Roy Cazaly on some strange bush happenings
By Roy Cazaly, the noted Victorian and Tasmanian footballer
After 11 years at St. Kilda, I accepted an offer to coach South Warrnambool. Arriving there I found the town seething with excitement over the mystery man of football. Who is he? I asked, and imagine my surprise when officials said "You!" Fancy a league player with my length of service not being known in such a football loving district as Warrnambool! So much for the "publicity" given football in the days just after the war.
In those days a league player could strip for a country team, either midweek or on Saturdays, without a clearance. My visit to Warrnambool was the funniest on record. In no way was I responsible for the season being prolonged, but arguments over a protest in our match against Port Fairy, the first I played in, went on for weeks. "Who is this Cazaly and where did he come from?" was a question on everybody's lips. "Must be a ring-in”, declared the country know-all. Anyhow, I was there long enough to qualify residentially. I'll not forget the final that year when South Warrnambool met Koroit.
Then fight started
The same started in a gale and my side led until the third quarter, when along came a tornado—no, the velocity of the wind had not increased, it was a fight. In a flash local players and officials were in a mix-up with the visitors and their officials. With one giving the other in charge humorous to me.
I grinned at the task facing the local policeman that afternoon, and not did envy him his job. However, the game finished at 6.30, and my side won the fight but lost the game by a point. During the brawl four players of my side received treatment that lessened their interest in proceedings. In all, the season at Warrnambool for me lasted nine months.
I had other country experiences and one that caused amusement to my team and chagrin to the opposition was at a Victorian country town. Billy Schmidt invited me to go away with him for trip. "Bring your togs in case we want to have a run," he said. It turned out that two country centres were jealous of each others football ability and it ended in a challenge.
When the teams took the field it was seen that six prominent Association players were on one side and they duly won the game for their team, much to the disappointment of backers of the losing side. I said to Billy, "tell the losers to challenge them to another game and we’ll get a crowd up from town”. The challenge was accepted and the date fixed.
It now rested with Schmidt to get a bunch of city players to go away for the weekend. Having made the suggestion I was number one on the list, to which others added were Pat Kennedy, Roy Osbury, Paddy Maloney, "Snow" Noonan, Mark Tandy, Jock Doherty, and Tammy Hynes. That looked a fair enough combination, as all were league players showing good form.
We were all on a bonus to go up and extra if we won the match. It was agreed when the challenge was accept that bets would be paid on first past the post. We realised that we were not brought up for fun as big money was at stake on the result.
On boarding the train, we were instructed to look out for a person at a station before our destination. We were taken by cars to a hotel and smuggled unseen in the back way. Our arrival was kept secret and part of our contract was that we did not show ourselves in the town. In the morning we remained indoors and after an early lunch were driven to the ground before anyone else had arrived. No one other than those in the joke were allowed in the dressing room and we waited until the other side took the field.
It transpired that the other side thought our team would object when it was seen who represented them. The men responsible for bringing us from town had the same feelings. When we dashed out on the field we recognised a dozen Association players, and they in turn recognised us. By the looks on their faces their stocks slumped, and whatever was promised them for winning was already a forlorn hope.
Our side won, and we had a great week-end. When aboard the tram for home, we were inundated with fruit, eggs, and other presents from supporters of the team we played for, and they all appeared to have had a lot of satisfaction in putting one over their rivals.
One did not have to go to the country to get a laugh out of football. I could always get a laugh out of the antics of my mates in the South Melbourne ruck, for in "Skeet" Fleiter and "Napper" Tandy I had two of the League's greatest humorists. Our happy associations were the foundation on which we built our ruck work. "Skeeter" took all the hard knocks with a grin in shepherding for me. Yes, I got all the limelight, and my old pal took all the abuse, satisfied as long as I was doing well. Our rover, Napper Tandy had wonderful anticipation. It seemed that I just had to think a thing and both Fleiter and Tandy knew. There must be a lot in mental telepathy, or we would not have been the comination we were.
Remarkable experiences
While working with these great footballers against North Melbourne one day, I had two remarkable experiences. North were pressing us hard, and the hips were cracking. I received the ball from Paddy Scanlon, who was playing centre. I started off for our goal with no one within cooee when, to my surprise, while bouncing the ball, a figure ranged alongside me, took the ball in a stride, all in one action, and kicked a goal.
Immediately after, I flew for a mark and brought it down when the same little blighter seemed to run between my legs. He took the ball and kicked another goal. It was the midget Paul Cameron, one of the smallest and gamest kids I have known. He could run on his knees almost as fast as some men can run on their feet. One of the North players was heard to say that the only way to catch Cameron was with a rabbit trap. I have yet to find a greater pleasure than playing football with good fellows.
Footnotes
Title: Roy Cazaly relates
Author: Roy Cazaly
Publisher: Sporting Globe (Melbourne, Vic: 1922 - 1954)
Date: Wednesday, 12 June 1935, p.10 (2nd Ed)
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