Abstract: Maurice Rioli was a former footballer; a Richmond champion. Matt Corbett, a beef farmer near Byron Bay, contacted Chris Rees, a graphic artist from Hobart, floating the idea of creating an artwork to acknowledge the feats of Rioli; commemorating his story. The project led to Adelaide, and former SANFL indigenous players Sonny Morey and Wilbur Wilson, then to Perth and Maurice Rioli’s son. Approval was sought for the artwork. Chris Rees will be at the Dreamtime game at the MCG, quite possibly wearing his new Rioli iconography. Dugald Jellie will be at the game with Chris, with a batch of homemade Bachar Houli babaganoush, inviting all TTBB readers to half-time nibbles. This is his story about football, and art, and belonging, and a bloke with a prized bull called Richo.

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Football is mostly about the past: about remembering players, games; a single act on an oval that may live on in the mind for weeks or years to come. Anticipation lasts a few days, the game runs two hours, but memories can linger a lifetime.

Maurice Rioli played for Richmond in the 1982 VFL Grand Final. In a losing team, he won the Norm Smith medal for best afield. I was 12 years old and sitting high in the stands. I think of him now and remember his hips, his poise, his balance. Aborigines say if you sleep in the land it talks to you, its spirits sing. To watch Maurice Rioli on the open grass land of a football field was to watch someone on song with the spirits of a game.

As a child growing up in suburban Melbourne, everything about Maurice Rioli was exotic. He was from elsewhere. He was Aboriginal. He was a footballer like few others.

Perhaps it is true that for generations of Australians raised in big cities, a first awareness of our country’s original custodians was through football; through swap cards in the school yard. The Krakouer brothers from Arden Street were a household name. Polly Farmer was from another generation.

We had Maurice Rioli, then Nicky Winmar, Chris Lewis, Gavin Wanganeen, Michael Long, Adam Goodes, Buddy Franklin, and now another Rioli, called Cyril.

Even the name – Rioli – seemed perfectly weighed, balanced; playful. It centres on an ‘o’ – it could be a ball, an oval – steadied by the same vowel and two consonants either side.

He was a centreman; belonging in the oval’s middle, the go-to player, an athlete, delicate skills, and those powerful legs that could roost a ball off a step, or two. Of all Richmond players since, only Dustin Martin has looked to share these two sublime attributes of a footballer: power and grace.

But Maurice was faster, his kicks seemed to spiral further, and he seemed more dangerous. With the ball in his hand, he could do anything.

“I always loved his name,” says Chris Rees, a graphic artist in Hobart who in football sees deeper cultural resonance. “He played with calmness and poise, and no wasted effort.”

Raised in the stiff westerly winds of northern Tasmania, looking at the Victorian Football League from afar, Chris was at high school when Rioli debuted for Richmond. He had moved across the country, a star for South Fremantle in the WAFL, to try his hand in the big city. Chris heard his name on the radio; saw him on The Winners on ABC-TV on Saturday nights.

“I was in Grade 9 that year and Richmond wins were no big deal,” he says. “We won our way through to the finals without a drama and Maurice was the pivot of it all.”

 

Thirty-three years later, a beef farmer from the back of Byron Bay, Matt Corbett, bought a Bones McGhie T-shirt from Chris and contacted him to suggest he make an artwork for Maurice. Matt is a Tigers man. In his words:

“My prized black Angus bull is called Richo and we have a cocky that sings Tigerland. My 11-year-old is a gun footballer and is considering no other career path than to play for the Tigers. He already has his draft tampering strategy worked out so he lands at Punt Road.”

Chris and Matt exchanged emails about the project, and seeking approval from Maurice’s family for the artwork. It prompted a chain of correspondence, nearly 5000 words. Chris approached former Central Districts Bulldogs player, Sonny Morey, who is the subject of a recent design. Sonny lives in Williamstown, north of Adelaide – he enlisted his fellow-indigenous teammate, Wilbur Wilson, from nearby in Elizabeth Downs. Wilbur eventually located Gavin Rioli in Perth.

