AFL Hall of Fame – Collingwood Forever

Nathan Buckley

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:01:59 +0000

As a child Buckley constantly moved around the country as his father Ray was a professional football coach after having played as a ruckman for Woodville in the SANFL in the 1960s and 1970s. Buckley rebelled at the age of 14 and gave up footy to play tennis, then his father sent him to Victoria’s Salesian College to rekindle his enthusiasm in a footy environment. By 1991 he was in Port Adelaide’s reserves as an 18 year-old and the following year he had progressed so rapidly that he won the 1992 Magarey Medal. Brisbane had a hold on him and North, Geelong and Collingwood feverishly pursued him with offers of multiple trades. He was Brisbane’s second best and fairest in 1993 – his only season at the club, but it was well-known that he had an escape clause in his contract and Collingwood was over the moon when he joined the Magpies. He overcame the burden of expectation and from his earliest days was central to the Collingwood game plan with strategies built over his magnificent kicking in after behinds were scored. Under state of origin rules he was bound to the Allies team and at times in these games it seemed that he was one of the few men who could build passion about the concept. Collingwood jealously guarded its hottest property and was relieved when he re-signed with the Pies after Port Adelaide had tried to woo him back to Adelaide when his contract ran out at the end of 1996. Similarly at the end of 1999 Collingwood made no secret of the fact that it wanted to sign him for life. Buckley had to work against a public perception in his early years that he was self-centred and arrogant, but to the contrary his coach Leigh Matthews said that early in his career he tried to short-pass too often. Buckley has also admitted that he tried to hide his own feelings of insecurity behind a facade of self-assurance. When rumors were flying in 1993 that he would cross from Brisbane to Collingwood, the Magpie players gave him a hard time when the teams met. As a result Buckley played his worst game for the year. Ironically one of the players giving him a serve that day was Craig Kelly who later became his manager. Even when Buckley became captain of the Magpies in 1999 he realised that he had to tone down his on-field criticism of teammates and remain positive and at the start of 2001 took part in a special leadership course to modify his approach. If the football public needed any reminder that Nathan Buckley was one of the most talented players in the AFL competition it came during the international series played between Australia and Ireland at the end of the 1999 season. Buckley, the captain of Australia, adapted better than any other Australian player to the vagaries of a lighter, round ball. In 1999 Buckley was Collingwood’s leader in more ways than one. Despite missing five games after he fractured a jaw, Buckley was a runaway winner in the club’s best and fairest award and finished equal third in the Brownlow with 20 votes. His powerful kicking, strong and clearcut ball handling and possession winning ability were a constant menace against opposing sides. Buckley was in sensational form for most of the 2000 season, then injured a knee against Port Adelaide in Round 13 and although he missed just the one match, his form tapered. Even so, Buckley’s extraordinary ability to win the ball saw him dominate many games and he eventually polled 18 Brownlow votes, just six behind Melbourne’s Shane Woewodin. He won All Australian honours for a fifth consecutive year and as expected, romped away with Collingwood’s best and fairest for 2000. He was so dominant as a player that the fact he came third in the 2001 best and fairest made news in its own right. Over the summer of 2001-2002 Buckley reduced his weight to 90 kg after having usually played at 95 kgs. He later led the Magpies brilliantly in their narrow 2002 grand final loss to Brisbane. His consolation was a Norm Smith Medal as best on the ground. Buckley had a wonderful 2003 season, culminating in a Brownlow Medal triumph. He polled 22 votes to share honours with Sydney’s Adam Goodes and Adelaide’s Mark Ricciuto. Buckley also led the Magpies to another grand final in 2003, but again they went down to the Lions. The Collingwood star was again selected as an All-Australian in 2004 and he won his sixth Copeland Trophy adding to the best and fairests he won in 1994, 1996, 1998, 1999 and 2000. In 2004 he began fairly well, but a hamstring injury sidelined him for the best part of two months. Despite the setback he still ran seventh in the club championship and was an effective player. The hamstring problems re-occurred early in 2005 and there was even doubt over whether he would continue, but he came back strongly in the second half of the year. By 2006 his role had been modified with more time on the bench and less on the ball, but he remained a potent force and the man to whom Collingwood looked when things were going badly. Buckley retired when it was clear to all that his body was finally wearing down in 2007. After two years in the football media, Buckley became a key cog in Collingwood’s coaching succession plan when, in July 2009, it was announced he would learn the ropes for two years as an assistant to Mick Malthouse before taking the reigns in his own right in 2012. While the intention was for Malthouse to remain as Director of Coaching, he left the club after his coaching tenure ended after the 2011 Grand Final. Buckley led the Magpies into a Preliminary Final in his first year at the helm before guiding his young side into the Elimination Final the following year.

