Matt’s Australian Football Dreaming
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Australian Football is my sport.
It’s spring and finals time in Melbourne, it’s my favourite time of the year.And my birthday is coming up, which is usually around Preliminary Finals weekend, so that has to help with the enthusiasm.
The first two weeks of finals games, footy at it’s best, are well concluded, and they’ve stimulated my “Australian Football Dreaming.”
The title of W.E.H. Stanner’s anthology of essays 1938-1973 is “White Man Got No Dreaming.”
Well, this White Man acquired some Dreaming.
Others can be the judge if it passes the test…
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… “Matt’s Australian Football Dreaming” is presented in 6 parts:
An Introduction in 2 Parts and a “Week 1”, and then following will be a post for the next 3 weeks.
The first Introduction is some real-life footy playing stuff followed by some real life VFL/AFL experiences to set a bit of context. Those AFL “experiences” are tinged with some ‘AFL Dreaming’ in between.
My experiences with psychosis, of which I’ve had several up to and including 2017, all hospitalised, are threaded in with what I’ve termed ‘My Dreaming.’
It’s impossible to separate my manias that led to psychoses up to 2017 and functional ‘Dreaming’…
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… Each week’s submission following the Introductions is more of the Dreamworld stuff.
If you’re wondering where the confidence comes from to borrow an Aboriginal Australian reference like “My Dreaming”, that has ancient spiritual and cultural meaning, when I’m not recognised as Aboriginal by most people, then perhaps reserve judgement just yet and maybe wait for thoughts on that throughout the posts.
Continue reading, if you like, at:
mattphillipsmelbourne.net
Introduction Part 1 is available now – THUR 15-SEP-2022, 12:00 Australian Eastern Time.
Approximately 15-20 minutes reading time.
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Introduction Part 1 – Playing Footy
I could talk and write about my love for Australian Football all day, but I’ll do my best to keep this Intro Part 1 concise.
My introduction to Australian Football was of course growing up in Melbourne, and The Basin Primary School and Bears footy team in the under 10’s.
I was very literal with instructions from the coach during my only year playing club football in Melbourne, in the Bears under 10s.
Our coach positioned me on a forward flank and his instruction to me was “don’t move from that position.” So I stood on the corner of the square, in the literal flank position, and didn’t move, even when the ball started to come close. I didn’t question if it made sense, they were my instructions.
My family moved to Sydney in 1995 and there I played junior, and I guess what you could say was 3rd tier senior footy, 3rd tier below the AFL, in the Sydney Football League.
Mind you, 3rd tier in Sydney in the early 2000’s was probably more like 5th tier in Melbourne, or lower.
My suburban junior footy culminated in an under 16’s Premiership in 1996, I played on the wing that year. It was a great year for the club, our Under 18’s team also won their premiership. I progressed to a back flank the following year and that followed with being a ruck-rover and the Under 18’s and a Best and Fairest in 1999.
My short senior career was best punctuated by a Players Player Trophy in the Reserves team of the East Coast Eagles, that was awarded at the end of a season.
It was a bit of a strange ceremony for me that awards night. I recalled the 1999 Best and Fairest count, held at the Epping RSL. That was a fun night and an unexpected result.
For the Players Player I didn’t actually understand what it meant at the time, I was a bit daft. I won the award and there was no increase in positive energy, in fact I was a bit flat because I didn’t win the Best and Fairest. Where’s the team spirit I hear you say?
A Senior Leader at the club, one of the Abber brothers, congratulated me on the award and I expressed my reply in a way that revealed I was non-plussed about it. He mentioned, probably a bit perplexed himself, that it’s pretty good to be voted the best player by your teammates throughout a whole year.
It didn’t sink in immediately, but it eventually did and I realised what an honour it is.
* * *
In 1996 we under 16’s Baulkham Hills Falcons were top of the table all year, we finished the regular season undefeated.
We were defeated in the Qualifying Final by Westbrook, their best player dominated from their back line. One of our coaches, the other Abber brother, addressed me in the 3 quarter time huddle, “we need more from you this quarter.” It didn’t come in that game.
But we bounced back and smashed Penrith the following week.
One of my most memorable tackles playing footy was laid in that game against Penrith.
