- Sep 23, 2019
- 2,137
- 2,399
- AFL Club
- Collingwood
- Thread starter
- #76
A beautiful but sad story.I have a beautiful Bobby Rose story involving my brother and dad. My brother Stu was a real lad. Tough as nails. He was a boxer and a brickie who eventually became boss of his own company. My son works for his company to this very day.
A couple of decades ago my beloved dad was in the early stages of dementia but still had a passion for the pies and a memory of all the great players and big moments.
Dad loved Bobby Rose. Stu rang the club and asked if it would be possible for Bobby to meet with him and dad in the social club for a cuppa and a bit of a chat.
To his delight Bobby agreed and the date was set. My tough brother told me his plan. He would spend the afternoon with dad and Bobby, then on the way home he was going to stop the car, turn to dad and tell him how much he loved him as well as thank him for everything he had done for all of us.
The day went even better than Stu had hoped for Bobby Rose was superb. He talked with dad about great games and former players. Stu raised a game dad had told us about for years. We were playing at Victoria Park and with five minutes remaining we were down by 17 points. Bobby Rose kicked three goals in time on and won us the game.
In those days there was no Sherrin Stand and dad said many people had left and gone to the station and they were all craning their necks when they heard the roar of the crowd. Bobby remembered and asked dad and Stu to come down onto Vic Park and proceeded to re-enact each goal with dad. Stu said he was being cheeky and telling dad how far out he was for each goal. He posed for photos with dad and signed the book dad was climbing to like a little kid.
Stu thanked Bobby and took dad home.
I received a call late in the afternoon.
It was my brother and he was incoherent. He was sobbing. When I finally calmed him down I finally understood what he was shouting. "I couldn't tell him! I couldn't tell him!" He could not bring himself to look dad in the eye and say, I love you.
He was just too shy and not used to open declarations of love.
I assured him every minute of that afternoon was telling dad he loved him but Stu was always devastated by his inability to say the words.
The last game I attended with my handsome, rugged little brother was the 2018 prelim on that balmy night.
We were ecstatic. Five months later and my brother died. Stage four lung cancer. 56 years old.
I shed a few tears while writing this.
Bobby Rose occupies a warm space in my heart.
) and in gratitude, knowing Dad was a keen supporter, gave Dad a season’s pass.