Gavin Brown

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:01:34 +0000

Brown’s commitment to the Collingwood cause made him a favorite at the club. He started as a winger when he came from Templestowe and showed himself to be an absolutely fearless player in all situations. Alongside Gavin Crosisca, Damian Monkhorst and Mick McGuane, he played in the Collingwood under-19s premiership side of 1986 and that was the launching pad for the team that would eventually win the 1990 senior Grand Final. Off the field he was extremely quiet in his early years and thus earned the nickname of “Rowdy”. Brown was a popular and integral part of the 1990 flag team and when he was felled at quarter time it precipitated a huge brawl. He was made skipper in 1994, but struggled in 1995 and 1996 as hamstring injuries restricted him. Talk was rife of other clubs chasing him, but he stayed with the Magpies and continued to serve the club nobly. Just when many were writing him off he made a brilliant response in 1997 and led the Victorian team in his best season for years. In the state game he showed the way to his teammates by totally negating the dangerous Darren Jarman. Over the years much of Brown’s work was not reflected in statistics. His fierce tackling and tenacious work at ground level paved the way for others, and he was considered the ultimate team man. He wasn’t keen on meekly handing over the Collingwood captaincy at the end of 1998, but the club considered it was time to pass the baton to Nathan Buckley. Even Buckley said in mid-season that he had not thought the change necessary and was afraid that change had been made for change’s sake. His performances in 1999 showed that he still had plenty to offer when many thought that his battered body had absorbed enough punishment over the years. He came third in the club best and fairest voting and turned in a year of consistent high quality football. In 1999, despite the side’s struggle at the foot of the ladder, he seemed to thrive on the enthusiasm that was generated by the youngsters around him. His five seasons as captain from 1994 to 1998 would be enough on its own to ensure a place in Collingwood’s Hall of Fame, but he also won the Copeland Trophy as best and fairest on three occasions – 1989, 1994 and 1997- and was twice an All-Australian selection. Ever the ultimate clubman, Brown was a conditioning assistant in 2001 before taking an assistant coaching post from 2002 until the end of 2007. He then led the rebirth of the club’s stand alone VFL team, where he oversaw the development of several 2010 premiership stars before moving to Carlton at the end of the flag campaign. After three years at Princes Park, Brown took up a role as a development coach at North Melbourne ahead of the 2014 season.

Peter Daicos

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:00:59 +0000

The idol of all Collingwood fans in the modern era. Daicos originally was a fanatical South Melbourne supporter, but his family shifted from the South zone and Collingwood recruited Daicos from Preston RSL. He was a star from his first game, against St Kilda. He had 28 possessions (as centreman) in a Collingwood record score of 31.21 (207) to St Kilda’s 3.11 (29). Daicos, with his superb ball skills and elusiveness, won Collingwood’s best and fairest in 1982 and 1988. However, injuries possibly cost him other Copeland Trophies as he had several major setbacks (including a knee reconstruction) in his career. Although Daicos started as a centreman, he soon proved himself uncanny near goals and even played many games at full-forward. He topped Collingwood’s goalkicking in 1981, ’82, ’90 and ’91 and His 97 goals in 1990 was a remarkable achievement considering he was not a specialist full-forward, but played many games in a pocket or on a flank. In 1991 he kicked a personal best of 13 against the Brisbane Bears. Daicos played in the 1990 Collingwood premiership side and represented Victoria in 1981, ’84, ’88 and ’90 before playing his final game in 1993. Born of Macedonian parents in Fitzroy, he quickly became known as the Macedonian Marvel.

Peter Moore

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:00:41 +0000

If Len Thompson redefined the role of ruckman in the mid-to-late 1960s – and he did – then Peter Moore took it to a whole new level just a decade later. Moore stood at 198cm (6ft 6in) and played most of his career between 98.5 and 105kg (15.5-16.5 stone). He cut a lithe figure on the field, and could run like a deer. He was quicker and more mobile than Thompson, and could leap in a way that previously had only been the province of smaller men. He could kick or handball well on either side of his body, and his ball-handling skills would have done a smaller player proud. He was never the skilled tap ruckman that Thommo was, but then again this was a man who had spent much of his first few League years at full-forward or centre half-back. Peter Moore was simply a stunning natural athlete who also happened to be outstanding at football. The results, for a few years at least, were breathtaking. Moore’s natural athleticism had been apparent from an early age. At school he could run and jump with the best, and he played basketball for a Victorian under-14 team. But his footy skills were ordinary, and in his first taste of competitive footy (Eltham under-13s) he was consigned to a second-string team. But his game developed to the point where, just a couple of years later, he was playing decent footy for Eltham under-15s on Sundays and the under-17s on Saturdays. He was inconsistent, but the talent was beginning to show. Collingwood approached Moore when he was only 14, but his mother thought he was too young — a decision that was to embarrass him some years later. One day, when the senior Eltham team decided they needed a full-forward, they looked to Moore to fill the breach. He starred — but paid a price. He played only half a dozen or so games, and kicked seven or eight goals in most of them. That was enough to make him realise he could compete against men, and that perhaps he did have the ability for a shot at the VFL. But his opponents soon realised that Moore was just a babe in football terms, and the back of his head suffered. He was frequently knocked out in his short stint with the seniors, and when he began to experience headaches and blurred vision, the doctors ordered him away from football fields for the rest of the season. The next year he decided to have a crack at Victoria Park. Even though he was seriously intimidated by his surroundings, and the presence of childhood heroes like Thommo, he still ended the practice matches being named on the senior list. During the jumper presentation, coach Neil Mann innocently told the assembled onlookers how Collingwood had tried to get Moore down earlier but had been baulked by his mother: Moore was ribbed about it for weeks. Moore spent most of 1974 in the reserves, finishing second in the best and fairest count. He did manage to play four senior games at the end of the year, three of them on the bench, and did enough to win the trophy for best local recruit. Over the next two seasons, Moore played mostly senior football, but did not really consolidate his spot or make one position his own. He spent time at centre half-back, in the ruck and in the forward line. He often showed potential but lacked consistency, and it was only when Tom Hafey arrived on the scene in 1977 that it all came together. Hafey had seen Moore play during one of his sojourns forward, and obviously liked what he saw. The idea of a big man in the goal square fitted well into Hafey’s game plan, and he had no hesitation in nominating Moore for the post. The result was two years of exciting football, dotted with some spectacular marks (including a Mark of the Year contended over Mike Fitzpatrick in 1978) and 133 goals. Moore soon became Collingwood’s new match-winner, and the fans warmed to his play. As the ball would come into the forward line, the crowd would begin to “buzz” in expectation of another huge leap or a strong mark. Although his kicking was initially inaccurate, hours of practice with Ron Richards paid off and vastly improved his rate of return. In 1979, with Len Thompson having been shunted off to South Melbourne, Moore moved into the ruck. With the confidence born of a couple of years of regular and successful League football, Moore dominated ruck contests for the next few seasons. He won the Brownlow Medal in 1979 and finished fourth in 1980 (a year in which he still maintains he played the better football). He also won the Copeland Trophy in both years. Moore’s natural athleticism, his great spring and sure hands were just as potent weapons in the ruck as they had been up forward. He was not a great palmer of the ball, but some of his thumping punches from centre bounces were as good as a kick. His natural fitness allowed him to run all day, and his pace, mobility and quick recovery almost gave Collingwood an extra ruck-rover. In 1981, Moore’s outstanding efforts were further rewarded when he was entrusted with the captaincy. And while he became a more rounded, team-focused player as a result, and finished third in the Brownlow again, by the end of the year things had begun to go horribly wrong. Moore played in the 1981 Grand Final with a torn hamstring when he was clearly unfit. Moore, Hafey and the selectors all copped plenty of criticism after the Pies lost the game, and Moore was quick to take responsibility for the decision. But 1982 was even worse. The bond between Hafey and his players eroded, the team lost nine of its first 10 games and everything pretty much fell apart. Hafey, still remarkably popular with the fanbase, was sacked. And Moore was portrayed in some sections of the media as having played a significant role in that decision. With morale at its lowest ebb in years, the team losing and some fingers unfairly being pointed at him, Moore became disillusioned. At the end of the year, faced with a big money offer from Melbourne, he left. And while he played well at Melbourne, well enough to win a second Brownlow, he never quite hit the heights he had with Collingwood. At his best, Peter Moore was a thrilling, unstoppable force who was a star in one of the Magpies’ strongest eras. The slightly messy end to his time at the club seems thankfully consigned to history – especially now that his precociously talented son Darcy has started to forge his own path here. And that has left us with untainted memories of one of this club’s most exciting players. – Michael Roberts

