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I have supported Eastwood Rugby Club ever since I can remember. My maternal grandfather played for them after the war. In fact, he died while watching them play in ABC television’s “match of the day” from his home in Mudgee, NSW.
One of my earliest childhood memories is of running around on the grass in front of the brick club house at TG Milner field as my paternal grandfather made a daisy chain for me from the aluminium pull rings of his empty beer cans.
I remember the general growling murmur of grown men, their hearty laughter, the sweet smell of beer, the warmth of the sun that bathed the field and the players in golden light, and the weeping leaves of the old tree leaning over the fence by the scoreboard.
Heading down to TG Milner field on Saturday to watch “The Woodies” run around was a weekly ritual in my family. It wasn’t just a match of rugby. It was the end of the week. It was Saturday afternoon.
For my parents, I’m sure it was a welcome refuge from the week that was. For my Mum, perhaps it provided a furtive connection to those times she had spent at the ground with her own father.
Each Saturday afternoon had the same familiar liturgy. We would arrive at the ground in time to watch third grade. That way, Mum and Dad had two games of rugby in which to let the worries of the week dissipate before the arrival of 1st grade at 3pm.
Mum would lay the tartan rug on the wooden benches in the grand stand opposite the club house on the half way line. At half time, Dad would stand to stretch his legs and gaze pensively across the field at the blue and white clubhouse.
Mum would instinctively reach for the 1972 green thermos and would somehow instantly produce a cup of tea or coffee for whoever was there.
There were biscuits too (iced vovos, tim tams -the “special biscuits” that we weren’t allowed to touch during the week), or an apple, or a home made cake, all lovingly prepared at home by Mum for the afternoon. Our spot in the grandstand became a regular meeting point for friends and family (and their pets).
They would drop by unannounced to catch up. No need to arrange ahead. We were invariably always there.
I remember the players: Space Housten. Tim Dalton, Tony Carter, Steve Tyneman, Marty Roebuck, Ian Williams, Neil Tyler, the great Daniel Manu, Travis Hall, Scott Fava, Scott Staniforth, Matt Burke, Nathan Grice, Graeme Bond, the freakish skills of the Miller brothers, Tim Donnelly – these magnificent men stride around the field of my memory as superhuman versions of themselves – great, decent, blue and white striped childhood heros.
I can remember the bloody battles with famous foes, most of them with Randwick but more recently, with Sydney University.
Away games at Manly would end in fish and chips on the beach at Dee Why in the April sun; games at Sydney University in complaints at the distance of the grand stand from the actual playing field; at Southern Districts, the distance of the drive home across Tom Ugly’s Bridge was particularly long after a loss; Randwick, the nasty one eyed nature of the supporters; at Parramatta, my mother would lament the lack of opportunity in Sydney’s western suburbs; and at Gordon, the silver tails from Sydney’s prosperous north shore would spark arguments between my parents about why my Dad ever left his well paid job in taxation at an early age to become a minister.
If I close my eyes I can still see Daniel Manu breaking a tackle.
I can hear my grandfather, that great big bear of a man, cackling with his mates as he handed me another aluminium pull ring for the daisy chain. I can smell mum’s coffee and taste those coveted “special biscuits”.
If I close my eyes even tighter, I can see my parents seated in the grandstand, surrounded by their family and friends, smiling their way through another afternoon of rugby.
So much for club rugby.
Join The Roar rugby editor Christy Doran, former Wallaby Matt Toomua and a cast of regular and special guests as they look at the biggest issues in the game on The Roar Rugby Podcast. If you’re looking for great odds on the next game check out Aussie bookmaker PlayUp. Chances are you’re about to lose. Set a deposit limit.