What follows are edited extracts of the correspondence.

Chris to Sonny “I want to ask your advice about a new design I am working on – this time it’s Maurice Rioli. Do you think there is any chance they will approve an image of a relative who has passed away used in this way? What do you think of the design? I am trying to suggest Rioli’s indigenous heritage without using art designs I have no right to use.”

Sonny to Chris “The design looks great and the idea has merit – it may take some time to contact his family. You are right in what you stated about pictures and any deceased indigenous persons are not viewed in favour as it’s a spiritual significance. I’ll do my best to contact his family.”

Chris to Sonny “Maurice played for South Fremantle in WA – I will do a version of this design in a red and white South Guernsey, and send it to you shortly.”

Chris to Matt “Step one is done – the design. Step two is talking to the Rioli family about it. Luckily, one of my recent subjects, Sonny Morey, knew Maurice and has friends and family connections. He is going to show them the design and talk about what I do and why.”

Matt to Chris “Just in from two weeks in the wilderness living off snapper. Love the design. You’ve captured Maurice’s sublime balance perfectly and I love the black, yellow and red. You should be proud of it. I know a cousin of Maurice’s on Melville – Gordon Pupungamirri – who coordinates the Tiwi arts centre. If you need his contact, let me know.”

Sonny to Chris “Have contacted a good friend of mine, Wilbur Wilson, who also played for Centrals and knew Maurice’s family very well. I have forwarded your emails to him.”

Matt to Chris “Maurice’s NT amateur boxing title is one of intense speculation. I’m sure the record keeping of the Golden Gloves in the NT in the late 70s, especially when an Aboriginal man won, was cursory. It’s almost certain he won a state NT amateur title at welterweight.”

Chris to Sonny “You read everywhere that Maurice won a boxing title in the NT, sometimes it says he won the “Golden Gloves”. I’d like to add that on the shirt to his Simpson medals and Norm Smith.”

Sonny to Chris “It’s a pleasure to get these details for you. There’s not too many who are recording any of the Indigenous players who graced the grounds in the 70s. There was Michael Graham and Roger Rigney from Sturt Footy Club, Bertie Johnson from West Adelaide, Richie Bray and Wilfred Huddleston from Port Adelaide, and David (Soapy) Kantilla and a few fringe players from South Adelaide.”

Chris to Sonny “I am not Indigenous myself so I am going forward cautiously, but I do have a passion for footy history. Our original people’s contribution was neglected for a long time, not just in sport but in general. I am working on a Russell Ebert design, maybe my next SANFL shirt should be David Kantilla. A great player and a great nickname.”

Sonny to Chris “Do you watch the Marngrook Footy Show?”

Chris to Sonny “Marngrook is the only footy talk show worth watching. My favourite writer on footy is Martin Flanagan, and he has opened my eyes to Aboriginal football in a big way. He has written a lot about footy in the Top End, the Yuendumu Carnival and the visits up north by league clubs. It does sound like another world to Tasmania where I am, not just another country.”

Chris to Matt “Sonny is a great old fella, turning 70 in 10 days. Related to Gilbert McAdam, he says. He is one of the few old footy players I’ve contacted who is really happy writing email. What I am planning to do with the Rioli design – if it does get a tick to go ahead – is to donate something to an indigenous health-related charity. Once I reach maybe 50 sales I’ll make it 100% for the benefit of the charity, like I have with Robbie Flower stuff for the Aust Cancer Research Fund. It’s all good for the karma.”

Wilbur to Chris “Sonny Morey asked if I can track down a contact for Maurice’s family. I have been able to get a phone number for Maurice’s son, Gavin Rioli, who lives in Perth.”

