Junction Oval in funding crisis.

[The Fireman]

The JO is the GO

[Wayne42]

The JO had to GO, and it did.

Permanently.

[B.M]

Where is the current premiers home?

[Wayne42]

The Nomads.

[Trev from the Bush]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

[happy feet]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

Trev, my Dad was a gate attendant for the StKilda Football Club at both the Junction Oval and Moorabbin. At the Junction Oval he was the attendant between the outer and the members enclosure. At the end of the game the President of the StKilda Cricket Club would give hive 2 long necks to let him into the members. Dad reckoned it was the best job he ever had. He was paid to watch the footy, got a seat that was undercover and came home with 2 long necks of beer.

[Trev from the Bush]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

Trev, my Dad was a gate attendant for the StKilda Football Club at both the Junction Oval and Moorabbin. At the Junction Oval he was the attendant between the outer and the members enclosure. At the end of the game the President of the StKilda Cricket Club would give hive 2 long necks to let him into the members. Dad reckoned it was the best job he ever had. He was paid to watch the footy, got a seat that was undercover and came home with 2 long necks of beer.

I still have my Dad's old Gladstone bag, perfect for bringing home his couple of bottles of Foster's on the rack of his push bike. Sound like he had a great gig.

We can crap on all we like about how "bad" ground facilities of the day were but Moorabbin, no matter what, was the worst in my mind. All because of the unfinished state it was in for round 1, 1965. At half time, I followed Dad and a couple of thousand others in a conga line into the new cream brick toilet block behind the grandstand. To my eternal horror once I got in I saw all these blokes peeing on the brick walls and the crushed bluestone that lay where concrete floors and stainless steel urinals should have been. Did it scar the mind of an impressionable 9 year old? Ask my lemon tree!

[happy feet]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

Trev, my Dad was a gate attendant for the StKilda Football Club at both the Junction Oval and Moorabbin. At the Junction Oval he was the attendant between the outer and the members enclosure. At the end of the game the President of the StKilda Cricket Club would give hive 2 long necks to let him into the members. Dad reckoned it was the best job he ever had. He was paid to watch the footy, got a seat that was undercover and came home with 2 long necks of beer.

I still have my Dad's old Gladstone bag, perfect for bringing home his couple of bottles of Foster's on the rack of his push bike. Sound like he had a great gig.

We can crap on all we like about how "bad" ground facilities of the day were but Moorabbin, no matter what, was the worst in my mind. All because of the unfinished state it was in for round 1, 1965. At half time, I followed Dad and a couple of thousand others in a conga line into the new cream brick toilet block behind the grandstand. To my eternal horror once I got in I saw all these blokes peeing on the brick walls and the crushed bluestone that lay where concrete floors and stainless steel urinals should have been. Did it scar the mind of an impressionable 9 year old? Ask my lemon tree!

It was a job he loved Trev. He got to know many of the players, just loved Big Carl and the Doc. He said the Doc would always stop for a chat with him. A member of the Killigrew family spoke at his funeral. Unfortunately his job came to an end in about 1980 when a drunk teenager pushed an old bloke over and threw a pie and his grandson. Dad saw red, kicked the kid up the bum and threw his out over the turnstiles. Anyhow the kid came back with his Father who was a Solicitor and it was on. The Club threw him under a bus and gave him no support. It was lucky he kept the old blokes name and phone number and so when he threatened to have the kid charged with assault the matter went away. Dad told the Club to stick their job well you know where.

[skeptic]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

Trev, my Dad was a gate attendant for the StKilda Football Club at both the Junction Oval and Moorabbin. At the Junction Oval he was the attendant between the outer and the members enclosure. At the end of the game the President of the StKilda Cricket Club would give hive 2 long necks to let him into the members. Dad reckoned it was the best job he ever had. He was paid to watch the footy, got a seat that was undercover and came home with 2 long necks of beer.

I still have my Dad's old Gladstone bag, perfect for bringing home his couple of bottles of Foster's on the rack of his push bike. Sound like he had a great gig.

We can crap on all we like about how "bad" ground facilities of the day were but Moorabbin, no matter what, was the worst in my mind. All because of the unfinished state it was in for round 1, 1965. At half time, I followed Dad and a couple of thousand others in a conga line into the new cream brick toilet block behind the grandstand. To my eternal horror once I got in I saw all these blokes peeing on the brick walls and the crushed bluestone that lay where concrete floors and stainless steel urinals should have been. Did it scar the mind of an impressionable 9 year old? Ask my lemon tree!

