without trying to sound weird I loved watching him around his brothers from Nauiyu, barely saw him on the field besides training.
Adam has personality, confidence, can seem like he has a massive stick up his arse, self-centred, from the outside. Many see him this way but when you look, when you watch, take away the judgement you will see what I saw. You will see the reason everyone loves him and looks up to him, even men 10 and 20 years his senior.
Great footballer, fucking good footballer, but it is not the reason. Helps of course, but not the reason.
Sitting at the backpacker in Banos the other week, the night before meeting Anja. Two Aussies are there, have completely forgotten their names, a beautiful young couple.
Talking about life in Australia, I tell them what I did and where. Mention Nauiyu, use the words Daly River, more commonly known.
‘Do you know Adam Sambono? We are good mates, plays for the Darwin Buffaloes.’
Haha, yeah mate, I know Adam.
Talked about him for a mimute, reflected one another’s statements, beautiful man. Great great leader.
‘It’s a small world.’
Adam does all the shit men do to one another, plays, teases, gets stuck into someone when they are being greedy and not playing for the team. Will dig right into his mates when they do something dumb, on or off the field. Sometimes serious, he needs to be, mostly not, the love that comes out of his mouth with every word towards his mates is beautiful.
Barely see him serious, it is underneath it all though. An incident happened in the community, a brother died in a car accident fuelled by alcohol. It happens all the time. The communities heart was breaking. What do we do? How do we move forward?
Sitting around training nobody wanted to do anything, it was another heartbreak amongst the ongoing heartbreak, again, what the fuck do we do?
It was simple, Adam knew it, we get on with our life, We start by taking that field, running around, kicking the football, doing what we bloody well love. Play football with our mates, brothers, cousins, the white guy sitting there saying nothing, his heart breaking with us.
He stood, grabbed a footy, didn’t say a single word. Matthius, I can’t remember the spelling, full forward who has a habit for kicking goals, many many goals, followed. Everyone stood, walked onto the pitch, not a word was said.
15 minutes later all one could hear from miles away were men shouting for the ball, calling each other’s names, encouraging one another, having a fucking good time playing football. What could not be seen were the smiles that had returned to every face.
Yeah people, footy does this. It gives people back their lives. All it takes is a man, or a woman, who gives a shit enough to give shit. This was Adam.
It wasn’t just Adam, it was every man on the team. God, it was beautiful.
We don’t bang on more here. Adam, like all the blokes, was sitting there in his own space, his own hurt, his own version of banging his head against a wall screaming, how, how can it always be like this, when is it ever going to stop, when are my FUCKING people going to be safe from this bullshit.
He was hurting people, just like his brothers, equally like his brothers, his heart was torn to pieces. I was watching him, sorry mate I wasn’t staring, but I was watching your every move. I could not help myself. I could see your mind ticking over, what do I do, what do we do, what can anybody do?
I watched you lift your head, you caught my eye, you turned and looked at your brothers. You stood, enough is enough, what we do is the best we can do, change the narrative, bring love back to our lives, play fucking football.
Like people, many of you hate sport, think it is the devil, believe it destroys many lives. It does, I absolutely agree, but these are the Taddies of the football world, not the Adam Sambono’s, there are many many more Adam’s than Taddies.
My life has been saved by many things, the Alvie Football Club, the beautiful men there, just like Adam are at the very top of that list. The club are at the top of the saved my life list for several of us who played.
Men like Adam are at almost every club, they save lives, at least give lives back.
A gentle man
To be honest, tears are already coming to my eyes, the loss of my world extends well beyond the family I was given. It extends to the family I chose, my mates, my beautiful beautiful mates. God, I really really miss you guys, God I really do. I love you all from the being of my being.
The timing for my last trip back to Colac was crazy appropriate, sadly Graeme died only a short time after arriving. Graeme is Josh’s Dad.
Josh and I came together through school but it was football that really made our bond what it was. Josh, a really good senior football player, however like our reservists the leg speed was never ever there to go further. Had all the other attributes, ridiculous work rate, could tackle calves like they were little boys in the playground.
No shit, watched him do it. Told Graeme, Graeme’s smiled beamed wide, he sat back and said nothing at all. It was so fucking beautiful people. My son, and his mate, are doing alright, it’s fucking alright.
Graeme, a man’s Man, to people meeting him for the first few times anyway. A cattle farmer, footballer, slower Australian drawl kind of voice, pretty damn specific with his words.
Damn or damned? I’ll check it out.
He was also a tulip farmer. Loved the things.
A man who would sit back in his armchair with his eyes close and not open them unless things really got out of hand in front of him. Almost never did, we weren’t like that, we liked to keep each other safe. Graeme’s space let us explore together, just be who we are, it was really really beautiful. He was the type of man’s Man I wanted to be, the gentlest of gentle men.
Gentleness, people, comes with strength, standing up for what is right. Graeme did this, Leslie continues to I know, Josh does this, Marnie, Haley, Pip and Lachie all do this. The family is the pinnacle of beautiful people, of gentle hearts and they are strongest of human beings. Were you to have heard Pip speak at Graeme’s wedding it was absolute heartbreak delivered with nothing but clarity.
These people accept who they are, understand the pain in life will always be there, we support each other and move forward, we do it together.
I showed up at their house before the funeral as I didn’t want to surprise Josh. We had a hard couple of years, I was absent, they were all concerned about me. Wanted to show him I was okay before adding another confusion to his confusion. He wasn’t home, it was the best thing, still I was invited inside. They were all hurting together but they invited me in. We all hugged.
Funny funny, Pip literally came running into my arms when I pulled up at the house and stepped out of the car. Fred, and ran at a fast jog for thirty metres straight to me, wrapped her arms wide around and said thankyou for coming. It was beautiful Pip. She kept running like this for another 45 minutes, yeah, haha, she was already going for a jog. Talk about beautiful women people, just beautiful people.
We had a chat, laughed three or four times, belly laughs. I left and when Josh and I saw each other at the funeral it was the right time. He knew I was okay already. We had the biggest hug and moved forward.
Thank you Josh for the birthday message. Thank you so much.
Graeme was gentle, his home and family were safe. Just a beautiful man, a man who loved footy.
Colac Football CLub, the last year of under 18s we won the Grand Final. Few people there that day would argue with me winning an award for one of the best players, not nearly the best, that was Hodgy, and then some. The other team had a future AFL player too, Brent Moloney, Hodgy didn’t stack us in any way, yeah better than Brent but not by a country mile. The bloke played 166 AFL games, like, he went alright.
Didn’t get one. Didn’t care. Graeme fixed it though, handed another award to the coach, the coach handed it to me, everybody cheered. Like, it was just. Graeme merely wanted to do the right thing and it broke my heart in the very best way, it’s what a gentle man does. It took strength for Graeme to stand up, many other boys played well that day, could have received an award, but he singled out me and he made sure it was known. He stopped the coach from moving on to other ceremonies to do it. Nobody argued.
