'Let him out of his cage': Why 'Robbo' means so much to Canterbury

Images of Canterbury-Bankstown legend Geoff Robinson attending a recent function organised for him and attended by some of the greats of his club, were hard to view.

Once an on-field colossus, the man known only as “Robbo” in Bulldog circles appeared weak, thin and broken; ravaged by treatments for mouth and throat cancer that are required for his life to be extended.

The world is littered with tragedy, misfortune and sadness, yet perhaps the saddest thing of all is observing the contrast between the memory of an individual in their prime and the almost unrecognisable person they sometimes become in more senior years.

Sadly for Robinson, it is not just an issue of age. At just 64, modern mortality statistics suggest we should have the pleasure of his company for many years to come.

Yet the disease that has taken so many of our loved ones has also gripped firmly onto him, with further painful treatment required if the former front-rower is to fight on well into the future.

For fans of the Bulldogs old enough to remember Robinson, watching one of the bravest men they ever saw play the game now fade into a shadow of himself, is a very sad reality.

Between 1977 and 1986, the man with the best and most Neanderthal hair in the then NSWRL, ripped and tore into opposition defences, seemingly with zero concern for the physical state in which he would exit the contest.

“Robbo” played the game in the most uncompromising of styles, yet always in the spirit born from the greats of the game that proceeded him.

He was most famously known for smashing into what would these days be deemed an illegal Parramatta “wall” and cannonballing Peter Sterling into orbit in the process. That moment will forever live in rugby league history and thankfully played a key role in sending such a tactic into oblivion.

For fans at Belmore Sports Ground in the early 1980s, “Robbo” was the hero. Not because he was the best player in the team; the Hughes’ and Mortimer’s’ had that well covered, more for his individual style and raw aggression that brought fans to their feet.

With Canterbury building a dominant home record during the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, Robinson played many a game from the bench, waiting patiently for the call to be injected into the fray. A certain Belmore Sports Ground rogue whose acquaintance I never made would always roar at the most perfectly timed moment, “Let him out of his cage!!!”

The demand of that lone lunatic was closely followed by cheers from the home fans and no doubt encouraged the coach to consider tapping into the growing fervour in the stands by injecting his lethal weapon into the action sooner rather than later.

When that moment came, the sight was akin to seeing an Energizer bunny slash and burn through an array of rechargeable ones that had well and truly lost their spark.

Robinson ran, tackled and competed as if his life depended on it and that is why he meant so much to everyone in the blue and white brigade.

The children of the inner-west knew nothing of privilege, cared little for the Manly, Eastern Suburbs or North Sydney elite and frankly, despised all of the above. Their mums and dads were blue collar folk, battlers if you will and well aware of their place in a pecking order that sadly still exists to this very day.

Geoff Robinson appeared to play football with all that and more on his mind.

To fans of other teams he came across as a wild man, perhaps dangerous and maybe even a little simple-minded; the way he ran at defensive lines without fear and an obvious determination to impose maximum physical impact.

These days, the term “dent” is often used to describe the effective runs of forwards. I am not too sure there was ever a player who “dented” the line more effectively than “Robbo”, nor one who commanded more diligent attention from the men who stood before him in defence.

To Canterbury fans, Robinson played like they felt and represented their area to a tee. The Bulldogs. The working-class. The unfashionables. The battlers.

Yet off the field, Geoff Robinson is the most quiet and thoughtful of men.

Well known for avoiding showers at the completion of matches and heading back to his local for a quiet beer or many, his coaching successes at Canterbury in the years following his retirement spoke volumes about a man who was so much more than wild and unbridled aggression.

Now the 139-game Bulldog faces his biggest challenge, probably unaware of exactly just how much he means to Bulldog heartland, nor the perfect metaphor he is for both the fans and the area from which he came.