It was a job he loved Trev. He got to know many of the players, just loved Big Carl and the Doc. He said the Doc would always stop for a chat with him. A member of the Killigrew family spoke at his funeral. Unfortunately his job came to an end in about 1980 when a drunk teenager pushed an old bloke over and threw a pie and his grandson. Dad saw red, kicked the kid up the bum and threw his out over the turnstiles. Anyhow the kid came back with his Father who was a Solicitor and it was on. The Club threw him under a bus and gave him no support. It was lucky he kept the old blokes name and phone number and so when he threatened to have the kid charged with assault the matter went away. Dad told the Club to stick their job well you know where.

That’s a sad story

Unfortunately I read/hear of a lot of instances like this where the club seems to really loyal servants loose when the going gets tough.

[shanegrambeau]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

Trev, my Dad was a gate attendant for the StKilda Football Club at both the Junction Oval and Moorabbin. At the Junction Oval he was the attendant between the outer and the members enclosure. At the end of the game the President of the StKilda Cricket Club would give hive 2 long necks to let him into the members. Dad reckoned it was the best job he ever had. He was paid to watch the footy, got a seat that was undercover and came home with 2 long necks of beer.

I still have my Dad's old Gladstone bag, perfect for bringing home his couple of bottles of Foster's on the rack of his push bike. Sound like he had a great gig.

We can crap on all we like about how "bad" ground facilities of the day were but Moorabbin, no matter what, was the worst in my mind. All because of the unfinished state it was in for round 1, 1965. At half time, I followed Dad and a couple of thousand others in a conga line into the new cream brick toilet block behind the grandstand. To my eternal horror once I got in I saw all these blokes peeing on the brick walls and the crushed bluestone that lay where concrete floors and stainless steel urinals should have been. Did it scar the mind of an impressionable 9 year old? Ask my lemon tree!

It was a job he loved Trev. He got to know many of the players, just loved Big Carl and the Doc. He said the Doc would always stop for a chat with him. A member of the Killigrew family spoke at his funeral. Unfortunately his job came to an end in about 1980 when a drunk teenager pushed an old bloke over and threw a pie and his grandson. Dad saw red, kicked the kid up the bum and threw his out over the turnstiles. Anyhow the kid came back with his Father who was a Solicitor and it was on. The Club threw him under a bus and gave him no support. It was lucky he kept the old blokes name and phone number and so when he threatened to have the kid charged with assault the matter went away. Dad told the Club to stick their job well you know where.

That’s a sad story

Unfortunately I read/hear of a lot of instances like this where the club seems to really loyal servants loose when the going gets tough.

I think St Kilda just wasn’t strong enough I suppose.
The history of the club seems to be riddled with stories of financial insecurity, troubles with unions, authorities, and so on..I’m no expert and I’m sure many here no so much about the details and stories. I wonder, was there ever a time that the club actually enjoyed stability? The 1950s? When we were pretty terrible on the field? It would probably be now wouldn’t it? Like the last twenty years?

When a solicitor dad comes along, what are your options? The hungry media always ready to lynch the club. Poor fella.

What is the secret to handling insidious and blatant humiliation replete with subtle physical intimidation?
(Without buying a nuclear submarine?)

What do you fathers tell your kids?

[Trev from the Bush]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

Trev, my Dad was a gate attendant for the StKilda Football Club at both the Junction Oval and Moorabbin. At the Junction Oval he was the attendant between the outer and the members enclosure. At the end of the game the President of the StKilda Cricket Club would give hive 2 long necks to let him into the members. Dad reckoned it was the best job he ever had. He was paid to watch the footy, got a seat that was undercover and came home with 2 long necks of beer.

I still have my Dad's old Gladstone bag, perfect for bringing home his couple of bottles of Foster's on the rack of his push bike. Sound like he had a great gig.

We can crap on all we like about how "bad" ground facilities of the day were but Moorabbin, no matter what, was the worst in my mind. All because of the unfinished state it was in for round 1, 1965. At half time, I followed Dad and a couple of thousand others in a conga line into the new cream brick toilet block behind the grandstand. To my eternal horror once I got in I saw all these blokes peeing on the brick walls and the crushed bluestone that lay where concrete floors and stainless steel urinals should have been. Did it scar the mind of an impressionable 9 year old? Ask my lemon tree!