The next day I called to say thank you, a nervous wreck, afraid of men isn’t word for what I was. They pertified me. Reaching out like this was very tough.
Graeme, Josh, nobody really knew what was happening behind our doors. Josh knew something, his mate continually declining, getting in his own way all the time, errant erratic and inconsistent behaviours to what we knew.
Football, Josh will admit I could have achieved a lot more than him if it wasn’t for me. Again, he didn’t understand why. His Dad was a good man, a really good man, I made sure he knew it after the funeral. I made sure Josh knew he was a good man too, he bloody well is. My Dad, was not. It was the reason why.
When I said thank you I almost broke down, Graeme’s voice broke when he finally went to speak. Thank you Frederick, you are welcome, said through almost tears. He knew what I was going through, he couldn’t know but he knew there was a lot more to my story than was coming through on the surface, but, it was all coming through on the surface. The phone call was the moment he understood.
The most important thing I learned from Graeme is that there are good men out there, I can be one if I want to. It really is okay. And, Josh, my beautiful beautiful friend, I really am okay mate and I, like you, am a good man, a gentle man, a strong man.
Mate, you’re a chip off the ol’ block, a gentle man with the heart of the lion.
Love you Pissles.
These are the men at Football Clubs, many sporting code clubs, they make them the places and safe spaces they are, can be, really must become. We just need a few more of them hanging around.
Not always the way it looks
Sport, the topic, it’ll be finished before all the rest of the new topics and moved down below. Big part of my old life, still love it in my new life.
Would have loved to play one more season at Alvie, would be playing now, guarantee would have dominated beyond anything I have before. 42 and all, body is great, still super fast, fitness fantastic, no fear of men.
But, am pretty chuffed to be honest to be where I am and not on the steep wet muddy, windy and cold as buggery hill the Alvie Footy Ground is. The base of the goals at one end are equal to the top of the goals at the other end. She is pretty steep that oval, part of the joy of country football, the conditions and grounds we play at, all different.
Some are terrible, one on in Melbourne playing for Watsonia I reckon. This ground was full of potholes, I asked before the game if they are really going to allow young men, boys still, to play on this horrendous thing. We were expected to.
The most awful noise I have ever heard was thanks to this ground, the team that call themselves the magpies. The first part was an almighty snap, the second noise a scream that will not leave my head when this moment returns to it.
A teammate, really really beautiful young man, sprinting for the ball, foot in pothole, ankle snapped in the most disgusting fashion, a scream that cannot be unheard. So so terrible. Safety, like something could have been done about it, it wasn’t, it should have. My friend did not play again for the rest of the year.
Safety is one thing, sometimes injuries they just happen, especially in AFL. There is no offside, no seeing where the tackler or bumper is coming from, it is a sport of chaos. Shit happens, it often happens.
Stopped enjoying footy at school, the lunchtime version anyway. Me and all my mates who loved footy equally stopped playing. The older boys always came and joined us. They didn’t really, only intention was to hurt and bully us, smash us into the ground at every opportunity. Rub our heads into it. It was shit so we stopped playing.
Some of the worst for it, well the worst for it was Stevie Baker, played AFL, not sure how, he was shit and an absolute weak coward bully. Did not come out there to play footy, just to bash us, the only intention. Weak weak man.
Our group changed it around when we became the big boys. Played footy with the younger years, but played footy, all of us had a bloody good time. The year above us where two of my best mates came from, Arbo and Batterz, were the same as us. We changed the atmosphere and environment completely, hope it continued this way.
Incidents happen though, I was accused of bullying once. Wasn’t bullying, just looked horrible. Mr. Drew I reckon it was approached me later in the day and started to discuss bullying. I stopped him, could not believe I did it, stood up and stopped a man in authority from continuing speaking simply because it was not true, was 17 at the time.
Knocked a young fella out, not cold, but for a second or two, Mark. Mark was two or three years younger, went to primary school together too, friends with him and the family. Really beautiful young man, from our few interactions since school still is a beautiful man.
I had the ball, just before the bell went to end lunch, turned around with it, Mark was about to tackle me, had no time to anything but firmly place my feet on the ground, strengthen my balance. Was all I did, Mark was off balance, hit him flush in the torso with my shoulder, same as the Lorne bloke, and he went down like a bag of shit.
Everybody, all the young guys, got stuck into me. Sorry, I am sorry, it was an accident. He was their mate, took them a while to accept it, clearly went and discussed it with the teachers, Mr. Drew came and talked to me. Mr. Drew, please, I didn’t hit him like that intentionally, it was purely an accident. He accepted my response, did not say another word, let me go, knew beyond doubt I was telling him the truth.
I just wasn’t and we were not like this. Bullies. With the exception of how we treated Dean of course who I have discussed elsewhere.
Happens on the field too.
Glenn Hay, has a brother Daniel, with an i not a y, ha, funny. Love Glenn, had only little bits and pieces to do with each other. Hung out a few times. He is a good man, a really good man who comes from a background very much like mine, pressure. He didn’t discuss it, did not need to, we were very similar.
The two of them played for the Western Eagles in under 17s, some absolute other scum Hay’s play there too. Not the same ones, these ones, one of them in particular was the reason I went and played at Colac under 18s rather than seniors at Alvie. Round one this year, versus Lorne, intentionally, purely intentionally flunked, played the shittest of shit games. Did not want to be there, one week later was playing for Colac loving football again.
This Hay, not Glenn or Daniel, in a practice match, me up in the air going for a mark and the ball sails over my head. Fucking whack with a fist in the back of my head when the ball was long gone. Did not hurt at all but I played it up, called him a weak piece of coward shit without using words. I wasn’t playing football anymore, not like this, this shit was not unique to these blokes, the league in general notorious for coward punching and the like.
We had not won a game all year, smashed regularly, 150 to 0 one day against the top team. Eagles were third or fourth at the time and at half time the scores are equal. Me and my very very young team were up and about, we knew we might get this done today, there was a chance.
Walking back onto the ground at the start of the third quarter and I knew beyond any doubt of doubt we were going to win this game. My third opponent for the day, the new one, was Glenn. All I had to do was dominate him in the first contest and we would have won the quarter, taking us a good way to the first win.
Ruck contest. Understand a little. When the umpire throws the ball up in the centre to start play two players, generally the tallest on the team, compete for it, nobody else can enter the play until these two have tried to whack it away, whack it to advantage.
Had one intention and one only, jump over the top of Glenn and punch the ball as far as I possibly could in our direction. A good enough hit, Glenn being completed shown up is all I needed. His head would have dropped and every other contest would have been my contest. From this point I knew I could have jumped at every contest without competition, grab the ball and boot it forward every time. Keep momentum coming our way.
