General News
20 February, 2026
AN ADVENTUROUS OUTING: A visit to the home of the Shin-boners
This is a true tale about a day at the football.
On the Friday night after a few quiet ales, it was decided that we would go to Melbourne to an AFL match.
Jerry was the instigator of the idea and volunteered to drive his car to the game. His wife and mother-in-law were to come, not to attend the match, but to instead visit their relatives in North Melbourne.
There were seven of us, although the car only comfortably seated five — three in the front and four in the back was certainly a sardine-like situation.
I unfortunately sat on the outside front seat directly above a broken spring and without a seatbelt. Every bump jarred my upper thigh and it was soon excruciating.
The match was at Arden Street and featured two teams vying for a place in the finals — it was the Kevin Sheedy coached Essendon and Barassi’s North Melbourne. Both were loaded with star players.
All the passengers were Essendon supporters and could only see one outcome.
Jerry’s son had a bladder problem, meaning we stopped at Castlemaine and Kyneton.
What I have neglected to say is that on arrival at Jerry’s, we were informed that he had a starter motor problem and needed alternate transport.
An urgent phone call alerted Murray’s spouse and she begrudgingly handed over the car. Jerry was apologetic and volunteered to fill the tank.
Naturally, on arriving at North Melbourne, parking spots were at a premium. We drove around and around the streets until we parked illegally in a laneway at the back of a factory that was closed for the weekend.
Jerry uttered those fateful words: “she’ll be alright!”.
Two weeks later, a $50 fine arrived in the mail.
The ground was packed, standing room only. It was rumoured that it would be a lock-out. Fortunately we got in front of the “gassmeter” wing, surrounded by fanatic “Shin-boners”.
During the day, light-hearted banter was non-stop. It was impossible to access the extremely limited facilities, so you can imagine how the supporters relieved themselves.
The game was goal for goal, with a point the difference at half-time. Keith Gregg, the dual Brownlow medallist, played on our wing for both quarters and engaged in his running and ball-bouncing skills.
The North Melbourne champion, Malcolm Blight, had been blanketed and Essendon appeared to be the winner. Suddenly in a burst of brilliance, he kicked a freak goal which gave North a one-point winning margin.
My compatriots were devastated.
When the crowd had dissipated, we were minus Jerry’s son. We scanned the oval and he wasn’t to be seen. Murray’s son said that he was kicking a ball outside the oval.
Finally we headed to the laneway and waited for him to find us. This was before mobile phones, so we relied on his initiative.
After a short wait, he arrived with the two ladies, who had spent the day in Albert Mantello’s hotel and over-indulged on sherrys.
Murray had a few cans and hadn’t planned on driving. He was sure he would get caught for .05, but was waved on by the police.
To top matters off, Jerry’s youngster decided to alleviate himself of his hot dog all over my back.
Jerry’s promise of filling the tank was thwarted as it was overdrawn and didn’t work.
Finally home, we alighted from the car and Jerry uttered those fateful words: “We must do this again!”.