Living in Sydney from the age of 13 I certainly should have acquired some excellent tackling skills. My teens were spent in a Rugby League heartland – the Hills District, north of Parramatta.
My high school girlfriend’s Dad even played for the Australian Kangaroos national rugby league team in the early 1980’s, and he was the coach of the Jersey Flegg Under 20’s Parramatta Eels side for much of the early time I knew him.
But I never acquired a Rugby League tackling technique. I reckon it would have taken my game to the next level if I did. Being one-eyed towards Australian Football was to my detriment in that case.
In the 3rd quarter of the Penrith game an opponent much bigger than me, probably with a Rugby League background, was on the wing and right in front of all the supporters. I came head on and tried to smash him with all my force across the middle of his chest.
The ball came loose and I won a holding the ball free kick. I recall our supporters cheering and calling my name, “Gooo Matty!”
That was a memorable tackle because it almost felt like tackling a brick wall, I was a bit dazed afterwards.
We beat Penrith for a spot in the Grand Final then defeated Westbrook for the Premiership the week after, played in Hawksbury.
One of my most memorable marks was taken in that Grand Final. I never took a “hanger”, which is marking or catching the ball up the back or on the shoulders of another player, but in that Grand Final I came close.
It was on the far forward flank, far away from the supporters, and I recall being about mid-back high on the side of my opponent, with a bit of contact. A good mark perhaps, but not a hanger.
We sung the Falcons club song with premiership passion that afternoon, following the Hawthorn Hawks tune – but instead of “we are the mighty fighting Hawks,” our version was: “we are the Falcons flying high.”
My highest level of representative footy was the following year in 1997. I made it into the Sydney under 16’s representative side that played at a carnival in Finley, NSW.
The selection game I played in for that rep team was held at Sydney University’s Camperdown sports ground. I recall only two things from that selection game – both related to bumps, or in Australian Football terminology, “shepherds.”
One memory is when a teammate from the Falcons, playing for the other team in this case – a much bigger guy than me, a Ruckman and Half-Forward named Scott – eyed me in the middle of the ground near the ball and threw his shoulder in for a bump. I don’t think it could be called a shepherd because he wasn’t protecting one of his teammates.
I don’t know if he was just being friendly because we were actually mates, or he missed timed it – but it was very soft, Scott. It felt like he was trying to tickle me with a feather.
My other memory from that game is when I laid a shepherd, or provided a shepherd, for a teammate.
From memory it’s the best shepherd I ever laid.
My teammate was running down the stand-side wing, a few meters in from the boundary line, heading to the south end and approaching the forward flank.
An opponent was chasing from about 3 meters behind.
I came in on a 45 degree angle from their front-left and with a decent run-up collected the opponent with a legal shepherd – my right shoulder to elbow landing in the sweet spot from his left pec, down – with as much force as I could muster.
It was right in front of the selectors in the stands, and I don’t know what else they saw, but I reckon that shepherd got me a spot in the Finley team.
I didn’t feel I belonged in that Finley team. I was shy as a 15 year old, and when I was 15, I looked 12.
I was a late developer. At my Year 13 camp for Boronia Heights Secondary College, in Melbourne, I was feeling playful, so I ran out of the dorm bathroom naked in front of my mates – uncircumcised penis and all, which was probably quite small at that stage of my development. One of the boys was a bit shocked I didn’t have pubes yet.
A little later I was in the Hawthorn Hawks change rooms after a Sydney Swans game at the Sydney Cricket Ground. I wrote a letter to the Hawks and asked if I could go in after the game.
I remember Hawthorn full forward legend Jason Dunstall standing by the window in the old M. A. Noble Stand rooms, next to the Members Pavillion. He was a bit solemn, probably because we lost. The centre half forward came into that room briefly from a shower, towel draped over his shoulder and not around his waist, and my mind was amazed for a brief moment in a non-sexual way, like: ‘what is THAT? What a man’.
Anyway, I looked 12 in 1997 – and when the training sessions and games started in Finley my out-of-placeness didn’t go away.
The darling of that carnival was Mark “Spike” McVeigh. He had long hair then and my memory of him from that carnival is from the final game for which the best players from the carnival were selected. He took a pack-mark on the clubhouse side wing right in front of me and the crowd.