Got everything right except hitting the ball, I hit Glenn in the head instead, was out cold before he hit the ground. Game stopped, ambulance, complete care, game called off. Result a draw in the end.
Glenn thought it was intentional, that it was revenge. We were never friends again. He was too afraid to occupy the same space after this. It wasn’t revenge, was an accident.
Revenge, yeah understand his position. 13 years old and am at the boghole in Colac, a swimming hole with a rope swing where we had the best of best times together. It is where Glenn and I met and started to become friends. This day, however, he had a bunch of other mates with him I did not know. They were being pricks to everyone, the prickness became worse and worse, so bad in fact that Glenn decided it would be a good idea to throw a knife, an open blade at me, it went flying past my head. Missed by less than a metre. Yeah, almost killed me, 13 years old and almost have a knife impaled in my head by someone who is supposed to be a mate.
I let it go, we became mates again after a while, then I knocked him the fuck out, accidentally.
Like, this shit, it happens on the field. Awful yeah, but it happens, bullying, coward punching and the like does not need to happen, people choose to do it, ruin the safe space and environment for everybody. Stops people loving what they are doing, then, of course, we lose people and they lose access to community.
We ended up winning one game, second last game of the year, the only game of footy me and Benjamin played together we won. Actually, it was a play between the two of us that put us up by a few points and resulted in winning the game. Benjamin marks the ball about 40 metres from goal, well outside his kicking distance. Nobody is manning me so I run past him, Benjamin Benjamin Benjamin, he hand passes the ball to me, I take a few steps and kick truly. Goal! Siren moments later, celebration is one word for it!
Basketball and itty bitty little dicky Catalano, plus Hedland Tartars
We’re almost done here, a bit more to go and it gets moved down. Didn’t belong with my fight, because sport was never a fight, just some rubbish within it which is already addressed everywhere else. Honestly, I just want everyone to be safe on the field, pitch, court, arena, everywhere else.
Like, too, they should be. Cowards taking the fun away need to be addressed and removed completely.
Basketball, from a community environment there is no worse sport in the world than this. Every single basketball environment. The South West Slammers in Bunbury and the absolute pathetic people running it the primary example.
We had a social basketball competition going at Eaton Recreation Centre, had improved it immeasurably, was super duper unsafe until it became a lot more safe by the time I moved on. Lots of people, especially from the lower socioeconomic parts of the community attended. Ended up being a beautiful safer environment. Still work to do, but we had come a long way.
What is his bloody name, small guy with an even smaller dick, construction company, Catalano, that’s it. Played with one of them, Catalano at Eaton for footy, good young guy. Stole the best on ground award for a Grand Final win from me, yes stole, everybody will agree. Well he didn’t, the umpires and the name Catalano swayed their position.
Backtrack a little, sport was my way into the violence work, I started by ensuring the spaces I was paid to engage with were safe for everybody. Safe for everybody, the players in that sport, other sports engaging the space, the public, every everybody who interacted with them. Was my only goal and got right stuck up everybody who got in the way, who’s only motivation was selfishness.
The only environment I had to continually do this too was basketball, the most selfish of all selfish environments and then some. I do not recommend anybody at all engage in this sport, none at all, not as it is. Well, not unless you are playing in Port Hedland.
Let’s start with the Casey Stadium, runs primarily netball and basketball, now possibly a bunch of other stuff, some I introduced. Basketball, the association, pure scum. Even my mate’s Mum, pure scum. The most selfish of selfish, did not matter to them the health crisis in the country, social isolation issues at their doorstep, people being completely cut off from the world, suicide and self-harm rates ridiculous in the surrounding community.
Nothing at all we said would they support, even when upgrading the stadium unless they were the primary focus and primary focus only. Netball, equally well attended, significantly better environment, brought shitloads of people to the stadium. Nope, they do not matter at all.
These pathetic pieces of shit argued and bitched and moaned about every single detail. Nope, nope, nope. Basketball, basketball, basketball. The selfishness and pure toxicity in the administration was reflected in the sport. Basketball nights, just the worst nights to work there, basketball the worst work anywhere to be honest.
One woman, a Christian believe it or not, would go on about God this and that, church this and that, my religion this and that. I am going to heaven this and that. All she did was complain about everything, make everybody’s life difficult and do nothing but bitch, moan and gossip behind everybody’s back. She was a filthy boring mess too. Typical Christian, Christian when it suits me, not when it doesn’t. Sure God won’t just laugh when you are begging to be let into heaven trying to convince him you were a good Christian. Oh buddy, the video he will show you of yourself.
Cricket cock Catalano. Cricket’s tiny insects, not talking about the size to dick ratio, am talking about the actual physical dick size.
First night I met his pathetic wife, talked about sport and what I am trying to achieve, inclusivity for all. Safe spaces to bring people back to sport, make it fun, make it a real community. Lovely, all the way through, lovely. She left with a smile.
20 minutes later tiny tool Tim here, not sure his name is Tim, come and gets stuck into me. Apparently the wife is crying and complaining. Telling me the competition, social competition, is a joke and the only focus we should have at the centre is the Southwest Slammers. Like these 30 really fit people who all played in other competitions, some ours. The Slammers was only for the best in the region, some paid imports, should be the only focus, none other apparently.
This moron literally wanted me to stop competition nights for over 300 people at the stadium because it got in the way of the time they wanted to train!
I basically told him to go and tug his tiny little pecker if he could find it. Mate, my intention is to fix this place up, make it safe for people. Provide access to sport in a way people come to it and enjoy it, want to keep playing. This, so we can bring some form of health and purpose to people’s lives, especially those with fuck all. You and the Slammers are not my priority. They were not, never ever going to be.
Couldn’t get through to him. Ignored him at every turn, did fuck all for them, didn’t need to. Running something like that is the most simple of simple shit in the sporting space. Cannot argue wankers I have experience, lots of it. Running rep programs is the most simple of simple shit, you do not even need to have a brain that works functionally at all to do it. Cockroach Catalano, didn’t even have this capacity, integrity or intelligence, talk about useless. His wife too, talk about useless. Son, equally as fucking useless, he too has the cock of a newborn. Softest of soft cocks, the whole family.
Not talking about Gino, this group only, Gino is a good bloke.
Did heaps in the stadium, really great stuff. It’s a job that if I had to come back to Australia would be welcomed straight back into with a shitload more pay in a beautiful region, wouldn’t even need to apply.
But basketball, God we did beautiful shit with the shit social competition, netball too. But basketball, it was shit when I got there, could not be argued, completely unsafe for everybody. Players were shit, referees were shit, the way the stadium previously handled it was shit.
When I say shit here, not meaning shit in skill, some were great, watching the best teams play was awesome. Shit in terms of safety, fairness, community inclusion.
We made it not shit, well I did, and as things grew I gained the support from everybody, except cry-baby Catalano and his mates of course.
