VFL/AFL Leading Goalkicker – Collingwood Forever

Brian Taylor

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:01:26 +0000

When Brian Taylor was a kid, if you’d told him he was going to be a star in one sport, it almost certainly wouldn’t have been football. In Taylor’s early days at Mandurah, a coastal town about 100km south of Perth, football hardly got a look-in. He represented his home State, Western Australia, in basketball at under-16 level and played alongside several boys who went on to represent the Perth Wildcats in the National Basketball League. His mother had started the local basketball competition, and Taylor was a fanatic. And if it was not basketball it was motorbikes and motocross contests that grabbed the young man’s interest. In fact, BT did not play competitive football until he was into his teens. Just two years later he was in the WA Teal Cup team, and soon after that, at the age of 16, he was wooed by Richmond. Football offered opportunities that basketball could not, so it was football that won out. In the 12 years that followed he enjoyed a highly successful and at times controversial League career that saw him become only the fourth player in Collingwood’s history to kick 100 goals in a season, and then later one of its most well-known media stars. “It was every kid’s dream in Western Australia to play in the VFL,” he said. “In fact it wasn’t even a dream for me. It was too far beyond a dream to be involved in the competition over here (Victoria).” When Taylor came across in 1979 to join Richmond’s under-19s, he did so amid the sort of publicity usually reserved for established interstate stars rather than 16-year old kids who had only been playing footy for a couple of years. He struggled to settle in at first, eventually making his debut in 1980 (where he was towelled up by the great Bruce Doull). It wasn’t until 1982 that he became a regular senior player, kicking more than 70 goals from 15 games alongside star full-forward Michael Roach. But he injured himself in the last game of the year and could not take his place in the second semi-final team, then was passed over for selection in the Grand Final. Taylor was shattered. He struggled with injuries in 1983, then was again in and out of the Tiger line-up through 1984. The frustration was becoming too much. The Magpies had a gaping hole at full-forward and, already engaged in a recruiting war with Richmond, thought nothing of luring “Barge” to Victoria Park for season 1985 to join his ex-Tiger teammates David Cloke and Geoff Raines. He was so keen for regular game time that he actually accepted less money to join the Pies. The move worked wonders. BT kicked 80 goals in that first season, playing under Bob Rose, and Collingwood fans had another full-forward to idolise. Collingwood took to BT as if he had been black and white all his life. It was not just that he kicked goals; it was the way he kicked them, with big marks and more than a touch of ‘agro’, that endeared him to Magpie supporters. The burly Taylor stood at 191cm (6ft 2in) and weighed around 101kg (15st 121b) at his peak, making him a difficult man to shift. He was a master at using his ample frame to out-position his opponents, or to keep them from the ball. Like Gordon Coventry, Taylor was particularly adept at using his backside to thwart an opponent’s run at the ball, while taking the mark himself well in front of his body. And, again like Coventry, Taylor’s grip on the ball was vice-like. Whether in one-on-one duels or in packs, Taylor was a near certainty to bring down the ball if he got any sort of purchase on it at all. He could also both leap and lead, especially early in his career, but it was the strong mark under pressure that became the Taylor trademark. The other trait for which Brian Taylor became well known was his temperament. It was both a vice and a virtue. When fired up and playing well he loved to “stick it up” his opponent. Clenched fists, two fingered salutes, contemptuous pats on the back — BT would use them all to let the full back know he was getting beaten. The crowds loved it, BT seemed to thrive on it and it often lifted the team as well. But on other days, when things were not going so well, Taylor’s histrionics seemed only destructive. On his day Taylor was well-nigh unstoppable. He could take marks from any position, outbustle opponents and kick goals from any angle. In such moods he could decimate an opposition, as he did to St Kilda in a game at Victoria Park in 1989 when he kicked seven goals in the first half. There were plenty of those days in 1986, when Brian Taylor became only the fourth player in Collingwood’s history to kick 100 goals in a season. He only just made it, kicking his 100th in the last game of the season after tearing a groin muscle that should have forced him from the field. BT stayed on in the hope of picking up the necessary goal, and after kicking it (courtesy of a soft free kick), limped off almost immediately. He performed consistently in 1987 and 1988 (60 and 73 goals respectively), without quite reaching the heights of 1986. But in 1989 his hold on the position became tenuous, as Leigh Matthews’ preference for mobility and versatility in his players became increasingly obvious. Taylor had never been really quick (though he was much more agile in his early days than most people remember), but the wear and tear on his legs had slowed him down even further. Full-backs knew they could run off him, and tended to exploit that more frequently. Taylor managed only 11 games in 1989, but still kicked 49 goals. By 1990, however, his position had deteriorated further. He was given only limited opportunities, and it was clear he did not fit in with Matthews’ plans. He spent most of the year in the reserves, but even there could not avoid trouble, copping a five game suspension (two for striking and three for abusive language) out of one game. When he returned he forced his way back into the senior side and did enough to hold his spot for the qualifying final against the West Coast Eagles. That game turned out to be Brian Taylor’s last hurrah, but it could so easily have been different. He had four or five shots for goal early in the game and missed all of them, then was taken from the ground during the second quarter. He did not reappear until midway through the last quarter, when the game was slipping away from the Pies. He kicked two crucial goals, including the one that put the team in front. But those last quarter heroics weren’t enough to keep him in the side for the rest of the finals. His VFL career was over. That 1990 season was a difficult one for Taylor. He released a book, his diary of the season, after the Grand Final, and when the project became public knowledge during the year, he found it upset a number of his teammates. There was also the deterioration of his relationship with Matthews. Then, on the last training night before the grand final, Matthews sent Taylor and six or seven others from the training track after only 20 minutes to allow the final squad to train together. Taylor found the incident embarrassing and humiliating, believing that those players should have been allowed to stay longer with the main group, or not been out there at all. He tried to captain-coach with Prahran in the VFA but his knees were shot. Instead he went into the media, going on to become one of the most recognisable faces and voices in the game as a gun commentator with Channel 9, Channel 7, Triple M and 3AW. He probably achieved more fame as a commentator than he did as a footballer, but at Collingwood we still like to think of him as ‘one of ours’. He kicked 371 goals from his 97 games in the black and white, and left a lasting impression on all Magpie fans who watched him rule the goalsquares in the 1980s. – Michael Roberts

