JACK Gibson had only been at Parramatta a week when he handed every player a simple white form. One where the first three spaces were reserved for name, age and occupation.
"And because I was struggling for work, I wrote 'none'," Eels great Brett Kenny grins.
"And you know what? Before the end of that week Jack had me working at Parramatta Leagues Club as a cellarman. He did thousands of things like that, too. Sure, they called him a coach . . . but only because that's what was written next to his name in the program."
On Wednesday they'll bury Jack Arthur Gibson with many of his stories, because that's how it is with the great ones.
Gone without anyone really knowing how much money he gave. How many marriages he saved. How many habits were kicked with a word, wisecrack or knowing wink.
It's why grown men, even the hardest bastards, have cried rivers since the Alzheimers finally took Jack from his Garrawarra nursing home early on Friday night.
The footballers, gamblers and Sydney toughs. The drug addicts, alcoholics and boys in the big house. Anyone ever given a "hey brother" by this incredible man whose heart, according to Parramatta great Ray Price, will forever make him "the Phar Lap of rugby league".
Because, while Gibson may be the most influential voice in 100 years of footy - a man for whom everyone involved is forever indebted - his services to humanity, to "making champion people more than champion footballers" as Peter Sterling puts it, can never be measured.
Sure, we try. These past three days alone spilling over with tributes to a man whose own brevity with words was so great, you'd swear someone, somewhere was charging him $60 per syllable. But how do you sum up an enigma? Equal parts bouncer, bookie and brilliant mind?
Like Wayne Bennett working the door of a tough pub.
Or Dallas Donelly introducing league to tackle counts, video analysis, revolutionary American ideas and four memorable books.
Steve Ella recalls Gibson lending money to players without worry of when he got it back.
Price, the aura which made grown men "s... scared". And Kenny, well, he never did anything outside of football "unless I checked it over with Jack first".
And all three remember the car Parramatta donated to charity in the 1980s. A vehicle purchased, according to a club blurb at the time, after each Eels superstar threw their weekly match fee into the kick.
"But Steve Edge did the math," Kenny laughs.
"Our match payments came to about $2300 and the car was worth 12 grand. Jack had obviously paid the rest from his own pocket."
And so the tributes continue. Like the Roosters players on Saturday night, when chairman Nick Politis asked them to give "something special" for the mastermind of consecutive Bondi premierships - and by the break they'd scored 22 unanswered points.
Or those Parramatta and St George fans, all 16,313 of them, who yesterday gave their own silent tribute for one minute yesterday at ANZ Stadium.
So quiet you could hear the eerie flapping of four giant inflatable stick men at each end of ANZ Stadium.
Not that it was always roses, of course. Like the time Gibson and Pricey never spoke for a year.
"I'd brought out my book and Jack just questioned the way I presented a few things," Price recalls. "Said something like 'so, did I teach you anything at all?'.
"Obviously, we were both stubborn blokes and never spoke for a while. Which was terrible of course because I would've gone anywhere and done anything for him.
"So, eventually I cornered Jack at a Test match. He was working for Channel Nine and I was with 2UE. And, without saying exactly what I said, there were some profanities."
So you
swore? At the supercoach?
"Well, I just told him that he was, well, kidding. That I had never intended to lessen his influence. And, eventually, we agreed and, from that day, our relationship was stronger than it had ever been.
"But that was Jack. Sometimes what was white to you was black for him.
"But he always let you have your say."
And still they love him for it. Like Ron Hilditch keeping the
Master of Defence plaque Gibson gave him. Or Price showing all visitors to his Toukley home the bronzed bust of Gibson taking pride of place on his bar.
"I got it for $450 in a silent auction," Price enthuses.
"I think after putting my bid down, everyone else s... themselves and just let me have it.
"Because, whether Jack made me a better footballer, I guess that's for the fans to decide. But I know without doubt he made me a better person . . . I'm one of those lucky ones who was touched by Jack Gibson."
http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/sport/nrl/story/0,26799,23682855-5006066,00.html