Step one, this shit you are wearing where nobody can tell what team you are on, no ability in identify you by numbers, has to go. Finished the season, provided an option to buy new uniforms next season, your own or ours, made them affordable. Let’s start by making the games look like proper games to start with.
Designed really simple beautiful shirts, made them cheap, no money being made by the stadium. A couple of teams started wearing them early, most teams at the start of the new season, every team a few weeks in. They had no choice, you look like a team or you are not a team playing here. We identify you, numbers for example, make sure we know who we are talking to when we need to talk to them.
Many problems already fixed. Did all this with netball too but it wasn’t nearly as necessary.
Next, the referees, you four are gone, just gone, bugger off. The referees became referees, looked like it, upheld the rules, upheld discipline. Discipline, started with me, then the stadium, next our officials, finally the players and their supports.
There was pushback of course, but once everybody sat back and started to see the difference the changes made most got on board. We removed violence and anti-social behaviour, handed out suspensions, removed fans from the stadium who constantly brought safety down. Showed everybody we are serious about this.
Games started on time all of a sudden, they finished on time, structure was suddenly implemented in all things.
When I left it was apples and onions the difference, just apples and onions. People, everyone who played, wanted to be there, the competition was no longer a joke, a street fight, it was a real competition with real structure and everybody responded. Beautiful is not the word for what we achieved.
Beautiful to everyone but itty bitty little dicky Catalano of course.
This is all basketball environments, Catalano and the Casey Basketball Association from back in the day, still the same. Horrible.
If you want to play in a great safe competition though, hopefully it still is, and I know it still will be if they are using the governance documentation I put in place from the get-go.
God, this was painful, Hedland, almost nothing for the young people. Nothing in a community where basketball is being seen played all the time, on every shitty little court without it being a competition, basically all courts except the one that mattered, the major stadium.
Could not understand, no official basketball at all in an Aboriginality dominated community, no Aussie Hoops, nothing but twilight basketball.
Twilight basketball is great, brings people from the community together, provides food, health checks, police attend, creates a safe space to open conversation. However, it is not a competition, random games with no opportunity to progress.
Clearly wanted nothing to do with basketball, nothing at all but the importance of activity in the space could not be ignored, something needed to be done. And, also, were a strong basketball competition a thing when the stadium was first built it is unlikely the windows would have been smashed as they were. Very unlikely it would have become the completely impractical worthless space it ended up becoming. How the fuck did someone win an award for that dumbest of all dumbshit things?
Must have been the same panel who handed Charlie King his OAM.
Hedland council, Paul my manager, God, mate, how could you in all honesty and with any integrity receive a pay cheque for what you were doing there?
No, no, no Fred. Council doesn’t do this, raise sporting competitions.
Mates, do you understand the social issues here?
Yes, of course we do.
Do you understand what a sport like basketball, all sport actually, but in this case especially basketball, can do for these kids? They obviously love it, see them everywhere playing, like it doesn’t take a geniusn to work out how important this could be.
No, no, no.
I started to write the governance documentation, completely ignoring all the rules required to start an association. Made sure every page, almost every paragraph said people first, sport second. I wrote it in the 20 or 30 documents of that shit in a way it could not be ignored, it almost got boring repeating it. People, then sport. People, then sport. People, then sport. People, then sport.
Yeah boring, but necessary.
It was ridiculously hard to get people to support me until Nate came along. Talk about beautiful men.
The problom at this point was we needed a coach to run Aussie Hoops, yeah, the competition was ready to go. At this stage now. Made it easy on ourselves, start at the absolute foundations, bringing the skills and foundations to those being introduced to the sport. Nothing complicated, just this, the formal competitions come next.
However, coach, it could not be me, could not even dribble properly, still can’t, don’t care to fix it. Coached a bit but at the start mostly it was Nate, like, just the most perfect coach, calm, loves the sport, his boy played, all necessary recipe ingredients in one phenomenally beautiful package.
A few weeks in it is just me and Nate, a mother joins, we have three coaches now. Also, three people on the administration, none of which needed to be done, it already was. So were all the systems, technologies, payment options, bank accounts, every everything else.
I did most of it at work, fuck you Paul and Hedland council, ignored their rejection absolutely. 100% of the admin in their time, the running of the sport in my own. Got everything else around me done too, the key here, the basketball stuff didn’t impact the rest of my work. Well, it did, another 10/15 hours on top of the work I had to do, no overtime pay and didn’t claim the time back in my own time. Wasn’t pushing the relationship that far.
The council though, they tried to stop me at every turn, council doesn’t do this Fred, you represent the council and running an association is not what we will approve. Do not care buds, I am doing it, it is being done, is almost done.
So, everybody in Hedland, do not ever let that council say they had anything at all to do with making the competition what it is even though I worked for them at the time. They did not want you, tried to stop you, made my life bloody difficult in the process.
When I left Hedland I basically had to beg people to take it over. It was so sad. Nate, couldn’t ask him to, had taken on the coaching role for the Port Hedland AFL side, was originally going to me too, but my contract ran out (maternity leave contract) and there was no other job in town I wanted.
Fortunately some of the mothers, one in particular stood up, it was pretty easy in the end because she had to do very little except take payments and then run the new competition.
It was beautiful friends, just beautiful. Aussie Hoops season one we had about 50 kids, season two 80 or so, season three we introduced the first official league, had referees trained and were organising for the very first time ever for the All Hedland Tartars to attend a representative competition. God, it was beautiful.
I left before the season commenced, just before the grading of teams, and we had two full Aussie Hoops sessions, under 10, 12, and 14 competitions. They were all full enough to have a proper competition, five or more teams in each grade. The only complication was getting enough older kids for the older grades.
Within nine months, yeah buds, nine months, we had 150, maybe even 200 kids playing official basketball. We had a representative team heading down to Perth, paid for and all, phenomenal, absolutely phenomenal.
I did this, yes I did this, while my organisation, the council who is supposed to be representing the people it works for, especially Paul, made it as difficult as difficult can be.
The All Hedland Tartars. I did this too, the name, did not ask for input, had none, it was perfect anyway, and beautiful too. All Hedland number one, not South or Port, just All Hedland, inclusiveness immediately in the title. The mascot, check it out, is a lizard, common name the Tartar.
Fucking hot in Hedland, ridiculously fucking hot. The Tartar, common in Hedland, will run from being attacked over the hottest of hot surfaces, bolt at a hundred mile an hour (exaggerating of course), find shade and then one at a time lift each paw/hand/whatever up to the air and swirl it around, looks like it is waving at someone. Tartar. Is super super beautiful and apt for the environment, and hence the most perfect of perfect to call this team moving forward.
Oh, Port and South Hedland, All Hedland. You are welcome! Don’t need to thank me anyway, loved every moment of basketball there, you all gave back almost as much as I gave. Thank you too.