Chris to Matt “I have Maurice’s son, Gavin’s, phone number. How do you feel about making the call? I am actually phone phobic, and calling the players, or for instance calling Sean Millane, always puts me in a cold sweat.”

Matt to Chris “Made the call to Gavin. Lovely bloke. He said, yeah, dad won a Golden Gloves alright. He said your artwork should be fine. He’s going to talk to his mum and get back to me with a year for the GG and an OK off aunty Rioli for the artwork.”

Chris to Matt “Just got your last email, wonderful! Bloody wonderful! We are halfway there!”

Matt to Gavin “Dear Gavin, below are the two images of your late father, in all his balanced glory. The two versions celebrate his remarkable career with both South Fremantle and Richmond. The image will be available for purchase as prints, t-shirts and stickers. Chris Rees, the artist and a mad Tiger, has a collection of great footy related art. After purchasing some of his other footy art, I asked him if he would do an artwork of Maurice. As a 9-year-old in 1980, I was in awe of Maurice’s balance, power and charisma, and subsequently followed closely the careers of many Tiwi footballers. I hope your family approves of this celebration of Maurice’s career. Chris will arrange for some prints of the artwork to be supplied to your family.”

Gavin to Matt “My eldest boy Izayah is 13 this year and is the Richmond Tigers biggest fan. My second boy is 11 and they are both extremely talented. Both have different playing styles. They play AFL and breathe it, they both also wear dad’s beloved No. 17. My family and I live in Perth. The artwork is magnificent and totally does dad justice.”

Wilbur to Chris “Glad you have been able to talk to Gavin. I wish you all the best with his acknowledgement project. Maurice was a great man and a very good mate of mine.”

Postscript:

Matt Corbett’s son and Gavin Rioli’s two boys all have their sights set on playing for Richmond and are now pen pals. Matt is sending a poster of the design to Perth, on which Gavin and his boys are going to write on it all the football wisdom Maurice passed down to them. Chris’s design has the approval and blessing of the Rioli family, and is available now through Redbubble.com. Funds raised through the sale of the artwork will be donated to the Lowitja Institute’s Career Development Fund, supporting indigenous health researchers.

Chris plans to attend the Dreamtime Game at the MCG. Dugald Jellie would like to celebrate his attendance by holding a halftime party in the outer, with crackers and a tub of his homemade Bachar Houli babaganoush. Details will be provided on this website next week.

Fond memories of Maurice live on, and through Chris’ artwork hopefully will touch a new crowd of supporters.

Matt’s prized bull, Richo, is doing well.

Tiger tiger burning bright

Email: dugaldjellie@gmail.com

Twitter: @dugaldjellie

In Noorat this morning, in western Victoria, four poles of PVC pipe stand under heavy skies in a paddock, and there is an understanding of a game, and of a way of life.

Last Thursday night under clear skies at the MCG, us Richmond people came together and after an uncertain beginning – the doubt of the season’s first thirty minutes of football – we shared in another understanding, and another way of life.

It felt like sweet redemption. Like all the disappointments of the early part of last season, like the squandered opportunity of the Elimination Final in Melbourne two years ago, like all those miserable opening round losses to Carlton, like the Ben Cousins debut, like our seasons of mediocrity, had somehow come to an end.

It was more than a weight being lifted. It was history being expunged.

We toyed with them. We bossed them. We filled their fans with doubt, then bitterness, then disappointment. Us Tigers walked proudly into the night. We’ve floated for days. In four bounces – or was it five, or six? – and a searching run along the wing of the Melbourne Cricket Ground, in all that open space and in the confidence and youth and bravado of a young man from a small town in the far west here tonight to play his first game of league football, before us, the adoring fans, 84,000 faces, chosen for this night by the coaching staff as a mark of belief, the long strides of a gazelle, in this one moment on Thursday night a young man named Kamdyn McIntosh showed us what he could do and what he has and how the game can be played, and this season all at once looks full of brilliant possibilities.