Peter McKenna

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:00:05 +0000

In the early 1970s, Peter McKenna was the biggest name in football – and probably the most popular the game had ever seen. This was true pop-star hysteria hitting the Victorian Football League. Young girls would run onto the ground to kiss him before the start of matches. The club was so heavily inundated with requests for photos that they had to print off thousands of them with a pre-prepared signature. He released an autobiography – as only a few others had done before him – produced a couple of pop records that were played on radio, and had a short-lived role co-starring on a Saturday morning TV variety show. It was ‘McKenna Mania’. All of which makes it even more remarkable to recall that, just a few years earlier, many of those same fans who idolised him had been calling for McKenna’s dumping. When recounting Peter McKenna’s career story, many people point to his 12-goal game in the opening round of the 1966 season against Hawthorn as the turning point. But it wasn’t: the goals dried up from the very next week and he was out of the side a few weeks later, dropped to the reserves for the rest of the season after refusing to accept a Collingwood directive not to play in mid-week Teachers College games. Instead it was a much lower-profile performance against South Melbourne two years on that saved a career that was very much at the crossroads. In this way, among others, McKenna was very much like the only man who has kicked more goals in a Collingwood jumper than he has – Gordon Coventry. ‘Nuts’ arrived at Victoria Park late in 1920 but didn’t ‘click’ in VFL football until midway through 1925. McKenna’s career wasn’t quite as slow a burn but it was close: he’d played three-and-a-half full seasons of football before really finding his feet. He had arrived from West Heidelberg YCW in 1965, following a junior career dominated mostly by soccer. His first two seasons were unremarkable, save for two wonderful performances against Hawthorn – five goals in just his third game in 1965, and the even dozen in 1966’s opening round. The return in 1967 was reasonable (47 goals from 16 games) but he struggled again in ’68, missing games through suspension and then being dropped after kicking only four goals in three games. The critics thought him too slow and too fond of playing from behind. He’d even been tried at centre half-back in the seconds. When he was recalled for the Round 9 clash with South Melbourne, Lou Richards summed up the prevailing mood when he branded McKenna as ‘hopeless’. But Lou was left with egg on his face when Peter kicked six that day, six again two weeks later against North Melbourne, then six more against Richmond and seven against Fitzroy. He finished the season with a bag of 11 in the return bout against South. Peter McKenna, goalscoring machine, had arrived. The records that flowed from that point on were phenomenal. He kicked 98 goals in 1969, a staggering 143 in 1970 (still the best ever by a Collingwood player), 134 in 1971, 130 in 1972 and 86 in 1973. He finished his Magpie career with 838 goals from 180 games – an average of 4.65 goals per game, significantly better than Coventry’s 4.24. He won the Copeland in 1970, topped Collingwood’s goalkicking list eight times and the VFL table twice. He set a new League mark of 13 double-figure hauls (his highest was 16 against South Melbourne in 1969) and also kicked at least one goal in 120 consecutive appearances between 1968 and 1974 – a remarkable record that still stands as a testament to his extraordinary consistency. Although the results were jaw-dropping the strategy behind them was simple. McKenna’s game was built on three core components. The first was a wonderful understanding of the game that allowed him to turn a healthy, though not blinding, turn of speed into consistently damaging leads. The second was an almost telepathic understanding with his midfielders: he knew when and where to run, and they knew where to put the ball. And the third was a laser-like right boot: his drop punt kicking was a thing of beauty and he rarely missed from inside 50 metres, no matter how tight the angle. He was more than handy with snapshots, too, but his bread and butter was the lightning lead, safe mark and deadly drop punt. Even today, when goalkicking remains a problematic part of the game, McKenna’s is the name regularly invoked by supporters as the gold standard of the art. McKenna, one of the most modest champions the game has known, has always been quick to pay tribute to work of his teammates upfield. “I had an understanding with the Richardson brothers and Barry Price that was absolutely uncanny, and quite unplanned,” he said after he retired. “When they got the ball I just knew instinctively where to lead, and they seemed to know where to kick it. And they made it easy; their kicking was so good that there was no way you could miss it unless it bounced off your chest.” As the goals flowed, so did the adulation. Every kid sporting a Collingwood jumper to the matches, or in suburban streets, seemed to have a white glossy plastic square bearing a black number “6” on the back. He was more than just popular: instead he was accorded a kind of hero worship and adulation that has been rarely, if ever, seen in our game before or since. He was footy’s first true pop star. If Twitter had been around in the early 1970s, he might have broken the Internet. The young girls running onto the ground for a pre-match peck on the cheek became a regular event. One particularly wet day at Victoria Park, a girl jumped the fence and offered him her umbrella. The records sold well (though McKenna still claims self-deprecatingly that most of them sat in his mum’s garage or the bargain bins at Coles), even if the pop style was less his thing than Irish folk ballads like Galway Bay, which was his go-to song at club functions. About the only thing that didn’t work was his foray into TV, where the Saturday morning time slot proved an insurmountable problem. Still, he was replaced by a stuffed pink ostrich and ‘Hey Hey It’s Saturday’ seemed to do OK without him. The thing that’s often overlooked when analysing McKenna’s popularity is how hard he worked to look after those fans who idolised him. In those days a school teacher by profession, he took great pleasure in fostering his massive following among youngsters. He frequently appeared at functions and clinics conducted by junior clubs, and went out of his way to personally answer fans’ letters, sign autographs, talk to them at schools and in parks, even have a kick with them in the street. Once he even got into trouble for attending a child’s birthday party on the eve of a big game! What makes McKenna’s generosity of spirit even more remarkable is that it existed in the face of unimaginable family tragedy. Late in 1967 he lost his 23-year-old sister, Marie, to an epileptic seizure. Incredibly, he went out and played for Collingwood that afternoon (the heartfelt handshake he received that day from fierce rival Wes Lofts has stayed with him ever since). His father, Kevin, died of diabetes-related causes soon after the 1970 Grand Final. Then his brother, Gerard, also a diabetic, drowned during a diabetic seizure. He was only 29. Through it all, Peter kept kicking goals – and presenting the smiling, good natured public face that had helped make him the most marketable footballer of his generation. He was shattered when dropped for a 16-year-old Rene Kink in the 1973 preliminary final (a moment he still ranks alongside the 1970 Grand Final as the greatest disappointments of his career), but his Collingwood career didn’t end until he suffered a serious kidney injury playing in the reserves in 1975. He spent 1976 in Tasmania, playing footy with a protective guard, and looked likely to return in 1977 until a pay dispute forced him to reluctantly accept a better offer from Carlton. He kicked 36 goals in 11 games there before retiring at the end of 1977 – largely because he couldn’t stand the thought of having to play against Collingwood again. He then headed to the VFA with Port Melbourne and Geelong West. After that he became a much-loved commentator on Channel 7, his partnership with Don Scott on the Sunday Army Reserve Cup matches attracting a cult following. In 1999 he was inducted into the AFL’s Hall of Fame, and his speech that night reminded everyone of the warmth, humility and gentle good humour that has made him one of the most loved people within the football industry. And in 2010, he finally got his reward when he was asked to present Nick Maxwell with the Premiership cup. McKenna later described it as his most treasured moment in football. As a man who gave so much pleasure to so many Magpie fans, nobody had done more to deserve the chance to stand on the dais with Premiership cup in hand. Peter McKenna’s football journey was complete. – Michael Roberts

Ian Brewer

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:59:28 +0000

A highly-talented full-forward, Brewer topped the League’s goalkicking with 73 goals in 1958. He also topped Collingwood’s goalkicking in 1957 with 26 goals. Brewer kicked six goals in the famous mid-1958 clash with Melbourne that attracted the biggest home and away crowd of all time (99,346). His best haul in a game was eight. He played in the famous 1958 flag side and was also in the losing Grand Final side of 1960, but he was still recovering from the after-effects of hepatitis which he caught in 1959 when the club inoculated players against the flu and re-used a needle in the process. He crossed to St Kilda for a season in 1962 but could not get a senior game. Brewer later played for WAFL club Claremont, where he became their leading goalkicker in 1963 and was part of their premiership side in 1964. The following year he kicked 96 goals for Norwood to top the SANFL list.

