The Pivotonians visit Tasmania
Over 30 years ago the Geelong team, with Dave Hickenbotham at the helm, played several matches in Tasmania. Jimmy Julian, who died recently in Sydney, was one of them. There were others well known to fame with the Blue and Whites of that period, though some of them mentioned below did not go to the tight little island. Among them were Bob Talbot, Joe McShane, Phil McShane, Jacko McShane, Archie Sykes, Alick Boyd, Teddy Rankin (father of the A.I.F. full-back, whose kicking in Sydney won much praise), Arthur Morrison, Monty Douglas, Joe Davy, Jimmy Galbraith, Charlie Brownlow (who has for years been a member of the football ‘parliament’, and who has been selected as manager of the Victorian team to play in the Australasian carnival at Perth), and Hughie McLean (a brilliant player).
I played against the old Geelong team at Hobart and in fancy I can hear Dave Hickenbotham's high-pitched voice—piccolo-like in its penetrative quality—singing out; “Now then, Geelong!” as he kicked off.
Will live in memory
There were several things about that trip which will probably never fade from the minds of the then lads from the Pivot who made that journey. Most of them are now grizzled and grey, or have no thatching to test whether their combs are strong or not. Still, that tour will stick in their minds. They will remember that the Saturday afternoon they played at Hobart was probably the coldest they ever experienced. But more vivid in their minds will be the doings of the following day.
One of the heaviest snow-storms in my recollection took place on the Saturday night. Every inch of ground and roof was covered with snow on the Sunday morning, and as the sun shone it presented a spectacle of surpassing loveliness. Both teams were entertained by the Association that day. New Norfolk was the chosen place; steamer the mode of transit.
I shall never forget the way in which those Pivotonians came down to the wharf that morning. They were a mass of rugs and overcoats. Some of them braved the intensity of the cold for a time, and kept on the deck of the boat to enjoy the beauty of the scene. On their left was Mount Wellington, nearly 5000 feet high, covered with a rare thickness of snow shining out like a sheet of dazzling silver. All the surrounding hills, paddocks, houses—in fact, everything that snow could lodge on—was thick with it. I'll guarantee those old warriors of the football field have never forgotten that scene, though so many years have passed away. But even such exquisite loveliness was secured at some expense.
The northerly “jerries” we called northerlies in my day, was sweeping down the river and freezing the boys to the marrow, and though they were glued to the deck for some time they were glad to go below and get something to put some warmth into them. And let it here be said that, though much has been written about the abstinence of our Australian eleven now cutting such a swathe through the Englishmen, they are not more temperate than were that mighty Geelong team of over 30 years ago. In all my long experience of travelling football teams those lads from the Pivot were the most abstemious I have ever encountered.
Cheers and snowballs for Geelong
But what about that landing at New Norfolk? I am sure none of you Geelongites has ever forgotten it. We were all below when the wharf was reached. A crowd had collected there. “Three cheers for Geelong!” came from their lusty throats. The Pivotonians came up from below with a jump. A fusillade of snowballs greeted them. It was a cold welcome, indeed. But those players of the brave days of old did not mind it. Good-tempered, cheery fellows, in the prime of athletic life, they soon entered into the fun of the thing and snowballs were flying all over the place, and lucky indeed was the fellow who escaped getting a few of them on his body or face on the walk to the Bush Inn, a famous place of that time, and I fancy it is so still.
In those days Dave Hickenbotham was regarded as the finest centre in Victoria. Not very tall, but chock full of ginger and enthusiasm, he was invariably doing something. He could always be heard. His voice reminded one of a natural alto in its high pitch; but there the likeness ended, for it was not remarkable for its dulcet tones, being somewhat harsh and uncanny. He was as slippery as an eel, and was noted for his ability to extricate himself from tight corners.
Jimmy Julian, a bright athletic fellow in those days, has been referred to by Onlooker in his always interesting and well-written Victorian football notes in the Referee. He was speedy and was an adept in every phase of the game. I played against him only once, and never saw him afterwards, yet his football indelibly impressed itself on my mind. I never knew he was residing in Sydney till I was informed of his death by Sam Charles, who played for Hotham in the days when Jimmy Robertson used to electrify the crowds with his runs round the wing.
In the Referee office is Charlie Hall, an old friend of Jimmy Julian's, and who figured with Geelong at the time the team went to Tasmania, though business prevented him from being one of the tourists. Charlie, who was a speedy runner, informs me that he told Julian that he was a fast mover, and invited Jimmy to train with him on the Corio Ground. Julian consented, and after a while he was entered for three events for some sports which took place on the local ground. He cleaned up the lot, running brilliantly. Jimmy also won some fame as a swimmer and put up gallant fights against the speed merchants of that time, Blunt and Harry Heath. He was also a noted underwater swimmer.
By the way, Charlie Hall played Rugby with the old Referee team and also took part in several matches with the Randwicks. He was a slashing forward. Charlie was also an excellent kick, and goals several times came from his boot with the ball placed the other side of half-way.
The famous McShane clan
All the McShanes were famous players. Phil was the Dick Lee of his time. He notched goals from all angles with consummate ease; in fact, it used to be said of him that he could ‘kick up a spout’. Joe became one of the champions of the State, and Jacko, with Geelong and South Melbourne, also inscribed his name high on the scroll of fame.
Archie Sykes displayed fine form in Tassie, as also did Bob Talbot. You old timers will remember Bob's style. As soon as the ball was thrown in from the boundary and hit the ground (for players in those days were not allowed to handle the ball until it touched the ‘floor’), Bob would dash in, secure the sphere, bolt out of the ruck for a few yards and punt it on. Tolly was a good, honest, untiring follower.
Of Hughie McLean's triumphs, pages could be written. Throughout the long course of years which have elapsed since he adorned Victorian fields, there have been very few who could compare with him in grace of movement and high football powers; a dandy, indeed.
I have met Charlie Brownlow in Sydney since those far-away days. A genial fellow, one whose popularity through the long vista of years never wanes. On the contrary, he becomes more mellow as time wings its flight.
Footnotes
Title: Geelong of other days: Some experiences on a Tasmanian trip
Author: Old-timer
Publisher: Referee (Sydney, NSW: 1886-1939)
Date: Wednesday 27 July 1921 p 13 Article
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