Wayne Richardson

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:00:09 +0000

One of the problems with making a sensational debut is that you’re forever going to be measured against that first performance. And for some players, that first game is as good as it gets. But not for Wayne Richardson. The football world was in awe after his debut against Richmond in Round 4 of 1966. The WA-born rover amassed more than 30 touches in that first game, and also kicked three goals. By season’s end he had kicked 37 goals, including one haul of six and another of five, finished fourth in the Copeland Trophy and been named not just the club’s best first-year player but, in the eyes of most critics, the best rookie in the whole competition. And that was just the start. He would go on to become one of football’s great accumulators, regularly getting 25-30 or more possessions in games – and almost always using them well. The goalkicking prowess he showed on debut would remain a staple of his game too: in the end he would finish his career with 323 goals, alongside two Copeland trophies, three other second place finishes, a swag of other awards and honours and a games total that was at the time the second highest in Magpie history. Not bad for a guy who came to Collingwood from a small wheat and sheep town about 250km east of Perth called Trayning. Wayne was at that stage just 17, and had been transferred to Trayning with the Bank of New South Wales. The Richardson family was well known in West Australian football circles, especially around Fremantle. Wayne’s father Arnold was a top player with South Fremantle in the 1930s, and his mother was on the social committee at the same club. An odd trail of connections led Magpie recruiters (most notably Harry Collier) to make the trek to Trayning. They liked what they saw. Richardson was happy to move east. But a messy and lengthy impasse developed between East Fremantle (to whom Wayne was zoned), South Fremantle (who Wayne would rather have played with), the WAFL and Collingwood. The West Australians blocked Wayne’s clearance. Richardson was already in Melbourne and played in the Magpies’ 1965 practice matches, but his many pleas for a clearance fell on deaf ears in the west. In the end he had to sit out the entire season, training all the while but only once playing — in a mid-year practice game in Bendigo. Late in 1965 Wayne successfully appealed to the Australian National Football Council and became free to start preparing for his 1966 debut. And when it finally, finally, came, he was the talk of the VFL. Over the next 13 years Richardson reigned as one of the premier rovers in the competition. He was a sure ball-handler, had superb skills on both sides of his body and used the football perfectly – a brilliant passer, a long punt kick when needed and uncanny around goals. He was not particularly fast but read the game beautifully and also developed an uncanny understanding with his number one ruckman Len Thompson. They became one of the most feared and most consistent ruck-and-rover duos in the League (and often for Victoria too). Richardson was a phenomenal possession-gatherer — and consistently so. Week-in, week-out he would win more kicks and handpasses than anyone else on the ground, all in his own, unobtrusive way. Ironically, that was part of his problem. He was almost too consistent for his own good. It was all done so regularly, and with such little fuss, that some Collingwood people took him for granted. Some of his former teammates certainly thought so. “I have never believed that Wayne got the credit he deserved,” said Peter McKenna. “He was just so consistent. Everyone took it for granted that he was always there, but they probably forgot or didn’t notice what an amazing job he was doing.” Barry Price shared the same view. “I believe a lot of people took him for granted, because every week he would get his 30-plus possessions no matter what the opposition,” he said. “And he always used the ball so well.” Richardson’s consistency extended not just to the quality of his performances but also the frequency of them. He hated missing games through injury or illness, and at one stage played more than 140 in succession. To miss so few games is not just a matter of luck; it also requires the courage and mental toughness to play with, or quickly overcome, injuries. Richardson had both qualities in abundance. With his courage, skill and consistency — and a lively, outgoing personality that made him one of the most popular players at the Club — it was no surprise when he was appointed captain late in 1971 to replace the beleaguered Terry Waters. He held the position until the end of 1975, when the pressures of the business he had started the previous year began to impact on the time he could devote to football. The 1976 season was a disaster. After just two games of the season both Wayne and his brother Max were dropped to the reserves — largely at the instigation of the committee rather than the coach and selectors. Wayne had heard about his demotion just hours after the previous Saturday’s game, from a source in the boardroom. When the press contacted him for a reaction to his dumping he claimed some committeemen had it in for him. He also criticised the team’s training methods and accused the president, Ern Clarke, of selecting the side. The comments, he says, were made in passing. But when they were splashed all over the back pages of Melbourne’s newspapers they looked bad — and he was made to pay the price. At a special meeting on the following Saturday morning he was suspended for four weeks and, in a peculiar move, not even allowed within the confines of Victoria Park. Just as oddly, he did not even serve his full suspension. Several weeks later he was back in the seniors — despite not having trained in more than a fortnight. He stayed until 1978, when his frequent appearances on the bench showed him that the end of the road was near. But he was talked into staying with the reserves in 1979, acting as a player and specialist coach, to help with the development of a crop of young players including Tony Shaw, Denis Banks and Peter Daicos. With less pressure he enjoyed the year immensely. He returned again in 1986, joining as a board member after the New Magpies years and serving until 1994. His son Mark also forged a decent career of his own. Trayning is a long, long way from Victoria Park and the MCG. But Magpie fans will always be grateful that club officials of the day took the punt and made the trek to check out the promising kid they’d been told about. In Wayne Richardson, they came back with one of this club’s truly great players, and greatest contributors. – 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

