When Alan Rudkin passed away last year I thought of Lionel Rose and touched wood. Same deal the other week with Henry Cooper. Any mention of boxing the last 40 years and I’ve thought of Lionel Rose.
I didn’t need to read why he was in the headlines this time. “I’m here for a good time, not a long time,” he used to say like it wasn’t all that important in the broader scheme. I was a bit surprised he’d made it to 62 – twenty years ago he was long odds to make 52.
It’s confounding, the passing of the mega-famous. The day Frank Sinatra died – and there was nothing sudden about it, he’d been crook for years – the queues snaked out of the record stores and into the street.
That’s not easily explained but maybe there’s an apprehension there about buying into biographies of the living that are out of date the day they’re published?
I hope that’s how it works anyway and that now Lionel Rose’s last chapter is written more will take the time to immerse themselves in his story. You couldn’t make it up but as the broader context and details merge and their knock-on effects are surveyed, you’ll wonder if it isn’t.
Sport has made all sorts of inroads into the national psyche but he opened up superhighways. With him in its corner even boxing looked socially progressive. We could turn our noses up at a lot of things about sport but no one could turn their nose up at Lionel Rose.
He cut the template for our sporting role models and it’s been an impossibly hard act to follow. No one will ever come from as far back in the pack, work as hard, achieve more, be more gracious in victory and defeat, give as much to as many and have as much time for other people as Lionel Rose.
Our high-profile athletes have been behind the Lionel-Rose eight-ball ever since.
Riding the emotional rocket with Lionel Rose – I’ve always thought that the epitome of being born in the right place at the right time. The Apollo missions were enthralling but Fighting Harada wasn’t waiting on the moon, he was in Tokyo.
When the time came we huddled around the wireless and crossed our hearts, fingers and prayed that if Lionel couldn’t land a left hook he would at least survive. He did better than that – two out of three Japanese judges ain’t bad – and Australia’s centre of gravity shifted.
He changed literally millions of minds. Freedom rides and arcane feel-good legislation were all well and good but the game-changer was “What about Lionel Rose?” and some cold hearts and closed minds were opened up to some very different interpretations of where indigenous Australians fitted in.
It was as stark as that – most of the 1960s were much like 1950s and then along came Lionel Rose and we jumped straight into the seventies and we were a different people.
“Lionel Rose: Australian” wasn’t the first book I ever read but it was the first one I bought with my own money. It wasn’t about the boxing – the descriptions of life for a kid on Jackson’s Track are still with me. After Jackson’s Track, Fighting Harada was comedy relief.
I met him once. I didn’t know it was him until afterward. I’m glad I didn’t know beforehand because I went away thinking that whoever that bloke was I would gladly spend more time around him. Had I known it was Lionel Rose he wouldn’t have got a word in.
Had I known, would I have told him that my old man and I used to cruise around Marco Polo Street in Essendon where Jack Rennie’s gym was for hours on end in the off chance we’d catch a glimpse of him? I don’t know.
But I’d have made sure he knew I wouldn’t have judged him had he gone to South Africa but when he said no, I thought that was gutsier than him taking on Harada and Rudkin at the same time. There were no ticker-tape parades on offer for that one, just much harder times personally.
That was his hallmark I suppose. He didn’t make speeches about climbing un-climable mountains or beating unbeatable foes, he just flashed a grin and went and did it.
Whether he’d been any good or not, there was a humility and humanity there that made him a great sportsman. Ornament barely begins to describe him.
Dugald Massey
Roar Guru
Hard to believe we're talking about boxing, innit -- Rose, Harada, Rudkin and Fammo were like a league of gentlemen. Worse part of that was parents thinking it wasn't a bad idea for kids to give boxing a go so they'd grow up to be a top bloke like Lionel. I gave it a go at it for about 30 seconds. Are they kidding? Didn't cry though. Good piece here on Lionel http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/features/a-man-who-transcended-his-sport/story-e6frg6z6-1226052826880
sheek
Guest
Dugald, Boxing was a brutal sport, but Rose possessed enormous dignity, both in the ring & out of it. He also had ability, skill & courage, qualities much admired by Australians. And he had self-deprecating humour & a larrikin streak, other qualities much admired also by Aussies. I remember when they did a "This is your Life" on Lionel Rose, & Fighting Harada, Alan Rudkin & Johnny Famechon were among the special guests. You could see the mutual admiration & friendship was genuine among the ex-boxers. This is how the warriors of Valhalla see it - you fight each other with every breath in your body during the day, & party with friends & foes into the night. Then the next day, you do it all over again. So it is in life. You fight your opponents in your youth, earning mutual respect along the way. In old age, you are friends telling bigger & bigger lies as to how you were the better athlete, & having fun from bonds forged in the furnace of battle.