Towards the end of the summer holidays in January 1990, I take my little brother Chris on a trip to the Royal Melbourne Zoo. It’s a long trip in from East Donny, but six-year-old Chris is super excited to be catching a bus, train, and tram all in the one day.
On the way back we are approached by a dishevelled middle-aged man while we are awaiting our train at Flinders Street Station. I can tell he’s had a few. I’m trying to slip away from him, without making it too obvious. But he starts telling us his life story. Divorced. Still loves his ex-wife. ‘She bore me two kids’. His son is a handy cricketer. His daughter, his princess.
When the Lilydale train arrives, he jumps on with us. Bloody hell. We can’t get away from him. He’s getting off at Box Hill as well. Invariably, the topic of footy comes up. When he finds out we are Collingwood supporters, his eyes light up. He tells us of his love for the club and, as if to prove it, pulls up his shirt to reveal a tattoo of a magpie on his upper back. His entire chest, pot belly and back are visible. My little brother is stunned, as are most of the nearby passengers on the carriage. At this point, the train is about to pass the Melbourne Cricket Ground, and the man comes in closer, puts his arms around both of us, and, while looking at the hallowed ground, declares in a prophetic tone, ‘In about eight months’ time, Tony Shaw will hold up the premiership cup in that place.’
With my little brother Chris, mid-1980s.
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About Damian Balassone
Damian Balassone is a failed half-forward flanker who writes poetry. He is the author of 'Strange Game in a Strange Land'.
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My last 2 years of high school we lived in Kadina SA which had a trotting track. There were weekly trials on a Tuesday and monthly race meetings on a Friday night that seemed the highlight of glamour and excitement in our sleepy country town.
The father of one of the kids in the class trained a few (slow) pacers, but it made him the class celebrity. One of the first nights I attended we go into the men’s loo and a similar drunk (maybe the same bloke?) is leaning unsteadily against the urinal and intones “young Tom (my mate) get on Scotch Four in the next”.
Knowing nothing of form I get an older kid to put $4 on the nose at 25/1. It sits behind the leader on the saucer track, and dashes up the inside when the leader drifts off in the straight to win by a nose.
Like you Damian, I’ve been looking for that bloke for the last 50 years to cop another tip (or punch him in the nose).
I can confirm, this is a true story! I was six and It was a long day of travel but the highlight was the charismatic pies supporter on the train. It was a different time when parents let their teenage children mind their even younger children. It was quite funny because it would have been a long time before we even knew he was a pie supporter, who just thought he was insane, but then in and instant he was like a close family friend. I don’t remember much about the zoo, but the pie prophet lives on in infamy!
PB, sounds like the same guy. He’s a familiar character, isn’t he? Although with our man there was no pecuniary element involved – it was more about the exorcism of the Colliwobbles, which rendered the Pies a laughing stock at the time.
Thanks for confirming Chris, in what I assume to be your first post ever on TFA. It was an unforgettable moment, wasn’t it? Sometimes those we assume to be fools can be the bearers of wisdom.
Lovely story Damian, thanks for sharing it,
Ta
Floreat Pica
Frank
What memories, Damo!!
Ha, ha, love this DB as well as Chris’ additional observations. He was either your Jolimonty prophet or, a broken clock, and as the old saying goes, is still right twice a day. Let’s go with prophet. Cheers
Thanks for reading Frank, Smokie, Rick. And you might be right Rick. This story is probably more for the “true believers”, as a former Pies no.1 ticker holder would say. Floreat Pica.