With news that my old club Coburg has emerged from under the cloud might I suggest you light the pipe and put the feet up while I indulge myself with a few little stories. 1975, that was the year it all began.  Merv Woodgate started the ball rolling when he knocked on the door of the brick veneer at 26 Shore Grove, in the working class suburb of Coburg just past Pentridge prison.  From there......

The aftermath of losing the 86 grand final.

1.  My VFA memory begins with the sight of Ivan Russell's tree-trunk legs snapping the bone in my right arm in time-on of a thriller against Geelong West in 1975.
'Didn't see a thing,' cried Umpire Rex Wenn.
'What, arm-breaking, ........ legal, is it?' I politely asked.
I was always polite with umpires.
'No, nothing in it at all, Phil.'
The arm, you ask? Yes, a steel plate for 6 months!
Umpires? Now do you understand?

2.  Kicking 7 goals against Dandenong at Coburg in 1976, 4 of which came in the last quarter after big Eddie Melai had called me, 'a useless, ........... wog'.
'Listen, I'm of Irish descent, you big gorilla,' I yelled from the other side of the huddle.
'So what, you little dago. I'm Dutch,' came the reply.

3.  Watching Port's Bobby Profitt's glistening elbow open up a cut on John Scholes' eyebrow which was stitched up in the rooms by the Port Melbourne doctor, then seeing Scholes emerge with so many layers of bandage wrapped around his head the Borough crowd was heard to cry, 'What's a bloke with a turban doing playing footy?' was something else. We won the game by 16 goals and Fred Cook was held goalless by Ron Beattie.

Weathering the storm at Port Melbourne in 1985 in the days before the blood rule.

 

4.  Fred Cook's 6 goal first quarter in the return match at Coburg on Beattie.
'No-one keeps me goalless twice in a season,' Freddy had gloated as he passed our huddle. He was simply the best.

5.  Flicking Barry Nolan across the cranium in front of the old concrete stand at Brunswick in 1978, then turning just in time to see an exquisitely delivered left-right combination thud into my forehead. Nolan was reported by the full contingent of umpires but was found not guilty at the Tribunal on account of 'service to football'. Translated I think it meant I deserved everything I got.

6.  Being reported by Umpire Roy Groom and his accomplice Frank Vergona, who was about 100 metres away adjusting his shorts, for striking Peter Wilkinson in 1983. Frank arrived at the Tribunal with a carnation in the lapel, then described how, 'It was a forceful blow with the forearm which sent player Wilkinson to the ground in a manner which had me fearing for his life. It took a number of trainers applying wet towels to restore player Wilkinson to his feet, whereupon he seemed groggy and unsteady from the vicious blow [or words to that effect].' Guilty - 4 weeks.

7.  Being asked to attend the Sandringham Police Station, or as the Sergeant-Major put it, 'Turn up or we'll come and get you in the divvy', following an incident in 1987. With the Zebras a point up and Mark Weideman about to take a kick at goal from 50 metres after the siren, a bloke jumped the fence, nicked the ball and kicked it into Beach Road. When I challenged him, he grabbed my jumper and hung on for grim death, causing us both to fall over.
'That's him, that's him, that's the rotten scoundrel who assaulted me,' he screeched when I arrived at the station. Not guilty.

8.  Being ordered off by Umpire Jeff Ryan for kneeing Rick Slevison in the groin in the 1986 Grand Final. How galling that Terry Wheeler, who'd been accused of taking more than a passing interest in the odd opponent's groin, should have been crying, 'Order him off, order him off'. Not guilty.

9.  Being reported by an Emergency Umpire aged somewhere between 10 and 13 years of age, at Werribee in 1992, after the young bloke had stood upright, zipped up his jacket and asked, 'Are you talking to me?'
'Am I talking to you, am I fucking well talking to you? What do you think? No, I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to that big fucking gum tree at the far end just to the right of that equally big fucking goal post. Am I talking to you? Of course I'm fucking well talking to you, you little prick'. Not guilty.

