“Red,” said Miss Danno, casting an eye over the roulette table at Melbourne’s Crown casino. I considered it for a moment, then pushed all my remaining chips onto… black.
“Red!” shouted the croupier.
“Don’t listen to me,” said Miss Danno. “So now we’ll be sleeping under the stars tonight. Well, I bags the first park bench.”
I shook my head and was about to turn away from the table when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Mill Pharlowe?” asked an old man in a purple safari suit. He had a Western Bulldogs scarf draped around his neck and by the smell of him, had been on the booze for months.
“Yes.”
“Are you still in the sports detective business? Could you take a case for an old-time footy lover?”
“Mmm… let me think it over.”
“Mill! Don’t think,” interjected Miss Danno. “Yes, we’ll take anything,”
“That’s the answer I was looking for. Now, come with me.”
The man, who introduced himself as Macca, led us to a table in the corner. He had a nervous twitch that seemed to be more pronounced the more passionate he got. And Macca had three passions in life; old-time footy, the Western Bulldogs, and cheap red wine.
The next day Macca met up with Miss Danno and myself on a guided tour of the National Sports museum.
“And this is the stuffed heart of Australia’s greatest sporting legend…” said the guide.
Miss Danno had taken Macca by the arm and steered him down a passage to the left.
“Come on Mill,” she hissed.
“Hang on, I want to find out who Australia’s greatest sporting legend is.”
Miss Danno fired back, “Australia’s greatest sportsman is a bloody horse. Now get over here.”
Half way along the passage Miss Danno stopped in front of a door. She pulled out a flashlight and illuminated a sign. It read ‘AFL Heresies’.
I said, “We’d better not go in there, it says ‘Authorised Personnel Only’.”
“Are you afraid, Mill?” said Macca, with a twitch. “Consider yourself authorised.” Macca was getting on my nerves.
We opened the door with a creak that sent a tingle down my spine.
“I don’t like this at all,” I thought to myself.
“Stop thinking out loud Mill,” said Miss Danno.
We brushed aside some cobwebs and walked into the room, and it was if we had stepped into a different world. The most remarkable thing was the smell. What was it? That’s it, a mix of chiko roll, meat pie with sauce, and beer, full strength beer not that light rubbish they serve these days. It felt like we’d been transported to the 70s and 80s.
“Look at these treasures,” said Macca.
His twitch went into overdrive and his mouth was drooling. “I have been searching for this for the last 20 years. It is now within my grasp. Haw-haw.”
All was quiet but for a faint creaking noise. It grew louder. Suddenly, there was movement on the left and I pushed Macca out of the way. A second later I was knocked to the ground and pinned under a hideously ugly brass statue.
“Thanks for saving my life, old chum,” said Macca. “Here, Miss Danno, let’s lift this off him.”
“What is it? It looks like a gargoyle,” I said, dusting myself down and staring at the fallen statue.
“You’ve just been given a brass hip and shoulder by one of the all-time tough nuts of the game, Mark ‘Jacko’ Jackson. He’s one of those players the AFL Thought Police have tried to erase from the history books.”
We pushed on further. “Is this some kind of code?,” I said. “What does V-F-L stand for?”
“The Victorian Football League, Mill. Before this namby-pamby AFL nonsense this is what is was all about. The Big ‘V’ and all that. Twelve suburban teams slogging it out on muddy ovals. That was when footy was real.”
Miss Danno flicked a switch on an old television set. A grainy black and white picture came on the screen.
“Oh, look at that,” she said. “How did you tell the teams apart?”
“Ha. None of this clash guernsey nonsense,” said Macca. “The players knew who their teammates were. True fans knew who was on their team, not like the theatre-goers of today.”
“And those men in the white coats?” I said nervously. “They remind me of the staff at my old digs.”
“Goal umpires, Mill. That’s the way they used to look before the Wiggles designed their uniforms.”
Miss Danno stared intensely at the screen. “That suburban park where they are playing, it’s familiar somehow. I’ve got it! That’s where the nouveau rich walk their labradoodles.”
