Bob Murphy reflects on his path to the Kennel in this excerpt from his new book, Leather Soul.
As a bottom age 17 year old for the Gippsland Power Under 18s, I had started slowly, but improved as the season went on. By the end of the season, I was one of the team’s best players. All of a sudden, my name was being thrown around in AFL recruiting circles and potential clubs and managers started visiting our home. It was thrilling for the whole family. The only sour note was one night when I was at a mate’s house after school playing Super Mario Kart on the Nintendo and the phone rang. It was Mum, and she needed to speak with me right away. ‘Get home now – John Hook from the Hawthorn Football Club is in the lounge room, and you’re supposed to be here!’ I’d mixed up the times of the appointment. Even as a carefree 17yearold, I knew this wasn’t good.
I rode my bike home as fast as I could and put on my best ‘I’m ready for the challenge, sir!’ face. But it didn’t stop Mr Hook reminding my parents and I about my little mixup on three sepa rate occasions during that first meeting. I’m not sure if that cooled the interest from Glenferrie, but we didn’t hear from them after that. Oh well, I never did like the Hawks.
For a little while it seemed like I might be getting picked up by the West Coast Eagles, which had Mum a little flustered. Perth was such a long way away. As the draft drew closer, it became apparent that I wasn’t a draft smoky, but a virtual certainty. It was a strange year: life just kept picking up pace, quicker and quicker, as unstoppable as a big steam engine.
By the end of the season with Gippsland Power, I was being handed the big jobs on bigger opponents. My best performances came in the finals series, when all the recruiters were there with their clipboards and suspicious eyes. Gippsland Power went all the way to Grand Final Day at the MCG, only to go down to the Sandringham Dragons.
I felt right at home on the big stage. We played the curtain raiser to the reserves, who were playing before the Kangaroos took on Carlton for the AFL premiership.The game kicked off at break fast time, about 9 am. But that didn’t matter. The MCG is just as glorious with nine spectators as 90,000. The grass was immaculate, like carpet, and the speed of the game was quicker than I’d ever played before. We were beaten convincingly, but that childhood spark lit up like a flame. I’m going to be a league player one day. It was really happening.
A few weeks later, on the morning of the draft, there was an article in the paper predicting the top ten players. I was gobsmacked to see my name and picture at number 10. An unnamed recruiter described me as ‘skinny as skinny’.
I didn’t mind where I went, but staying in Victoria had more appeal for obvious reasons.The Eagles had picks 11 and 14. Wedged in between them, at pick 13, were the Western Bulldogs, who were apparently keen but had been very secretive. The only time I had spoken with anyone from the club was at the draft camp in Canberra. Scotty Clayton was the recruiting manager, and he had whisked me away from prying eyes for a chat behind the basketball courts. It was a short conversation in comparison to the ones I’d had with other clubs, all of which were held out in the open. There was a clandes tine vibe. At one stage Scotty asked me how tall my parents were. I may have given them both an extra inch or two.
The Eagles took Darren Glass at pick 11, Port Adelaide chose Paul Koulouriotis at 12, and then my moment arrived. ‘Pick 13, Western Bulldogs ... Robert Murphy, Gippsland Power.’
Pandemonium broke out in the Murphy household. The steam train reached for a higher gear. I was quickly on the phone talking to the coach, Terry Wallace. He congratulated me, then said, ‘The hard work starts now.’
Published by Black Inc Books, Leather Soul is also available via the Bulldogs’ online shop now.
