Being a Melbourne teenager I dreamed every night of becoming a VFL player. And, of course, when I won a suburban Best and Fairest award aged sixteen, I dreamed about it all day as well. In 1959, the AFL hadn’t been born, but the VFL was intensely competitive and all of the State had been zoned into various areas and allocated to all of the twelve clubs.
I lived and played in the Camberwell area and we were scheduled to play against Richmond
area clubs in the Inter-divisional play-off. Twenty two players were selected from all the teams in the Camberwell division and when I was nominated I could almost see my name in the papers. All this intensified when we learned that Hawthorn and Richmond VFL teams were sending talent scouts to assess the players. The match was to be played in Burnley in two weeks. I never learned if the Richmond players ever trained together but the Camberwell players certainly didn’t even meet prior the game. Most of them were completely unknown to me and the two other players from Ashburton (part of Camberwell).
Mum dropped me at the ground in our 1954 Ford Consul. Cool, sunny and still, a perfect day for footy. It was along walk across two ovals but there was big crowd of about two hundred gathering as I reached the little change sheds. Just about shaking with excitement, I didn’t care about the muddy puddles near the entrance and the smell of possum pee in our crowded room.
Very quickly the appointed coach and his assistant got going and we had our boots and jumpers on as we gathered around the blackboard with all the chalked names and positions. I had always been a rover or played on the wing but there was “J.Wilson” in the back pocket! As far as I could judge I was the smallest player in the team. What the hell was I doing in the back pocket? The coach is nuts! We also had twenty two players in the change room but only eighteen names on the board, so I was at least there for the kick-off and not the 19th or 20th man. I was trying to adjust to being a backman and worrying how big and hard my opponent might be. I was also fearful that he also could be a skilled rover and kick three or four goals on me. The last thing I wanted was to be dragged in disgrace from the ground.
The coach is talking, only minutes to go. “Do this, do that…Big Joe Wilson, when you leave the pocket, go straight into the ruck!” JOE WILSON! BIG JOE WILSON! There he is, the big, boofy, unfit looking bastard! I’m not in the team. Not selected. Not even spoken with to soften the blow. My head hangs down so the players can’t see my tears of shock and rage. That’s me, a sixteen year old baby. That’s me, can’t even get a game. I’m ready to scream, to kick somebody, to punch the dumb coach, whoever he is. Who is he to judge…so PISSED OFF!
Then the siren blasts and its time. “Go Camberwell! Go Hard!” The team jogs out into the sunlight to the cheers and clapping of three hundred people. And I’ve run out with them. Stuff them! At least I’ll get a run before they discover I’m an extra man. Wondering where I can hide and not be noticed I jog down to the backline and watch Joe Wilson shake hands with an athletic looking 6’3” Richmond ruckman. I drift back nearer the centre where I
blend in with more players. It’s weird not having an opponent. Weirder still knowing I’m an illegal player! How long before they notice and pull me off? The first bounce and the ball is kicked out and I take a diving chest mark. Minutes later Richmond is attacking, the pack misjudges the ball flight and I mark again. Then I do it again. Incredibly soon the siren wails the end of the first quarter. I’ve had eight kicks and four marks.
As we change ends an official runs up to me and demands my name and position. “John Wilson, back pocket”. Richmond is appealing against nineteen men. Our coach sprints up to me. “There’s been a mix-up but keep doing what you are doing” and he pulls another player off.
Richmond is bigger, fitter and faster. They are also more skilful and all day we are on the defensive. Our Forwards hardly get a kick and we lose by twelve goals, but I’ve seen plenty of action and I’m astounded when I win Camberwell best player.
Two weeks later Hawthorn F.C. want to have a look at me and invite me to train at Glenferrie Oval with the U19s (thirds). Just three training runs later I’m told “too slow, too small, poor disposal.”
The next year Bob Skilton from South Melbourne, who had won the “59 Brownlow Medal, turned up at our Ashburton award night and presented me with our Best and Fairest. Skilton, one of the all-time greats was the same height as me but twenty four kilos heavier, faster and stronger. I couldn’t stop him with a sledge hammer.
Twelve months later I had discovered surfing and footy wasn’t so important to me anymore. But thanks Joe Wilson, its always been a marvellous memory as this was my first experience as a nineteenth man.
John A Wilson, 2007
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