There were two posters hanging on the wall.
“Who’s the dude with the chunky thighs? And what about that guy, he looks like a gasometer on legs.”
“That is Big John Nicholls, and that, is Mick Nolan, the galloping gasometer. Two of the greatest athletes to play the game.
“But they’re not athletes, where is the muscle definition?”
“I’ll tell you this Mill. There is a double-brick wall at Princes Park with a hole the exact size and shape of big John Nicholls. And if the Galloping Gasometer hits you, you’ll feel every one of those 135 kilograms.”
Miss Danno opened a cupboard. There was a loud rattling noise. Three skeletons were sprawled on the floor, each one sporting a footy scarf and a beanie.
“This reminds me of that cupboard at your place Mill,” said Miss Danno. “Look at the names on these scarves. South Melbourne, Fitzroy, surely they are just urban myths. Oh look Macca, here is a Bulldogs scarf, but wait… It’s called Footscray. What was wrong with that name?”
“Don’t get me started. It is one of the greatest of all AFL heresies. Apparently Footscray is too bogan for the AFL Thought Police.”
Macca’s eyes moistened as he looked at the scarf. “There is still something else I am looking for.”
“Ah over there! Hanging on that hook.”
“What is it?” I said. “It looks like a mummy’s g-string.”
“This, my friend, is the ultimate symbol of footy’s golden age. It belongs to Bruce Doull from Carlton – it’s the Flying Doormat’s headband.”
“Oh,” I reached out to take it off the hanger.
“Don’t, it’s cursed! They say anyone who touches it will die a hideous death.”
I was shocked to see Macca pocket the headband. “I’ve lived long enough,” was all he said.
“Hurry. There’s someone coming.”
“It’s the AFL Thought Police. I’ve got an idea,” said Miss Danno, grabbing two of the scarves and tying them together.
As the Thought Police burst through the doorway, Miss Danno shouted, “Now!” and we pulled the ends of the scarves. The Thought Policemen tripped over them and hit the deck.
We bound their wrists with the scarves and gagged them with the beanies but saved the Doggies gear for Macca.
We jumped into Macca’s waiting Bentley.
I saw the driver’s face in the rear vision mirror. It was Mark ‘Jacko’ Jackson. He gave me a toothless grin and eerie chuckle, then hit the accelerator.
As if to give credence to the curse, Macca passed away a few weeks after the Bulldogs won the grand final, although it was said that he died with a smile on his face. Rumour has it that the Flying Doormat’s headband went with him to the grave.
Unfortunately Macca had neglected to pay our fee, so that explains why last Tuesday, Miss Danno and I were outside Flemington racecourse.
“I can’t believe that we’ve been reduced to busking for our livelihood,” said Miss Danno, tersely.
“It’s Melbourne Cup day,” I replied, tuning my ukulele. “There’ll be 100,000 people passing by. If they give just one dollar each, who knows, we might do well out of this.”
“OK, just give me the bloody tambourine,” said Miss Danno. “After three…one, two, three,”
“Up there Cazaly,
In there and fight,
Up there and at ‘em
Show ‘em your might.”
Who’s in your ultimate team? Pick the best team and compete with other fans for daily prizes on Draftstars. For the best odds on the game try out Aussie bookmaker PlayUp. Think. Is this a bet you really want to place? Set a deposit limit.
We’re taking a look at one player from each team that needs to make a difference this week, starting with the ANZAC Day games.
Amid all the hysteria and gnashing of teeth that accompanies any team following a particular galling loss, it's worth remembering at all times that…
Geelong coach Chris Scott has hit out at the AFL Tribunal's decision to clear Charlie Cameron for his dangerous tackle on Jake Lever, saying…
Bevo loves playing VFL players in the AFL and in many ways, he is this era's Kevin Sheedy, except a poor man’s version of him.
Round 5 of the AFL provided plenty of action, from big scorelines to upset wins and pressure starting to build on some clubs and coaches already.
The Western Bulldogs have elected to place star midfielder Tom Liberatore into the AFL's concussion protocols after a concerning incident in the last quarter…
