This tale has become known, simply as The Akermanis Story and has been told and re-told at various Blitz gatherings.
A real estate agent was meeting a Footscray identity, who was recently mentioned in these pages, at a cafe in Ascot Vale.
They were in the company who people who are loosely described as "colourful local identities".
The other way to describe them is they had actors portraying them in the TV Series Underbelly.
Between them they were discussing the local market, where they thought prices were going, and what areas would be best for investment in the future.
Having seen the Footscray clubman at the table, Jason Akermanis and a few younger players pushed a table together and joined the conversation.
"What are we talking about?" asked the inquisitive former Lion.
"Real Estate" came the answer.
Aker then launched in a diatribe about real estate and the prices in North West Melbourne. He then went on to complain about the safety of his family in the supposedly secure Aberfeldie.
"Did you blokes see Underbelly? Some bloke got shot in his driveway in the next street from where I bought a house".
"I don't want to be livin' in that sort of a neighbourhood, with criminals runnin' around shootin' each other."
One of the colourful local identities stood up, revealing a pistol tucked into his belt.
"Maybe we don't want people like you livin' near us either. Maybe you should fark off" instructed Minor Underbelly character as he glared at Aker. He and his party then left the cafe.
Apparently much of the rest of the meal was eaten in silence.
The real story here, is that Aker kept his mouth shut for more than 5 seconds. Probably the most peaceful and enjoyable meal those players had whilst he was still at the club.
I heard that the triple Brownlow medallist former Blues coach was sacked for a different reason.
The mail I got was that there was an incident in the showers involving "Sellers" McLure. Ian allegedly thought that Sellers batted for the other side and so put the word on him when they happened to be alone together.
Sellers was straight as a die and beat the living ■■■■ out of Stewie and informed all the players and the club hierarchy what had occurred. Ian was pretty badly beaten up so the club went with the story that he had a heart attack so he would not have to face the media in the short term as the injuries inflicted by McClure were very visible.
I cannot remember whether this was before Stewie "dragged" a copper along Little Collins Street hanging on to the door of his Mercedes whilst dressed in drag. That made the press and I reckon charges were laid.
I heard that the triple Brownlow medallist former Blues coach was sacked for a different reason.
The mail I got was that there was an incident in the showers involving "Sellers" McLure. Ian allegedly thought that Sellers batted for the other side and so put the word on him when they happened to be alone together.
Sellers was straight as a die and beat the living **** out of Stewie and informed all the players and the club hierarchy what had occurred. Ian was pretty badly beaten up so the club went with the story that he had a heart attack so he would not have to face the media in the short term as the injuries inflicted by McClure were very visible.
I cannot remember whether this was before Stewie "dragged" a copper along Little Collins Street hanging on to the door of his Mercedes whilst dressed in drag. That made the press and I reckon charges were laid.
Lucky he was a great footballer...
Maybe Stewie had seen the glasses McClure wears and came to that conclusion
Geoff Raines was a bit of a party lad.
He liked a drink, and the ladies, and the ladies liked him.
Mike Richardson arrived at Collingwood on the same day in 1983, albeit in different circumstances
Richo was different. He liked training. He had a casual drink, but never went overboard.
Early into his career he met and moved in with pop star Colleen Hewett.
Raines was often injured at Collingwood.
He missed a lot of 1983, and given he was on massive money, played through it in 84 & 85.
Raines would often not train through the week, just so he could play on weekends.
Richardson, on the other hand, would train extra.
Raines somehow found his way to their place one day, while everyone else was at Collingwood preseason training.
Apparently he knew Colleen would be the only one home.
Richardson came home to find Raines’ ute out the front.
While opening the door he hears a scrambling inside. By the time he opens the door and gets inside, Raines has collected his clothes, and is running naked down the hall way away from him.
Richo takes off after him, but Raines, with a head start, jumps over the back fence into a lane way behind the house, and gets away.
“Your ankle looks like it’s OK” he yells after him.
Richo and Colleen have a little heart to heart, and it’s decided it would be better if he sleep somewhere else that night.
They try to make a go of it, but eventually split up soon after.
Raines goes into the club and says he wants out. He thinks he needs a fresh start.
Richardson goes into the club, unbeknownst to Raines, and also requests a trade.
Collingwood need money more than they need players.
Plus, while there were rumours around the club, no-one officially knows the reason why either want out.
During the R1 game v Essendon officials from both clubs discuss the possibility to trading them to the Bombers.
During the game Richardson injures his ankle.
Sheedy gets wind of it and thinks the two of them will replace Vanda & Daisy who got injured in R 2 against Geelong.
While the Bombers do the physical and decide he’s worth the investment, Raines plays the next week against Sydney.