Des Fothergill

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:58:17 +0000

Sometimes, when talking about players of the past, it is too easy to rhapsodise about their qualities: every player can easily, and perhaps undeservedly, become ‘one of the greats’ when viewed through the rose-coloured glasses of history. But every so often, the raw facts of a player’s career are so jaw-droppingly extraordinary that they render any argument about his greatness redundant. And so it is with Collingwood’s wunderkindof the late 1930s, Des Fothergill. Just consider this: he first played for Collingwood as a 16-year-old in 1937, introduced into a star-studded Premiership team that was on its way to another Grand Final. Despite the big names around him, and despite missing six games, he won the Copeland Trophy in that first season. By the age of 20, he had played four seasons of senior football – and won the Copeland in three of them. In the last of those seasons he also won the Brownlow Medal. In the entire history of the Collingwood Football Club, only the mighty Albert Collier – with one Copeland and a Brownlow – has even gone close to matching that start to a career. No wonder then that, after just Fothergill’s second season, Magpie president Harry Curtis made this bold prediction: “I feel certain that in Des Fothergill, Collingwood has one of the greatest players of all time. In fact, I think he is going to develop into the greatest player Australia has known.” In the end, the only things that stopped Curtis’s prediction coming true were the Second World War, the lure of big money in the VFA and Fothergill’s close friendship with Ron Todd. Des Fothergill started his football life as the best possible advertisement for the club’s famed schoolboy competition that started in the mid-1930s. These were games played between local school teams as curtain-raisers to VFL matches at Victoria Park. Fothergill had been born in Northcote but raised in Preston, and later captained both the cricket and football teams at Collingwood Tech. That school was part of the curtain-raiser competition, and seconds coach Hughie Thomas noticed his domination there – especially after he won the Bruce Andrew Cup in 1935 for best player in the final match between combined schoolboys from Collingwood and Footscray. The next year, aged just 15, Fothergill played under Thomas in the Magpie seconds. Sure enough he won the team’s best and fairest and goalkicking awards, bagging a handful of five-goal hauls along the way. At the same time he was also blitzing them in cricket, already having played with Northcote’s senior XI in district competition The boy was a sporting freak. But some officials, including Jock McHale, still harboured doubts about him, wondering whether his strong-hipped, low-to-the-ground build would make him too slow for senior football. So Fother started the 1937 practice matches in the early games for those considered furthest from senior selection. He starred in one, being best on ground. A few minutes later, he was sent into the second match when another player failed to turn up. Despite playing back-to-back matches without a break, Fother kicked a lazy 10 in the senior match and was best on ground there too. He got his chance six games into the 1937 season – he remains the eighth youngest Collingwood player – and by the end of the year was the club’s youngest-ever Copeland Trophy winner. A year later newspapers were already describing him as ‘the kingpin around which the team revolves’, and he was the club’s best player in the 1938 finals, stunning critics with a trio of outrageous performances: six goals in the semi against Footscray, five in the preliminary against Geelong and four in the Grand Final against Carlton. All this and he’d just turned 18. Years later, Fothergill would come to be likened to a more recent Magpie hero, Peter Daicos. He certainly shared Daicos’s low-slung build, innate understanding of the game, and his ability to create space where none existed, or to twist and turn out of trouble with deft movements – a dip of the shoulder, a little swerve to one side, a fraction of increased speed. He also shared Daicos’s near-perfect kicking and unerring accuracy in front of goal, whether with snap kicks or long, direct shots (he kicked more than 50 goals in five of his six seasons at Collingwood). He played mostly as a half-forward or rover, and wherever he was stationed he was simply magical to watch. But there was nothing ‘showy’ about the way Fothergill played. Not for him the more elaborate and fancy evasive techniques of his equally dangerous teammate Alby Pannam, or the high-flying athleticism of his great friend Todd. Instead there was a quiet, cool, precise, almost ruthless feel to the way Fother would take a game apart. He was perfectly balanced, and played with the unhurried movements of one with time to spare. Like the very best players, he made everything look so damn easy. He wasn’t outrageously quick, but he made up for that with sublime elusiveness. There was no more difficult player to mind in football. He read the play beautifully, and had the happy knack of being able to get on his own when the ball was heading towards him. Hec de Lacy, in the Sporting Globe, branded him ‘the brainiest player in the game.’ “He plays football with a minimum of effort – without a trace of flashness or an atom of selfishness,” he wrote. “His football is effortless – yet to opponents terrifying in its deliberateness. He moves to the seat of the action, acquits himself with a minimum of movement, does his deadly work, then drifts on.” In 1950, Richmond’s Jack Dyer wrote: “He had the uncanny power of seeming to know just where the ball would land. It was amazing – Fothergill even seemed to be waiting under the miskicks! Sometimes he was like twins, even triplets. He seemed to be everywhere at once, and his anticipation was uncanny. I have never seen his equal.” Unfortunately for Collingwood, young Des was also a pragmatist. At Collingwood’s annual meeting in 1939, Camberwell approached him with a huge offer. Rather than just dismiss it out of hand, Fother said he’d think about it. That was a bad sign. At the end of that year, Ron Todd succumbed to an even more generous offer and joined Williamstown. Todd and Fothergill were something of an odd couple – Todd loud and almost brash, Fothergill quiet and shy to an almost ridiculous level – but they became the best of mates, sharing a love of horses, footy and socialising. During the 1940 season, they’d often be seen at local dances and functions together, including many run by the Williamstown Football Club. So it was no surprise when Willy made Fothergill a huge offer just days after he’d won the Brownlow. This time, Fothergill said yes. The Magpies were devastated, but the fans perhaps even moreso. Partly because of his youth and partly because of the thrilling, ultra-fair way he played, Fothergill was the darling of the Collingwood crowds. So there was widespread dismay at his departure. He was, of course, far too good for the VFA, and in his only season there won the competition’s two top awards by a huge margin. Fothergill then joined the army but in 1944, while playing services football in the Northern Territory, badly injured his knee, army doctors later having to remove two pieces of bone. There was major excitement and anticipation around Collingwood when it was announced that Fothergill would be coming back for the opening game of the 1945 season. He was almost a stone heavier, and his knee injury had been widely reported, so expectations were tempered. But Fother kicked five that day, 62 for the season and won the Herald’s award as best player of the season. Next year he went one better, topping the league’s goalkicking table with 63 goals. It had been an extraordinary return. But Fothergill hurt his knee again late in that 1946 season. He tried to go on in 1947 but had to retire after just three games (in which, incidentally, he’d managed to kick five, four and three goals while on one leg). He was still only 26. His cricket was less affected. He made his maiden first class ton late in 1947 and ended up playing 27 games for Victoria, frequently being mentioned as a Test hopeful with his aggressive batting and handy leg-spin. He also played 149 games for Northcote and was named in that club’s Team of the Century. But that mattered little to the Collingwood football fans who had seen the last of their idol. His move to the VFA, the intervention of war and the advent of serious injury all contrived to deprive football of Des Fothergill’s best years. But based on the evidence of his first four seasons, and what he was still able to achieve in his second stint, it seems that Harry Curtis may well have been right: if fate had been kinder, we might well be talking about Des Fothergill as the greatest Collingwood footballer of them all. – Michael Roberts