Saint Nick
Well, well, well, we have reached the crescendo, one of the absolute loves of my life. The Alvie Football, Netball and Cricket Club holds the most tender of tenderest places in my heart, my very very big heart.
Bit of addition to the basketball stuff, mainly because I want to get stuck into one of my mates. Nick, call him Saint Nick, what a pathetic man this one is. In our group of mates if there was one bloke we would happily let go it is this tool. Works in pharmaceuticals, absolutely destroying lives, destroying many many lives in the worst of worst ways.
Nick, only sport is basketball, even then he is mediocre. Played a bit of footy with us, tall, looks like he’ll be alright but is an absolute nuffer. Saint Nick is the most selfish of selfish people, reflection of the basketball environment. It’s why I despise basketball, the only team sport where the individual is more important than the team. Every basketball environment it is the case, all the way to the top of the top, the NBA (American professional league).
Could be funny though, mainly when getting stuck into the popular girls at school. Who weren’t popular at all, simply got around with massive sticks in their twats because they were hanging around older boys, young men, who had cars and could buy them shit. Basically prostitutes at 16, 17 and 18.
One in particular, well a few for Nick, one in particular for me.
The group of ladies were just cunts really, always getting stuck into us, Nick’s favourite response was fuck off fat cunts. Funny as hell, literally every time.
He still uses this line, we get together as a group and it is all this fat mess, that fat mess, this terrible person, that terrible person. Gossip gossip gossip gossip. The weakest of weak men, will not say a word to the person his issue is with, only when they are nowhere near the room and cannot possibly catch wind.
The funny thing about Nick however is he is the fattest of fat fat messes now. Like, picture Shrek without the green skin, instead super duper white skin. The facial structure, exactly the same as Nick with the exception that somehow Nick makes Shrek look almost human, Nick himself the absolute stereotype face when one thinks of an ogre living in a swamp.
The body, exactly the same as Shreks but with less definition, no definition at all, a few extra kilograms on top of it all. Yeah, fat mess. He has a child, well children now too, absolute deadest of dead beat Dads, nothing at all that is positive role modelling. His kids, really sorry guys, my heart bleeds for you, you really have very very little chance of becoming decent people.
17 or so, I am sitting outside the classroom, been kicked out for making one of the popular girls cry. Suddenly Mum is walking down the corridor, Mum, what are you doing here?
‘I had to drop a couple of things off. What are you doing sitting outside the classroom on your own is more the question Frederick?’
Well, Mum, Schultz was being a hardcore bitch to us all, decided she would target me, told her to fuck off, also called her a fat bitch. Started bawling her eyes out and I was kicked out here.
‘Frederick’
Pause
‘Frederick’
Pause.
Massive smile came on her face, she was trying to tell me off but just couldn’t it was too funny. This is Mum though, if I was just being a prick she would have been firm but she couldn’t, was as funny as hell, her laugh was too obvious to hide. Bet she laughed all the way home, I know I did.
Okay, maybe not the crescendo and Alvie yet!
The actual sporting highlights
Sporting highlight, absolute highlight, did not come from any club or official sporting competition, no grand final win, not even representing the Army. It came from two young fellas who I love beyond anything in this world, Shane and Albert. Shane a really great young sportsman, his brother Albert as smart as buggery. Never would know it until you know it, the smartness, but then you know it. Two ridiculously beautiful young men, my nephews of course, Danyel and Tam’s sons.
Backyard cricket and football, taking it onto the oval, getting their mates involved, having a bloody good time every time. Wiped the floor with them of course. To say I miss these two, ha no, there is no language for the hole in my heart due to our absence from each other’s lives.
Wrestling, last time I saw them, spent proper time with them anyway, Shane was 15/16, Albert 13/14. The two of them banging on all day, then another day, and one more day about how they were finally going to make me cry like a little bitch. It did not happen, hey buds? Did not happen at all.
What actually happened when the wrestle finally came around I barely moved from my seat, actually I did not. With my non-dominant hand, which itself has been a huge nuffer in the past, and non-dominant hand only had the two of them pinned while I drank the beer that was in my dominant hand. A good half of it went down the hatch before these two finally realised they are not quite there yet.
Still, greatest buddies, you have some work to do.
Just love these boys, love love love love love.
The last visit to all the family was the enough is enough moment, ENOUGH of this bullshit. Shane broke my heart, unintentionally and nothing to do with me. Danyel cracked the shits at nothing, made the bushpig noise and buggered off to the shed. Shane’s head dropped, you alright mate, I ask. ‘Yeah, it’s just Dad, just the way it is. No point doing or saying anything.’
Buddy, herein lies the issue and the reason I really got stuck into Danyel, you are also starting to get frustrated at tiny little insignificant things. The same noise that comes from Dad is starting to come from you, it is affecting your life, you are trying to understand it. I do not want this for you, you do not need it, such a beautiful young man with so much to offer. Offer it, give it, let’s not let the same shit that shits him shit you.
Albert, well he has always been a little bit of a bitch, haven’t you mate? Yeah, you know it is true, a bitch in the very best way of course. Funny as hell working you up, we both know it is. Albert isn’t taking on these behaviours but there is confusion, easy to see, he doesn’t want to be a man’s Man, he just wants to be his own man, nothing else. The man’s Man stereotype is being pushed on him when he is not it. Albert is the kindest of kind, caringest of caring, most loving of loving. Traits that I hope beyond all hope are never ever lost. They are the most phenomenally beautiful traits a man can have.
Got it all from his mother, this ridiculously beautiful and strong woman, just ridiculously beautiful.
Tam, she isn’t beautiful straight away, this part becomes clear the moment she opens her mouth. Was a bit funny when Danyel first brought her home, the collective family response, what is this?
Nothing like Danyel’s fragile and beautiful ex-girlfriends, nothing at all. Tomboy, absolutely, not beautiful but, again, the moment she opened her mouth was more beautiful than anything that had come into his world and then some.
Tam took absolutely no shit, did not put up with any of Fred’s bullshit, had seen and experienced enough of this rubbish in the past. Tough background. To be honest, if it wasn’t for Tam Danyel would still be single, nobody would be able to stay with him. He might have a kid or three but the likelihood being they would have come from all different women. Just the bitchest of bitches who is near impossible to spend more than a few days with.
Tam’s just calm, doesn’t let pathetic Danyel’s, or any other person’s, snot get to her. Smiles and is happy from her very being, so so beautiful, it is reflected in her kids.
If I was to have one regret with Mum it would be the first time I saw her holding Shane in the hospital. God, a smile so wide, her whole heart was in it, it was in it every time they were together. She only got to meet one of her grandkids, Shane of course, and I gave her a filthy look in the hospital simply because I was broken inside and blamed her as she was the only one available to blame.
