I was lucky enough to get an invitation to Balmey’s Roast last Thursday night. It was a swish affair, sort of like a pie night on steroids, held at the Hilton Hotel both to celebrate Neil Balme’s 40 years in football and to help raise funds for the Zaidee’s Rainbow Foundation and the N.I.C.K. Foundation.
I went with Smithy (Michael Smith) and Feuta (Greg Feutrill) two mates from my old school days at Whitefriars College. Also joining us was Tony Borrack, an old timer who played over four hundred games of footy in his younger days, most of them with the Commonwealth Bank in the ammos. He has the large gnarly hands of an old footballer and gets a twinkle in his eye when the beer tray comes around. These days Tony is a regular spectator at Whitefriars old boy’s games after years of service to the club. The Friars are currently playing in Division D1.
Smithy and Feuta are partners in an accounting practice in Hawthorn and love their footy. Feuta is still heavily involved being the coach of the Whitefriars old boys, and Smithy was still sneaking in the odd game of footy for the Balwyn seconds up until just a few seasons back. Both are just the wrong side of mid forties but haven’t let life’s complacencies get hold of them physically just yet.
They say that opposites attract in all aspects of life and Smithy and Feuta are proof of that in their business. I was lucky enough to play school boy football with them at Whitefriars and therefore got a good insight into their contrasting sporting talents and approaches to life. Smithy played football like he was wearing overalls in the mould Joel Selwood, Dane Swan, and his boyhood hero Stan Magro; no pretense, no fashionable flair, no wasted sentiment and nothing left in the tank at the final siren. We used to shut our eyes with anguish when we watched him charging into packs. Usually he came out OK, but sometimes not. He would have been one of the first picked because the coaches knew exactly what they would get; endeavour and skill and a few sore heads on the opposition’s side. He had legs like marble, a torso like an aged river red gum and he attacked the ball harder than a charging rhino.
Feuta on the other hand played in a suit. Class, polish and time. He played with a low centre of gravity and was able to simply drift away from opponents to find space. He was hard at it but seemed to instinctively rotate or swivel or blind turn until he found a better option than getting crunched. Smart player I reckon. Now he and Smithy help operate their accounting practice together like a well oiled machine.
When we all arrived at the Hilton I was immediately conscious of being surrounded by footballing royalty. Of course Neil Balme was prominent but other “faces” included Dermie, Bucks, Lingy, Brad Sewell, Cowboy Neil (looks the same now as when he was playing), Gavin Brown, Craig Kelly, Brendan Gale, David Neitz, Barry Richardson, and, how could I leave out, Straughnie.
Brian Cooke was there as was Gary March and whilst I didn’t see him there was a large round of applause when it was announced that Jimmy Stynes was in the audience. Sam Kekovich called in via a recorded video message and duly made the whole thing about him (very funny nonetheless), and Neville Roberts from Norwood footy club in South Australia was also interviewed via a phone hook up.
But the night was made by the MC Kevin Bartlett, whose control of the night and brilliant repartee was at times biting, at times controversial, at time hilarious, but always first class.
KB came out with some superb one liners. When Balmey had a go at him for being a lousy tackler in his playing days Bartlett retorted,
“I was no good at tackling because I always had the ball.”
And when he was talking to Balmey about Balme’s sacking from Melbourne as the senior coach by the then president Joe Gutnik, Bartlett added,
“And by the way Balmey, Joe Gutnick sends his regards from a diamond mine in South Africa.”
But the best story involved Balme’s time coaching Melbourne. It was during this time that David Schwartz exploded onto the scene. He went through a purple patch where he was tearing games apart single handedly and due to his size and strength got the nickname “The Ox”. As David Neitz relayed “Schwarter got a bit ahead of himself” when he went out and purchased a Saab convertible sports car and attached the number plate “THE OX” to his beloved machine. One Sunday morning training session, after a tough Melbourne loss, Balmey arrived ill of temper and lacking sleep only to see the Saab with “THE OX” number plates parked in his spot. Balmey decided it was time to deflate Schwartz’s ego a bit, so he stormed into the changing rooms and bellowed at the top of his voice,
“Who the fu!* is THEO-X”
During the night Cameron Ling spoke of Balme’s influence at Geelong and Nathan Buckley about his lasting impression at Collingwood. All through these chats Kevin Bartlett sarcastically referred to Balme as “the world’s greatest football operations manager”. It was done with fabulous humour and underlying respect.
We watched some highlights of Balme’s playing days featuring the inevitable display of “Balmey’s hits” including the infamous belt on Geoff Southby in the 1973 Grand Final. After the video Bartlett quipped that they had invited Southby but his RSVP simply read “Get stuffed Balmey”.
We were then entertained by a collage of photos from Balmey’s past. There was Balmey asleep in a deck chair, Balmey as a teenager with a few mates, Balmey firing a rifle whilst out hunting, and a disturbing photo of Balmey standing on the beach with flippers on his feet and dressed only in speedos. The roasting of Balmey was about complete.
When it was Balmey’s time to speak we got an insight into why he is now so respected in footy circles. He spoke fondly of the game itself, the people he’d met along the way and especially of his time at Norwood. He joked about criticism that he wasn’t great at attending pre season training sessions by saying that “I liked to train in secret a lot”. He talked about how football clubs can be serious places at times but ultimately they are “just footy clubs” and that the most important part of them is the people. His style is naturally inclusive, relaxed and easy going but perhaps the most endearing part of his character is that he doesn’t take himself too seriously. He would be to young footballers what an inflatable jumping castle is to little kids; somewhere to go to bounce around for a while knowing that you will leave safe and grounded.