Des Tuddenham

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:59:56 +0000

In his 12 years and 182 games at Victoria Park, Des Tuddenham time and again proved himself to be one of the most inspirational players Collingwood has ever seen. And his importance to the team was never better demonstrated than in the dying minutes of the 1966 second semi-final.

At the 22-minute mark of the last quarter, St Kilda was three points up. “Tuddy” had already kicked four goals that day, but in the remaining minutes of play he simply took the game by the throat. In a six-minute rampage he booted three astounding goals, enabling Collingwood to storm home to a memorable, last-gasp victory. After each one he charged back to the centre of the ground with his fists clenched, urging and exhorting his teammates to keep up the momentum. Anyone not inspired by the sight must have had ice water running through their veins. A triumphant Tuddenham was chaired from the field by his jubilant teammates.

Those few frenetic minutes of football were vintage Tuddenham. They were the perfect example of why fans loved him, teammates were in awe of him and opponents feared him. He epitomised all that was Collingwood, and played a style of game that Magpie legend would have us believe was the province of only those who wore the black and white jumper. As with men such as Harry and Albert Collier, Bob Rose, Tony Shaw and Nathan Buckley, Tuddenham holds a special place in this club’s history as one of its most inspirational players, and as one of its greatest on-field leaders.

Reared on a farm at Ross Creek, 22 kilometres (14 miles) west of Ballarat, Des was born into a footballing environment. He and his six brothers all loved the game and spent countless hours in a paddock near their home, kicking a football around until the light faded and they could no longer see the ball. He started playing football at age eight, when he joined the Ballarat YCW under-14 side. He played for the YCW club for nine years, and climaxed his junior career by winning the local league’s under-19 competition best and fairest award in 1961.

That win set the VFL talent scouts on his trail, but Tuddenham proved an elusive target – because he wanted to play for Collingwood. Ironically, he got his chance by virtue of another of his early sporting interests, cricket. Tuddenham was a handy fast-medium bowler who came to Melbourne in the summer of 1961-62 to play in the highly competitive Country Week cricket. One of the games in which he was playing was held at Victoria Park, where two rival clubs came to seek his signature. Their presence piqued the Magpies’ interest – and Des was a Magpie within the week.

A few weeks later Tuddenham, who had just turned 19, starred in the club’s 1962 practice matches. He was named on the club’s senior list, and after just five reserve games won himself a spot on the bench for the firsts against Geelong in round five. When named on a half-forward flank for his first full game a few weeks later against North Melbourne, he made a flying start, goalling early in the game. From that moment he never looked back.

Despite his youth and lack of eperience, Tuddenham was shifted into the centre for the 1963 season and he responded magnificently, winning the Copeland Trophy. He briefly, but seriously, considered going home to Ross Creek before the 1964 season but was convinced to stick it out for a little longer. Luckily he stayed.

He finished runner-up in the Copeland in both 1965 and ’66 and in 1965 he also won interstate selection for the first time. But it was in 1966 that Des achieved his most cherished ambition when, aged just 23, he was appointed Collingwood captain. It was a remarkable achievement for one who had been a part of League football for only four years.

Tuddenham’s heroics during these years were not limited exclusively to the centre position. He also often played as a ruck-rover, or on a half forward flank. Wherever he was positioned, he was regarded by the opposition as the danger man of the Collingwood team.

