Ron Barassi is feeling everything that other Melbourne supporters are feeling in the lead-up to the grand final.Credit:Simon Schluter
This week,Melbourne sent Barassi a gift pack with a scarf and T-shirt,andpresident Kate Roffey sent him a personalised video message,standing in front of the recently rediscovered 1964 premiership pennant. Melbourne would be out there on Saturday to do him and his ’64 team proud,she said.
The ’64 grand final was Barassi’s last game for Melbourne,that flag the last of six for him as a player. He said later he felt oddly wrung out and played poorly in the first half,better in the second in a four-point win. Reminded that he had 17 touches,he says:“Seventeen! That’s not much. Not happy!”
Barassi drops into a half-crouch,a sparring pose,his eyes widen and shine,and momentarily he is the master player and coach again. He’s 85,but you wouldn’t know it. “You look like George Clooney,” says Cheryl,his wife.
When his mind turns again to this Saturday,he grins and says:“I’ll play”. You only have to squint a little to believe it.
Barassi was invited to this year’s grand final in Perth,but quarantine protocols made it impracticable.Credit:Simon Schluter
The Barassis have lived for decades in a pad in St Kilda,surrounded by his memories and her art. The memories have dimmed a little,as they must:there was an MCG crowd’s worth of them. For years,Barassi appended “17410” to his autograph:17 grand finals for 10 premierships. When the Hall of Fame was instituted in 1996,Barassi was the first Legend to be inducted. No one has better good old days.
But Barassi’s trove is more than scoreboard deep. He cherishes a framed picture given to him by John Albrecht from Joel Leonard auctions after selling some memorabilia in 2016. It looks like a detail from a black-and-white team photograph,with Barassi,his father Ron senior and the legendary Norm Smith shoulder-to-shoulder among others.