Richo by Martin Flanagan

For Christmas the boys gave me Richo by Martin Flanagan, a biography of one of my favourite footballers, written by my favourite writer. Both of them and I all hail from the North West Coast. I was a bit dubious when I first heard about this book, but I loved it - I could hardly put it down.

Matthew Richardson is such an ordinary bloke in so many ways. According to his mum, he hasn't changed at all since he was two. Flanagan delves into some Coast football history to explain where Richo came from. He's about 8 years younger than me, but he played with and against guys that I knew at school, and was mentored by guys that my father played against. (In discussing the book with Dad I learned that Dad once played on a 16 year-old Darrel Baldock, and hardly caught sight of him all day.)

There are a couple of priceless photos in there. One shows five Coastal boys in the Richmond rooms after a win; Chris Bond from Wynyard, Ben Harrison and Richo from Devonport, and the Gale brothers Benny and Michael, from Penguin. The other pic is a school portrait from around Grade 3. Imagine trying to teach that!

© Matthew Richardson Promotions and Martin Flanagan 2010

© Matthew Richardson Promotions and Martin Flanagan 2010

Small world etc

Last night was the Amnesty International fundraising quiz night. I could not persuade any of my so-called friends to join my quiz team, so I turned up at the event alone. I felt obliged to go as I had helped with the promotions, and had assured everyone involved at the time that I'd be there with bells on, with all my mates, being quite a popular fellow y'know.

The thing was a sellout, despite clashing with a big footy match on TV, and I was only able to squeak in when some ticketholders didn't show. By necessity I joined their team, as there was just nowhere else to sit. I knew one of the team slightly but they were all very nice. Smart too - after three rounds we were leading the pack.

One of the team was a lively sixty-something chap called Pat. After one question ("Who was the last Tasmanian to win the Archibald Prize for Portraiture?" [A: Geoff Dyer]) - Pat asked "And whose brother did he paint?" I was a bit flummoxed. The sitter for the portrait was author Richard Flanagan. His brother Martin is quite well known, but I know he also has 3 or 4 other siblings. Anyway - turned out the answer Pat was looking for was himself - he's another brother.

I was very pleased with this, as although I think very highly of Richard, Martin is actually one of my very favourite writers. Richard is mates with my boss and pops up everywhere, while Martin is based in Melbourne and much more retiring. So I earbashed Pat for some time about how great Martin is and he said he would pass it on.

Martin's last book 'The Line' was written with and about their father Arch, a WW2 veteran in his nineties. I was pleased to hear that he's still with us, and going pretty well. He was a prisoner of war on the Burma Railway with Weary Dunlop.

So, I had a good night, was very pleased to meet Pat Flanagan and we even won the quiz, so I staggered home laden with bottles of wine, each with a big label spruiking the politician who donated it.

In Sunshine or in Shadow by Martin Flanagan

I bought this for my Dad a couple of years ago. Because Martin Flanagan is my favourite writer I broke the unwritten law and read it before I wrapped it. I have just got around to borrowing it back and reading it a bit more carefully.

He writes about his life and the people he has met. He writes about growing up in Tasmania, and travelling the world alone and desperate, then coming back here. He writes about his life now, as a journalist with The Age, as a kind of thoughtful football scribe and interpreter-at-large of aboriginal Australia for its white counterpart. His columns frequently appear in the football section of the paper, but they encompass so much more than the increasingly homogenous world of Australian Rules.

I can't think of any other sportswriter who paints a picture of their subjects as human beings, as well as Flanagan does. You can imagine the subjects of his stories being afraid, being sorry, having weaknesses, falling in love. Even if they are a niggling tagger, or a mean back pocket hard man.

He loves to write about aboriginal footballers. Through this initial connection he has met and talked with an amazing cross-section of aboriginal Australia. It is an education to hear their stories through him. I envy him his contacts, his journalistic skills and his tenacity that has enable him to gain such insights.

His father Arch won the Devonport Gift, and later was in Hintok prison camp in Burma with Weary Dunlop. Martin accompanied Dunlop when he returned to Burma. Weary Dunlop was an immensely gifted man, a surgeon who represented Australia in rugby. Arch had one word for Weary - "kindness".

My only reservation about this book is that it might be too honest. Martin is at heart a poet, and sometimes describes himself doing things that poets are supposed to do - speaking to the wind, that sort of thing. You wouldn't catch me admitting to that sort of flim-flam.

However - this is a very fine book, written in an honest and very engaging voice, and drawing together many things I find very interesting - aboriginality, politics, the environment, Tasmanian history and sport. Martin's work has always left a deep impression on me, so much so that whenever I write, I imagine it as a letter to him. If its not good enough, I keep at it until it is up to scratch.