Though Tuddy was well skilled, his game was never one of style or grace. He stood 178cm (5ft l0in) tall and weighed a solid 82.5kg (13 stone). He was a fitness fanatic who ran professionally during the summer, once winning a half-mile event at Wangaratta. He had a robust, stocky frame that was well equipped to deal with the battering to which he frequently subjected it. He was not a strong mark but he was an excellent right-foot kick and a magnificent shot for goal — whether on the run or with snap shots from acute angles.

For all his skills it was his approach to the game for which Tuddy is best remembered. His strength, desperation, courage and fierce will-to-win were second-to-none. He was also one of the few genuinely tough, hard players in a succession of Collingwood teams that were among the most skilful the club has seen. As such he was often called upon to act as a kind of mini-enforcer.

All these qualities made him a formidable opponent in any contest, and one of the most valued teammates in football. “He was a sensational leader and one of the most inspirational players you would see,” said Bob Rose. “He just hated defeat, and was completely ferocious in his attitude to winning. You could not want a better captain.” Terry Waters, the man who replaced Tuddenham as skipper, remembered most his determination. ‘The book Kill For Collingwood could have been written about Des,” he said. “He had fierce determination, and a desperation to win at all costs. He was an inspiration to everyone at Collingwood.”

With his strong, skilled and fearless play, and an apparently intense devotion to the black and white jumper, Tuddenham was considered by many to be the archetypal Collingwood footballer. To kids in the sixties he was held up as an example of how past Collingwood greats had played, and of what the famed “Collingwood spirit” was all about. All of which made his pay disputes with the club and his eventual departure to Essendon in the early seventies so much harder to bear.

The footy world was rocked when Tuddy and Len Thompson went ‘on strike’ during the 1970 pre-season, looking for a better pay deal in the wake of Collingwood’s recruitment of Subiaco’s Peter Eakins on a big money transfer. By mid-March they had relented and returned, but Tuddenham was stripped of the captaincy. In 1971 many people, including coach Bob Rose, wanted to see Tuddenham reclaim the captaincy — they felt he had been punished enough. But resentment over his wage demands still lingered, and the job stayed with Terry Waters. Tuddenham again responded by refusing to play, and once again he relented — this time on the understanding that he would be cleared at the end of the season.

Ironically Tuddenham’s 1971 turned out to be his most successful season in several years, finishing second in the Copeland Trophy and even being named captain of the Victorian team — an appointment that was widely seen as a slap in the face to those who had denied him the captaincy at Collingwood.

It was a messy, unsatisfactory end to Tuddy’s Collingwood career. He went to Essendon as playing coach in 1972 and spent four years there. He returned to Victoria Park in 1976, as captain, but his season ended abruptly in the 12th round when he broke his wrist playing against Carlton at Victoria Park. He returned to play the first two games of 1977 before his battle-scarred knees finally gave out against North Melbourne and forced him into retirement.

Despite his “strikes”, despite his departure to Essendon and despite the occasional off-field problem, Tuddenham has always been — and still remains — a firm favourite of the Victoria Park faithful. The reason for those feelings is simple; Des Tuddenham played his football the way every Magpie supporter likes to see it — the Collingwood way.