The whole Fred stuff had manifested something ridiculous in my head, I was in so much pain and confused beyond confusion. Was hurting all the time for no reason, then I reflected and there was a reason. Fred wasn’t there, Mum was, she became my target, only once, but still.
As I have said too, Mum was implicit in the violence in our home, absolutely. Hence my issue with her, I had only recently understood this more myself, didn’t want to admit it but could not deny, was the absolute truth. Treated her like rubbish in this moment, never did it again, apologised without apologising. Simply by doing better in all things, all interactions with her moving forward.
Yeah, the woman had her flaws, we all do, but GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD she was a beautiful human.
That smile, her smile, I remember it like it was this morning, every single detail. She was so phenomenally beautiful, bugger all hair, stupid unhealthy white skin and all. So so so beautiful!
Clearly made up for it in time, didn’t need to ask her for forgiveness she already had. Had done so before I even started to feel guilty.
Beautiful woman, women, beautiful boys, beautiful brother.
Danyel has great parts, the boys not all Tam, he is a good guy that has been through a lot. The lot however being projected onto others, particularly his boys, they need to see he can change, be better, remove the petty crap that breaks the safe space for everyone. They only need to know he is willing to talk about stuff that is hard to talk about, that it is okay be hurt, sad, angry, frustrated, confused. Like, it is, Danyel makes out like it is not, stifling their ability to be their own people.
The last visit was purely hilarious, Easter time, the boys had heaps of eggs, I had one medium sized bag, 25 or so small ones. The boys made sure Tam bought me a bag knowing that their bags were probably going to end up lighter without them seeing them get lighter, or eating them in the process. Yeah, loved stealing their chocolate, funny as hell, always ended up in a wrestle. Well, kind of, holding them with one arm while eating their eggs with the other right in front of their faces! Sometimes when I was sitting on them, could eat their chocolate with two hands now.
Shane decides all the games and sport we play will come with a wager, my eggs versus his. Four games in, including the go-kart track and Shane has lost them all, I have a healthy amount of easter eggs coming my way. Shane’s pile is starting to get very small.
The final game was mini-golf, we were all there.
Okay Shane, double or nothing mate. I win and all of your eggs are mine, all what 15 you have left. You win, you keep them, all of them, all the one’s I have already won too.
‘I’m going to wipe the absolute floor with you Frederick.’
Good luck, good buddy.
About halfway through the course Shane is indeed wiping the floor with me.
‘Oh, those eggs Frederick, those beautiful eggs, all mine, mine mine mine. I’m going to eat them right in front of your face, make you watch and wish you were eating some too.’
Haha, bud, well, it sure is looking that way.
The next hole somebody had an absolute horror show, the somebody was not me. I went from being about five shots down to six shots up. He absolutely ruined the hole. My lead extended and of course the game tally at the end was now five to me and zero to Shane.
Yeah, talk about wiping the floor.
Rubbed his face in it of course, mentioned the eggs over and over and over again, sadface is one word for Shane. All his Easter eggs, every single one, was now mine!
So so funnny.
I didn’t take them, let him keep them all, didn’t need them. Solely the laugh I was after and laugh I did, laugh we all did.
We aren’t finished here, still have the Alvie Footy Club to discuss but clearly nothing but absolute love in our sport space together now. Alvie, well, she is just the pinnacle of all pinnacles.
The Alvie Football, Netball and Cricket Club part one – Politics in sport
Alvie, she wasn’t all great, but mostly was. Politics in sport, well, shits me to tears. The target personally twice, watched many others be targets too.
The Army team, 18th year in a row we won the trophy. Also played the 19th, did not want to. Was in Iraq when they finally lost, wouldn’t have played anyway. Awesome footballers, huge personalities, really struggled to fit in. Don’t do this, dominate attention, was almost asked to leave because I was too quiet.
But, then, we played a practice match and there was no way they would let me leave. The looks and the feedback around me, do not understand how a bloke who is so quiet can be so bloody good at running around a paddock kicking a ball.
Good footballer, really good, but no consistency. On joining the Army I played bits and pieces of seasons, but it would be about 10 years before playing a full one, was at Ainslie. First year played reserves, soft-tissue injuries got in the way, but was there the whole season and the coach, Chris Rourke, was keeping a good eye on me.
Year two played in the seniors in a practice match, about two weeks later was time to move on from Canberra. Rourky super disappointed Fred, can we find a way for you to stick around? Bit heartbreaking to be honest mate, have big hopes for you, reckon you’ll do really well in the seniors this year.
‘Nah, Rourkey, I gotta go.’ I had to go, Canberra, Amanda, Isaac and almost jumping from something really high was not healthy, clearly. Did not say this part, did not want to speak about it, simply had to try and move on with my life.
Second time politics got in the way was the reason I was at Ainslie. The year before moved on from the Woden Blues, playing socially.
Yeah, played the whole season before, but it wasn’t football, not really. More backyard kick to kick between mates against a different group of 18 mates. Was super fun and easy, not really a challenge at all. Some good players but nobody who could really challenge me.
I left because of frustration, people like Chris, last name a million letters that made no sense together. No background in footy, zero understanding of the game and lost us several games we should not have lost, including the preliminary final that year. Not just him, a few others too, people who do not know the game but think they do because they are playing in a shitty league, think they are good when they are not. When, in fact, would be lucky to get a game at Alvie in the reserves.
Couldn’t tell this moron and others, including a really good mate Josh anything, ego burst, roarrrrrrrrrr. Yeah, frustrating.
Left half way through the season, found my way to Queanbeyan where Amanda and Rachel were playing in the women’s league. Dominated is one word for it, the only thing keeping me from the seniors, well two things, the general footskills around the ground hadn’t come far enough yet and the bloke playing in my position, can’t remember the name, was a ridiculously good footballer.
Grand final I am dropped, we had the week off before, didn’t need to play a preliminary final this year, we won the game a week earlier taking us straight into the GF. I had some hamstring awareness and only did easy stuff at training until the final one where I completed the whole session, hammy great. Dropped still.
It pissed me off to no end, especially because of who was brought in to replace me. Club stalwart, been there forever, getting older and had only played six or seven games through the year. Even then, barely touched the ball, made us weaker. Walked out of the club and did not even attend the end of year function and vote count. The best and fairest vote count where I came second after only half the season, only beaten by a bloke who played most games and when he didn’t was playing seniors.
I, of course, sent the coach some feedback after this, very very specific feedback.
The Army team, game one versus the Air Force, one of the best players on the field. When I say best players here, not talking top 10 or 15, talking best three or four. Still, dropped for game two, dropped for someone who was a personality around the guys, was not in our best 22, not at all.
In both cases was easiest to drop me rather than anybody else, it was the only option that would create the least backlash from the community around the clubs. A bloke that nobody knows, fuck him over instead of doing the right thing.
