Yellow and Black -- it's in the blood
Paul Wright
richmondfc.com.au
11:19:29 AM Thu 24 July, 2003
There was never going to be any other option for me. I was always going to barrack for Richmond and, surprisingly, not simply because Dad had played for the Club, but rather due to my grandmother Dottie’s devotion to the Tigers.
My grandmother was born in Richmond in 1903 and grew up watching the likes of Vic Thorp and Dan Minogue, becoming a permanent fixture at Punt Road games until she was married and moved to Port Arlington. My family returned to live in Kew when Dad was ill and luckily they were on the right side of the road to just fall inside the Richmond zone boundary. When Dad ended up playing for Richmond, it was a dream come true for Grandma.
The fact Dad played with Richmond ensured that’s where my allegiance lay, however there is no doubt it was my Grandma’s love of the Tigers that influenced my passion for the Yellow and Black in my formative years. As a young boy, I remember Grandma taking my sister Kerryn and I to the MCG to watch our mighty Tigers. We followed the same routine every time, dressing up in our Richmond jumper, beanie and scarf with Grandma in her long coat complete with badges and mandatory hat. We would take along a bag with our thermos, sandwiches and a hand-made blanket in club colors to lay over the timber seat.
We’d sit as close to the fence as possible, so we could watch our heroes up close – and heaven help anyone nearby if they didn’t barrack for Richmond. For such a loving, gentle lady, Grandma could yell and scream with the best of them, effectively drowning out even the most ardent opposition supporter, all the while dishing out elbows as the players attempted to break tackles on the ground. Rain, hail or shine, winning or losing, we would sit near the fence, barracking loud and hard, trying to urge our Tigers on to victory.
Around this time, Dad was working with the ABC and occasionally he would take me to a Richmond away game. I would sit in a vacant broadcast box while he called the game and while I got to see my beloved Tigers, it just wasn’t the same as going with Grandma as I would have to sit there quietly, so as not to disturb the call. It was like a kind of torture! At games with small crowds, I was allowed to sit in the stands right in front of the broadcast box, so Dad could keep an eye on me, but I could barrack as hard as I liked.
Although I didn’t realise it at the time, I was growing up during an extremely rare era in football. I was too young to know of the 1967 and 1969 premierships, however I vividly remember the disappointment of 1972 and the jubilation of 1973 and 1974. It was easy to barrack for the Tiges in those days as finals appearances were simply a matter of course – or so it seemed – and even some of my friends at school decided to change teams, something a true Richmond supporter could never even contemplate.
The 1980 premiership looked like the resurrection of another dominant period, but alas, it was not to be. Despite the lack of success that followed, Grandma would still take us along to the footy and barrack just as hard and loud as always, explaining you can’t always win and the lean times make you appreciate the success even more.
When I look back now, I see what a fantastic association she had with the club. Not only did she have a son that played for the Club, but she also witnessed every high and low that the Tigers experienced, being present for all of our Grand Final appearances, and barracking hard even when we were on the bottom.
It’s hard to describe what your passion for the Tigers means – and how it presents itself – but I guess there are a lot of things that go into making the total package, like the hairs on the back of your neck standing up when you hear the theme song, or getting goose bumps as you watch footage of the greats, both young and old. But if there was one thing that rubbed off on me from Grandma, it was going along week in, week out, regardless of results, in the firm belief today is going to be our day.
In more recent years, Dad would come down from Paynesville for a couple of games during the season and we would sit in the stands watching the game, yelling, screaming and elbowing with the best of them. It was then that I realised just how strong Grandma’s influence had been on both of us.
Paul Wright
richmondfc.com.au
11:19:29 AM Thu 24 July, 2003
There was never going to be any other option for me. I was always going to barrack for Richmond and, surprisingly, not simply because Dad had played for the Club, but rather due to my grandmother Dottie’s devotion to the Tigers.
My grandmother was born in Richmond in 1903 and grew up watching the likes of Vic Thorp and Dan Minogue, becoming a permanent fixture at Punt Road games until she was married and moved to Port Arlington. My family returned to live in Kew when Dad was ill and luckily they were on the right side of the road to just fall inside the Richmond zone boundary. When Dad ended up playing for Richmond, it was a dream come true for Grandma.
The fact Dad played with Richmond ensured that’s where my allegiance lay, however there is no doubt it was my Grandma’s love of the Tigers that influenced my passion for the Yellow and Black in my formative years. As a young boy, I remember Grandma taking my sister Kerryn and I to the MCG to watch our mighty Tigers. We followed the same routine every time, dressing up in our Richmond jumper, beanie and scarf with Grandma in her long coat complete with badges and mandatory hat. We would take along a bag with our thermos, sandwiches and a hand-made blanket in club colors to lay over the timber seat.
We’d sit as close to the fence as possible, so we could watch our heroes up close – and heaven help anyone nearby if they didn’t barrack for Richmond. For such a loving, gentle lady, Grandma could yell and scream with the best of them, effectively drowning out even the most ardent opposition supporter, all the while dishing out elbows as the players attempted to break tackles on the ground. Rain, hail or shine, winning or losing, we would sit near the fence, barracking loud and hard, trying to urge our Tigers on to victory.
Around this time, Dad was working with the ABC and occasionally he would take me to a Richmond away game. I would sit in a vacant broadcast box while he called the game and while I got to see my beloved Tigers, it just wasn’t the same as going with Grandma as I would have to sit there quietly, so as not to disturb the call. It was like a kind of torture! At games with small crowds, I was allowed to sit in the stands right in front of the broadcast box, so Dad could keep an eye on me, but I could barrack as hard as I liked.
Although I didn’t realise it at the time, I was growing up during an extremely rare era in football. I was too young to know of the 1967 and 1969 premierships, however I vividly remember the disappointment of 1972 and the jubilation of 1973 and 1974. It was easy to barrack for the Tiges in those days as finals appearances were simply a matter of course – or so it seemed – and even some of my friends at school decided to change teams, something a true Richmond supporter could never even contemplate.
The 1980 premiership looked like the resurrection of another dominant period, but alas, it was not to be. Despite the lack of success that followed, Grandma would still take us along to the footy and barrack just as hard and loud as always, explaining you can’t always win and the lean times make you appreciate the success even more.
When I look back now, I see what a fantastic association she had with the club. Not only did she have a son that played for the Club, but she also witnessed every high and low that the Tigers experienced, being present for all of our Grand Final appearances, and barracking hard even when we were on the bottom.
It’s hard to describe what your passion for the Tigers means – and how it presents itself – but I guess there are a lot of things that go into making the total package, like the hairs on the back of your neck standing up when you hear the theme song, or getting goose bumps as you watch footage of the greats, both young and old. But if there was one thing that rubbed off on me from Grandma, it was going along week in, week out, regardless of results, in the firm belief today is going to be our day.
In more recent years, Dad would come down from Paynesville for a couple of games during the season and we would sit in the stands watching the game, yelling, screaming and elbowing with the best of them. It was then that I realised just how strong Grandma’s influence had been on both of us.