– Michael Roberts

Murray Weideman

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:59:18 +0000

Sometimes it’s easy to forget just what a good footballer Murray Weideman was. Today he is remembered for so many other things. As ‘The Enforcer’ who roughed up opponents and protected teammates. As the acting captain who took on and upstaged Ron Barassi and the seemingly unbeatable Demons in the Grand Final that came to be known as ‘The Miracle of ’58’. As the footballer who decided to make extra dollars as a professional wrestler while still in his prime. As a figure so hated by other club supporters that he received death threats and was once the victim of gun shots being fired through his shop window. And as the coach of Collingwood’s first ever wooden spoon team. These are all elements of the larger-than-life Murray Weideman legend. And they’re all true. But they tell only part of the full footballing story of the man known as ‘The Weed’. For underpinning everything that Weideman achieved is the fact that he was an outstanding footballer. He won three Copeland Trophies, the first of them at age 21, three club leading goalkicker awards and played for Victoria. He played in a Premiership at 17 and was full-time captain at Collingwood by 24. As a centre half-forward he was a matchwinner: a magnificent mark and splendid long kick who averaged nearly 1.5 goals per game throughout his 11-year career, but who was also expert at bringing other players into the game. He was a focal point in the forward line, or sometimes in the ruck, and threw everything into each game in search of a Magpie victory. “He’s one of Collingwood’s ‘big guns’,” wrote Kevin Hogan in the Sunin 1958. “He’s big, strong and capable of winning a game off his own boot, or turning the trend of a game with a few towering marks and long, straight kicks. Hands out some very heavy knocks, too, and most opponents keep a very wary eye on him.” Weideman was also an inspirational leader who lifted his teammates vocally, as well as through the personal example he set with his highly physical approach to the game. He handed it out and never complained when he copped it back. And he copped a lot more than he ever dished out. Those qualities saw him elevated to the vice-captaincy in 1958, and the captaincy in 1960. So when regular skipper Frank Tuck missed the 1958 Grand Final through injury, it was the 22-year-old Weideman upon whom the leadership responsibilities that day were thrust. And boy, did he thrive on that challenge. Weed, Barry Harrison, Bill Serong and others gave their highly fancied Melbourne counterparts a physical hammering, then sat back and took care of things when the Demons sought retribution – all the while allowing Collingwood’s talented and determined team of mudlarks to steal a game nobody thought they could win. The Weed has dined out on his performance that day ever since. There are times when it feels like he almost beat the Demons single-handedly, so mythologised has his role in that game become. But the bottom line was that, as an acting captain at just 22, he had become – and remains – the youngest Premiership captain in Magpie history. His game that day came to symbolise his career. After it, he was one of the biggest and in some ways most divisive figures in football. He was also one of the more misunderstood. Weideman had never sought the ‘Enforcer’ tag that he ended up carrying. When he had arrived at Victoria Park for a trial in 1952, he was a skinny 16-year-old who was so lightly built that he was knocked back by the under-19s. But he was a desperately keen Magpie fan – despite having been born in Ballarat he’d moved to Fairfield with his family when just two – and he was determined to do everything he could to be a Collingwood player. So he returned to his local club Rivoli, playing with the under-16s in the mornings and the seniors in the afternoon, kicking bags of goals as a key forward. That grabbed selectors’ attention, and the same group who had knocked him back in pre-season invited him back mid-year. He kicked six goals in just his second game, and the Pies knew they had found something. The next year he completed the rare feat of being elevated through all three grades in one year, starting off in the under-19s, spending the next 12 weeks with the reserves (where he did well enough to win the best-and-fairest) and finally playing a handful of games – including the Premiership – with the seniors. His game stagnated a little in 1954, but by 1955 he was a regular in the seniors and by 1956 he was a star. He had worked hard to develop his strength and fitness and, as he turned from boy to man, his physique filled out beautifully. But he was still seen as a relatively agile, high-marking, ball-playing forward. Collingwood had always enjoyed a reputation as a team of ‘hard’ men, but by the mid-1950s many of the best had retired. So gradually, Weideman found himself being cast further and further into the role of the big guy who would bust open packs, dish out a few knocks and protect his smaller teammates. “No one came up and said ‘Murray, do you want the job?’,” he said in 1991. “There was simply nobody else to do it.” It might not have been a role he sought out, but it was one he ended up mastering. That mastery came at a cost, though, as he had to sacrifice much in his own game. “Taking on the role of protector dulled a lot of his own brilliant play,” said former teammate Thorold Merrett. “But he filled that role perfectly, and he was prepared to give up so much of his natural game to do it. We all benefited from it, but Murray suffered.” Merrett said. There were other costs, too. Opposition fans hated him, and subjected him to an unprecedented campaign of abuse and threats. In 1959 he needed police escorts to a game after threats on his life. He frequently received threatening letters and phone calls, bullets were once fired through his shop window, bricks thrown through his daughter’s bedroom window and bullets received through the post. But far from being cowed, Weideman seemed to grow larger amidst all the focus. He married a beauty queen, had a brief foray into professional wrestling (as ‘Wild Man Weideman’) and was a regular presence in newspapers and magazines. In the late 1950s and early ’60s he was the biggest name at Collingwood and one of the biggest in the game. He continued to play good football, winning Copelands in 1961 and 1962. But he was being plagued by a consistent back injury, and his weight was becoming something of an issue. So at the end of 1963, aged just 27, he decided to walk away from the game, being accorded a truly remarkable farewell, with thousands of children joining him in a lap of honour before each of his last two games. He very nearly reneged on his retirement and returned in 1964, but Channel 9 wouldn’t let him out of a contract he’d signed with them. Bob Rose always felt he would have won the ’64 flag with Weed in his side. He didn’t spend long in the media, instead heading to first Albury and then West Adelaide. He eventually made it back to Victoria Park as coach in 1975 for what turned out to be two wild, tumultuous years. He fought with the president, Ern Clarke, and seemed to have trouble instilling discipline and professionalism into the playing group. The end result was the club’s first ever wooden spoon in 1976, and an end to his VFL coaching career. His son, Mark, played 28 games for the club in the 1980s and for a while looked as if he could be as good as his old man, but his career was badly affected by injuries. Murray Weideman will always remain one of the biggest figures in Collingwood history. Even those who never saw him play know much about his legend. His career – one of the finest and certainly most colourful of any Magpie, ever – has been justifiably lauded and will continue to be celebrated for generations to come. – Michael Roberts

