I enjoy little moments where history is captured, often when it isn’t looking. This is such a moment
I enjoy little moments where history is captured, often when it isn’t looking. This is such a moment
Melbourne morning from Birrarung Marr
Melbourne’s laneways through an iPhone and some snapseed
“Pleading the fleeting moment to remain”
I have recently returned from New York City.
I have a great passion for this city, as I have always had for art and creativity.
There are many means of expressing creativity, including the iPhone.
This is a photo of my father Alan Schwab in the player race of the Punt Road Oval with Hall of Fame Coach Tom Hafey.
The photo was taken in 1969 and it was Dad’s first full year at the Richmond Football Club. It is a beautiful photo, which I hadn’t seen until it was published in the RFC Centenary book in 2008.
Dad was 28 years of age at the time, and the previous year had moved to the Tigers as Secretary of the Club as the successor to Graeme Richmond, a legendary Tiger figure. Dad had been Assistant Secretary at St Kilda for a number of years, including their 1966 Premiership.
My earliest memory of the game is around this time and I can recall great happiness around our home when Richmond won the Premiership having scraped into the then final 4. It was my first year of primary school. Coincidentally, my Dad and I shared the same birthday. He would have turned 70 last year.
I spent most of my school holidays at the Punt Road Oval with friends from school or my local footy club, Essex Heights. I later spent six years at the club as General Manager, learning some of life’s great lessons when I took on a responsibility that was in many ways well beyond me. It was way back in 1988 and I was only 24 years of age. It was less than 20 years after this photo was taken.
The game has always surrounded me, and I feel honoured and blessed that I have been able to build my career, and many friendships, around it.
I have a deep respect for the heritage of the game and reflect on this every day of my working life at the Melbourne Football Club, a club with a heritage that reaches back to the very origins of the sport. In many ways, it is part of who I am.
I love this image.
I love this game.
I miss my Dad.
Snake’s gonna do a handstand…

This is my memory of skateboarding as a 10 year old growing up in Mt Waverley.
Chalky clay white wheels, skinny trucks and five ply wooden decks that you’d carve out yourself in woodwork class at school.
Not surprisingly, there are a few decent hills in Mt Waverley. Speed wobbles and a lack of traction would kick-in down Highbury Road and soon you were knocking the scab of a wound that never healed.
There was a kid in our neighborhood called Snake Mason. To this day I don’t know his real name, despite the fact that his younger brother Greg was a good mate of mine at Essex Heights Primary School. Snake was a local legend because he could do a handstand on his skateboard.
I was more your toe-tapping, 360 type.
A hush would descend on the throng of young skaters at the Highbury Road service station (now a Chinese Restaurant) where we’d skate after it shut on Sunday afternoons.
Word was out… ‘Snake’s gonna do a handstand’.
We’d look up the hill through the ciggy haze where Snake and his pimply mates would gather sitting on their boards.
No one actually asked Snake to do a handstand, he sensed it was time.
He’d take one last drag on his Winnie Red, flick it into the gutter with a catherine wheel flurry, take the ends of his little skateboard in each hand, place it on the ground and lean in.
The topography was enough for the board to gain some momentum and Snake effortlessly willed himself into a position where he was perpendicular to the bisector.
It was like the start of great guitar solo, rhythmic and spontaneous. Left hand communicating with right hand, but the guitar/skateboard somehow an extension of the human anatomy.
Like the solo, the pace would quicken. The hastening clack-clack of the footpath was the only reason you knew the skateboard was gaining pace. The only fear in this scene was in the souls of those watching, for Snake had none. The fact that his long Marc Bolan locks were dragging on the concrete was part of the entertainment. It was pure languorous belief.
Just when you sensed those chalky wheels could grip the concrete no longer, he’d slant inwards, take the corner at the last possible moment as though he was rolling out of a giant Margaret River wave, but with enough speed and momentum that his arc would take him half way back up the hill when the show would finish just as it started.
Snake would flip the skateboard back into the crook of his arm, take the pack of Reds out of the sleeve of his too tight golden-breed surf shirt, flick the bottom of the pack and a cigarette would emerge. It would go from pack to mouth without touching a finger.
He’d sit back down on his board and one of his sycophantic mates would light it just in time for Snake to draw back.
And soon, the natural order was restored.
This is effort
…and this is what sport is about.
I’m an unabashed fan of the New England Patriots and we use a lot of their learnings in our efforts to rebuild the Melbourne Football Club.
Tribute
A friend found this posted on YouTube.
It is from the 1993 North Melbourne Grand Final Breakfast.
My father, who died a few months earlier, was posthumously awarded the Personality of the Year, and I received the trophy on his behalf.
I hadn’t seen the vision in over seventeen years.
Skinny Love - Kick it, Squeeze It
I filmed this entirely on my iPhone 4 on a Sunday afternoon in Melbourne. I velcroed the phone to my bike helmet.
Bon Iver’s Skinny Love is the song, and it also describes my bike, a Deus SR400 TT, customised by www.deus.com.au - my skinny bike, which you need to kick into action and squeeze the life out of - and it then loves you back.
The graffiti is in Hosiers Lane, off Flinders Street. I love the graffiti, it is forever changing. Layers and layers of creativity.
Pleading the Fleeting Moment to Remain
A day in the city with my son.
They Never Played Together Again
Speech from the 2010 Best and Fairest
“The Last Time They Played Together”