Ron Todd

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:58:14 +0000

In a ‘sliding doors’ world, we might easily be talking about Ron Todd as the greatest full-forward in the history of football. He certainly had the talent. And the skills. And the teammates around him. But in the end, a couple of momentous ‘what if’ decisions, combined with the Second World War, cost us the chance to find out for sure. Ron Todd’s extraordinary career began at Collingwood in the mid- 1930s, but had its genesis much earlier through the club’s first great full-forward, Dick Lee. Todd was born in Collingwood but grew up in Thornbury. His was a Collingwood family and Ron barracked for the Woods from the age of four, going to all the matches with his father. Ron was really out to see Dick Lee. Lee was a family friend, close enough for young Ron to call him “uncle”, who often came back to the Todds’ place for dinner on Saturday nights. Not surprisingly he became a hero to Ron, who regularly wore to school a Collingwood jumper with No.13 on the back. Lee later said he had seen Todd grow up “almost as an adopted son”. At both Thornbury State School and Northcote High Ron was considered too small for football, and the frequent rejections actually turned him to baseball for a year. A natural sportsman, he was already showing out as a tennis player and cricketer, and was later to become a handy golfer too. But it was cricket where he achieved his greatest sporting success outside football, winning acclaim for his feats as an all-rounder with Northcote. He maintained his interest in baseball for a while after leaving school, but also took up football again — this time with the Heidelberg Railway team. Now he had filled out to the point where he could hold his own as a centreman, and people began to take notice. The next year, 1935, he decided to try his luck with the Collingwood seconds, and that is where his football education really started. Under Jock McHale, Hugh Thomas and Ted Baker (seconds’ captain) he progressed rapidly. So rapidly, in fact, that by the end of that season the 18-year old was in the seniors — even if his first game was spent sitting on the bench. With Gordon Coventry still the best full-forward in the country, Todd had to be content with filling in other positions around the forward and half-forward lines. He used the time to watch and learn from Coventry (even though they were poles apart in playing styles). “I knew that Gordon would have to retire soon, and there and then I made up my mind that I was going to take his place at full-forward,” Todd wrote later. In 1937 he and Coventry formed a lethal forward combination, with the student kicking 62 goals and his mentor 72. That was Coventry’s last season of football, and he left knowing the full-forward post would be in good hands. Todd’s time as an understudy was at an end. Ron Todd was a vastly different player to his predecessor, but just as successful. Although taller than Coventry, he was lighter, more frail in appearance and much more agile. He also tended to roam further from the sticks in search of goals. His pace surprised many defenders. He had some success as a professional runner at country meetings and did well at Stawell in 1940. In teams that included such brilliant small men as Alby Pannam, Des Fothergill and Harry Collier, Todd’s willingness to lead was important. He was also possessed of an amazing leap and a pair of hands which were decidedly sticky. It is arguable if any player in Collingwood history has ever flown for as many ‘speccies’ as Ron Todd: given how few photos were taken at VFL matches at the time, an extraordinary number of great Todd marks were captured. We can only wonder at the countless others that weren’t snapped. Despite the heights he sometimes reached, he was always beautifully balanced when flying for marks, and indeed at most other points in the game as well. His kicking, however, was prone to occasional problems. He was quite a long kick, but sometimes missed relatively easy shots from close in. Some judges said he was careless in lining up and that he laid back on the ball too much when kicking, faults that produced occasional bouts of inaccuracy — most notably in a game against Richmond in 1938 when he took 17 marks but kicked only seven of 22 shots for goal. The mantle of champion goalkicker passed as smoothly from Coventry to Todd as it had from Lee to Coventry. Todd kicked 48 goals in the first six games of 1938 and 120 for the season, including 11 in the preliminary final against Geelong. He improved on his season’s tally by one in 1939, and again notched up 11 in the preliminary final, this time against St Kilda. After 241 goals in the last two seasons of the 1930s, the 1940s looked to be his. And so they were —just not at Collingwood. Prior to the 1940 season, Todd rocked the football world, and especially those elements of it at Collingwood, by crossing to Williamstown in the VFA without a clearance. At that stage holding down a job in the Railways, Todd was becoming increasingly embittered at what he perceived to be the inadequate returns footballers were getting for their labour. Williamstown’s three-year offer, believed to be for £500 plus match payments two or three times that of Collingwood, was simply too good to refuse. As far as Todd was concerned, this was simply a case of a professional sportsman trying to better his lot. To the people at Collingwood it was much more sinister than that. They regarded Todd as a traitor. Nevertheless they rejoiced when he appeared in a practice match in April, his mind apparently changed after lengthy meetings with club secretary Frank Wraith. But their joy was short-lived. Todd had already accepted a cheque from Williamstown as a down-payment and, despite the offer of a refund, the deal could not be undone. He tried to come back again after the war. Todd wrote from Darwin, where he was serving with the RAAF, saying his five years with Collingwood had been the happiest of his life and that he wanted to play with the Pies in 1945. He even made it to a meeting at the club early that year, but was kept waiting so long (apparently because of divisions between officials about whether to take him back) that he felt humiliated and left in disgust. He signed a new contract with Williamstown almost immediately. Collingwood felt it had been betrayed and used to gain Todd a better deal from Williamstown. It expelled Todd from the club and deprived him of “all the privileges of an ex-player”. Todd dominated in the VFA. In his first game he helped Williamstown to 36 goals (fellow transferee “Soapy” Vallence kicked 15) and took, according to newspaper reports, “the most spectacular mark seen at the ground in years”. He kicked a staggering 188 goals in 1945 — the year he might have been back at Collingwood — and had totalled 672 VFA goals by the time he retired at the end of 1949. He used money from the Williamstown stint to set up a sports store business and later took over a hotel in Lorne. After leaving footy he ran the hotel for about 15 years before moving to Queensland. In 1963 Todd applied for, and was granted, social club membership at Collingwood. After returning to the fold, he took a keen interest in the past players’ association, and his home at Tugun, between Surfers Paradise and Coolangatta, became a regular haunt for comrades from his playing days. No bitterness remained over his premature departure from Collingwood, a fact reinforced by the deep sadness felt by former teammates and opponents when he died early in 1991. He was inducted into the Collingwood Hall of Fame in 2011 and the Australian Football Hall of Fame in 2017. Whenever discussions are held about the game’s great full forwards, Ron Todd’s name will be among them. In the only two seasons he spent solely at full-forward, he averaged more than six goals a game. That’s better than any of the other great full-forwards – Coventry, Lee, Lockett, Dunstall, Hudson, Coleman. And he was just 22 when he played his last game for Collingwood. As his first captain, Harry Collier, said once: “Had he stayed at Collingwood I think he could have been the best of them all.” – Michael Roberts