Jack Hamilton

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:58:59 +0000

It isn’t often that a footballer is likened to a ‘fire-breathing dragon’. But that’s the tag applied to Jack Hamilton back in 1951 – and few of the forwards he ever lined up against would have argued with its appropriateness. Hamilton, of course, would later go on to run the VFL and become the game’s first full-time commissioner, where some of those dragon-esque skills would come in particularly handy. But his profile as football’s most powerful administrator has tended to overshadow his achievements as a footballer three decades earlier. And those achievements were significant. He played more than 150 games, represented Victoria and was, for a time, regarded as the best full-back in the game. But Jack Hamilton should never have been a Collingwood footballer at all. He was born and raised in Ivanhoe, attended Northcote High School, then played with Ivanhoe in the amateurs before a Carlton recruiting officer approached him in 1945, when he was 16. Jack was a Blues fan and would love to have played with them, but admitted to the official that he lived 20 yards inside Collingwood’s territory. The Blues official, to his credit, contacted Collingwood, who invited Hamilton down for a trial. He filled out some paperwork, played a couple of reserves games, then returned to Ivanhoe for two more seasons. The Magpies kept their eyes on him, however, and brought him back to Victoria Park for the 1948 season, where he started his career with four senior games. Years later, when Hamilton was working at the VFL, he discovered that the street in which he grew up actually had been 20 yards outsideCollingwood’s zone in an unallocated area that meant he could have played anywhere. And years later again, he discovered that his paperwork had never actually been completed! By this time, of course, Jack Hamilton was a dyed-in-the-wool magpie and nobody – other than maybe Carlton – had cause to regret the administrative oversights that had helped deliver the old-fashioned, rugged defender to Victoria Park. He arrived there as a strongly built half-bank flanker, and that’s where he played his first 40-odd games of senior football. But in 1951 he was shifted to full-back, and his impact there was phenomenal, winning interstate selection and being named full-back in the Sporting Globe‘s Team of the Year. And that’s where the dragon comparisons emerged. “Hamilton has a vigor and robustness that ruins contemplation and upsets orderly attack,” wrote the Globe‘s Hec de Lacy. “He has improved out of recognition as a footballer. He adds to this gift for the game an outlook of aggressive defence that defies the best attacks to break through. Hamilton has brought to his play a dash and determination and anticipation. He moves from the goal square like a snake, striking and, most times, intercepts an attack whereas a man of less purpose would not quite catch up with the chain of odd-man passes. He is the fire-eating dragon that stands guard over the Magpies’ goal. He spares neither prince nor peasant – neither a Coleman nor a first game trial-horse. If he’s beaten he goes down snorting and wrestling like a war horse with his feet in a bog.” Those words summed up Hamilton’s style of play perfectly. He wasn’t a polished player but he read the game well, could take a decent mark, was an effective spoiler and had good pace, especially when charging out from defence. He was also immensely strong, being one of the first footballers to take up weightlifting to build on what was already a naturally superb physique. There was also a craziness and unpredictability to his play that must have made him a nightmare to play against – and could also make life difficult for his own teammates. “He was as rugged as anything,” said fellow defender Peter Lucas. “He’d come charging through, legs and arms going everywhere. The other defenders always used to say ‘stand clear – here comes Jack’ every time he’d come charging out from goal. He would just hit wherever he saw the ball and a player, and it didn’t always matter whether it was a Collingwood player or not.” With a good record against pre-eminent full-forwards like John Coleman, Hamilton seemed to have the key defensive post sewn up. But knee problems forced him out for much of 1952 and a broken wrist kept him out of the 1953 finals. The more stylish Jack Finck took his place while he was out and kept it when he returned, so Hamilton squeezed in up forward again. But when Finck himself retired in 1954, Jack reclaimed his spot in the last line of defence, and it was there that he turned in a memorable lone-hand performance in the losing grand final of 1955. He retired after the 1957 season but, while he took on a job with Frankston as captain-coach, his burgeoning administrative career at VFL headquarters was taking up more and more of his time. He’d started out as a clerk there just after his footy career began, and he eventually rose to take over as general manager after Eric McCutcheon’s retirement in 1977. Hamilton won enormous respect during his time at the top as he guided the game through one of its most turbulent periods, featuring bitter legal battles, South Melbourne’s move to Sydney and other early steps towards a national competition. He was awarded an Order of Australia in 1984, the same year in which he was appointed the VFL’s first chief commissioner under a radical new League structure. But Hamilton wasn’t just respected: he was also greatly loved. No other League boss before or since has commanded that level of affection. The reasons lay in Jack’s warmth, his love for the game and his wicked and ever-present sense of humour. The last of those was legendary. When he suddenly retired from his VFL role in 1986, he was asked if might take on an official role at the then-struggling Collingwood: “Look,” he replied. “I’ve just got off Devil’s Island — I’m not going to live on Alcatraz.” Instead, he supported the Magpies (or ‘Carringbush’, as he preferred to call them) from a distance. Four years later, as they were heading towards that famous drought-breaking 1990 Premiership, Jack Hamilton was killed in a car crash near Whittlesea, sparking an extraordinary outpouring of affection and warmth from the football family. His widow, Joan, later said it had been his dream while VFL Commissioner to present a Collingwood captain with a Premiership cup. But the AFL – as it was by then – did the next best thing, and Tony Shaw took the cup that day from Jack’s son, John. That added the final touch of magic to an already magical day. – Michael Roberts