We won both games, I attended the Grand Final, Queanbeyan smashed whoever by 100 points. All the older people around the club came up to me watching from the side, are you injured Fred, why are you not out there playing? ‘I got dropped mate, not good enough to play in this team apparently, whats-his-name put in instead of me.’ Are you serious? You cannot have been dropped, must be injured. ‘Nope, exactly as I said.’
Left the club, went to Ainslie, dominated Quenbeyan at their home ground the first time we played. Knew I would, was playing on Simon, shittest of footballers, was only good because of the team around him. I said to the coach, ‘leave me and Simon alone in the forward line, we’ll win this game and then some.’ Exactly what happened, only kicked a few goals but got ball after ball after ball setting up teammates all over the place. One on one, this bloke was pathetic on the field.
We went on to win the GF. I was not dropped!
The worst of the worst however, Alvie seniors and John Henry, the coach at the time. This guy, good footballer, but a muppet. Was him who was purely responsible for us losing week one of the finals to Apollo Bay, had a second chance as we finished 2nd or 3rd, went on to win the whole thing.
I was dropped after the first week of finals, did not care, 16 years and was not ready to play finals football in the men’s league. It was what happened GF selection that was just awful, pure awful.
Craig, a year older than me, maybe two, played under 17s together. Came from a farming family, a small one, not like the other big families who dominated the Alvie environment. These guys were quiet, had much less than others and weren’t the most involved in the club. Well, except Craig and his younger brother Daniel.
Craig started the year in reserves before stepping up. Played every game, played in the backline, ridiculously solid footballer, built like a brick shithouse. Did his job over and over and over again. Not blessed with fantastic athleticism or natural football ability, but worked his arse off, did his job and then some. If it was me picking the team he would have been one of the first.
Might have been Cassy who was in and out of the team all year, great footballer, played like 7000 games in the Colac league (exaggeration of course, not far from the truth, be 50 odd now and probably still playing). In and out of the team through injury, was always going to play, no arguments.
The argument however is that there were 10 players at least who should have been dropped before Craig, yet, it was Craig who was dropped simply because it was easier to do, the least noise would be made from his crew than others. Pure coward shit, John Henry, represents him and then some.
GF day Craig was heartbroken, absolutely heartbroken, was so fucked, so very fucked.
Politics in sport, has no bloody place, absolutely ruins young men when the environment is designed to build them up, create confidence, social connection, support, all that good stuff. Especially in a farming community where social isolation is the absolute driver behind the fucking heartbreakingly atrociously disgusting suicide and self-harm rates.
Politics is simply pure unfair coward rubbish.
Funny and not so funny shit on the field.
The footy field, funny things happen, shit things happen.
Before joining Woden I was signed up to play for the Western Creek Wildcats in the top division. League included Ainslie, Quenbeyan, Belconnen and the like. Two or so months into pre-season and I was super nervous about continuing. The Wildcats had a reputation for being smashed every week, not just a reputation, is exactly what happened.
Had 20 people at training, no reserves team, would struggle to fill a side. Fortunately common sense prevailed, the team disbanded, we all went to different clubs, me playing with mates at Woden. Had a heap of fun.
Was originally going to play for Murrumbidgee until I attended the second training. Tackling drills and I do what good footballers do, pick up the ball, lift my arms up so when I got tackled could feed the ball out without the arms being pinned and potentially being caught holding the ball, resulting in a free kick to the opponent.
The coach at the time, scumbag piece of shit, stopped training and used me as an example.
Do that again Freddy, exactly what you did with the ball. I did. Fred, hold that position. Now, everyone, when someone does this what you want to do is this.
The coach ran us through a scenario, a scenario where instead of tackling me he drove forward with his knee, right into my quadricep. Only did it as a demonstration and did not hurt me at all but the fact he was the coach and teaching men to hurt their opponents, take them out, was pure pure disgusting! My feedback was a laugh and a ‘you cannot be serious, mate?’
He was, very serious, I never went back, instead played for Woden.
That year we made the preliminary final, first time Woden had played finals in this league after stepping up from the lowest of lowest grades. Played against Murrumbidgee in the semi, won by a point or so. We were well up at three quarter time before the team ran out of legs, were almost ran over. Should have lost, 10 seconds to go and we are up by two points. Hilly, marked the ball 15 metres from Murrumbidgee’s goals, I watched knowing we were about to lose, Hilly barely ever missed.
Shanked the kick, absolutely shanked it, only just snuck in for a point. We won. Dominated this game too, jumping on people’s backs, huge pack marks, goals and about 300 touches of the ball. Well, maybe not, at least 30 playing from centre half forward though. Opponent’s were saying directly to me, we have to take you out mate, this is fucked, can’t get near you. They didn’t, fortunately they ignored their violent coach too, kept shit fair.
Funny funny, was having a dart, cigarette, about 30 minutes before the game started. Rachel comes up to me, Frederick I’m not sure having a smoke this close to the game is much good for your playing. After the game said to Rachel that I wasn’t sure it mattered in the end with a big smile on my face, she laughed, best on ground and then some.
Lost the next week to the Uni team, up by six goals at three quarter time and we ran out of legs, lost by a goal or two.
The funniest however was the second year playing for the Army. Really really struggled this time, I was sick, really sick.
Only two or so weeks earlier I had recovered from my first episode of cluster headaches. I hadn’t recovered at all, a couple of weeks of awful acute pain is the actual condition but it takes weeks, over a month generally to fully recover from these things.
Got knocked out in a practice match playing for Balmain, then fucking stupidly drank beer that night. Consuming alcohol after a brain injury, even minor, is the worst of the worst things one can do. The Monday at work in the Army, doing pushups during physical training and it felt like someone smashed me in the back of the head with a sledgehammer, felt like this for the next two weeks. Hospital, tests, more tests, every test under the sun, no diagnosis, no understanding of the condition from the professionals.
The final bout of this shit in 2020 is when I finally was given the correct diagnosis. One of the top neuro surgeons in the country was put on my case, it was fascinating for everyone, we worked together for ages, mainly in the hospital. It was great (while not being great), learnt heaps about the brain and we both, and his assistant, learnt a shitload about cluster headaches in the process.
The Army training camp, I was out of it still, could barely see the ball, was not ready to play in the first game versus the Navy. Instead the Defence Force Academy, where officers are trained, were a couple of players short and asked if we had some players who could fill in. Yes, of course, me and another bloke.
About five minutes before half time and my arms are getting sore from getting so much of the ball and the officer in charge of the unit comes down for a look. Knows Potsy, the Army coach, asks him about me, hadn’t seen me before but I stood out on the field. Was not supposed to be playing, future officers and future officers only in this team.