10.  Each of the 5 Grand Finals with Coburg. The 8 point win in 1979, not least because of David Fisher's goal, after the 'Fish' took the ball from the centre circle ran to the goal square and poked the ball through the sticks, was just stunning. The 11 point loss to Port in 1980 after we led all day was heartbreaking, and the circumstances of our 13 point loss to Williamstown in 1986, mystifying. In the Premiership wins of 1988/89 Tim Rieniets played like he was superhuman. I'll never forget his goal at the school end in 1988, Bassett's mark at the other end in 1989, and the spirit that drove those two Premiership teams.

Alan Tripp From Coburg VFA Premiership president and saviour in 1988 to the King of Vanuatu betting.

1978 - The day Keka bit the dust -as told on page 181 of Cleary Independent (Phil Cleary - HarperCollins 1998) in the chapter Dipping the Shoulder

Harold Martin wouldn't have been surprised by any umpire's decision. As noble and uncompromising as a samurai warrior, he'd taken hatred of umpires to unprecedented levels during his reign as bad man of the VFA.

'Ah umpires, mate, not human', he'd say shaking his head contemptuously. In the 1970s Harold, who stood about 6 foot 2 and wore a Mexican moustache in order to compound the fear engendered by his mere presence, was as terrifying as any bloke anywhere in a football jumper.

On one occasion in 1987 he became so incensed with what the umpires were doing to his team they were forced to barricade themselves in the change rooms at Box Hill. Outside Harold threatened all manner of retribution.

At the Tribunal, Harold explained that he'd only wanted to discuss the umpires' interpretation of a couple of dubious decisions, and that they'd confused his desire for dialogue with evil intent. Suspended for a few weeks and therefore prohibited from entering the arena, Martin delivered his instructions from the bucket of a cherry picker.

In the 1978 VFA Grand Final, umpire Wenn had dished out free kicks to Prahran with such flair that Harold leaned over and told the man in white enough was enough.

'You can't do that, you didn't see anything', he growled from the corner of his mouth, the words drifting across the terrace where some wondered if he might just finish Wren off there and then.

Finally, wounded by the injustice of it all, he could take no more. When the scone of former North Melbourne champion Sam Kekovich appeared in the cluster of agitated men, Harold took to it like a bloke swatting flies.

For a moment 'Kekas' knees buckled, but soon he was upright again, and the Prahran supporters breathed a collective sigh of relief. At the tribunal Harold managed to collect a six-week suspension. He never forgave them.

A year later, at Preston, before the umpire had placed the football in his gentle palm, I watched in disbelief as he circled his nervous Coburg quarry, Gary Milroy, turning his head sideways all the while and announcing that anyone who came near him was 'in big fucking trouble'.

'Get in here Cleary and see what 'appens to you', he snarled, momentarily distracted from his opponent.

'Anyone ever told you bear a striking resemblance to Brute Bernard, you fucking moron', I replied, the distance between us fortifying my courage. For the next two hours big Harold traversed the Cramer Street Oval intimidating anyone who crossed his path.

In the open grand stand, elderly women in red and white plumage nodded their approval.

Once the VFA went to 2 umpires in 1980 the game was never the same. For the next four years umpires Roy Groom and Frank Vergona were inseparable. Groom was a taciturn plumber, the diminutive Vergona a Latin teacher best remembered for skin-tight shorts and animated, theatrical umpiring. 

In 1980, the year 'Hawkie' was contemplating a rush trip to Poland to solve the problems of Solidarity, Groom and Vergona were preparing for the VFA Grand Final. 22,000 people gathered at the Junction Oval on a windy Sunday in September to watch a Grand Final that was to culminate in one of the most remarkable finishes in VFA history. 

Our opponent Port Melbourne, captain/coached by former South Melbourne player Gary Brice, had beaten us three times during the season in what were our only defeats in 20 games...............

more to come.....