A tribute to my dad: a Bulldog not quite through and through, but a Bulldog nonetheless
It's after midnight as I sit here, the comforting sound of percolating coffee constant as I type. Except it isn't coffee percolating - it's my dad breathing. His lungs are filled with fluid. He has pneumonia. He has bleeding on the brain. And two broken ribs. And a cracked vertebra. Since his fall a few weeks ago, he's gone downhill fast. Tonight could be his last. At 92 years old, Dad is dying. Mum's on a reclining chair next to his bed, asleep, her hand holding his one final time.
I don't have my parents to thank for my love of footy. Neither of them ever took more than a passing interest. Dad came to Australia in 1951 and settled in Melbourne a couple of years later, but the game never grabbed him. To him nothing could match the skill and artistry of the round-ball game. He only ever got to one VFL/AFL match. His long-time Geelong-supporting friend took him to see the Cats play Essendon at the MCG on the Queen's Birthday in 1989. It had rained an inch the previous day and the 'G was a mud-heap. 87,000 saw Geelong win in a canter. Essendon only kicked four goals. It was never going to be the sort of game that won Dad over.
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Mum grew up in Sydney. She ended up in Melbourne at the same time as Dad. She lived in Hawthorn at first, so supported the Hawks. But when Mum and Dad married in 1954 they built a house out west, in St Albans, so Dad could be near his workplace, ICI in Deer Park, where he was an industrial chemist. So she, along with Dad, became supporters of Footscray. Supporters only in the sense that, if you asked them who they supported, their answer would be "Footscray". That's literally as far as the support went. Mum's been to one less game than Dad. But perhaps there's still time. Though she'll be 90 in November, we may yet get her along to a match.
So one could never say their interest in the game was great. But they did take an interest in our interest. They could see that my brothers and I (my sister less so) were consumed by footy. On a Saturday night, Dad would never fail to ask, "How did Footscray go today?" or, from 1997, "How did the Bulldogs go today?" He had a general idea what was going in the AFL. He knew when the Dogs were a good side and when they weren't. And if the answer to his question was, "We got slaughtered", he'd pass on a rueful, "Ohhh", to us, just to let us know that he was sharing our pain, even if just for a split second.
Mum also always asks how Footscray has gone. But her response to my answer always infuriates me. If the Dogs have had a big win and I say, "We smashed 'em", her invariable response is to feel sorry the team that lost. If it's a team such as Carlton that we've beaten, I'll snap back, "No, don't feel sorry for them! They've won 16 flags; they've had their glory. Now it's our turn!" But she never seems quite convinced. And, even more infuriatingly, if we've lost, she'll say cheerfully, "Oh well, that's good for the team that won, isn't it?" I've given up trying to share the pain or the pleasure with her!
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Despite their support for the Dogs and their passing interest in the way our team's going, I've always held them responsible, at least partially, for the terrible era us Doggie supporters have had to endure. You see, they got married on November 27th, 1954, just weeks after Footscray won its first - and still only - VFL/AFL flag. The Dogs have not won another premiership since they tied the knot at St Joseph's Catholic Church in Hawthorn. Coincidence? I don't know but I have told them on more than one occasion (not least after one of our heartbreaking Preliminary Final losses) that I'm going to write to the Pope to get the marriage annulled.
But I could never do that. Their love for each other and for all six of their kids is far too strong to let a silly thing like footy get in the way of it. It'll be 60 years in November. Or it would have been. They're not quite going to make it. The doctors were in earlier tonight. There's little they can do now. Dad's not being fed. They've taken out his saline drip. The antibiotics were doing nothing so they've been stopped, too. It's all about keeping him as comfortable as possible from here. At some point in the next few hours, maybe the next few days, the sound of coffee percolating will stop. And that will be it. Dad's life will be over.
He never loved footy like I do but he loved the fact that I did. And he loved me. And I love him.
Thanks Dad.
Andrew Gigacz's father passed away at 5am the following morning, August 23rd, 2014.
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Comments
Yvonne Sanders 23 August 2014
A great tribute to your beautiful father, Andrew. A truly solid example of the best kind of person there is. Yvonne
Andrew Gigacz 23 August 2014
Thanks, Yvonne. He was a wonderful dad and a fine man.
Adam Cardosi 23 August 2014
A very fine and heartfelt tribute indeed. Well written. Condolences from me and the family. We're thinking of you today.
Andrew Gigacz 24 August 2014
Thanks Adam.
Roland Frasca 24 August 2014
Andrew, This brings back memories of around 10 years ago when, upon the request of my family, that I began to write my father's eulogy as he lay slowly dying in palliative care. That 'percolation' sound rang out for over 24 hours, but every one of those breaths he took only helped me express how wonderful he was. I shed a tear reading your tribute to your Dad. I only know you through your contribution to australianfootball.com and qwirky tweets on twitter but for what it's worth,Andrew, my heartfelt condolences to you and your family at this sad time. Though it can't be displayed in any cabinet, a love shared for over almost 60 years is the greatest piece of 'silverware' everyone would be in awe of. Roland
Andrew Gigacz 24 August 2014
Thank you for those wonderful words, Roland. I hope and I'm sure you have many wonderful memories of your own Dad. I'm sure you miss him greatly still, as I know I will miss my Dad forever.
James Troi 26 August 2014
So sorry for your loss Gigs. Beautiful tribute. Thank you for sharing these memories with us.
stephen howell 27 August 2014
Gigs, As you know, and unlike you, I'm a fair-weather Bulldog. However, like you, I'm passionate about people being able to write about family relationships, especially father/parent-son/child. You've done it beautifully. My condolences, Stephen.
Terry Logozzo 19 September 2014
I have just read tonight your wonderful tribute to your father. Thank you for sharing these tender memories.
It resonates with me very much -my father was Italian and had a passing interest in St Kilda's fortunes as he knew I was besotted with the Saints. He showed an interest, as it was one of the things that we could easily discuss. Later on in his 70's, he would however while away a Saturday afternoon watching some senior local football nearby and I have fond memories of him rugging up in an overcoat and peaked cap.
Your parents' influences will live on with you, and then pass on to those close to you.
My condolences.
Andrew Gigacz 20 September 2014
Thanks for your very kind words Stephen and Terry, and to you Terry for sharing memories of your father. I will always carry fond memories of Dad with me.
Gigs
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