Bob Rose

admin — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 11:58:53 +0000

What is it that makes a footballer an inspiration to his teammates? There’s no one formula, of course, but it’s usually a mixture of qualities such as courage, passion, spirit, leadership, will-to-win and desperation. Combine those with copious amounts of talent and you’ve got the near perfect footballer. Actually, you’ve got Bob Rose. Oddly enough, Bob Rose was never named Collingwood captain. But that didn’t stop him being the greatest inspirational force in football during his playing days. He was, of course, probably the best player of his time, and is still regarded among the best two or three footballers the Magpies have ever produced. But his ability to lift his teammates and change the course of games through the sheer force of his will was about much more than talent: this was an almost indefinable extra that lifted an already brilliant footballer into another stratosphere. First, the basics. Rose was built a little like a miniature tank and played the same way – albeit a turbo-charged version – whether roving, in the centre or on a flank. He was fast, a superb ball-handler, beautifully balanced, a magnificent long kick and an even better short-passer, slick with handball and great around goals. He was the classic ‘see ball, get ball’ kind of rover who would throw himself into any situation if the ball was there to be won, strong enough to bust open packs or wrest the ball from opponents and skilled and quick enough to do untold damage with it once he had it. He was a fierce, almost brutal, competitor who thrived on physical contact and whose shirtfronts left many an opponent reeling. Harry Collier, to whom Rose was often likened, described him as “hard as nails”. “He was never as good as when the going was tough,” Collier said. “He hit them hard, too. Close enough to be fair and sharp enough to hurt plenty.” Essendon’s Jack Clarke once told The Sporting Globe that Rose was “tough, ruthless and nasty”. Rose possessed seemingly boundless courage and a will-to-win that bordered on fanaticism. Time and again he would lift Collingwood from seemingly hopeless positions. With the Pies down to only 16 fit players in the 1952 preliminary final against Fitzroy, for example, Rose produced a stunning 15-minute frenzy in which he kicked three goals and set up two others for teammates, giving his team just enough of a lead that they could hang on to for the rest of a brutal encounter. He also had a wonderful ability to nail clutch goals when they were most needed, such as the famous ‘goal that sunk the Cats’ late in the last quarter of the 1953 Grand Final. That is the most well remembered, but similar high-pressure goals were a regular part of Rose’s footballing CV. It was performances like these which led observers to focus as much on his inspirational qualities as they did on his greatness as a player. Richmond’s Roy Wright said he was the “greatest inspiration any team could have”. TheHerald said Rose “inspires as no man his inches has done for many years”. And Hec de Lacy in The Sporting Globe tagged him “the greatest team-booster in football”. “He’s a bottler, this Bobby Rose,” said de Lacy. “He’s Collingwood’s morale-lifter, frustrator of foreign high hopes, and a man ready and able to fight through skin and skill to establish the Magpie cause. Collingwood have built a tradition on the likes of Rose – team builders, team boosters, steadiers in crisis, men to whom the Australian code spells ‘Collingwood’ first, foremost and last. Bobby Rose is today’s finest team-maker. I’ve seen him in the ruck. He’s dominated the centre for Victoria. He’s roved the boots off the best in the land. Terrier-like, he can be the David to the opposition’s Goliath any time they want it laid on the line. There are great footballers in this game … but there’s none greater than Rose.” Bob Rose was born and raised in Nyah West, on the Murray, and came to be regarded as an outstanding junior footballer (he played senior football at age 11) and boxer. He was a promising young fighter who fought several times at the main boxing stadium in Melbourne. During one of those visits to Melbourne he had a training run with Collingwood (his father and Syd Sherrin were cousins, and Bobby was a passionate Magpie fan). The Pies liked what they saw and signed him after just one session. He started with Collingwood reserves in 1946, finishing second in the reserves’ best and fairest award, and was rewarded with a senior debut late in the season. He showed little in his first game, not getting his first kick until the third quarter, but kicked three goals in his second game and was on his way. Rose’s game reached its peak in the late 1940s and early 1950s, after a brief return to boxing in the summer of 1948-49 took his strength and fitness to new levels. He won four Copeland Trophies in five seasons, and finished runner-up in the 1953 Brownlow Medal. He was also named all-Australian that year. His teammates loved him. Thorold Merrett said he epitomized all that was good about Collingwood, and “gave everything until the last drop of blood”. By this time Rose’s status in the game had elevated to the point where many described him as the best player in the game, Collingwood’s best-ever and one of the best footballers of all time. But just a couple of years later, aged 27, he stunned the football world by walking away from it all. His body was pretty banged up from the pounding he had subjected it to through his ‘human battering ram’ style of play, but he had plenty of good football left. Unfortunately he was offered a lucrative coaching and employment offer at Wangaratta which Collingwood wouldn’t match, or even get close to, so Bob decided to move to the country and set up his family. After seven years with Wangaratta Rovers (where he was so loved that he became known simply as ‘King Bobby’), he returned to a hero’s welcome at Victoria Park as coach for the 1964 season. The Pies had finished seventh in 1962 and eighth in a horrid 1963 season marked by infighting and a board upheaval. But Rose took essentially the same list all the way to a Grand Final in his first season as coach, and went within two minutes of winning a flag. Just as importantly as the on-field success, Rose re-unified the entire club after the traumas of 1963. There was a real buzz around Victoria Park in the 1960s: Rose put together a team that played scintillating, free-flowing football, the newly opened Social Club building was a hive of activity, and two new grandstands went up. The only thing missing was a Premiership, and Rose’s ill-fortune in that regard – especially in 1970 – has passed into football folklore. So, too, has the way he handled those crushing defeats, and the misfortune that hit his family in 1974 when son Robert, himself a VFL footballer and Victorian cricketer, was left a quadriplegic after a car crash. The quiet dignity and determination Bob showed in those dark moments – and as he continued to look after Robert in the years that followed, during which he returned to Victoria Park as a board member and briefly for a second coaching stint – won him even greater respect and admiration not only at Collingwood but throughout the football world. That respect was never more evident than in the wake of his death in 2003. Rarely has the football world seen such an outpouring of emotion for one man. He had been inducted to the AFL Hall of Fame in 1996, named in the centre in Collingwood’s Team of the Century and named by one newspaper in 2009 as one of the 25 greatest players never to win a Brownlow. He remains the most revered name in Magpie history and was the first player to be immortalized with a statue at Collingwood’s HQ in Olympic Park. That statue bears an inscription that stands as perhaps the finest tribute to Bob Rose’s influence, one that shows he never lost his capacity to inspire Collingwood footballers – even after his death. A young boy once told Rose that whenever he played football he wrote a message on his hand. It is that message that now sits beneath Rose’s statue, and which became an unofficial motto for Mick Malthouse’s players during their 2003 campaign that took them to a Grand Final. It reads: “Play tough, play brave, play like Bobby Rose.” – Michael Roberts