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Before the game on Thursday I bumped into Brandon Ellis and Jake Batchelor. Outside Punt Road Oval, with backpacks on, they were readying for the walk through Yarra Park to the ground. I was going home to ready children for bed. Our paths crossed, at 5.19pm, two hours before the season’s first bounce; a fan and two players and an understanding.

Of course I introduced myself. I wished them the best of luck for the night, and for the season. “Knock ‘em dead.” I could have told them all the ways I have admired them, as footballers, and how I once met Brandon’s parents in the change rooms after a game (for that brief and joyous moment in my life when I had access to be there, when I was something more than a fan), but this was not the time nor place.

Jake Batchelor looked me in the eye and offered his hand, and my respect for him only grew. He said he reads what I write and enjoys it. My man-crush, on the eve of this season, by happenstance, it was complete.

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Thursday afternoon, before the game, I met with Richmond supporter Luke McNiece, who had travelled from Perth to be there. Two seasons ago he contacted me and shared a story that later I will share with others. Both times I’ve met Luke, tears have swelled in my eyes. Football, as with life, is only enriched by the emotions.

We found an open gate at Punt Road Oval and there behind it was Trout – the spiritual leader of our beloved cheer squad – in front of a television camera, dressed in all his finery, being interviewed by a TV news reporter.

And so a football season begins with this. It makes me smile.

On the walk to a nearby café, Luke and I discussed our anticipation of the game, and how we might respond to a win or loss. In our own ways, both of us were at ease with what might happen. Of course we would like Richmond to win, and to win handsomely, but football is only a part of our lives. It is the most perfect diversion, but it is not everything.

I told Luke how my great thrill for the night was to see Kamdyn McIntosh’s debut. I told him how two seasons ago, when I decided to turn my writings to football – to barrack for my team like never before – for a first time I attended the club’s family day, took our little boy along, and under a blazing sun in the old circus paddock by a bend in the Yarra at Richmond, there was a new recruit introduced on stage and his name was Kamdyn.

His story stuck. In my imagination he was one to watch. I had confused his provenance (until just the other day I thought he was from the Pilbara in Western Australia, but now know it is Pinjarra), but not his family situation.

The story was compelling. A young man from a big family and a country town at the other end of the country comes to Melbourne to try his luck, to make his name as a footballer in the big city.

These past two seasons I had looked out for his name – on the injury list, on the VFL list – hoping he might find his way. I had wanted for his success. I had hoped he would not be delisted before a chance came to him. And then here it was, at the MCG, on a season’s first game, under blinding lights, in prime-time, our whole world looking at him, a crucible of a man’s capabilities as a footballer, for all of us to see.

Friday afternoon, in the glorious afterglow of the night before, Luke McNiece sent a text. “What about McIntosh?” it read. “Now there’s a story”.

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Two days after the game I find myself walking through a forest near Timboon, carrying a child in a backpack and with others all about, on holidays, and all I can think about is the football. It is not just the football; it is how our team played, how our players performed, and what all of this might mean.

I think about Nick Vlaustin’s courage. I think about Shane Edwards’ liveliness in the middle. I think about Troy Chaplin’s composure across the backline; the return of his confidence. I think of Bachar’s run, and his left foot, and his fearlessness in bottling the ball up when it’s on the ground, and how the fortunes of our club have changed with his arrival, and with that of Shaun Grigg.

I think about Jack’s pack mark, and his crucial goals, and how his partner is away in Tokyo, and about the untimely death of his cousin, and about how so many people say so much about our Jack, but that what all should acknowledge is his utter professionalism as a footballer.

I think about Ben Griffiths, and the thrill all us Richmond people have when he has the ball, wondering how far he might kick it, delighting in how it spreads a game. I think about Alex Rance and what a composed footballer he is. I think about how Dylan Grimes sometimes reminds me of Francis Bourke. I think about all the young women sitting in front of me at the game who started squealing when Nathan Gordon came on.

