Did I Ever Tell The Story?
Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 4:30 pm
Did I Ever Tell The Story?
Did I ever tell the story? It was really quite a hoot -
How I won a flag for Melbourne off the strength of my own boot.
I can't remember when it was - sometime before the war.
I can't recall my team mates, and I can't recall the score.
But what I can remember, quite as clear as yesterday,
Was the brilliance, the perfection, and the courage of my play.
We didn't have the Norm Smith Medal then, but if we did,
I would have won a couple just for lifting off the lid
Of the grandstand for the members where it stood beside the wing.
The crowd began by cheering, but were soon inspired to sing.
They reckon none had seen such play before, and nothing since,
With the reach of big Max Gawn, and the dash of Bernie Vince.
Beside me, Ron Barassi looked like some poor callow learner.
Nobody could catch me when I lit my afterburner.
Stynes was not a match for me, and Robbie Flower wilted.
Each time I held the ball the footy world's great axis tilted.
Tassie Johnson, Stuart Spencer...none of these could match
The talent that I had to run and jump and kick and catch.
My time in elocution had been very wisely spent,
For in the post match interviews I was most eloquent.
I never took the credit. I was humble to a fault,
Though people said I was a cross between a lightning bolt
And a cyclone or an earthquake - like some elemental force.
(I said that that was silly, and I blushed a bit of course.)
Still, looking back now on those days, I think they had a point,
For when the right mood struck I could sure destroy the joint.
All the other blokes were milk, while I was rising cream.
They used to say I was so good, I didn't need a team.
Ah well, it's all so long ago, it doesn't matter now.
I've said enough. I do not want to beat you round the brow.
But even though I'm 83, I know without a doubt
If I played the Swans or Bulldogs, it would be a total rout!
Stephen Whiteside 29.09.2016
Did I ever tell the story? It was really quite a hoot -
How I won a flag for Melbourne off the strength of my own boot.
I can't remember when it was - sometime before the war.
I can't recall my team mates, and I can't recall the score.
But what I can remember, quite as clear as yesterday,
Was the brilliance, the perfection, and the courage of my play.
We didn't have the Norm Smith Medal then, but if we did,
I would have won a couple just for lifting off the lid
Of the grandstand for the members where it stood beside the wing.
The crowd began by cheering, but were soon inspired to sing.
They reckon none had seen such play before, and nothing since,
With the reach of big Max Gawn, and the dash of Bernie Vince.
Beside me, Ron Barassi looked like some poor callow learner.
Nobody could catch me when I lit my afterburner.
Stynes was not a match for me, and Robbie Flower wilted.
Each time I held the ball the footy world's great axis tilted.
Tassie Johnson, Stuart Spencer...none of these could match
The talent that I had to run and jump and kick and catch.
My time in elocution had been very wisely spent,
For in the post match interviews I was most eloquent.
I never took the credit. I was humble to a fault,
Though people said I was a cross between a lightning bolt
And a cyclone or an earthquake - like some elemental force.
(I said that that was silly, and I blushed a bit of course.)
Still, looking back now on those days, I think they had a point,
For when the right mood struck I could sure destroy the joint.
All the other blokes were milk, while I was rising cream.
They used to say I was so good, I didn't need a team.
Ah well, it's all so long ago, it doesn't matter now.
I've said enough. I do not want to beat you round the brow.
But even though I'm 83, I know without a doubt
If I played the Swans or Bulldogs, it would be a total rout!
Stephen Whiteside 29.09.2016