The night ended late; far too late. Smithy, Feuta, Tony and I were the last to leave as we stood at the back of the room having a few quiet beers – and shooting the breeze with Balmey.
About Damian O'Donnell
I'm passionate about breathing. And you should always chase your passions. If I read one more thing about what defines leadership I think I'll go crazy. Go Cats.
Dips,
my information, from a few decades back, on Neil Balme was that he was referred to as ‘mum’s boy’ when he first went to Richmond.
Apparently his mother came over to help her little boy settle in because he was a long way from home. This fact was duely noted.
Some one may be able to confirm that.
Probably wouldn’t be wise to ask him.
Cheers Phantom.
Phantom – reference was made by K Bartlett that Balmey was a sook. Got the audience laughing very loud when he described Balmey’s whinging at chafing between his thighs during pre season running work. Bartlett reckoned it was Balme’s excuse for leaving the track early.
Personally I wouldn’t put this fact to him unless I was in a different postcode.
Dips,
we had a bloke at Old Scotch they used to call the moth.
Used to leave the training track early and spend a lot of time under the lamp.
Phantom – at school I played footy with a bloke who could not only name the injured muscle, but could give you the Latin medical name for it as well. Like “I can’t play because I’ve pulled a rectus abdominis.”
Sometimes I reckon the heart string is the most vulnerable muscle for ordinary footballers.
What about ‘torn an attitude muscle’
DIPS: pls. excuse a very prosaic geography question.
Where in the world is Whitefriars College? It sounds as if it could be based in the green English home counties, perhaps even within the hallowed walls of Oxford or Cambridge. Again, it might be a college which pops up on an episode of ITV’s Midsomer Murders.
But given that u and mates played Aussie Rules footy, I imagine it might be a Victorian secondary institution under the banner of the Vicar of Rome.
My uneducated guess is that WC is located in the bayside area — say Cheltenham, Chelsea or perhaps closer in at Elwood.
Richard – Whitefriars College sits amongst the trees in a far flung suburb of Melbourne called Donvale. Donvale is situated near other larger burbs like Mitcham, Warrandyte, and Doncaster.
It is run by the Carmelite Order which operates within the one true Catholic Church. Called Whitefriars because the Carmelites used to dress in white hooded gowns (no not the KKK) in the tradition of European friars.
The unique white kit would get a bit messy frying fresh Friday fish for for all those students.
Dips,
When I was young, I used to write down the goals and behinds in the Footy Record at Richmond games. I recall being about seven when I ran out of space one day in the section next to No.21. Balmey had kicked so many goals that I had to encroach into the space for behinds. From memory, he kicked seven that day, which was a lot to a seven-year-old.
After that, I was given a yellow windcheater on to which I drew a big No.21 on the back in black Hobbytex.
I thought of Balmey as a glamorous player but he also had a dangerous edge. It’s that combination which has beguiled me and others throughout his footy life.
Great piece. I’d like another one where you just concentrate on your Whitefriars mates. They sound like good footy blokes.
We like Balmey down at “Sleepy Hollow” just quietly Daff.
Along with a few other astute off field pick ups he has played no small part in the current Cat status.
(Was his hair style “mullett” or just long?)
Daff,
yellow windcheater with black Hobbytex.
That sounds like its worth a mention in the “Outer Wear” section of Crio’s current Question.
I would have expected Carmelites to wear a pale brown get-up.
(Or am I mixing them up with the latest incarnation of Mars Bars?)
Richard – they used to wear brown outfits, now they wear jeans and a T-shirt.
Daff – when I was a little kid Balmey scared me. Mad bastard! Now he’s cool and calm and very easy with his lot.
Phantom,
No mullet. Balmey had long hair.
And just quietly, did he approach coaching the same way he does footy managing?
Talking to people in an affable way is great for personal relations, but it might have lacked the required intensity as a coach.
Daff – I don’t think Balmey had the killer coaching instinct. Apparently when he was coaching he was heard to say to a young recruit, who was having a horrible day, that if the young fella kept playing the way he was “You and me will no longer be friends.” Hardly the stuff to fire the young man up!
Talking footy (especially the past), drinking beers with mates – nirvana.
Great piece Dips – what is the nickname for the Whitefriars? Could be interesting…?
Rocket – The MIGHTY FRIARS !! Sounds better when you say it out loud.
Daff
Hobbytex just hasn’t kicked on the way we all thought it would.
A bit like those glass cutters that turned long-necks into brandy tumblers.
And Rocket, I did a piece on Glencoe (SE South Aust) on Saturday on SA Grandstand. They are maroon and gold and are known as The Murphys. OUtstsanding. because Glencoe was full of potato farmers.
They lost their centenary match to Kalangadoo.
Kybybolite is on top of the Kowee, Narracoorte, Tatiara (or whatever that league is down there). Jack Trengove is from Kyby. He will be a champion. I think he and young Dangerfiled should think about the good life in The Pivot.
All very Celtic down at Glencoe, SA.
Are they self-proclaimed as the Murphys or was the nickname assigned to them?