ELEVEN-year-old Alastair Clarkson was kicking the footy after a game on an oval 125km from home in the tiny South Australian community of Tintinara, unaware that he had been abandoned.
His mum had left at three-quarter time, believing he would hitch a ride back across the Victorian border to Kaniva with his coach Kevin 'Togs' McCartney.
'Togs' thought Alastair was going home with his mum and left without him.
Opposition player Kevin Furst approached with the bad news: 'Togs' had already shot through, at least half an hour earlier.
It was the early 1980s, and there were no mobile phones to ask one of Kaniva's homeward-bound to come back.
It didn't matter.
"Fursty organised to get me back to Kaniva," Clarkson said.
"That was what the district was all about."
He didn't know it then, and it's taken many years for it to sink in, but moments such as those helped make the three-time Hawthorn premiership coach the man he is today.
"I did a course at Harvard at the start of this year and we had to really track back – the course made you realise the influences right throughout your life," Clarkson told AFL.com.au.
"It was only once I completed that Harvard degree that they said to me, 'Where did those influences come from?'
"I could only track it back to the emphasis on education that my parents put through me and the community in which I grew up in.
"That in-bred community-based preparedness to help, preparedness to chip in. Real team-type of attitude … it's not about you it's about the community.
"I didn't even realise I was learning those sorts of values as a kid."
Clarkson returned to his old stamping ground on Wednesday night and talked about his life to an audience nearing 200 at the Bordertown Football Club, just west of the Victoria/South Australia divide.
Bordertown's not quite home, but with Kaniva just half an hour up the road it's not far from it.
He sat on a stool surrounded by decades of local sporting history; heroes' names written in golden cursive script across countless honour boards.
As Clarkson sat there, water dripped from an air-conditioning unit, through a thatched straw roof and onto his head.
Wiping his scalp dry he was told the more than $5000 raised from the auction of Hawthorn memorabilia and the sale of tickets would easily plug the leak.
Clarkson is in his element as he kick-starts his memories using the names off the walls.
It's quickly clear he's enjoying himself as much as those who paid for the experience and the homemade tea of sausage rolls, sandwiches and grilled pizza squares.
"People have often said to me, 'Why did you want to coach?' It wasn't something that I set out to do," he said.
"But then you combine the fact that I had enormous passion for the game, I came through with strong family focus on education, and I was brought up in an environment where life in those country towns and country communities is all about people.
"That's what footy clubs are all about.
"Whereas you get down into Melbourne and everything's such a rush - and I'm part of that, I love the opportunities that urban environments create, but there's so many values and opportunities in the country that I treasured when I was a kid.
"That's why Wednesday night was so important to me and why I was so keen to get back into the community."
Clarkson hosted a football clinic on Thursday in his hometown of Kaniva, attended by some of the districts most promising under-14 players.
He stuck around for the sausage sizzle and then dropped in on long-time mentor and father figure Oscar Harrison.
Harrison has helped guide a number of the area's youngsters over the years and Clarkson described him as "a surrogate father" - a maker of men.
It was a long, hot day in Victoria's Wimmera but even as he left on Thursday evening Clarkson was reminded why he loved the place so much, with a fitting farewell from a community that moulded Clarkson into one of its greatest exports.
"Particularly when I'm driving on those back roads, everyone waves to you, puts a finger up in acknowledgement," he said.
"They had no idea who this was, in this white ute – they wouldn't have known I was from Melbourne – but they give you a wave anyway … whereas in Melbourne if someone waves at you it's usually the one-finger salute.
"For mine it was a wake up; that's the difference, in the country people want to engage."