Gordon Coventry

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:57:21 +0000

When the immortal Dick Lee finally ended his glorious 17-year career in 1922, Collingwood fans were justifiably spooked. How could they possibly replace the man who was not only the game’s greatest forward but also one of the best footballers of all time? Where would they find someone who could be even half as good as Dick Lee? Remarkably, Lee’s replacement was right under their noses. And as it turned out, he would go on not only to break almost every one of Lee’s records but also to set new marks that would stand for generations. But at that time, if you had told any Collingwood supporter that that man would be Gordon Coventry, you would have been laughed out of the room. And with good reason, for Gordon was nobody’s idea of an instant hit in league football. He had been in the system for three years when Lee retired and was still struggling to find his feet two years after that. Only Collingwood’s great faith in him – and almost infinite patience – gave him the chance to go on to become the game’s greatest goalkicker. Indeed, so prolific did Gordon Coventry become that a number of newspapers would end up describing him as “the Don Bradman of football”. But back when he started, in 1920, those sorts of accolades and achievements would have seemed inconceivable. For Gordon Coventry’s start in league football was hesitant and unconvincing, to put it mildly. Gordon – or ‘Nuts’ as he was known to his family because of his disproportionately large head as a child – came from Diamond Creek. He was invited to train with the Pies as an 18-year-old late in 1920, the week after Magpie officials had secretly watched him in his local team’s Grand Final. Coventry, the archetypal quiet, unassuming country lad, was gobsmacked. When he arrived at Victoria Park the next Tuesday afternoon, he was struck by such a fearful bout of nerves that he actually turned around and decided to head back home to the comfort of his parents’ orchard. In the end it was only the fear of how much stick he’d cop from his brothers for ‘piking it’ that led him to change his mind again. “I decided I would sooner face what was in store for me at Collingwood than go home and tell my brothers that I was too nervous to enter the dressing room,” he wrote in theSporting Globe years later. That first training session was awful. It left Gordon completely demoralised, as he realised how far out of his depth he was. But Collingwood chose him at centre half-forward that weekend against St Kilda anyway – where he managed only a solitary kick (it was, of course, a goal). “I saw hundreds of lads having their first League games thereafter, but none was so inglorious as mine,” he would say later. At this stage of his career Coventry could mark and kick but not much else. He had good hands and was accurate in front of goal but he was slow, awkward and cumbersome. He was dropped after his debut, and told secretary Ern Copeland that he didn’t think he was good enough, but the Magpies persisted anyway. He returned to the team for the last home-and-away game and kicked three goals, then kicked nine more in three finals – including a five-goal haul against Carlton in the preliminary final, a performance that became famous for the fact that he also lost five teeth in the process, courtesy of Carlton’s hard-hitting defender Paddy O’Brien. He backed up from that physical hammering with three more goals in the Grand Final. This should have been the start of a straightforward path to legend status – but it wasn’t. He managed only 19 goals from 11 starts in his first full season, and a more promising 42 in his second. But then he went backwards – 36 goals in 1923 and 28 in 1924. Jock McHale kept working with him, and Coventry himself worked hard to improve his agility, his kicking and to reduce the size of his turning circle. The Magpies were convinced that there was somethingthere. But many, many fans were equally convinced that the big, hulking lad with the giant hands would never make it. He was quiet, shy and easy-going, and his play lacked aggression. Critics often interpreted this as a lack of determination or commitment. Some even thought he was lazy. The 1925 season started in similar vein, and he was dropped after the opening game. This was make-or-break time. And when he returned a couple of weeks later, everything began to click. Marks began to stick, a few good performances boosted his confidence – including 23 goals in one four-week patch in the middle of the season – and ‘Nuts’ was on his way. Never has a football club’s patience with one player been so richly rewarded. Before long he would be breaking every goalkicking record in the game. Gordon’s game was based around a strong physique, a vice-like pair of hands, superb judgement and a brilliant understanding of how to use his body to advantage. He was so strongly built – huge shoulders, a big rump, massive hands – that he was almost impossible to move when in front, and he was one of the first to perfect the technique of taking marks with his hands stretched out in front while pushing his ample posterior back into his trailing opponent. It made him almost impossible to spoil. He was neither quick nor a high flyer but he didn’t need to be. He wasn’t spectacular but he was prolific and remarkably consistent. He was almost unbeatable in one-on-one contests, and as another avenue developed a jinking, stuttering kind of leading pattern that thoroughly confused opposition defenders and gave him the yard of space he needed. With players like the Colliers, Billy Libbis and Jack Beveridge ahead of him, that was all he needed. He also benefited from a rule change in 1924 that penalised teams that touched the ball last before it crossed the boundary line. Jock McHale saw the extra benefits of playing down the corridor after this rule change, so Collingwood’s game plan became centred around swift movement of the ball down the middle of the ground – long and fast to ‘Nuts’. The result was a feast of goalscoring records. In 1926 he broke the VFL record for goals in a season – which he then broke again and again. In 1929 he became the first player ever to kick 100 goals in a season, a feat he achieved three more times. He obliterated the league record by kicking 16 goals in a game in 1929, then bettered it with 17 the next year. He kicked 100 goals against every VFL team bar one. He kicked 50 or more goals in a record 13 consecutive seasons. He was the VFL’s leading goalkicker six times; Collingwood’s leading goalkicker 16 times. He kicked a record 111 goals in finals games. His final career tally of 1299 goals stood as a league record until 1999. He was also the first VFL player to reach the 300-game milestone, and his final total of 306 games stood as the Collingwood record until Tony Shaw broke it in 1994. The comparisons with Don Bradman were justified. One of the greatest things about Gordon Coventry was that he never changed as a person. He remained humble and ridiculously modest throughout – even refusing to upgrade his boots (he basically used only two or three pairs throughout his entire 18-year career). And he remained a gentle, almost placid presence on the ground – except in 1934 when a Carlton player belted his brother, Syd, and another time in 1936 when he retaliated against a Richmond defender who had persistently hit him on a painful crop of boils that had broken out on the back of his neck. Despite that latter incident being the only report of his career he was suspended for eight weeks — missing the 1936 Grand Final. Football writers and fans alike were appalled at the unduly harsh nature of the verdict, and there was general outrage on his behalf, as well as an outpouring of support for the genial giant. Coventry, true to form, apologised to Collingwood fans for ‘forgetting my good manners’ – and promptly retired. But fortunately he later changed his mind and decided to suit up again in 1937 for what would be his final VFL season, where he kicked 72 goals to win the League’s goalkicking title for the sixth time. That was a much more appropriate note on which to end one of the most celebrated careers in VFL/AFL history. Gordon Coventry’s standing in the game is such that one end of the Docklands Stadium is named after him. He also remains the only Magpie inducted into the AFL Hall of Fame as a player (Jock McHale is there as a coach). Not bad going for a shy kid who was afraid of embarrassing himself in league football. – Michael Roberts