He was just a bit faster and more fluid than everyone else there. He came running in with an opponent or two behind him and took the grab half-way up someone else’s back. Next level stuff. He was later drafted by Essendon, had a long AFL career and is now coach of the Greater Western Sydney Giants.
I had little hunger at that time playing much else other than Falcons footy, where I knew everyone. That lack of hunger to participate was especially acute at the Finley carnival.
In the warm-up for my game I found a 10 cent piece on the ground and tucked it in my sock, and I was pretty happy when I sat on the bench for the first 3 quarters of the game. At times I played from the bench with Scotty’s younger brother and a footy. He was about 8 years old at the time.
I got my chance in the 4th quarter and was sent to the forward pocket.
The ball landed pretty quickly in my hands for an overhead mark. Like Scotty’s Camperdown bump I again remember my opponent’s close pressure and attempted spoil being a bit like a feather. I don’t feel I earned that mark, the ball landed in my hands, there was no forward-craft to attain it.
I was about 20 meters out on a slight angle but even being so close I remember a teammate pleading for the ball in front of me. Either he had that certain hunger I lacked or he didn’t trust my ability.
My left boot slotted that one through the middle.
I’m pretty sure I kicked a second goal in that 4th quarter, but I don’t remember that one well.
After the carnival my Falcons mates partied at our motel, but I just wanted to go home, because of the shyness.
I didn’t connect well with any of the non-Falcons Finley teammates on that trip. When we played ex-Finley teammates in the SFL afterward I even felt a bit of spite.
Against Cambelltown, on their home ground, a Finley player was at his half forward area and the ball was approaching for an overhead mark. My eyes lit up and did my best to hurt him from behind as the first priority, and spoiling was the second priority, which was unsuccessful – he was pretty good. And playing against the Central Coast team our Finley rover, who wore head-gear, tackled me for a ball-up. He wrapped me up a bit longer after the umpire’s whistle than I appreciated, so I yelled, “get off me dick head!” Maybe I would have said that to any opponent on top of me at that time, but he deserved better.
If my 40 year old self played in the Finley carnival I would certainly have made more of the opportunity, had more fun and connected with more of the players.
I had a couple of training sessions with the Under 18’s NSW Rams Squad, which was the highest level of junior football in Sydney. One of the 1980’s Sydney Swans legends ran one of the training sessions in Ultimo, Sydney. It was good fun and hard training. I certainly enjoyed training sessions, but it didn’t progress any further than that.
I played my best game, in my mind, for the Falcons in the year of the Finley Carnival at Charles McLaughlan Reserve in Baulkham Hills, one Saturday against Pennant Hills.
In the first play after the ball was bounced for the start of the game I came running off the outer back flank and kicked a goal from probably about 40 meters out. I’d like to say closer to 50, but I was 16, so have to be realistic.
The ball came right off the sweet spot of my left boot as I was being thrown off balance by an opponent. The ball just sailed past players on our goal line. By far the best goal I’ve kicked, I didn’t kick many.
I got a mention in the Hills Shire Times local newspaper the next day. On that Sunday there was a rep game in Pennant Hills, so I saw a lot of my teammates there.
Scotty saw the newspaper article and made comment that why did I get a mention in the paper and not him. A parent from our club mentioned that I as feeding him at centre half forward all day from the half back flank.
Scotty was obviously a big part of some memorable moments in my junior career, and he held the team, like a Dermott Brereton presence. No doubt he saw the newspaper and thought, ‘why does a sideshow get a mention and not me,’ ahah.
But he wasn’t the only player that galvanised our teenage success. Steve “Jacko” Jackson was our motor in the middle and provided most of the laughs at training. And of course there were the other Finley boys, and Gruesome, Faulks – among many other memorable personalities.
That Sunday rep game in Pennant Hills is another fine example of my lack of hunger when I was 16 years old to take my football playing to anywhere beyond the Falcons.
I had a slight ankle injury and I played it up so I didn’t have to play the rep game. I guess I’d played my game the day before.
In 1999 I was the captain of the Under 18’s Falcons side. All the other Finley boys were playing First Grade. Being a late developer Under 18’s is where I found my groove. That groove and hunger came a year or two late to be fed further through a development system, and I probably wasn’t good enough anyway.