It was a job he loved Trev. He got to know many of the players, just loved Big Carl and the Doc. He said the Doc would always stop for a chat with him. A member of the Killigrew family spoke at his funeral. Unfortunately his job came to an end in about 1980 when a drunk teenager pushed an old bloke over and threw a pie and his grandson. Dad saw red, kicked the kid up the bum and threw his out over the turnstiles. Anyhow the kid came back with his Father who was a Solicitor and it was on. The Club threw him under a bus and gave him no support. It was lucky he kept the old blokes name and phone number and so when he threatened to have the kid charged with assault the matter went away. Dad told the Club to stick their job well you know where.

That’s a sad story

Unfortunately I read/hear of a lot of instances like this where the club seems to really loyal servants loose when the going gets tough.

That just about sums up the StKilda Football Club of the period, especially under the leadership of Mr Fox. The club was ruthless at the time, selling good players and sold its soul. Having lived through all that I cannot give you a valid reason why I even bother following the Club let alone fork out for memberships and reserved seats. Perhaps it became ingrained in my DNA in my early days. The Doc was a generous man indeed; took my autograph book on the end of year trip with him and got all of the players to sign it. That contrasts greatly with the mean spirited administrations of the late 70's, 80's and into the 90's. Admittedly the club was broke but the behaviour was deplorable at times. Perhaps it because subsequent administrations are painfully aware of this and seem determined to make good.

[happy feet]

Shane. Take your medication and go to bed. ....

Yes Trev.
I agree ..I think I ought to.

I am drinking Suntory 'All-Free' no alcohol 'beer' with my chow. And it tastes like p#ss and won't keep me up for long.

Have a couple of nips (no racism intended) of Suntory whisky before bedtime. You will sleep better and have sweet dreams of Moorabbin.

Trev, my Dad was a gate attendant for the StKilda Football Club at both the Junction Oval and Moorabbin. At the Junction Oval he was the attendant between the outer and the members enclosure. At the end of the game the President of the StKilda Cricket Club would give hive 2 long necks to let him into the members. Dad reckoned it was the best job he ever had. He was paid to watch the footy, got a seat that was undercover and came home with 2 long necks of beer.

I still have my Dad's old Gladstone bag, perfect for bringing home his couple of bottles of Foster's on the rack of his push bike. Sound like he had a great gig.

We can crap on all we like about how "bad" ground facilities of the day were but Moorabbin, no matter what, was the worst in my mind. All because of the unfinished state it was in for round 1, 1965. At half time, I followed Dad and a couple of thousand others in a conga line into the new cream brick toilet block behind the grandstand. To my eternal horror once I got in I saw all these blokes peeing on the brick walls and the crushed bluestone that lay where concrete floors and stainless steel urinals should have been. Did it scar the mind of an impressionable 9 year old? Ask my lemon tree!

It was a job he loved Trev. He got to know many of the players, just loved Big Carl and the Doc. He said the Doc would always stop for a chat with him. A member of the Killigrew family spoke at his funeral. Unfortunately his job came to an end in about 1980 when a drunk teenager pushed an old bloke over and threw a pie and his grandson. Dad saw red, kicked the kid up the bum and threw his out over the turnstiles. Anyhow the kid came back with his Father who was a Solicitor and it was on. The Club threw him under a bus and gave him no support. It was lucky he kept the old blokes name and phone number and so when he threatened to have the kid charged with assault the matter went away. Dad told the Club to stick their job well you know where.

That’s a sad story

Unfortunately I read/hear of a lot of instances like this where the club seems to really loyal servants loose when the going gets tough.

That just about sums up the StKilda Football Club of the period, especially under the leadership of Mr Fox. The club was ruthless at the time, selling good players and sold its soul. Having lived through all that I cannot give you a valid reason why I even bother following the Club let alone fork out for memberships and reserved seats. Perhaps it became ingrained in my DNA in my early days. The Doc was a generous man indeed; took my autograph book on the end of year trip with him and got all of the players to sign it. That contrasts greatly with the mean spirited administrations of the late 70's, 80's and into the 90's. Admittedly the club was broke but the behaviour was deplorable at times. Perhaps it because subsequent administrations are painfully aware of this and seem determined to make good.

Dad was very disappointed in Ian Drake. What Dad did was probably the wrong thing to do, but her grew up on a farm in the Mallee and at 18 years of age like many others went to war in 1941 and spent 3 years in the islands fighting the Japanese. He worked in the timber industry and also as a bouncer for many years and did not put up with crap from people who did the wrong thing. I guess it was why he like Big Carl so much, he looked after everyone especially the smaller players and if retribution was needed it was delivered swiftly and effectively. They were different time then.

