Probably not the place, but my pop passed away yesterday, a month short of 97. Run out attempting another single, we joked, just shy of his ton. He always wanted to go at 90 - a century's sentence, with ten off for good behaviour.
He was a Saints fan his whole life, although post merger, he was a little less enthusiastic as age caught up with him. Still, even up until the past weekend, he had his ear to the wireless listening to his beloved dragons. Never neglected to do his tipping despite doing it by himself, the newspaper circled and pinned to his board for reference at the end of the weekend.
This was a man with a modest WWII service record, who paid his taxes, worked hard, raised his family and lived a decent, humble life. He made up for it, by acknowledging and greeting almost every person he met. I remember as a late teen, early 20s lad I would take my grandparents to bingo or shopping, and a 15 minute trip with a stroll took two hours as he chatted away, or was stopped by people he knew. And despite getting a touch of the Mr Magoos in the last decade, he was still warm, witty and had a sparkle in his eye.
This was a man who actually can claim to have been to all 11 in a row for Saints. He went again in 85, 92-93 and our last trek to a Saints GF was in 96 and even at that age, he said that was probably his last chance of seeing them win a comp. Well, he got a couple more. He slept outside the SCG for tickets to watch Test matches (RL and Cricket) and was there when Puig Aubert ran around.
I remember taking him to Charity Shields in the mid-90s and one year at the SFS he was tired and he wanted to sit up the end where a large contingent of Indigenous fans had gathered. He asked if they didn't mind if he could sit with them and they shrugged and said sure. As coincidence would have it, some of them were from the town where he been stationed during the war. He loved Ricky Walford and that was that, as it turned out, some of the group were Ricky's relatives, and my pop could do no wrong.
He played grade cricket for St George back in the day. At the time Ray Lindwall played for NSW and Australia, and Saints, along with a couple of other Aussie / NSW bowlers. He had ambitions of being a bat and was dead keen on First Grade honours. He went in to the net to try out and Lindwall tore him apart. Those watching were enthusiastic about his efforts and as Pop finished his net. He says his legs were jelly and he was quaking in his boots, and he says they asked him how he felt after facing one of the best bowling attacks in Australia. "I think I'll play 2nd Grade this year if it's all the same to you." I don't think he ever got in to 1sts. The war and family put paid to that I guess.
When he was young, my nan was one of a baker's dozen. She had seven brothers. They were all my pop's mates who lived around the corner. All of them loved footy, cricket and picnics. Most of them passed away in their late 40s, early 50s when I was just a bub in the mid/late 70s, so I never knew them. Pop was the last one really. The old photos of larrikin lads in Penshurst, Mortdale, Hurstville...with their shirts off, or sleeves rolled up, loving the sunshine, fresh air, beaches and playing fields. Even the grim of war couldn't sully their spirits.
He used to take my aunt (the oldest) and my mum (the youngest) to Kogarah every game. They would venture in to the SCG for match of the round. The Saints marching on. Sadly my aunt passed away young. She was a mad as a cut snake Saints supporter. As a little kid, my dad travelled a lot, so pop would buy and mail me and my brother bubblegum cards or supply us packets of RL stickers to put in our books. When my parents spent a decade overseas, he would send newspaper cuttings, RLW and Big League, footy cards and what not. Somehow, at 8, I became a Souths supporter before really realising the family was Saints. Mum never mentioned it, just let me follow my own path. As a teen, I went to boarding school and he'd be happy to go to games and the tales, some tall, some true...would be told. By then it was too late, and I was Souths through and through, but he once said to me I'd made the right choice. If I wasn't Saints, it was Souths as he loved Sattler as a player and as a bloke, having many business dealings with him. Of all the rivalries, Saints and Souths was always fun even if we lost by 50. We didn't remind each other of past victories or how would smash each other up. That was reserved for the Bulldogs, who he loathed. I remember in the depths of 1984, being at his place on a cold, dark Sunday afternoon and him saying they were rotten so and so's. It's funny. I don't recall him having a mean word for anyone. Except the Dogs.
He loved his Lotto - I was only six numbers off winning this week, he would tell newsagents. He loved Don Bradman and test cricket. We could while away a hot, balmy summer's day watching test matches. I loved being at his place on the Central Coast because NBN showed Sydney Tests live in full. He loved MacGyver...he would howl with laughter at how he got out of fixes with a fire extinguisher, a hair pin and a wad of gum.
I wasn't there when he died. I know I shouldn't, but I will regret it. He died peacefully in his sleep with my mum and aunt with him. He wanted to go. The spirited man had decided to declare his innings shut. I will regret not seeing him one last time. I spent ten years helping mum look after him as my nan rotted from Alzheimers. She was pop's everything and he lived in utter hope and in total fantasy she would recover. He sat there holding her hand as she died. I wished I was there yesterday, holding his hand. I could have kissed him on the forehead and thanked him for all those precious memories I have. All those times we discussed the cricket and RL...the match of the round, the line ups, the best players he'd seen, the games we had seen, the controversy. Summer in to winter in to summer. Before there were internet forums, I just had my pop...gas bagging away about nothing in particular.
I can't grumble. I'm 41. Most of my friends lost their grandparents 20 years ago. But I will miss him forever more. The humble, gentle man and the smell of brylcream and aftershave. He wasn't famous. He wasn't special. But he was a bloody great Aussie bloke.
So if Mary Mcgregor and his boys can smash the living shit out of Para this weekend, I shall have a quiet ale and keep on marching on.
Also he will be missed on Family Guy too.
