Retro playground: A memoir of football fields in Sydney

As a child growing up in the 1980s, playing the beautiful game introduced me to new suburbs, distinctive fields, and dad’s frustration at reading the Gregory’s street directory.

This was the decade of cassette tapes and Cold Chisel. An era of Flame Trees on 2WS, where my father, having finally located the soccer field, triumphantly echoed the song’s line: “Do you remember?”

A generation of youngsters will recall the traditional mud puddle, found under the wooden goal posts. Such was the average condition of patchy paddocks, littered with chewed orange peels.

It’s where cotton wool kids, with shin guards raised to their knees, first anointed themselves in dirt.

These grassy surfaces were usually reclaimed swap lands or former rubbish tips, far from the innocence of Saturday morning footy.

For scenic beauty, Cammeray’s Tunks Park was my favourite. Its sweeping bushland was bathed in the shadow of Long Gully Bridge, towering over the oval in gothic mystery.

Once a creek flowing from Willoughby, underground storm water drains had encased the bygone stream. Now it was a sporting lawn.

Upstream, beyond the walking track to Henry Lawson Cave, was another playing surface, Hallstrom Park. Today, the old council dump has been filled in with soil and a number of oddities, remnants from the Walter Burley Griffin Incinerator still standing.

For urban exploration, Glebe’s Wentworth Park is my choice of places to discover. Once a low-lying wetland housing abattoirs, it was converted into a green, now bisected by a railway viaduct.

(Gene Sweeney Jr/Getty Images)

The aged Metropolitan Goods Line currently carries light rail. Back when freight was networked across the Inner West, it was rumoured a makeshift stop was allocated, next to Leichhardt’s Lambert Park.

Trains would slow to a crawl, allowing alerted APIA fans to bravely alight, having hidden in empty wheat carriages, en route to Summer Hill.

It’s all just a memory now.

A few years ago, my wife and I watched Balmain Tigers FC host an NPL game, within the greyhound racetrack at Wentworth Park. It was not long after they met Melbourne Victory in the 2015 FFA Cup.

Based on the hype, I was trying to get my partner into football. It didn’t work. Not in the genes, we joked.

Some time hereafter, while walking alone in Leichhardt, I unearthed the entire Balmain Tigers’ kit for sale near the Italian Forum.

It was a treasure trove of jerseys, shorts and socks. I did a quick internet search, and apparently the club had sadly folded.

You know, in the 1980s, if a kid wanted to Google something, they’d ask their parents. They were our personal road maps, taxi service to soccer, and tour guides, all rolled into one.

Back in 2019, a day after APIA won the last NPL final in NSW, I took my baby daughter by stroller to Lambert Park. It was a Sunday. Although we didn’t see any victorious balloons or streamers that morning, I wasn’t overly fazed.

Somehow, I convinced myself the players were busy celebrating at home with their families. Had I forgotten? It was father’s day after all.