Round 7 Over 55s Match Report
by Dusty
For the first time in my life I took public transport to play a game of footy. I was trying to get myself mentally attuned to the venue as we took on Geelong on a muddy oval somewhere in Brunswick. I thought by arriving on a tram I could tap into the inner city zeitgeist and that might improve my performance. And I think it did. I arrived feeling very hip, smelling of fresh coffee and might even have had a trace of a beard by the time ball was bounced. The Warriors took the field in their Indigenous guernsey. Celebrating NAIDOC week and the contribution of First Nations people to our great game. Magoo, Nugget and Hulk proudly led us onto the substandard playing surface in weak wintry sunshine.
There wasn’t an obviously incompetent small forward for me to match up on, so I chose the one that looked the oldest. I looked at his wrinkled face and thought “I’ve got you Grandpa”. I did a few good things early and after one particularly penetrating foray I stood next to him in the backline panting.
But today’s game was not about me towelling up a geriatric from Geelong, it was all about Seal. A man who hadn’t played a game for seven years as he courageously rode a roller coaster of health issues that led to a heart transplant. When he kicked a goal late in the first quarter it marked a triumphant return. But footy is a harsh mistress and tragedy struck in the second quarter when he copped a careless knee in the ribs. He battled on like a true Warrior but by half-time a broken rib and a punctured lung brought him to his knees. It was a worried team of Warriors who went into half time, even though the scores were tied after a soaring mark and goal by the vivacious Bruisa.
The third term saw the Warriors lose focus. Despite Grunta tackling like a terrier after a pork chop and Munga using his wizened but wiry legs to drive him from contest to contest our team structure fell apart an Geelong got on top. Kenny tried a banana that narrowly missed, and Magoo tried a straight kick that banana-ed and went through. Clint and Carbo kicked towering torpedoes but it just wasn’t enough for us to bridge the gap. I ran around so much that I had to take myself off with cramp. I was intending to get into the ambulance with Seal for some treatment but it had already gone. Even with Rev weaving his magic in the forward line and Dave H combining with Pas and CT to be as impenetrable as a nunnery in the backline we lost by eleven points. We would have liked to seal the match with a win but we matched the win with a Seal, and that means much more.
An Amazing Comeback Story
by Seal
Why not?
Just twelve days after heart transplant I was having my physio assessment in readiness for rehabilitation program exercises and was asked to name my 3 short-term and 3 long-term goals. Why not was Lou the head physio’s response when I said I know I’ll never play AFL football again. That completely changed my perspective and mindset. I had quite ambitious goals but never really thought of AFL footy as a possible goal, I thought maybe AFL 9s non-contact is the most I could achieve. It just re-iterated the message that has always been given to me by the team, you can do anything at your current age that you would have been able to do before you were sick.
I have remained very conservative, one thing I have had to learn is not to push myself too hard and I haven’t. I started football training properly this year and I was only going to allow myself to play competitively once I had some consistency in my training. I had a couple of setbacks along the way but that didn’t matter to me or upset me. Once upon it might have. And that day, almost two and a half years after transplant, has arrived.
At training on Wednesday evening, the teams were announced, and the name Seal was read out by coach Lou, and there was a loud applause and lots of congratulations my way. You see that’s the beautiful thing about our club, many have seen what I’ve had to endure over those seven years and just out of love and kindness all they want to see is me achieve my goals and that’s not just for me, the care is for all of us who have had to endure in life, no matter what that may be. That’s what a true community club is about, about friendship and inclusiveness, that’s winning right there. Winning footy games is secondary.
So here we are Sunday the 5th of July, 2026, almost 7 years since my last game on the 11th of August 2019 ironically against Geelong, our match day opposition in this game. I haven’t told anyone but on the Saturday I threw on my boots and spent half an hour practising my kicking at goal at the local oval, snap shots, angle shots, straight shots. I admit, not many went through, but hey I wanted to be prepared just in case. I arrived early, ate my 7-11 Banana & Walnut bread for sustenance and performance (scientifically proven) and watched some of the early game and took it all in. The ground was very soft with all the recent rain and a bit muddy in the middle. Not a huge ground which suited me, well let’s just say, to the ground.
They players slowly trickled in. It was a special day in more ways than one as we were to wear our fantastic specially designed Indigenous jumpers. I was handed the #1 for the game. Many of us then went out for a bit of a kick before being called in to hear Lou’s inspiring speech and also Magoo’s indigenous-oriented speech. Lou was happy for me to play anywhere, and I said midfield and he said no. Ok not really, I’m a realist and we settled on forward pocket, 10 minutes each quarter, less or more depending on how I was feeling. And what a feeling was it to run out onto the ground with my team of many, many years, do our warm up drills and then take in the umpires words before starting the game.
So here we were, the 10 minute mark or so of the first quarter. Fitzy had just been involved in a great passage of play where he received a handpass and kicked beautifully to Hulk at CHF for a shot on goal. It seemed mean to do so but his reward was to be called to come off, just like at the top-level when you do something good. I wasn’t sure whether it was my turn but I then received the nod and there was the imaginary drumroll in my head and my first official step onto the soppy, wet sacred grass of McAlister Oval, Brunswick.