While captain I can’t recall ever talking to the team in a huddle or providing any motivational speeches. I guess I was chosen as the captain for my example on the field and I may have been good (not sure) at telling teammates what to do in micro ways on the field and expecting a high standard from them.
I certainly had high expectations of others in my Primary School years, like setting a high bar to be achieved in sport. I was scalded by a teacher once at a softball game for ripping into our catcher for letting a ball get through him.
But I’m not sure if I was verbal leader on the footy field and didn’t really connect with being captain at the time.
I played in one Crestwood High School Australian Football game in my final year, at the Charles McLaughlin reserve, which is very close to our school. Such footy games weren’t common. We played against Castle Hill High School and a lot of our high school year classmates came to watch.
Of course a rugby league player opponent smashed me in that game with a classic tackle.
We had to wear black shorts for the game – and I owned a pair, which was convenient. But they were probably from when I was 15 years old and I was now 17. The shorts were a size or two too tight.
I was quite happy and a bit proud to be a rare AFL player at our school in a Sydney rugby league heartland. And the tight shorts were the perfect pantomime, channeling the tight shorts of 1980’s VFL/AFL footy and playing up to “tight short” and “aerial ping pong” jibes of Sydneysiders.
I started playing some Reserves Falcons footy in my Under 18’s year, I’d occasionally back-up with another game after the 18’s.
Another memorable tackle was in a reserves game against the Easts Bulldogs at their home ground, but not memorable for all good reasons.
In the Under 18’s game I tackled an opponent and his arm broke at the wrist with the impact of the landing.
The biggest player on their team that day was a dread-locked player with a Rugby Union background. I could tell that because he definitely hurt me afterwards and his style was all Union.
He also backed up for their Reserves team and in that game he collected a ground ball in the centre square when I was about 5 meters away from him. When he saw me his eyes lit up and he came charging at me, ball tucked to his body.
He raised his elbow and forearm to the level of my jaw and clocked me one. I didn’t really enjoy the rest of that game. But that was only another 2 hours of my time – it didn’t take me 6 weeks to recover, so good on him. Welcome to playing Australian Football in Sydney.
* * *
In Senior footy I played SFL Reserves and was selected for a couple of First Grade games. I vividly recall fumbling with my first opportunity at that top level, which was a good example of not really being up to the standard. I was a pretty good Reserves player, that’s about it.
My playing career came to an abrupt end in 2001, a couple of years in to senior footy.
Now playing with men Senior football was noticeably more physical. By 20 years old I was looking about 16, so I had matured since Finley, but was still lagging behind.
I wasn’t afraid to put my body on the line though, and that was my eventual undoing.
In junior footy I had no need to consider the position of my head when playing, perhaps because of the positions I played, but also, it’s just less physical.
Playing ruck rover for the Reserves I must have kept going for the ball head-first instead of getting my body in the right position to protect my head. I got away with it for a while but not in the end.
My first concussion was at the Ashfield sports ground in Sydney’s inner west. I lost 30 minutes after the knock, so I don’t know how it happened or what I did afterwards – whether I kept playing or was prone on the ground. But I do know who did it – a rough looking, tattooed bloke – good player, bald head.
I was probably playing well and chasing the ball, head down, ahead of me – and I reckon he spotted an opportunity and drove his knee through my temple as he barged through, something like that.
There weren’t the concussion protocols of today in the early 2000’s, so after that game I drove home, feeling a bit weird, then went to bed and to sleep at about 4pm.
I came back to play a few weeks later and got another concussion in my return game. I recall being dazed at our home ground, near Macquarie University in Sydney’s North-West. On the bench recovering I kept looking up the steep hill towards the clubhouse level and crowd for my high school girlfriend. I thought she was there watching me, but I couldn’t find her – where was she? We had broken up over a year earlier.
An annoying thing from around this time is that I didn’t wear contact lenses playing footy but I needed vision correction from about 17 years old. My sight was getting progressively just a little bit worse from my late teens till it settled in my mid 20’s.
I finally arranged some contact lenses during this concussion period and the results were immediate. I was playing in the back line in one game after my second concussion and I took a strong defensive pack mark. In that game I saw the ball clearly for the first time in a long time and it landed crisply in my hands. I can still feel that mark, it felt pretty sweet.