[saynta]

I actually liked Ian Drake. He was the first adult I heard say the word f***.

Throwing the drunk kid out was the right thing to do, as would have been calling the cops.

Kicking someone in the rear end and throwing them over a turnstiles wasn't.

As you said , it wasn't the right thing to do. These days you would end up before the courts.

As you also say, different times and no reason to put s*** on the saints.

[happy feet]

I actually liked Ian Drake. He was the first adult I heard say the word f***.

Throwing the drunk kid out was the right thing to do, as would have been calling the cops.

Kicking someone in the rear end and throwing them over a turnstiles wasn't.

As you said , it wasn't the right thing to do. These days you would end up before the courts.

As you also say, different times and no reason to put s*** on the saints.

Where did I put s*** on the Saints, I was just telling a story. Dad stayed a Saints supporter until the day he died, his coffin had 2 things on it. His war service medals and his St Kilda scarf and I know which one he treasured more.

Also for the record, pushing an old bloke over while he was at the footy with his grandson and chucking a half eaten pie at the kid was a disgraceful and disgusting act.

How about you focus on that.

[saynta]

I actually liked Ian Drake. He was the first adult I heard say the word f***.

Throwing the drunk kid out was the right thing to do, as would have been calling the cops.

Kicking someone in the rear end and throwing them over a turnstiles wasn't.

As you said , it wasn't the right thing to do. These days you would end up before the courts.

As you also say, different times and no reason to put s*** on the saints.

Where did I put s*** on the Saints, I was just telling a story. Dad stayed a Saints supporter until the day he died, his coffin had 2 things on it. His war service medals and his St Kilda scarf and I know which one he treasured more.

Also for the record, pushing an old bloke over while he was at the footy with his grandson and chucking a half eaten pie at the kid was a disgraceful and disgusting act.

How about you focus on that.

I wasn't referring to you. Go back and read all the posts.

[shanegrambeau]

I actually liked Ian Drake. He was the first adult I heard say the word f***.

Throwing the drunk kid out was the right thing to do, as would have been calling the cops.

Kicking someone in the rear end and throwing them over a turnstiles wasn't.

As you said , it wasn't the right thing to do. These days you would end up before the courts.

As you also say, different times and no reason to put s*** on the saints.

Where did I put s*** on the Saints, I was just telling a story. Dad stayed a Saints supporter until the day he died, his coffin had 2 things on it. His war service medals and his St Kilda scarf and I know which one he treasured more.

Also for the record, pushing an old bloke over while he was at the footy with his grandson and chucking a half eaten pie at the kid was a disgraceful and disgusting act.

How about you focus on that.

Your Dad sounds like he lived in a way I can imagine in movies ...

1) Mallee - my impressions of the Mallee from the time I was a child who could read a map = utter bleak misery. I used to complain to my parents that living in Hampton was like 'living in the Mallee', so bereft it seemed of atmosphere in the late 70s and 80s. Basically anything over the great divide I considered bleak...and burned out land, sun baked, stripped of its miserable trees, soils eroded ...The Wimmera was wheat...more misery..and the Mallee was apocalyptic. The railway closures of the late 70s through there confirmed it. Later in life, I learned of the handsome living graziers and farmers can make...
2) Logging industry - again terrible life, a hard life, and no body likes you for it...nobody likes a logger etc.,
3) Second world war vet...wow...islands...we just have to learn this history...it must have been pretty tough. Did he talk much about it? So wierd fo me being a teacher in Japan. Any time I bring up the war...or even threaten to head the conversation that way..the oxygen in the room vaporizes into dioxins and an evil monster descends like a looming shadow.
4) Bouncer! - gooz...now we are talking rough and tough....I never thought much of bouncers...me = a snotty little privileged narcissistic misfit.. bouncers = uneducated bruisers! With a chip on shoulder..

I guess your Dad probably had every reason to have mixed feelings about a cross section of society.

We do live in different times...but physical intimidation and muscle and brawn are still a factor...just that we talk around it nowadays.

[happy feet]

I actually liked Ian Drake. He was the first adult I heard say the word f***.

Throwing the drunk kid out was the right thing to do, as would have been calling the cops.

Kicking someone in the rear end and throwing them over a turnstiles wasn't.

As you said , it wasn't the right thing to do. These days you would end up before the courts.

As you also say, different times and no reason to put s*** on the saints.

Where did I put s*** on the Saints, I was just telling a story. Dad stayed a Saints supporter until the day he died, his coffin had 2 things on it. His war service medals and his St Kilda scarf and I know which one he treasured more.