I’ve never been one to count my possessions but let’s face it, it wasn’t going to be many so harder to forget than remember. I’m not sure in what order but I think my first was a handball to no one in particular under pressure, one I remember doing the Tiger Dusty don’t argue (which amazingly worked), saw two players on their own in our forward 25 and completely stuffed the kick and another where I had an eternity to pick it up and my kick swung away from my lonesome teammate. Surely my pièce de resistance to make up for those three turnovers was when I called for the ball maybe 30 metres out, it came my way, my opponent reached in the air as he came across in front of me, the ball bounced off his hands into mine, I swung around him and snapped on my natural left with the ball bouncing just the right way to miss the goal post by the width of a bee’s you know what and through for a major. It was such a buzz, it felt like reward for 7 years of effort and players ran from everywhere, Magoo lifted me (literally) and high fives aplenty and car horns everywhere. It really did feel like one of those games where a young player kicks their first goal ever (minus the car horns). It looks like that Saturday goal kicking practise came in handy after all. The quarter time siren went soon after.
The plan for the second quarter was the same, come on at the ten minute mark. I’m not a nervous person and if there were any nerves at the start they were well and truly gone now. I had hoped to just get a kick or two for the game and the first quarter gave me a lot of confidence. Not much happened until around the 3 or 4 minute mark. I had a new opponent, likely in my mind because I totally outplayed my previous one. Whilst we were twiddling our thumbs with the ball at the other end, it was obvious the word would get around, and he said I heard you’ve had heart issues and proceeded to show me a scar he had in the chest area under his jumper. Thankfully there was a scar or I don’t know how I would have interpreted that action. I just said yeah, the word has probably got around, I had a heart transplant. That was sort of the end of the conversation as at that point I saw Clint take one of his customary awesome contested marks in the center and there was an empty paddock to run into. He saw me and kicked it to me. It fell slightly short, or more to the point, I’m too bloody slow now, and the ball bounced backwards so I overran it but turned and knelt down low to pick it up and was cannoned into by my direct opponent. I fell to the ground but managed to collect the ball whilst on my knees and saw Dusty (not the don’t argue champ, the other one) surrounded by 3 players but thought what the hell, let’s see what he’s made of, and handballed it in his direction. At that point I felt for the ribs on my right side as I felt a bit of pain. It didn’t feel too bad so thought I could run it out and walked and ran around for another two or three minutes or so. My opponent and I were talking again and he said sorry but I had to do that. I thought this a weird thing to say but I realise now, he likely meant he had to go hard at me, which, if that’s all he meant, I agree with, I’m not expecting it be a charity event just because I am out there. In hindsight though he may have approached the actual method in the wrong way, knees first was an action the umpires clearly specified as a no no before the game.
Anyhow it was not long after when the pain intensified – I’d say the adrenaline had run out. I was on the other side of the ground to our bench and thought I’ll just slowly force my way back there but the pain became so intense I could only drop on my knee. Not many of the opposition or umpires, friends in the crowd, canteen staff, well I’d say no-one else actually knew at this stage other than my opponent about transplants, and he was clearly and naturally very concerned and yelled out multiple times, stop the game, he’s had a heart transplant. I came to the conclusion then that my friend has a peculiar way of expressing himself.
It was obvious by this stage to me that I’d had some sort of rib damage. I understand though why many were concerned that it may have been heart-related. As Belly nicely pointed out, if every player on the ground was 55 years old plus, as they should be, then my heart was younger than anyone’s out there. No heart issues I promise. I couldn’t reach the bench. The pain was immense. I know many were around me asking me questions but I couldn’t really focus on answering properly. The opponent’s trainer came over as did a cardiologist nurse from the other ground and asked the pertinent questions. Matty had called the ambulance and they were following the script and advised not to move me, although we’d managed to move off the ground by now. We tried different positions. Lying flat was by far the worst but once I found a sitting position the pain slowly settled a little until the paramedics arrived. I was looking pretty suave by now with my beanie on, a Warriors jumper draped over my neck and my silver space blanket so we thought it would be a good opportunity for a group photo. I was the only one who couldn’t crack a smile. I zoomed in on the player’s board that president Gerry was holding and noticed my name already gone from the board. I wasn’t ready to call it quits just yet. What if the ambos said I was good to go back on?
I was eventually carted off on a stretcher and transferred to the Royal Melbourne hospital nearby where I stayed the night and received the best care. They were a little concerned in ED that there may have been more damage initially, however, my final stats sheet said 14 minutes played, 3 kicks. 2 handballs, 4 turnovers, 1 goal, a 7th right rib fracture and a minor punctured lung (which closed up again very quicky). All in all, a decent return and another eventful Seal day.
Humour reduces the pain somewhat, but in all seriousness, a big thank you to EVERYONE for your concern, encouragement and words of wisdom. So many to thank. I know everyone just wants the best for me, I know I could have done without the ending but I gained a lot of confidence out of this day regardless. My competitive season is over for this year but watch out 2027, here I come.