But not long after that I had a third concussion within a few months and that was end for me. I was in my second year of a business degree at UTS and thought, ‘I need my brain.’
So I stopped playing footy.
I attempted two comebacks.
One attempted comeback was a year or two year later via the SFA, the league below the SFL. I played in Greystenes. In that game another player from my team started pounding on an opponent’s head while he was lying on the ground.
It was a bad first impression, I didn’t go back.
I’d never seen that in a game of footy and I thought the SFA attracts the thugs who just want an excuse to hurt people.
My second and last attempted comeback was in 2007, just after my first psychotic break. I was still a bit manic at the time of the game and would have had grandiose-tinged visions of success back playing football again.
I played in head-gear in Campbelltown for the East Coast Eagles Reserves.
I have good memories of that game.
My right hand was stood on, bled, and got swollen – that’s a good memory.
And at one stage I came charging at the ball at our half forward flank heading towards the goals and towards an oncoming teammate and his opponent. I was fast and determined.
Just at the point where the loose bouncing ball was any one of three players to get my head was approaching a precarious position in the path of our leading full forward. I whipped my head out of the way of his charging chest at the last split-second and spun around a little bit.
If I got the ball the goals were open. I was very close.
That’s my last memory of playing, one last ‘swan melody’ – I can’t really call it a song.
It didn’t result in anything meaningful in the game but was meaningful to me.
Next up… Introduction Part 2: VFL/AFL Experiences and ‘Dreaming.’
Introduction Part 2: VFL/AFL Experiences and ‘Dreaming.’
In the first words of Drapht’s 2011 released song “Sing it (The Life of Riley)” – “Ya see, it all started with my Dad… “
My Dad was born in 1956, the year of the Melbourne Olympic games.
He is from an Aussie football loving family – his Dad one a Richmond supporter, and his Mum one eyed Collingwood.
Dad didn’t follow in their footsteps though, as is often the case for families, support for a club passes down the generations.
It may have helped that Hawthorn won their first premiership in 1961, at the time my Dad was nearly 5 years old. But whatever it was, he became a Hawthorn Hawks supporter – and to this day is forever thankful for the good times the club has shown him.
Hawthorn won their 2nd premiership in 1971, followed by another in 1976 and 1978.
I was born in 1981, which was in the warm up for a golden period. Hawthorn made it to the Grand Final in 7 successive years from 1983 to 1989, winning 4 premierships and losing 3 – that era ending with back-to-back premiership in 1988-89.
We were kicked out of the finals by the Melbourne Demons in 1990, but bounced back the following year to win the 1991 premiership.
We had to wait a little while after that to win our next premiership – that came in 2008. And a core of players from that team brought further success with a 3-peat of premierships in 2013, 2014 and 2015.
Although Hawthorn hasn’t won the most premierships in the AFL, we are the most successful club of the last 50 years.
My Dad had the choice to choose his own football team. Maybe his parents pressured him at one stage to follow Richmond or Collingwood, but Dad was his own man – so Hawthorn it was.
I wasn’t afforded that freedom. In about 1988 as a 6 or 7 year old I started barracking for the Footscray Bulldogs as a second team. My best friend around my family home went for them and I wanted to follow her.
I bought 2 VFL club showbags at the Royal Melbourne Show one year in the late 80’s, a Hawthorn Hawks bag and a Footscray Bulldogs bag. When I bought that doggies showbag that was the last straw – Dad threated to kick me out of home, as a 7 year old!
But I was always destined to follow, support and love the Hawthorn Hawks – in all ways Hawthorn, Always Hawthorn!
Our success of the 1980’s galvinsed my support. I don’t remember anything up till 1987. My first VFL game I went to was at Waverly Park in the Eastern Suburbs of Melburne. I went to the West Coast Eagles Hawthorn pre-season game – the Eagles were one of the two non-Melbourne relocation clubs to enter the VFL in that year.
In 1987 Hawthorn had a serious scare in the preliminary final against Melbourne. My birthday lands around Preliminary Finals weekend every year for the VFL/AFL. So in that year I had a birthday party at our family home with my friends on the Saturday of the game against Melbourne.
Dad had the game on the TV, but he also had to entertain us kids – so we played musical chairs to the game of football! He’d mute the TV and that was when we had to race for a chair.
