REGRETS, I’VE HAD A FEW

“We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else” – Libba Bray American author

Sport has been a large part of my life for as long as I can remember. As a kid attending Gravel Hill Primary School in Bendigo, every minute out of the class room was spent playing Test Cricket matches or Footy Grand Finals with my mates, depending on the Season. I hate to think how many hours I’ve spent in the ensuing sixty something years playing, coaching or watching sport. I don’t see any of those hours as wasted time but there have been a handful of instances where I truly regret my actions. I’m pretty sure the Statute Of Limitations for being an on field dick has long since passed so now, in the interest of honesty, I fess up to three incidents that I am far from proud of.

Over the years, I’ve learnt that hatred is a bit like Rupert. It will become all consuming if you let it take over your life and is a completely wasted emotion. Unfortunately, this wasn’t something I knew when I was younger. The emotion of HATE caused my earliest sporting regret.

In an earlier life I played cricket for Bendigo Cricket Club and we were playing a 4 day, A Grade Grand Final against Golden Square. I respected Golden Square and I had a few mates who played for them but I hated one of their best players with a passion. His name was “Popeye” Harris and I’m absolutely sure my hatred for him was reciprocated in spades.

Legend has it, that a few years earlier, Barney Jones (father of Dean Jones) allegedly placed a block of ice just short of a good length on the Princess Park pitch the night before day 2 of a District Cricket Semi Final against Melbourne University. Carlton had been dismissed for a disappointing total of 132 on Day 1 and all things being equal, a University win was considered a formality. The block of ice ensured things weren’t “equal” and University were bowled out for 62 with almost all wickets falling at the wet end.

On the eve of Day 4 of our Grand Final we had a lead of approximately 140 and with the Carlton victory fresh in my memory, I thought why not? A little bit of water just short of a good length on the Queen Elizabeth Oval wicket might be just the thing I needed to deny Popeye a Premiership. The only person I confided in about my plan was our Captain, Ron Lake, and he did his absolute best to talk sense to me but my hatred was all consuming, so at 1.00am, on the eve of day 4, I found myself groping around in the dark at the QEO searching for the hose to water the wicket. To my disappointment then, but to my absolute relief ever since, the Curator had locked the hose away and the worst I could do was take a leak just on a good length at the City end of the pitch and then go home to bed.

The next day we bowled the Square out for a losing score and I was able to give Popeye an appropriate send off. One of my wickets that day was Barry? Baker, a very good batsman for the Square, who shouldered arms to one that jagged back from outside off to knock over the castle. To this day, Ron Lake insists that it landed on a Pee induced wet spot but I know that it was simply me employing “reverse swing” before anyone else had even heard of it.😃

My hatred of one person could have destroyed the reputation of the Cricket Club I loved for years to come through one stupid act. Thankfully the hose was no where to be found.

The second incident I’m ashamed of occurred on the Baseball Field and the emotion involved this time was LOVE. They say love will make you do stupid things and on this particular day, true that. Not the love of family but the love of a best mate.

We were playing Doncaster this day and I was carrying a bit of an injury and fielding at first base to avoid running too much. Lindsay Orford was playing for Doncaster and was running at first. Lindsay was an outstanding Pitcher for Queensland who had moved to Victoria and played initially for Coburg and then for Doncaster. I’m not sure he had a nasty bone in his body and almost certainly didn’t deserve the retribution I dealt him.

The batter hit a weak pop up just behind first base and as I waited to catch the ball, Orford slid into my shin in his efforts to return to first base. His cleats made a small cut to my shin but more importantly they tore a hole in my brand new, red patent leather, Mizuno shoes that my baseball brother, John Pate had bought for me on a recent trip to his birthplace, Japan. To put it mildly, I wasn’t happy.

One play later Orford had made it to third base and I was still pissed. I guess it must have been a close game at this stage because Doncaster then bunted unsuccessfully with Orford going to be an easy out at home. The only realistic choice open to him was to try and run through John Pate to dislodge the ball so that’s what he did. I didn’t see it as a “realistic choice” but as a deliberate attempt to clean up my mate.

I think I was on top of Orford pummeling him for all I was worth before Chopper’s arse had even hit the ground. The nastiest all in brawl I’ve ever been involved in ensued and I know now that I was responsible for it. The Baseball Gods thought so too as I finished up with a broken front tooth and a substantial dental bill. Unusually for those times, the game was being videoed by a Doncaster fan, and the first vision of number 5 for Essendon entering the frame was when a size 10, red, patent leather shoe with a rip in the side, stomped on the hand of Lindsay Orford as he lay on the ground. I honestly can’t say if, in the heat of battle, I took aim at his hand but there’s no doubt I did it.

The Umpire that day was Bob Jones, one of the State’s best and an even better bloke and this was his first game back officiating after some serious heart issues. The video showed him deciding that getting in the middle of two teams of grown men punching on would not be good for his health so he basically turned his back on the blue. That’s probably why subsequently none of us had to face the Tribunal when in truth, we probably all should have. It would, and should, have been the only time I was reported.

If it hadn’t been Chopper (John Pate) that Orford cleaned up, I’m certain I wouldn’t have completely lost the plot but it was Chop and to my shame I did lose all self control. I put the entire thing down to my love for my baseball brother. It’s true, Love makes you do stupid things.

The third incident that I regret occurred at Malvern Baseball Club and this time I was Coaching third base for Essendon and the causation this time was ANGER. Daryl “Dirty” Dicker was playing third base for the Braves and, as he was inclined to do, he’d been giving me shit all day. Dirty is actually a really good bloke but you would have had great difficulty convincing me of that this particular Sunday afternoon.

I’m not sure if I’d had a filthy night on the punt at Moonee Valley Trots the night before or if I had a headache or if I was just sick of Dirty’s constant baiting but eventually anger took over and I threw a Match Ball at his head as hard as I could from about 5 metres away. To his credit, Dirty nonchalantly caught the ball and lobbed it back to the Umpire as if nothing had happened. I’m just glad he had the reflexes to avoid what could have been a serious injury. He’d completely got me in and in my rage, anger took over and I did something really stupid that could have had disastrous consequences. Thankfully after the Game we shook hands and shared a beer together but to this day, I still regret that moment of insanity.

I hope there are life lessons somewhere in here that my two youngest Grandchildren will take on board when they are old enough to read this Blog. Hate, Love and Anger are all feelings they will experience many times in their lives and I hope that they can handle them better than I did in the situations outlined above.