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I was looking for something else on an earlier Roar message board and came across these stories which I thought would be worth posting again.
The first one was copied over from BigFooty by InForTheKill.
I was born in 1921 and began going to the footy in 1930. This was in the Depression era and many families could not afford the cost of going on a regular basis. My family could not afford a football so we made "footballs" out of rolled-up newspapers or paper stuffed into cigarette packets. We used to pick up a discarded Football Record after the games to bring home so mum and dad could read it. I once found a two-shilling piece and gave it to my dad and he thought he had won tattslotto. I entered a competition for a penny and won a football which lasted me for nine years despite the fact that it had patches on the patches. We lived in North Fitzroy and I was within walking distance of nine VFL grounds (Brunswick Street, Princes Park, Victoria Park, Arden Street, MCG, Punt Road, St Kilda, South Melbourne and Windy Hill - a very long walk of about 2.5 hours). Geelong and Footscray were too far away and I disliked Glenferrie after only one visit. Most weeks my parents could not afford either the transport fare nor the fare in. I chose to walk to a different venue each week and I became an unbiased follower of no team in particular. Me and my friends often went to games and crawled under the fence or gate or climbed up trees or over the fence to get in. Many times we were chased, caught and escorted out, only to walk around the other side and eventually get in. On many occasions I took my dad's empty gladstone bag (a popular oblong leather kit bag) and told the gateman that one of the players had left his boots at home and I had to take them in to him. It worked twice in about 50 tries. On one occasion I watched a great close game at Arden Street and when I left I forgot the gladstone bag. My dad would have killed me if he had found it missing when going to work the following Monday. I sneaked out at 5 o'clock on Sunday morning and walked back to Arden Street, climbed over the fence and found the bag under the seat in the grandstand where I had left it. Dad never knew it had been missing but I never took it again after that. During this time I saw many great players including Bunton, Reynolds, the Colliers, Smallhorn, Dyer, Regan, too many others to name here. I enlisted when the war started in 1939 and was part of the Dunkirk evacuation. Later I was wounded in New Guinea and spent the rest of the war recovering behind a desk in Melbourne where I was fortunate to be able to keep going to the footy most Saturdays. I bought my first transport, a BSA Bantam motor cycle in 1949 and went to Geelong for the first time. I rarely went to the Carnival games, Victoria was generally too good for everyone else anyway. I did see Polly Farmer before he went to Geelong. Every club in Australia wanted him but he chose to go to the Cats despite many rumored huge money offers by all the VFL clubs. Footy today is faster, the players are fitter, the playing arenas are vastly superior, but the oldfashioned days were a lot of fun for us who hardly ever had a penny in the pocket. I wonder what my long-gone friends of those days would think now to read of some players getting half a million dollars or more for one season.
Signed - Oldfashioned Supporter
NOTE: Since writing his letter about six weeks ago, OFS has passed away, but letters to him and for him are still being received under the topic heading of The Last Post. It is worth a look and there are a few really nice comments and laughs on it as well. Do take the time to have a read of this topic, it puts a bit of sanity back into this world. OFS would have been about the age of my grandfather, who I never really knew as he died when I was very young.
InForTheKill
The first one was copied over from BigFooty by InForTheKill.
I was born in 1921 and began going to the footy in 1930. This was in the Depression era and many families could not afford the cost of going on a regular basis. My family could not afford a football so we made "footballs" out of rolled-up newspapers or paper stuffed into cigarette packets. We used to pick up a discarded Football Record after the games to bring home so mum and dad could read it. I once found a two-shilling piece and gave it to my dad and he thought he had won tattslotto. I entered a competition for a penny and won a football which lasted me for nine years despite the fact that it had patches on the patches. We lived in North Fitzroy and I was within walking distance of nine VFL grounds (Brunswick Street, Princes Park, Victoria Park, Arden Street, MCG, Punt Road, St Kilda, South Melbourne and Windy Hill - a very long walk of about 2.5 hours). Geelong and Footscray were too far away and I disliked Glenferrie after only one visit. Most weeks my parents could not afford either the transport fare nor the fare in. I chose to walk to a different venue each week and I became an unbiased follower of no team in particular. Me and my friends often went to games and crawled under the fence or gate or climbed up trees or over the fence to get in. Many times we were chased, caught and escorted out, only to walk around the other side and eventually get in. On many occasions I took my dad's empty gladstone bag (a popular oblong leather kit bag) and told the gateman that one of the players had left his boots at home and I had to take them in to him. It worked twice in about 50 tries. On one occasion I watched a great close game at Arden Street and when I left I forgot the gladstone bag. My dad would have killed me if he had found it missing when going to work the following Monday. I sneaked out at 5 o'clock on Sunday morning and walked back to Arden Street, climbed over the fence and found the bag under the seat in the grandstand where I had left it. Dad never knew it had been missing but I never took it again after that. During this time I saw many great players including Bunton, Reynolds, the Colliers, Smallhorn, Dyer, Regan, too many others to name here. I enlisted when the war started in 1939 and was part of the Dunkirk evacuation. Later I was wounded in New Guinea and spent the rest of the war recovering behind a desk in Melbourne where I was fortunate to be able to keep going to the footy most Saturdays. I bought my first transport, a BSA Bantam motor cycle in 1949 and went to Geelong for the first time. I rarely went to the Carnival games, Victoria was generally too good for everyone else anyway. I did see Polly Farmer before he went to Geelong. Every club in Australia wanted him but he chose to go to the Cats despite many rumored huge money offers by all the VFL clubs. Footy today is faster, the players are fitter, the playing arenas are vastly superior, but the oldfashioned days were a lot of fun for us who hardly ever had a penny in the pocket. I wonder what my long-gone friends of those days would think now to read of some players getting half a million dollars or more for one season.
Signed - Oldfashioned Supporter
NOTE: Since writing his letter about six weeks ago, OFS has passed away, but letters to him and for him are still being received under the topic heading of The Last Post. It is worth a look and there are a few really nice comments and laughs on it as well. Do take the time to have a read of this topic, it puts a bit of sanity back into this world. OFS would have been about the age of my grandfather, who I never really knew as he died when I was very young.
InForTheKill