I had the great experience of watching a game recently with two great Melbourne people, both of whom have had a profound influence on my life.
Has our game produced any greater stories than Ron Barassi and Jim Stynes?
I wrote the following in the weeks after I started back as CEO of Melbourne in late 2008. Whilst clearly progress has been made since I penned this, and this season reinforced the direction we are taking to build our team, importantly we are also creating a seamlessness between past, present and future. Heritage as it relates to hope, a constant for 152 years.
This is what I wrote in October 2008…
A few weeks ago I had reason to entertain an overseas guest at the MCG. It was the Monday after the Grand Final, and our guest who had never been to the MCG nor seen a live game of AFL football, remarked how he was amazed that the streets of Melbourne had been so empty that previous Saturday afternoon.
He watched the game on the television, and was smitten.
Our game does that, and has been doing so for a century and a half.
As we wandered around the cathedral of sport, we came across the Jamie Cooper painting depicting the Melbourne Team of the Century that hangs in the MCC members.
We explained to our guest that the man who stands in the front of the young players is Norm Smith. Not only was Norm coach of the Melbourne Team of the Century, he was also coach of the AFL team of the Century. He is the greatest coach our game as produced.
Norm Smith also sits amongst the players. So great were his coaching exploits, it often forgotten he was a champion player before he became a champion coach.
As a player, Norm formed a close friendship with Ron Barassi. I am sure they would have celebrated the birth of his son, Ronald Dale Barassi in 1936, the year that Ron Snr debuted for the Demons. Tragically Ron Barassi Senior was killed in Tobruk in 1941, the first VFL footballer to lose his life in WWII. Ron Junior was left fatherless as a young child. It is now part of football folklore that Norm Smith helped fill this breach and young Ron lived with the Smith family in his formative teenage years.
Ron Barassi Jnr sits near the young Norm Smith in the Team of Century painting, for he was to become arguably Melbourne’s greatest player in the Norm Smith coached teams. He was also the first man to wear the moniker ‘Super Coach’ so great were his exploits as a mentor of Premiership teams. Is there a more famous name in the game?
As a player, Ron toured Ireland with a team famously named the Galahs. He was taken by the talent of the Gaelic footballers, and in particular their ability to transition to our game. As is Ron’s want, he simply asked “Why couldn’t they?”.
He returned to Ireland fifteen years later and returned with a tall skinny youngster who could run like Forrest Gump. That youngster went on to win a Brownlow and play a remarkable 244 games in a row. Jim Stynes sits in the back row in the painting, respectful, in the same team as a young Norm Smith and Ron Barassi.
Today Jim Stynes stands before you as President of the Melbourne Football Club.
Our overseas guest was captured by this story, the same way as generations of Melbourne supporters have. Norm Smith first stepped nervously into the Melbourne changerooms in the mid 1930’s and Jim Stynes assumes the role of President over 70 years later, at a time of absolute need. Three great men who established three great legacies - and with more to come.
Loving the Deus. Pure.

Escaping
Kick Start
Melbourne Spring
Brunswick Street
Vegie Bar