Almanac (Fan) Life: Finding my ten-year-old self again

 

Image: sydneyswans.com.au

 

Some days when I look in the mirror I see a weary middle-aged man whose hair vacated its lease in 2003, has eyebrows John Howard would envy and stands 3 centimetres smaller than he should due to having to carry a heavy mortgage and the daily threat of retribution if he forgets to lob the crusts off young Jack’s Vegemite sangas. On these days I wonder where my 10-year-old self has gone? I found him again at the MCG on Friday!

 

At my essence that 10-year-old lurking in my middle-aged sloppy rig is that country boy from Wagga Wagga who was determined that one day he would be making the mighty MCG his playground for the Swannies in winter and wearing the Baggy Green on Boxing Day. At 10 years of age anything was possible.

 

They say never meet your heroes. As a youngster growing up in Wagga who loved his footy there was no-0ne bigger than Paul Kelly. The skinny plumber with a mullet and unmatched courage who would go on to set the standard for all that follow him at the Swans. There was no pack he wouldn’t throw himself into, most often coming out the other side with the pill.

 

I found myself at the MCG on Friday to take my 10-year-old son Jack to a Swans open training session so he could look at HIS heroes in awe and get those valuable scribbles on his jumper. The look of awe on Jack’s face as his favorites (Warner, Parker, Gulden and the Lizard!) gave some valuable time was priceless. Theses blokes from the telly were actually real he found out. Jack will be talking about this day for some time to come. A Father/son moment that I’m sure we will wax lyrical over one day – most probably as I plead with him NOT to move me into a nursing home… ‘come on mate, remember that day I took you to to see the Swans train at the G, you OWE me!’

 

Out the corner of my eye I spotted Paul Kelly – in town for the Swans Hall of Fame function and had popped down to run his eye over the new crop and catch up with other legends like Barry Round and Peter Bedford. Kelly still looked ‘farm fit’ in his fifties.

 

I was my 10-year-old self again! Can you ask for an autograph at 44 years of age? Should you? I was excited as my mind shifted back to the 1990s in a second. I felt a strong sense to try and locate a transistor radio to check the around the ground scores for some reason. I used Jack as cover and asked Paul if he would sign his jumper. I’d like to think I didn’t bowl over a nearby toddler in my haste to get to the fence, but I can’t be sure your Honor.

 

Luckily though I wasn’t frozen like the first time I had met Paul when he visited Mount Austin High School a few weeks after he had won the Brownlow Medal in 1995. Mount Austin was more of a Rugby League School, whereby at times you needed eyes in the back of your head at recess and avoided the rough nuts who hung out at the bike racks. When Paul came to visit there were probably only about 30 hardcore Aussie Rules kids at the school who took up the opportunity to risk carbon monoxide poisoning from the heaters in the school hall for an audience with the great man.

 

I still vividly remember when the newsflash came over Prime TV late one evening that Kelly had won the Brownlow – back in those days Wagga didn’t get the full broadcast live. For a footy lover it was like someone from Wagga had landed on the moon. It made a young kid think that anything was possible – which was sometimes tough being so far removed from the big smoke.

 

Whilst now living in Melbourne, I played my Wagga ‘card’ early and spent a lovely 5 minutes chatting about how the Wagga Tigers used to get the better of my Mangoplah Cookardinia United Goannas back in the day, the state of bush footy and how life is on the farm these days. A more affable person would be hard to find – completely devoid of ego. A casual chat with a good bloke who just happened to be a superb footballer and an idol of my young self.

 

I didn’t feel the need to tell Kelly he was a hero of mine as a kid – I think that would most probably have embarrassed him and myself. It didn’t need to be said, honestly. Just two blokes having a good chat….PERFECT.

 

Jack couldn’t quite make sense of what was going on – he just thought Dad was talking to a mate he played footy against. Whilst I did hold Cameron Mooney goalless one day in the Under 11s (if you have 3 hours I can tell you the story), my ‘career’ burnt out after the U19s, so no Jack, Kelly was FAR removed from sharing a field with your old man.

 

It has been such a long time since I have had a ‘Fan’ moment with a footy star. I thought I was past it. Today I see the players and I see my kids’ heroes NOT mine. I still love the Swannies, but the players today to me are kids who I hope to see do well, but they belong on posters on my kids’ walls, not mine.

 

 

The 1o-year-old still lives in us all I think. Even if it can be buried by the responsibilities of life at times. Once you fall in love with a football club it gets inside you, as do the players who inspired you to don their colours. The love of a tribe that you can pass down through your own generations is one of the purest pleasures in life I think.

 

As it turned out I didn’t live out my 10-year-old fantasy of wearing the red and white BUT I did form a lifelong connection with my club that I have proudly passed ont o my family. I hope the torch continues to get passed down through the generations.

 

When I next see that weary old face looking back at me in the mirror, I best remind myself that there is STILL the opportunity to dream and to chase after those important things with the unbridled passion that only a 10-year-old can. The child still lives in me and I’m glad I found him again yesterday at the MCG!

 

Cheer, Cheer the Red and the White.

 

 

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Our writers are independent contributors. The opinions expressed in their articles are their own. They are not the views, nor do they reflect the views, of Malarkey Publications.

 

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