bornadog
10-05-2012, 06:34 PM
Hall of Fame (http://www.westernbulldogs.com.au/westernbulldogsnewsfeatures/newsarticle/tabid/4112/newsid/135470/default.aspx)
Link to Video of Speech (http://www.westernbulldogs.com.au/?nvId=448372)
http://i202.photobucket.com/albums/aa198/mmsalih/DPP_4028_Murph_246c.jpg
Decked out in the traditional hoops strip, our current number 2, proudly took to the stage during the Club’s Inaugural Hall of Fame event to talk about donning the red, white and blue…
"Sons of the West." You could almost end our theme song right there, couldn't you?
I don't like the term "club theme song". It doesn't do it justice. A tribal hymn is what it is. Gritty and graceful, simultaneously. For me, it sums up in four words what it means to be a Bulldogs player.
"Sons of the West." Beautiful stuff. But let's dig a little deeper, shall we?
My first encounter with this Bulldogs passion we've heard so much about already tonight came when I were just a wee lad growing up in a little town a long way from Footscray. Warragul. Bernie Quinlan territory, if you know what I mean.
A lovely old bloke by the name of Bob Matthews and his wife Connie moved into the house next door. Over time, I saw through my young, impressionable eyes what the Footscray Bulldogs (as he would always refer to them) meant to Bob. A passionate man, Bob had grown up in Footscray - of course - and lay claim to playing a few games in the reserves. Bleeding after a loss and grinning broadly after a win, Bob rode every bump, as they say. He'd moved in next door to the Murphys, but his heart would always belong to Footscray.
For many years as I grew up I honed my footy skills on the road out the front of Bob's house, and he and Connie became a big part of our extended family. Sadly, Bob passed away after battling cancer in 1998. 12 months later, I was picked up by the Western Bulldogs. Connie was the first well-wisher through the door. She found it hard to put the words together and was overcome with emotion. I'll never forget the tears streaming down her face.
Passing this sort of passion down the generations is such a big part of any football club dynasty, but I like to think it's even greater at Footscray. That every player who has ever run out for the Bulldogs feels the emotion that Connie could not put into words. It's that tribal connection again.
Once I got to Footscray, I was immediately taken aback by how many people I came across who shared the same blinding passion as my old mate Bob. The familiar faces peering over the fence at training. Dads who'd brought their sons and daughters down to training or a game. But most impressive was what I saw in the eyes of the people within the club. President. Doctors. Coaches. Trainers. Players. The lot.
If I had been in any doubt about what the club meant, it was banished the day I heard a speech given by one of its former coaches. Terry Wheeler spoke with only the players in the room. It was a cold, wet and windy day outside, I remember - a gorgeous Footscray day. Inside, in the bowels of the kennel, Wheels spoke about his take on what it means to be a Footscray player.
He spoke openly and vigorously about this notion of being custodians of the jumper. That we had the privilege of wearing this jumper for such a short time in the whole scheme of things, but it was simply our job to play in the right manner while we had the opportunity.
He also went on to talk about the western suburbs and its relevance to this city of Melbourne. The hardships we have faced, the battles the people who have lived and loved here for generations have fought along the way. And their abiding love for their beloved Bulldogs.
My only disappointment that day is that it was another 3 days before our next game. We'd have beaten any side by 10 goals after that one.
I'm a bit of a music nut, some of you might have noticed. I love the mystique of music. It's not unlike the oval ball - you're never quite sure where it will take you.
In the world of rock `n' roll they often talk about what it means to write and perform music in a broader sense. It strikes me as having the same message Wheels was passing on to us players about being custodians of the jumper.
I've read many musicians talk about music as being one enormous song, and how each new composition is just a tiny but crucial addition to that song. I think playing for the Bulldogs is much the same - each player and each Bulldogs team plays for now, but also adds its own lines to a red, white and blue song that has been played for over 100 years. The constant rhythm of drums from an ancient tribe.
If music is not your thing, well perhaps my last little story will be more to your liking. It involves one of our favourite sons, the great Chris Grant.
When I was first asked to speak tonight I thought about what sort of symbolism encapsulated the Bulldog spirit for me. Your first thought is always the best - at least that's what we're taught out on the training track.
The day before my first game for the Bulldogs, I was packing up my gear after a team meeting and found an envelope on my bag with my name on it. Nervous about my first game, I tucked the letter under my arm and went home.
As I sat at home preparing for the biggest day of my life, I opened the envelope and in it was a letter for me from our man Chris. A few short, simple paragraphs about what this jumper meant to him. Again, he spoke of a lineage, a tribe, a family. His words floated on the page, and I had the same thought then as I do now, some 10 years later. It wasn't just the words, it was the simple fact that he took the time to share it with a young boy whom he hardly knew. Don't you just love him?!
So, what does it mean to be a Bulldogs player?
Some would say it's only the lucky few each year who receive their jumper and bow at the altar of Eddie Walsh. I could live with that. Are we simply custodians of an ancient football tribe, as Wheels put it? Are we the sentiment of Chris Grant, a man whose letter to me was penned as he played - with grit and grace. Do we have the passion of Connie Matthews' tears?
I think as players we endeavour to be all of that. When you add up all these things, I think our tribal hymn probably rounds it off best.