Also for the record, pushing an old bloke over while he was at the footy with his grandson and chucking a half eaten pie at the kid was a disgraceful and disgusting act.

How about you focus on that.

Your Dad sounds like he lived in a way I can imagine in movies ...

1) Mallee - my impressions of the Mallee from the time I was a child who could read a map = utter bleak misery. I used to complain to my parents that living in Hampton was like 'living in the Mallee', so bereft it seemed of atmosphere in the late 70s and 80s. Basically anything over the great divide I considered bleak...and burned out land, sun baked, stripped of its miserable trees, soils eroded ...The Wimmera was wheat...more misery..and the Mallee was apocalyptic. The railway closures of the late 70s through there confirmed it. Later in life, I learned of the handsome living graziers and farmers can make...
2) Logging industry - again terrible life, a hard life, and no body likes you for it...nobody likes a logger etc.,
3) Second world war vet...wow...islands...we just have to learn this history...it must have been pretty tough. Did he talk much about it? So wierd fo me being a teacher in Japan. Any time I bring up the war...or even threaten to head the conversation that way..the oxygen in the room vaporizes into dioxins and an evil monster descends like a looming shadow.
4) Bouncer! - gooz...now we are talking rough and tough....I never thought much of bouncers...me = a snotty little privileged narcissistic misfit.. bouncers = uneducated bruisers! With a chip on shoulder..

I guess your Dad probably had every reason to have mixed feelings about a cross section of society.

We do live in different times...but physical intimidation and muscle and brawn are still a factor...just that we talk around it nowadays.

Dad didn’t work logging. After the war, with his brother-in-law, they framed houses in the post war building boom. All hardwood, hand sawn, hand nailed. Then he worked in a timber yard and went to night school and learned his trade as a wood machinist.

He talked about the funny things that happened during the war and I only once was a part of a conversation that detailed a serious side of war. It was the Buna campaign in New Guinea. Google it, probably one of the most savage fighting the 9th Division encountered. He would skillfully avoid discussing his war experiences, like so many of the veterans do.

Believe or not, he was a bouncer into his 70’s.

Dad could be hard but he had a soft side too, especially for family. He was very forgiving and liked nothing more than a big old fashioned family get together. He was well known around Melbourne and the StKilda Football Club. Alan Killigrew was a mate and when Alan’s sister asked if she could say a few words at his funeral, well how could we say no.

[happy feet]

I actually liked Ian Drake. He was the first adult I heard say the word f***.

Throwing the drunk kid out was the right thing to do, as would have been calling the cops.

Kicking someone in the rear end and throwing them over a turnstiles wasn't.

As you said , it wasn't the right thing to do. These days you would end up before the courts.

As you also say, different times and no reason to put s*** on the saints.

Where did I put s*** on the Saints, I was just telling a story. Dad stayed a Saints supporter until the day he died, his coffin had 2 things on it. His war service medals and his St Kilda scarf and I know which one he treasured more.

Also for the record, pushing an old bloke over while he was at the footy with his grandson and chucking a half eaten pie at the kid was a disgraceful and disgusting act.

How about you focus on that.

I wasn't referring to you. Go back and read all the posts.

Sorry, I missed your point. I apologise.

[skeptic]

Interesting

[Trev from the Bush]

Yeah, OK Saynta. Guilty as charged. But is there anything I said that was factually wrong?

[happy feet]

Yeah, OK Saynta. Guilty as charged. But is there anything I said that was factually wrong?

From what I remember Trev, I think you are correct.

[saynta]

Yeah, OK Saynta. Guilty as charged. But is there anything I said that was factually wrong?

From what I remember Trev, I think you are correct.

Ian Drake was a family friend when I was young and impressionable. In my eyes he could do no wrong. Of course I will stick up for him.

[happy feet]

Yeah, OK Saynta. Guilty as charged. But is there anything I said that was factually wrong?

From what I remember Trev, I think you are correct.

Ian Drake was a family friend when I was young and impressionable. In my eyes he could do no wrong. Of course I will stick up for him.

And history will show he engineered the bringing together of the players that won our only Premiership.

[skeptic]

Yeah, OK Saynta. Guilty as charged. But is there anything I said that was factually wrong?

Posting an observation/impression of how things once were isn’t really what I would consider being critical. Things are very rarely absolutely one thing or another. To suggest otherwise would just be naive.

[saynta]

Yeah, OK Saynta. Guilty as charged. But is there anything I said that was factually wrong?

Nah, probably not mate.