Dick Lee

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:56:35 +0000

Mention the name Dick Lee to any football supporter and it immediately evokes images of freakish leaps, sensational marks and long, accurate kicks for goal. But there is one other quality for which he is less well known, and without which he might have struggled to play more than a few seasons with Collingwood. That quality is courage. Throughout his long and glorious career Lee had to battle with a succession of painful and debilitating leg injuries that would have stopped scores of lesser men in their tracks. But not Dick Lee. Not only did he keep playing but he set standards and records previously considered impossible, and became the benchmark against which other great forwards were measured. And all this on one or one-and-a-half legs! What might he have done on two good legs? His injury problems began in 1908 during a game against St Kilda when one of his teammates accidentally kicked his right shin and tore it open. The shin was horribly split and the wound, poisoned by dye from his socks, simply refused to heal, re-opening almost every week. Often his father, Wal, would remove Dick’s boots after a game to find his socks drenched in blood. Lee himself later confessed that the shin injury was so painful it sometimes reduced him to tears and made him “howl like a kid”. Collingwood tried everything to help its young champion, including having a special steel and leather shinguard made for him by Syd Sherrin. But nothing worked, and every Saturday Dick would have to visit a doctor to have the proud flesh of the wound burned with caustic soda. Finally, some five years later, a doctor tried a special way of cauterising the wound and succeeded in closing it. Nevertheless the injury still worried Dick and, even late in his life, would sometimes cause him to limp and wince with pain. His other problem, perhaps even more serious, involved a series of injuries to his right knee which caused him to miss several years of football. He did it twice in 1911 and actually retired in 1912, believing he would not be able to play again. Fortunately his surgeon, Dr Zwar, disagreed with Lee’s diagnosis and the game’s greatest forward was back on the field for the last few games of 1913 — the beneficiary of football’s first known cartilage operation. For the rest of his career he continued to suffer leg problems which at different times threatened to bring a premature end to his playing days. But he carried on until 1922, playing 230 games and kicking a then record 707 goals. Dick’s father, Wal, was Collingwood’s most famous trainer. He had been a player with the old Britannia club, but was suspended for three years due to allegations of cheating during his goal umpiring in a game one day when he was injured and was filling in as an official. Wal always maintained his innocence but took up training during his enforced absence and never returned to the playing field. Wal’s son, Dick, was actually christened Walter Henry, but from the moment a female family friend exclaimed “Oh, he’s a little dickie bird” almost everyone referred to him by what became his de facto Christian name. He virtually grew up around the club and Dick Condon, one of Collingwood’s greatest players, took a particular liking to him. Lee’s talents soon became evident. At the Eastern Market in those days there were football kicking contests. The distances involved were not great but the goals were narrow and the angle often acute. Wal later recalled that Dick took great delight in visiting the market and trying his skill. “He never failed to bring me home two or three shillings worth of cigarettes” said Wal. “Finally they barred him.” His marking was also exceptional, even at an early age, and it was impossible not to notice his wonderful spring and anticipation. But it was not until the age of 13 that he played his first match. He then joined the St Joseph’s team where he quickly became a star. His performances at St Joseph’s soon attracted attention, and he was given a run with Collingwood Juniors. When Collingwood played Richmond in a charity game for the Lady Talbot Milk Fund, the 15-year old Lee was chosen to wear the black and white. The following year he began training with Collingwood, but was sent back to the now-defunct Rose of Northcote to play. He returned to Victoria Park to play the last 12 games of the season, kicking 35 goals to win the club’s goalkicking. One of the most distinguished careers in Collingwood’s history had begun. Lee wasted no time in establishing himself as the competition’s top forward, topping the League goalkicking in each of his first four full seasons. In those early seasons he actually had a roving commission around the ground, spending time following the ball and getting into position near the goals when he anticipated a forward thrust. His kicking proved just as reliable as it had at the Eastern Market, and his marking improved even further — thanks to marking contests held at training using a swinging ball suspended from the roof. With his natural talents and rapid development, Dick soon was recognised as the greatest forward the game had seen. Many did not worry about limiting that accolade to forward play; they just said he was the best footballer they had ever seen. Lee was only 175cm (5ft 9in) tall and weighed 71.5kg (list 41b). But he was finely developed, and used his weight superbly to unbalance opponents at critical stages. He was also quite quick, and renowned for his lightning leads. His ground play and ball-handling were first-rate, his judgement and anticipation uncanny and his elusiveness frustrating for defenders. In an interview in The Sporting Globe in the 1940s Richmond’s great Vic Thorp, regarded by many (including Dick himself) as the greatest full-back prior to Jack Regan, had no hesitation rating Lee as the best of full-forwards. “He was more than just a good footballer,” Thorp wrote. “He was above everything else a really quick thinker. An opponent had to be on the watch not only for his dazzling leads but for the dozen and one tricks he was likely to spring … As a footballer he was just outstanding — he might have played anywhere on the field, for his anticipation and sense of the game was uncanny.” Despite all the fancy manoeuvres, Dick Lee’s real strengths lay in the basics of the game — marking and kicking. But in Lee’s hands, there was nothing “basic” about either. His place kicks were legendary, and phenomenally accurate from even the tightest angle. Sometimes he even took off his boot to kick, most notably after that famous mark reproduced so frequently (which Lee, incidentally, did not consider his best). And his marking was awesome. Even if he appeared out of position he could swing into the air from any angle and snatch the ball away. Lee became a favourite of the crowds and a hero to thousands of young boys (Ron Todd among them). As the ball flew towards him and he set himself for a mark, the crowd would chant “Dick! — Dick! — Dick-e-e-e!”, the last cry rising to a crescendo as the great man sprang and grabbed the ball. A hush would then descend on the ground as, with a real sense of the dramatic, he carefully placed the ball for his kick. A lot of it was theatre, but the crowds loved the show. As the goals mounted, so too did the records. He topped the VFL goalkicking eight times and the club’s 11. He played in each of the first four ANFC carnivals, and was an automatic selection for Victoria throughout his career. His career goal average of 3.07 is not high compared to some latter-day forwards, but these were times when four or five goals from a team could often win a game. And he was remarkably consistent, rarely failing to score. Indeed, Lee scored at least one goal in every one of the 97 matches he played between round eight of 1910 and round 10 of 1918. For all his achievements Dick Lee remained a modest, self-effacing man. He had a slow, deliberate way of speaking and his nature was said to be so retiring as to border on nervousness. That might explain why he avoided the captaincy for so long, though he did lead the team — against his wishes — in 1920 and 1921. He strongly advocated “clean living”, saying he never touched alcohol and always kept regular hours. Employed at a local boot factory, he could sometimes be found having a kick with local kids in the street at lunchtime. To many in Collingwood, Dick Lee was revered as a god. When the Coronation Honours were announced in 1911, a lad on a train was heard to exclaim: “What? Dick Lee not knighted!” Lee avoided publicity throughout his career, but his deeds ensured he was never out of the news. He retired at the end of the 1922 season, fittingly kicking a goal with his last kick in VFL football. After his retirement he continued serving as a vice-president for 17 years, in two terms. It is hard now to fully appreciate the impact Lee had on football in the first 20 years of this century. He added an artistry and adventure to forward play that had never been seen previously. He attracted crowds that watched only him, as Coleman was to do in the 1950s, and he inspired thousands of youngsters to footballing heights they had never dreamed were possible. It is often said many of football’s early heroes could only have shone in their own period, when the style of play suited them. That is not true of Dick Lee, for his genius was such that he would have been a champion in any era. – Michael Roberts

