“The Gadfly” columnist ROBERT MACKLIN remembers his glory days of playing footy for Queensland at 14 and why he still gets a quiver of pride every time he sees a maroon jumper. 

THANK goodness the footy season’s over.

It’s not that I’m opposed to the games. On the contrary, I’m a voracious viewer; and in that awful period between the end of the footy season and the start of the first cricket match on home soil, life seems somehow directionless, like sailing a trainee on the Brisbane River without a keel.

The key word in that previous sentence – as I’m sure you’ve guessed – was “Brisbane”. Yep, the old hometown that helped produce the two most exciting footy grand finals in living memory… and we lost them both! 

I say “we” but, of course, I wasn’t actually on the field in either contest… not physically anyway. But like so many Queenslander viewers on those fateful days, I had once actually been chosen to play in the state Aussie rules team – to run on to the field in that maroon jersey with the white Q embossed on the left breast, maroon socks with mum’s elastic bands keeping them neatly knee-high above shiny black boots and Kiwi-white laces.

I was 14. The field was the famous Adelaide Oval with its distinctive cricket scoreboard and the game was the final of the state carnival where we played the South Australians who, like us, had beaten NSW. Victoria, WA and Tasmania played each other – and Victoria won easily. We were basically the second-raters but that’s because the pool from which we were chosen was only 1600 talents deep; everyone else played rugby.

Anyway, we thought we were pretty damn good and in that final we had a nice win and, at left half-forward, I kicked a goal. Next day, there it was in the Adelaide “Advertiser”: immortality in newsprint. 

So whenever the Brisbane Lions play – and especially at the Adelaide Oval – it’s just like I’m running on to that famous ground in my

Queensland colours all those years ago. 

Except that I’m married now; and my dear wife wants to watch one of the “Antiques Roadshow” programs she has been recording throughout the season while I’ve been engrossed in the Australian Open, Roland Garros and Wimbledon.

We did watch the Matildas together. And once the AFLW comp got underway she did glance at it as she passed through the lounge room. But somehow it didn’t click with her. “They have very long legs,” she said. “Really,” I replied. “I hadn’t noticed.”  

Of course, I realised I was being very selfish with the TV viewing; so in the days leading up to the grand finals, I made the supreme gesture: “How about we watch an ‘Antique Roadshow’ together,” I said. 

She glowed. “And you won’t make remarks about the Poms building their castles and fortunes on the sweat of the black slaves in the sugar and cotton fields?”

“Cross my heart.” And I was true to my word till she said: “Who are you texting?”

“Just a little historical question on Wikipedia about the family who owned that great Manor House.” 

“Not slavery?” 

“Actually, it’s about Captain Bligh. When ‘The Bounty’ pulled into Tahiti, it was to collect breadfruit… they thought it would be cheaper to feed the workers on the sugar farms in the Caribbean than bread from wheat.”

Happily, that’s when Fiona Bruce did her thing about which of three oddities was “good, better, best” by “AR” values. I picked the ugliest as most valuable and on this occasion I won. Dear wife was graciousness itself. In response, she would join me in watching both grand finals! 

Someone should have told the Lions and the Broncos. From that very moment they were history. 

robert@robertmacklin.com.