That, in part, is Frank Reid’s story. But there is another, deeper, side to his footy life as well.
Reid’s next birthday will be his 50th. Most of his childhood was spent in states where the rugby codes ruled. He can’t remember ever seeing a game of Australian Rules until he caught an episode of ‘The Winners’ in his late teens.
At 19 he played his first game. He now has 475 senior matches (plus an estimated 40 reserves fixtures) to his name.
His club, Nimbin, has not won a match “for a year or two” although with the Summerland Australian Football League (SAFL) contracting to four teams, the Demons are guaranteed a berth in the 2008 finals.
The wiry warhorse, 187cm of bone and gristle, represented SAFL against the Armadale League last year, his 19th representative game. “It was a good match,” Reid says.
“I rucked the whole last quarter, neither team kicked a goal in that term and we won by two points.
“I lost two front teeth, but that was the only win I’ve had in the last few years.”
His grey hair and goatee beard accounts for younger teammates nicknaming him Sensei.
It is a more respectful moniker than the one he earned when he played for North Shore in the Sydney competition in the early 1980s. “I was trying to break into the Swans’ list. We were coached by Barry Breen, I thought I might have a shot but I didn’t cut it.
“It didn’t help that they nicknamed me Charlie at the club. They reckoned I looked like Charles Manson. I don’t think the Swans looked at me after that!”
Before trying his luck in the harbour city, Reid learned his trade played 148 senior games for Lismore. During this period he often played ‘magoos’ as a warm-up before the main game.
The man he rates his toughest opponent was Bill Ryan, Southport’s captain-coach and a former Geelong 150-gamer. “He kicked 10 on me one day from centre half-forward. He was quite a handful,” Reid recalls.
He helped found the Nimbin club in the mid-1980s, then when it went into hiatus he turned out 76 times for Byron Bay. He also helped out Murwillumbah with a few appearances.
Despite winning premierships with Lismore, Byron Bay and North Shore, his heart is with Nimbin. He has won the club best and fairest six times and the league best and fairest once, but never tasted ultimate success with the Demons.
“We made the grand final in 2003 and lost by a couple of goals, but have never had another chance.”
Now the club is rebuilding. It has a strong Koori contingent, mainly sourced from one family, the Walkers. Billy senior, his sons Billy junior, Alex, Andy and Joey, a cousin, two nephews and an in-law are the core of the team.
Reid hopes this might lead to greater success in the future. “I’ve played 187 games for Nimbin and I’m trying to retire but I want to be there to support the kids,” he says. The grandfather of seven is currently living and working in Brisbane, but commutes two hours each way to play with the club.
“I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” he says. “If I didn’t play sport I wouldn’t have reference points in my life.
“It’s a way of thinking back – achievements, people you meet. I haven’t made any money but I’ve made a lot of friends and they’re worth more than any money.”
Which leads to the other part of Reid’s story. A gyprocker, he suffered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) after four men he knew died in the space of three years. Three of them, all workers in the construction industry, committed suicide.
The fourth, a young ruckman he was mentoring, died when a prank went tragically wrong.
“On the outside I was fine, but inside I collapsed,” Reid says. “I couldn’t pick up my tools. I was crying. I felt like I was unable to breath or move. I’m supposed to be a hard man, but it just hit me.”
During the worst period of PTSD, he relinquished the coaching role he had always relished. However, he kept playing.
“It was something in my life, where I could at least be with my teammates and run around.
“Footy was never more important to me than it was then.”
Current Nimbin coach, president and back-pocket Dr James Alexander has known Reid since 2001. “He was the coach at the time, and from my first game he struck me as a formidable force,” he says.
“As a coach he demonstrated the best World Championship Wrestling froth-at-the-mouth half-time rants in the style of Ted Whitten. As a player, he’s as tough and determined as Ron Barassi.
“He is still doing it – leading by example, providing inspiration to the entire team, winning the respect of new generations of teammates and opponents alike.
“Some say he is only still playing to prevent an inevitable onset of arthritis. I think he just can’t help himself.
“His heart is with the Nimbin Demons, and he puts his body where his heart is.”
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