I think about Sam Lloyd, and how pleased I am for him that he’s in the starting line-up for the season’s first game, and how he looks to have slimmed down, and how his leads are impeccable, and how he reads a game, and has a knack for the goals, but maybe now a greater awareness of what else is around. Tony Greenberg says Brett Deledio had been his “training buddy” over summer. I think of this as a perfect fit: two country boys, one from Kyabram, one from further up the road at ‘Denny’, both plying their craft in the big smoke.

I think Sam Llyod, the football journeyman, might find more than a home at Punt Road this season. I think he might make a name for himself.

I think of what a rock Ivan Maric is, and how well-liked he must be in the team, and how appreciated he is. I think what a great story Anthony Miles is. I think Taylor Hunt looks a lot like Brandon Ellis on the field, and that he looks a prudent recruit.

I think of Stevie Morris and what he contributed on Thursday night – the harassment, at least one goal assist, and how he absorbed the play when it was in his area, keeping the ball at his end, slowing the play, often stopping it with a free kick (against), and how this very public career change offers him a wonderful challenge that all of us are willing him to fulfil. The confidence will rise, the goals will come.

I think of a mark Jake Batchelor took, deep in defence in the third quarter, a one-on-one contest with Troy Menzel down the city end of the MCG – the last two men in the world and he took the mark, cleanly, and I applauded his name. In my mind it was more than a mark. It was a test of poise and courage and belief. From that moment on his opponent was as good as done. His night was over.

Of course I think of Dusty, and Trent and his new fatherhood, and Lids and his run, and Chris Newman in this first game of what must be his last season, and Brandon Ellis and what a competitor he is.

I think all us Richmond people must have been thinking about the game in so many ways, wanting to hold onto the thoughts and its joys, watching a replay, hanging onto the moment, wanting for that shared sense of happiness to be experienced over and over and over again. Truly, we wanted Thursday night never to end. And this Saturday afternoon cannot come soon enough.

And I think of all the words I would like to write about Kamdyn McIntosh and his first game: a bruising first tackle, a turnover first kick, the turn of pace, the three shots on goal up to half time, the leaving of Chris Judd in his wake (twice), the stunning goal (“that was BIG,” says Bruce), and the run all of us will remember for the longest time. His first game of football. The ghosts of Dean Polo were rekindled for all us Richmond people. Only this bloke is taller, faster, stronger; more exciting, still.

But these words can wait.

All I can say for now is when he took his second set shot at goal, when all the anxiety was tight inside him, when he was 35 out and dead in front and all the expectation was on him, it was Bachar Houli who came across to offer advice and calming words, giving him companionship in the open cauldron of the MCG.

The shot hit the post. Our club is so blessed to have Bachar.

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Thanks to all TTBB readers who this past week shared kind words about our football club bringing me into the fold this season. It feels like an acceptance, an understanding. As I’ve said to many, I’m proud of my football club for embracing what I’ve been up to. Last season, I levelled criticism at the club when I thought it was fair and warranted. The club could easily have turned its back on me. Rather, it has taken the higher road; it’s shown it has a bigger heart. A gesture of goodwill, it is returned in so many unspoken ways.

It will be a privilege to share the stories of so many Richmond supporters this year. Our story of football, it becomes one, as it was on Thursday night.

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A resounding win against Carlton is good, but it means nothing if it’s not backed up with another, against the Bulldogs, this Saturday. We need a ferocious attack on the contest. We need to be left in no doubt. All the disappointments of this corresponding game last season need be reversed. On the field, there is no room for sentiment. It is a brutal contest; and this Saturday afternoon at the MCG we need to make it all ours.

There is no easy way to win a game of football. There are no half measures. All we can ask for, all we hope for, all we can believe in, is something called total commitment.

Tiger tiger burning bright

Email: dugaldjellie@gmail.com

Twitter: @dugaldjellie