When the game was tense and exciting us kids just had a keep racing around the chairs until Dad was ready to mute it – it was probably a long kids game that day.
My memories of Hawthorn success got stronger from around that time. I don’t recall that musical chairs game myself, it was more the 1988 year that I remember. Hawthorn belted Melbourne in the Grand Final by a record margin to win the first of our back-to-back premierships.
Melbourne legend Gary Lyon came to The Basin Primary school in the following year with some of his Demons teammates to chat to us kids. When it was question time I stood up and asked him how he feels about the belting by Hawthorn in the Grand Final. His eyes rolled in his head, he was very unimpressed. I was chuffed of course.
Later in his presentation he singled me out for his closing address, a motivational speech – he said one of you might become Prime Minister one day. I don’t have aspirations of becoming the Prime Minister of Australia, but he was correct that I was on track for lofty visions.
After Hawthorn’s 1991 Premiership we were on the slow decline towards a rebuild for the next several years.
The West Coast Eagles kicked us out of the finals in 1992, and went on to win the Premiership that year – being the first AFL club outside of Victoria to win a Premiership.
I have 3 AFL teams that I find it hardest to enjoy their success, because of the rivalry with Hawthorn. One is Melbourne, because they kicked us out of the 1990 finals. Another is the West Coast Eagles because they kicked us out of the 1992 final and took a Premiership away from Victoria, and a third is North Melbourne because some of my most painful Hawthorn defeats have been at their hands.
One memorable North Melboourne defeat was on a Friday night in the early 1990s. The game was played at the MCG under lights and from the start Hawthorn were off the mark. We lived an hour away from the ground so being such as crap game we wanted, along with many Hawthorn supporter, to leave at quarter time.
But the gates of the MCG were locked – we couldn’t get out! It was hilarious looking back on it – Dad joked about us being stuck in the ground and being forced to watch a mauling. Hawthorn ended up losing by 135 points that day, a next level thrashing.
Another memorable Hawthorn defeat at the hands of North Melbourne was the 1994 qualifying final. Extra time for finals had just become a new rule in in the AFL. In the regular season a draw is possible, but not in finals anymore – a result must be attained.
At the end of regular time scores were level. In overtime the Kangaroos won. I had tears in my eyes after that game – I can’t recall that happening at any other time.
In 1995 my family moved to Sydney and being a football loving family our weekend home for a few hours was often to watch the Swans play at the Sydney Cricket Ground. 1995 and 1996 are memorable years. Leading up to the end of 1996 that SCG was pretty sparce, so we could sit most placed we wanted to in the Bill O’Reilly, Dally Messager or score board end stands.
The Sydney Swans started a tractory in 1996 towards a Grand Final appearance. The finals were an exciting time. The Swans defeated Hawthorn at the SCG by 6 points in the Qualifying Final, and then defeated Essendon in the Preliminary final 2 weeks later with a Tony “Plugger” Lockett goal after the final siren.
My family were all about the Grand Final festivities in Sydney leading up to the 1996 Grand Final – we went to their open training session and were excited for the team.
My support for the Hawks waned a bit as I settled in to Sydney and started playing footy myself. Hawthorn’s success was a bit sparce in those years 1997 to 2000.
Our next goldern era wasn’t far away though. In the 2003 and 2004 draft Hawthorn recruited a core of players that would later solidify our 3-peat success.
We started reaching lofty heights in 2007, which was the year of my first psychosis. I had the longest recovery of all my several psychoses after that.
I was psychotic for about a further 3 months after my hospitalisation. I thought I was on the TV show Big Brother, constantly being filmed wherever I went – and so were my friends. It was only after that season of Big Brother ended that I realised I wasn’t on the show – and at that time, my psychosis was broken immediately.
During this distorted reality period I watch a lot of AFL football. I thought the TV commentors were address me personally in some of their comments.
At one stage Lance “Buddy” Franklin was lining up for goal, as I was watching on the TV. He kept looking at himself on the big screen as he was preparing for a shot, a lot of younger players tend to do that.
So I commented that he needs to stop doing that. And in my psychotic mind a commentator replied, “well you should do something about it.”
I was immediately inspired that I could help Buddy Franklin.