The trade goes through. Collingwood give us Raines and Richardson, we give them the proceeds of the back to back premiership merchandise sales and Peter Bradbury. Raines gets withdrawn from the R3 team and fronts up to Essendon training the Monday before R4.
Both of them arrive at Essendon on the same day.
With the threat of them punching the suitcase out of each other, and with Richardson and Hewett now officially history, the two have a beer at the Social Club. Then a few more, then a few more.
Today they are best mates. When Richardson came to stay in Melbourne a while back to try and kick off a footy academy, he lived with Raines.
Some or None of this might actually be true. But it is Forgotten Footy Folklore.
Media personality Wayne Carey was once a footballer.
He was actually pretty good.
So good in fact that he carried an air of confidence into his daily life.
Wayne had a habit of confidently cracking onto girls at various establishments, pubs, nightclubs, holiday resorts, airport toilets etc even though it was widely reported he had a girlfriend in Wagga, where he was originally from.
Some girls would enjoy his company, and it is understood, though not confirmed, that several may have engaged in certain horizontal folk dancing positions with the great man. It was estimated at one point that there was an average of one per day, bettered only in recent times by a certain Sydney Forward while playing at a Melbourne based club.
There were, however, certain elements of the female gender for whom the attention of the great Wayne Carey was unwanted.
These females would reject Wayne’s advances, for reasons best known to themselves.
Wayne’s traditional answer to this form of rejection was to squeeze their breasts and offer the suggestion “why don’t you get yourself a bigger set of ■■■■?”
One night Wayne was again rejected and the name of the female in question was Trish Kane.
Now, you might recognise the name. Particularly if you’ve seen either Underbelly 1 or 2.
Her dad was Les Kane, who was machine gunned to death in Series 2.
Her boyfriend was Jason Moran, who was a major character in Series 1.
Though I should point out, this is the actual Trish Kane, not the actor Eliza Szonert (who played her in Underbelly) who I think we all comfortably agree, does not need to get a bigger set of ■■■■.
Jason (not the actor Les Hill, the actual Jason) heard that this had occurred, and was not entirely happy with our boy Duck.
He tended to believe people should not touch the breasts of his long term girlfriend, which, to be fair, is probably a commonly held belief amongst most men, or at least, it was at the time.
Jason strongly suggested Wayne’s footy career, and life in general, would be shortened if he were to contemplate perpetrating such an indignity on the fair young Trish ever again.
Wayne backed down and got apologetic very quickly. Some would say (and have said) that Wayne soiled himself.
He offered Jason a free drink. Which was not as magnanimous as it might seem, given neither paid for drinks in this particular establishment.
However, they did have a few drinks together, and ended up becoming friends.
A few years later Carey would give evidence in court that Jason was a fine upstanding neighbour that he had never seen behave badly.
That’s the way I heard it, but then it might just be footy folklore.
It would seem that being a police officer and player could let you get away with things.
The late Trevor Barker was the victim of one such prank.
His team-mate would be the aforementioned Rex Hunt, by then a Sergeant at Cheltenham.
Young Trevor had just bought himself a fancy car and being the darling of everyone at St. Kilda, was the golden child.
He did have a habit of parking the car where it shouldn’t be parked at Moorabbin. So Rex decided to play cop on him advising Barker that hsi car was about to be towed away because according to Rex, it was parked in club President Ian Drake’s parking spot.
Of course, Rex had moved the car beforehand.
Long story short Barker’s car was eventually found somewhere in Linton St. Barker himself would repeat the prank on then youngster Craig Devonport years later.
The (now former) Mrs dingus and I were enjoying a quite pleasant dinner at a window table in a charming restaurant on Greville street, Prahran, in or around 2003. From memory the delicious but reasonably priced meal was accompanied by a horrendously expensive bottle of Annie’s Lane Shiraz.
As we were tucking in to mains, a tall yet stocky, hirsute gentleman passed by our window making what appeared to be a rather drunken impression of a Maori tribesman performing the Haka, protruding tongue and all.
“How odd, yet, we are just around the corner from Revs”, I remarked to the (now former) Mrs dingus.
“Yes”, she replied. “What a farking wanker”.
Thinking little more of it, we returned to our meals.
Imagine my surprise when no more than ten seconds later, the aforementioned wanker reappeared at the window, member in hand, and proceeded to micturate in a side to side manner, and directly at eye level, all over said window. All the while making direct eye contact and repeating the Maori facial expression for good measure.
Once he was done (no shakes, filthy peasant), he returned his dripping member to his pantaloons and skipped away, no doubt to prepare to kick only one goal against Freo and none against Collingwood.