"We're the team of the mighty west." May we sing our hymn forever.
Link to Video of Speech (http://www.westernbulldogs.com.au/?nvId=448372)
http://i202.photobucket.com/albums/aa198/mmsalih/DPP_4028_Murph_246c.jpg
Decked out in the traditional hoops strip, our current number 2, proudly took to the stage during the Club’s Inaugural Hall of Fame event to talk about donning the red, white and blue…
"Sons of the West." You could almost end our theme song right there, couldn't you?
I don't like the term "club theme song". It doesn't do it justice. A tribal hymn is what it is. Gritty and graceful, simultaneously. For me, it sums up in four words what it means to be a Bulldogs player.
"Sons of the West." Beautiful stuff. But let's dig a little deeper, shall we?
My first encounter with this Bulldogs passion we've heard so much about already tonight came when I were just a wee lad growing up in a little town a long way from Footscray. Warragul. Bernie Quinlan territory, if you know what I mean.
A lovely old bloke by the name of Bob Matthews and his wife Connie moved into the house next door. Over time, I saw through my young, impressionable eyes what the Footscray Bulldogs (as he would always refer to them) meant to Bob. A passionate man, Bob had grown up in Footscray - of course - and lay claim to playing a few games in the reserves. Bleeding after a loss and grinning broadly after a win, Bob rode every bump, as they say. He'd moved in next door to the Murphys, but his heart would always belong to Footscray.
For many years as I grew up I honed my footy skills on the road out the front of Bob's house, and he and Connie became a big part of our extended family. Sadly, Bob passed away after battling cancer in 1998. 12 months later, I was picked up by the Western Bulldogs. Connie was the first well-wisher through the door. She found it hard to put the words together and was overcome with emotion. I'll never forget the tears streaming down her face.
Passing this sort of passion down the generations is such a big part of any football club dynasty, but I like to think it's even greater at Footscray. That every player who has ever run out for the Bulldogs feels the emotion that Connie could not put into words. It's that tribal connection again.
Once I got to Footscray, I was immediately taken aback by how many people I came across who shared the same blinding passion as my old mate Bob. The familiar faces peering over the fence at training. Dads who'd brought their sons and daughters down to training or a game. But most impressive was what I saw in the eyes of the people within the club. President. Doctors. Coaches. Trainers. Players. The lot.
If I had been in any doubt about what the club meant, it was banished the day I heard a speech given by one of its former coaches. Terry Wheeler spoke with only the players in the room. It was a cold, wet and windy day outside, I remember - a gorgeous Footscray day. Inside, in the bowels of the kennel, Wheels spoke about his take on what it means to be a Footscray player.
He spoke openly and vigorously about this notion of being custodians of the jumper. That we had the privilege of wearing this jumper for such a short time in the whole scheme of things, but it was simply our job to play in the right manner while we had the opportunity.
He also went on to talk about the western suburbs and its relevance to this city of Melbourne. The hardships we have faced, the battles the people who have lived and loved here for generations have fought along the way. And their abiding love for their beloved Bulldogs.
My only disappointment that day is that it was another 3 days before our next game. We'd have beaten any side by 10 goals after that one.
I'm a bit of a music nut, some of you might have noticed. I love the mystique of music. It's not unlike the oval ball - you're never quite sure where it will take you.
In the world of rock `n' roll they often talk about what it means to write and perform music in a broader sense. It strikes me as having the same message Wheels was passing on to us players about being custodians of the jumper.
I've read many musicians talk about music as being one enormous song, and how each new composition is just a tiny but crucial addition to that song. I think playing for the Bulldogs is much the same - each player and each Bulldogs team plays for now, but also adds its own lines to a red, white and blue song that has been played for over 100 years. The constant rhythm of drums from an ancient tribe.
If music is not your thing, well perhaps my last little story will be more to your liking. It involves one of our favourite sons, the great Chris Grant.
When I was first asked to speak tonight I thought about what sort of symbolism encapsulated the Bulldog spirit for me. Your first thought is always the best - at least that's what we're taught out on the training track.
The day before my first game for the Bulldogs, I was packing up my gear after a team meeting and found an envelope on my bag with my name on it. Nervous about my first game, I tucked the letter under my arm and went home.
As I sat at home preparing for the biggest day of my life, I opened the envelope and in it was a letter for me from our man Chris. A few short, simple paragraphs about what this jumper meant to him. Again, he spoke of a lineage, a tribe, a family. His words floated on the page, and I had the same thought then as I do now, some 10 years later. It wasn't just the words, it was the simple fact that he took the time to share it with a young boy whom he hardly knew. Don't you just love him?!
So, what does it mean to be a Bulldogs player?
Some would say it's only the lucky few each year who receive their jumper and bow at the altar of Eddie Walsh. I could live with that. Are we simply custodians of an ancient football tribe, as Wheels put it? Are we the sentiment of Chris Grant, a man whose letter to me was penned as he played - with grit and grace. Do we have the passion of Connie Matthews' tears?
I think as players we endeavour to be all of that. When you add up all these things, I think our tribal hymn probably rounds it off best.
"We're the team of the mighty west." May we sing our hymn forever.