Ted Lockwood

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:56:22 +0000

A busy forward who was a slippery customer and always dangerous around goal, Lockwood was said to be a level headed player, but in 1901 he and his twin brother were dropped from the Geelong side because of irregular attendance at training. In 1902, while playing for Collingwood, he was said to have played a better game against his old club than he ever had for it. With 35 goals he topped the League goalkicking in 1903 and was a member of the premiership side for the second successive year. He represented Victoria in 1902.

Archie Smith

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:55:56 +0000

In a club that is famous for its great forwards, Archie Smith is the champion forward that few Magpie fans have heard about. That is purely because he played in the club’s earliest days – from its very first game in 1892. But his record stands comparison with any of the other great Collingwood spearheads, if not in total goals scored then at least in accolades achieved. He topped the club’s goalkicking seven times (once jointly) – the same as Peter McKenna and Sav Rocca, and behind only Gordon Coventry (16) and Dick Lee (10). He also topped the VFL goalkicking in 1898, and finished in the top five on five other occasions. And if his career goals tally seems small when compared to the others, you need to remember how scarce goals were back in the 1890s: teams regularly managed to score less than a handful of goals per game. In that context, Archie Smith was one of the greatest goalkickers – and players – of his era. He is our VFA games and goals record-holder, with 87 games and 86 goals between 1892-96. Add those to his VFL-era record and he has a combined total of 176 games and 205 goals for Collingwood. To have clocked up so many games, and averaged more than a goal each outing, in that era is remarkable. Archie – better known as ‘Snapper’ – came to Victoria Park from Richmond in time for Collingwood’s debut season in 1892. He played in the first game against Carlton, named in a forward pocket, and was a permanent fixture from then on. He was durable (despite a bandy-legged gait), rarely missing games other than through suspension, and immediately established himself as one of the most consistent and dangerous forwards in the game. He was actually a good all-round player – aggressive and hard-working, neatly-skilled, good at passing, agile and team-focused. During the 1893 season he was often thrown onto the ball or into defence, and The Herald noted his success in different positions. “Smith played back, forward and followed for the Magpies and plainly showed that he is a good all-round man,” the paper said. “Kicked two goals when forward.” But as useful as he could be around the ground, it was closer to goals where he posed the biggest threat. And by 1894 that threat became real: three times that season he bagged three goals in a game, after one of which he was carried shoulder-high from the field. Then in the last game of the year against Carlton he bagged a phenomenal SIX (the club still has the ball used in that game) – a staggering effort.

Archie Smith’s six-goal football from the 1894 season

The bottom line is he was just great at goalkicking, with tight angled shots a particular specialty: he won a goalkicking competition in 1895 against some of his VFA contemporaries with five goals from six attempts. “Smith was fast, cool and clever forward, and his dextrous passing did much to secure the win,” wrote The Australasian in 1894. “He is a very hard man to dispose of, and as busy as a bee. Smith would be invaluable in any team for he not only kicks goals but works like a tiger, and is never beaten. [There is] no more determined or aggressive little battler in any team. He is every inch a footballer, and who possesses the heart of a lion.” “Little Smithy played for all he was worth, and came in for a big share of congratulations for his sturdy work and point-getting,” wrote The Mercury a few years later. “He is a genuine grafter, never missing a show, and excelling in his lightning snapshots. It was a treat to watch him when the ball came his way. As nimble as a chicken, Archie invariably dodged his opponents and had his kick, proving he is the right man in the right place.” Archie finished third in the competition goalkicking in 1894 with 25 goals, then second the next season with 27, after which most newspapers nominated him among the best forwards in the competition. The next two seasons were a little quieter – only 12 goals in 1896 and 15 in 1897 – but he bounced back to become the first Magpie to win the VFL goalkicking in 1898, with a total of 31 goals. “Smithie, like a cat on hot bricks, was here, there, and everywhere, trying his snap shots from every angle on the ground,” was a typical comment from The Mercury that year.

