On a recent trip to IKEA, something caught my eye.

It was a van. A bright neon green van with a bold advertisement scrawled down one side of its doors.  It read, “Flatpack assembly services”. Hallelujah!

Oh, the heartache these people could’ve save me over the last decade or so.

So, I posted a photo of it on Instagram and someone commented below the image, “not all heroes wear capes”. How true is that?

In a previous life, I was a half back flanker for the Western Bulldogs Football Club. During the latter part of my career I was invited to be an ambassador of the Fresh Program. ‘Fresh’ formed part of the arm of our club’s community crusade and dealt primarily with re engaging young students who had fallen out of mainstream education.

Teenagers, many of them with extremely difficult circumstances at home or socially were thrown a lifeline to finish their formal education with the help of my football club. It was an honour to be associated with the program, but I’d be lying if a I said I had any real influence in shaping these kids’ lives, but I witnessed up close the incredible people that did.

At the end of every school year, the Fresh students had a graduation dinner in the western suburbs that I would attend along with the families of the students. Every year, emotions in the room were worn on the sleeves of everyone. It was impossible not to get swept up in the stories of these kids who had overcome significant personal hurdles just to get their ticket.

I felt at the time, that I was in the room, but I wasn’t within the room and there’s a difference. Community programs are a bit like football clubs in this manner. There are circles within circles. I was an ambassador, I was welcomed by the staff, families and students, but was I one of them?

Probably not. I was an observer. Here’s what I observed. For want of a better word, a woman by the name of Belinda Batty was the boss of program. She was hands on in the classrooms and the staff room. Belinda to Fresh, was like Elvis Presley was to rock n roll. She was at the centre of the whole thing.

Each year at that graduation I would sit in wonder as the kids told their stories and they all paid homage to Belinda and it was the same with the staff when it came time in the night to say thank you. When you’re in a room like that as an outsider, as I was, you feel a curious mix of emotions. Admiration and guilt.

It’s a guilt I think we all feel from time to time. “Am I doing enough with my life?” The admiration was for everyone in the room I guess, but it’s Belinda Batty who my thoughts still drift to. She gave so much of her soul to those kids, her staff of teachers and the Bulldogs Community Foundation. Belinda is a heroine to me and she never wore a cape either.

Some of you will be aware that Fresh no longer exists. There’s no point trying to avoid the obvious sadness of that. Our foundation was able to help so many kids, but due to changes in the funding structure from the government, it was not economically sustainable. I wanted to talk about my experience with Fresh not to pour salt in the wound, but to emphasise how fragile these programs are.

Cards on the table, I hesitated when I was asked if I would speak tonight. My hesitation wasn’t born out of laziness nor was it a reflection in the worth of the cause. On the contrary, my hesitation is because of the foundations worth. Just like Belinda Batty, the people inside this foundation and the programs we run are the real deal. People and programs who get their hands dirty and do it all with compassion in their heart.

Sons of the West, Daughters of the West, Ready Settle Go, Caldplay, the Leadership Project, Nallei Jerring, Camp Bulldog and Social Enterprise are programs that have all sprung to life from the football clubs’ community arm.

Adam Lindsay Gordon said “Life is mostly froth and bubble; two things stand like stone. Kindness in another’s trouble. Courage in our own.” Our Community Foundation doesn’t deal in froth and bubble, we work in the world of physical and mental health for men and women, identity, opportunity for those with disability, youth leadership, newly arrived refugees and indigenous culture. That’s the real stuff. Matters of the heart and conscience.

The Fresh program no longer exists, but from my observations, the heart of Fresh, Belinda Batty and at a stretch, Elvis Presley, still permeate through these exciting new programs that are building like a wave.  But we should never forget the fragility at the same time. We can all do a little bit more to ensure their ongoing survival. 

And that is why I decided to join the Western Bulldogs Community Foundation. To do a little bit more. There’s often a moment for a football player when he or she goes from playing for that club, to that club being a part of them. I had that moment and it was my great thrill to play for our club for as long as I could physically keep up. I played long enough not just to see the work our club did in the community, but to really appreciate it’s impact. I’m always proud of our football team, but our connection to our people is what warms my heart just as much.

From a veteran of the locker room, I’m now the rookie of the Community Foundation Board. I’m yet to earn my stripes, but I’m ready to get my hands dirty.

*This is an abridged version of a speech Murphy delivered to the Western Bulldogs Community Foundation dinner on Tuesday, 9 May, in his capacity as a WBCF Board member.