Potsy comes up to me at half-time, Fred, the CO of ADFA is here, try not to stand out too much in the second half mate. If he finds out a non-officer is playing we, and you, are going to get in a whole heap of shit. ‘No problem mate, I’ll just keep playing footy, give the ball off by hand a bit more.’ Great Fred, great mate.
Two minutes into the third quarter and the opponents have cleared the ball from our forward line, straight towards a pack of about 10 players, pure chaos. I run in from the side, leap, and am basically standing on top of the tallest bloke in the pack, arms right above my head and pull down the screamer of all screamers, pure fucking awesome. The crowd went absolutely bonkers, no point trying not to stand out anymore.
The CO himself had front row seats. Was hanging out on our interchange bench which was less than 10 metres from where I soared like few people have ever soared unaided ……….
Marks, catches, like this though cannot be planned, pure timing and leap, everything goes together. One feels like they are sailing through the air, flying basically, nothing but natural attention can bring it. Didn’t mean it, just jumped to grab the ball, and everything fell into place.
The CO was waiting to talk to me at the end of the game and I was very quickly ushered, still in the kit and my boots, into the car and away from the field. The guys that remained told him I had to leave immediately for a family thing. Funny funny.
Probably the best one of these speccies I took was playing for Woden though, against the Uni team again. Phenomenal, I know it was, jumped about three minutes too early and got the ride of all rides on my opponent. When the ball finally got to us I was still on his shoulders and starting to fall towards the ground, reached out the left arm and pulled it in one-handed. When I hit the ground the ball popped out and was looking for it before the umpire blew the whistle.
Heard a couple of murmours from the Uni supporters, he dropped it, he dropped it, then the whistle blew to hand me the mark, those same murmours turned into screams and hoots and fucking exceitement galore. The same people were very very happy for it to be called a mark.
I stood up, walked back behind the mark and looked up for someone to kick the ball to. Nobody from either team was moving, mouth open gapes were all I saw. After a few seconds activity resumed. Speccies, so so much fun. But again, they can only come naturally, every time I attempted them consciously fucked them up big time.
Love footy, just fucking love it!
The Alvie FNC Part Two – Keep Your Feet
Debuted in the senior team for Alvie at 16, the last game of the season, also against Apollo Bay. There was nothing riding on the game while having everything to play for. The two teams were playing each other in week one of the finals, one would finish second, the other third. Didn’t matter, no home ground advantage in the finals. Played at Colac’s major oval, the Central Reserve, extremely good patch of grass.
Told people once that I was 15 on debut, wasn’t, but also did not think about it, numbers, years, meant nothing to me, never stuck in my head, still don’t. 15 was when I started to gain some confidence, particularly after Fred was never invited home again, didn’t have to be afraid all the time suddenly, confusion instead dominated my space. Played some awesome patches within games, one in particular against Winchelsea.
Side note, one of my greatest fears on the field came from a game between our two clubs, this year (when I was 15) or the year before. The game was called off in the third quarter, massive all in brawl happened, players, spectators, shitloads of people involved. It got a whole lot of attention, I did not want to be involved in anything like that ever, let alone the football field.
The game against Apollo Bay in the finals and the reason I blame John for the loss was simply because he refused to take responsibility for his part in it. One example is key.
Rahni Buchanan, every one in Colac knows this family, ridiculous sporting acumen the whole family. Rahni an absolute jet and then some, footballer and bloke, was the worst sportsman of the lot! Next one, Liam, best player on the ground in a grand final playing in the top under 18 league in the country, the one where most players are picked from to play AFL, played professional cricket for Victoria. Next one, Amon, my age, same, best on ground too, went on to play over 100 AFL games. Micah, stupid good, similar to Rahni good. Merrick, pretty sure Merrick, was in the Victorian squad for cricket.
Then a girl too, confidentish, and really great thing there was no professional women’s league at the time. Going by the rest of the family the Women’s AFL would have need to make a specific rule for her, only allowed to play at full back and nowhere else. Still, she would have won the league best and fairest and the goalkicking. Ridiculous sporting family in the very best way.
We won my debut game, I kicked two goals, had a blast. Missed a few marks would usually take though, was a bit confused about the direction Finny, absolute club legend, gave me before the game. Awesome bloke, absolutely awesome guy, loved him to bits, no hard feelings at all.
The main reason I talk about this game here is for a bit of understanding regarding the language we use, it can make a big difference. Particularly thinking someone knows what you mean when they may not.
Finny, before the game sat me down and had a good chat. Fred keep your feet out there mate, the big difference between junior and senior footy, keep your feet and you will go a long way mate.
‘Cool Finny, thanks mate, do my best.’ Dropped a sitter of a mark in the forward line after had already kicked a goal, would have been two in minutes but I took Finny’s advice and instead of jumping for the ball waited and waited for it, did not leave the ground, kept my feet. Happened again not long after, general play, nowhere near goal, didn’t jump for a ball usually would, sailed over my head.
It was not what Finny meant, my jump at the time was my weapon, absolute weapon. Clearly stayed as such. What he really meant was try not to fall to the ground, keep your balance, stay upright as it gives one the best opportunity to succeed. Had he have explained it this way rather than the way he did could have kicked four or five goals that day, my confidence would have skyrocketed. Would have known that I deserved to be there and was talented enough to succeed in the upper grade.
Beautiful man Finny, sporting family and background for a long time, especially AFL. My family, first generation Australian, did not have the same background, did not speak football language at home when it came to footy, only what we heard commentators on TV say. Language, very important, particularly making the meanings clear.
The finals week and John, the example where he got stuck into me when I was absolutely doing the right thing.
Rahni has the ball in the centre of the ground, I am about five metres in front of him, the only player that was close enough to pressure him, make his decision and kick into Apollo Bay’s forward line difficult, ensure it wasn’t an easy pass, then goal. Like, Rahni, mates, a position like this with no pressure and he set his team mates up over and over and over again. Football IQ, pure genius.
I do not run at Rahni, instead carrelled him, which basically means shutting down the space, making sure the other player is pressured but cannot get past easily. Knew beyond doubt had I ran at Rahni he would have stepped me like a traffic cone, was doing it bloody well too. Rahni turning this way and that, trying to get me to follow, I didn’t. Side step here and side step there without taking a step forward.
John is 20 metres behind me, hear him scream, fucking run at him Fred, tackle him, fucking hell Fred go at him.
I did, and, of course, Rahni stepped me like I was not there, ran 10 metres forward with the ball, pinpoint pass to their full forward, goal. Apollo Bay up by a couple of goals now and had all the momentum. Stretched their lead in the next 10 minutes in a way we would never recover.
Training Tuesday John goes off tap, just off tap, blaming everybody and everyone, not once looking in the mirror and asking himself if he also had something to do with the loss. It was the way he was as a coach, all seasons, blame everyone, never take responsibility.
Hence, a muppet, and a weak coward of a man. About the only negative in the whole club, sadly that negative being the senior coach.