Archie Smith shoots for goal against Geelong in 1901

Then, to everyone’s surprise, he retired. The club’s Annual Report said the loss of the ‘model clubman’ would be severely felt, both on the field and at committee level, where he had also served. At the AGM early in 1899 president William Beazley presented him with what was described as “a substantial memento of esteem” (a purse of sovereigns). But three weeks into the season, and after much badgering from the club, he reappeared! “Mr. Smith would, doubtless, personally desire to rest on his laurels,” the club noted later, “but it is in a spirit of loyalty that he has again donned the black and white. Such unselfishness is to be highly commended, and should serve as an object lesson to those players who seek personal ends rather than the prestige of their clubs.” ‘Snapper’ simply took up where he left off, playing consistently good football. He did so right up until his penultimate season of 1901, when he kicked 30 goals and finished fourth in the VFL goalkicking table. He played a few more games in 1902 and then hung up the boots for good. Archie Smith remained a presence around the club until he died in the early 1960s, a lasting reminder of the club’s earliest days. Even then, it’s likely his achievements were underrated, although not by anyone who had seen him play. He was a true champion of the Collingwood Football Club – and our first truly great forward. – Michael Roberts

Charlie Pannam Snr

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:55:54 +0000

Even in a club famous for its remarkable family ties, the Pannam/Richards clan stands out for a series of records that are unlikely ever to be equalled. And Charles Henry Pannam was the man who started it all. Charlie played 229 games, kicked 111 goals, won a League goalkicking trophy and captained the club. His younger brother, Albert, played 28 games between 1907-09. Charles bore five sons, two of whom proved just as adept at VFL football. Charlie Jnr – the first father-son in Collingwood history – was regarded as one of the best centreline players of his day while the youngest of the brood, Alby, played 181 games, kicked 453 goals and, like his father, captained the club. One of Charlie Snr’s daughters also came to the party, producing two sons – Lou and Ron Richards, you may have heard of them – who between them contributed another 393 games and 537 goals. In all, the various members of the Pannam/Richards dynasty played a total of 928 games, kicked 1125 goals, produced three club captains, won eight club goalkicking awards, one League goalkicking award, one Copeland Trophy and were a part of 19 Grand Final sides, for eight Premierships. It is a staggering record. Charlie Pannam Snr would have had no idea what he was starting when he began his Collingwood career way back in 1894. At that stage he was just another local kid hoping to make it with the municipality’s newly formed team. Charlie was born at Daylesford in 1875. Melbourne beckoned the Pannams while Charlie was still young, and by the early 1890s he was making a name for himself with the local Collingwood sides. In 1891 a “Panham” was recorded as playing for the Young Natives’ team, and in 1893 Charlie enjoyed a particularly good season with the Collingwood Juniors, regularly winning praise for his “dashing play”. By 1894 it was already becoming the norm for successful players with the Juniors’ team to cross to the senior side, Jack Monohan having made the transition the previous year. But it was North Melbourne and Richmond who made the first approaches to young Pannam, and one newspaper reported in April of 1894 that he would be “a certain starter” for North that season. Pannam’s first game for the year was in a combined junior representative side against Essendon, where he did well. That seems to have sparked Collingwood’s late interest, and they promptly trumped North and hurried Pannam into a black-and-white jumper for the opening round of the year. From that point on, he was to be a near-permanent fixture in the Collingwood line-up. He missed only a handful of games throughout his 14 years at Collingwood, and at one point went seven years without an absence, along the way becoming the first player to play more than 100 VFL games. From that first season, Pannam impressed observers with his pace, cleverness and skills. The Sporting Judge, for example, noted that he “dashed down the ground like a sheet of lightning”. The Argus praised his aerial skills: “There are few men of his own size whom he cannot beat in getting the ball in the air, but he is tricky — in more ways than one,” it said. Almost all observers were taken by how well he delivered the ball. Former teammate Ted Rowell said Pannam was a “past master” in wing play. “He was most consistent, and especially good in finals,” said Rowell. “He usually disposed of the ball with a beautiful fast stab to a teammate.” This was particularly so after the club’s historic journey to Tasmania in 1902. The opposition in one game was so weak that the Collingwood players began toying with them. Dick Condon started using peculiar, short spearing kicks that he would pop just over the heads of his opponents to a teammate. Pannam and Teddy Rowell joined in, and the stab kick was born. After a rough sea voyage back to Melbourne the Collingwood players, many of whom were still seasick, had to head straight to Geelong. They used the new kick they had developed in Tasmania, and ran rings around the Pivotonians. They continued to use and refine the kick (with Condon, Pannam and Rowell as its best exponents), and other teams found they could not cope with the speed and the system of this new style of play. Collingwood was not beaten for the rest of the year, and won the 1902 and 1903 flags. The game was never again the same. Pannam was vital to the team’s success during those back-to-back years. At that stage he was still playing on the wing, where he had spent most of his career and came to be regarded as one of the most brilliant footballers of his time. There he formed part of a couple of crack centreline combinations, firstly with Charlie ‘Buffer’ Sime and Bill Strickland and secondly with Sime and Fred Leach. Both Pannam and Leach were renowned as “wanderers”, something that was regarded as very risky in those days of strict position play and only to be tried by either the best or the most foolhardy of players. As Pannam began to slow down he moved to the forward line, where his clever skills, goal sense and uncanny anticipation brought him 86 goals in three seasons, including 38 to win the League goalkicking title in 1905 (the same year in which he was made captain). It was a goal sense that was to re-emerge 30 years later through youngest son Alby, then again through grandson Lou, neither of whom was exactly shy when it came to shooting at the big sticks. Throughout his career, Charlie became famous for his pace, skills, evasiveness and feisty, cheeky nature. He was hauled before the VFA or VFL committees several times to answer misconduct charges. But it seems he got away with his little tricks far more frequently than he was caught. In 1903, “Observer” in The Argus bemoaned Pannam’s ways: “It is a singular coincidence that Pannam exasperates every man who plays against him with his sly and spiteful tricks, yet watches the umpire so carefully that he never gets into trouble,” he wrote. This “rat cunning” also manifested itself in the family’s subsequent generations. Off the field Charlie spent virtually all his working life at the old Yorkshire Brewery. In The Kiss of Death, Lou said his grandfather “wasn’t one of the hardest workers”. Ron Richards remembered old Charlie as a warm, kind man who frequently gave his grandsons sixpence. After three years as Collingwood’s goalsneak Pannam again donned the guernsey for the 1907 season. He lasted just two games before retiring, taking up the job of coaching the Ballarat team in their annual game against the League. Later that season he transferred to Richmond (then in the VFA) as captain. He saw them into the VFL in 1908 but later left when he became upset that he was overlooked for the coaching job that went to his old teammate Dick Condon. In 1909 and 1910 he coached at Preston, and eventually got his chance to coach Richmond during that club’s turbulent 1912. But it’s his time at Victoria Park that everyone remembers. Pannam left a legacy at Collingwood richer than anyone could have imagined, one that stretched well into the 1950s. Every Magpie fan should be grateful he chose us over North Melbourne way back in 1894. – Michael Roberts