The mood of a gloomy Melbourne winter afternoon was lifted yesterday by the announcement that Western Bulldogs captain Bob Murphy will play on in 2017. Murphy underwent a knee reconstruction after rupturing his anterior cruciate ligament in the final minutes of a thriller against Hawthorn in April, and after 295 games many feared that this would be the end. The term “spiritual leader” is overused in sport, but is entirely appropriate in Murphy’s case. For long-suffering Dogs supporters like myself, there is no one at the club more loved and respected.
By 2000, when Murphy made his debut, I was losing interest in footy. I was obsessed with the game growing up, both as a player and spectator, but I lacked any discernible talent so my dream of an AFL career barely survived the Under-12s. Then, in 1997, my Bulldogs had their best shot at a premiership in decades, but gave up a five-goal lead to lose the preliminary final to Adelaide by two points. Disappointing finals exits followed in 1998 and 1999, and I was struggling to retain the passion. (The 1997 “rebrand” from Footscray to the Western Bulldogs also didn’t help, an issue that continues to rankle with many fans.)
But in the following seasons a skinny kid called Robert Murphy caught my eye. He was a mere boy amongst men at that stage, but his poise and class stood out from the beginning. For those of us not blessed with talent, football fandom often feels like a way to experience the highs and lows of the game vicariously. So when I learned that Murphy and I were born just 10 days apart and were almost identical in height and weight, my passion for the Dogs returned and has not wavered since.
Off the field Murphy stood out as well. In 2003, with the Howard government eager to join George W. Bush’s invasion of Iraq, he posed for the team photograph with “No War” written on his arm. Before long I was seeing him at indie gigs around town. Accustomed to footballers who, I suspected, were likely to vote for the Liberals and enjoy the music of the Counting Crows, this guy was a revelation.
In 2007, Murphy began writing columns for the Age. Though the overall quality of his writing might have been subject to some rather kind revisionism, the best of it is well worth re-reading. Two themes stand out. Firstly, Murphy has seemingly never lost the sense of wonder and romance that comes from having been just another kid kicking the footy on his Warragul street one day, to playing at the highest level the next.
Secondly, Murphy loves his football club, and almost alone among modern players, is able to make a meaningful connection between its present and its past. (Artist Bren Luke captured this magnificently in an illustration – Murphy wearing the uniform of 1930 Brownlow medallist Allan Hopkins.) The way he writes about Footscray legends such as Charlie Sutton and John Schultz is deeply moving, and goes some way to explaining why he is revered at Whitten Oval.
In recent years the AFL and its clubs seem to be coming to the slow realisation that the game’s history and traditions mean more to the football public than all the modern bells and whistles. No player is more aware of this than Murphy. I believe that this is why the admiration for him extends far beyond the Bulldogs’ western suburbs heartland. He is universally respected by the wider football community, a fact revealed by the mass feeling of deflation when he went down clutching his knee, promptly followed by an enormous wellspring of support.
When captain Ryan Griffen bailed out and coach Brendan McCartney was dismissed following a disappointing 2014 season, Murphy was the obvious choice to take over the captaincy. With the club in crisis Murphy knew it was his time, and the Bulldogs have stood taller ever since. Already a strong influence on its culture, it is no exaggeration to say that he has come to embody the club’s values, as can be seen from the Sons of the West documentary series the club put together last year.
It was with immense relief and excitement that I and thousands of fellow Bulldogs fans greeted the news that Murphy’s career will continue. We’ve known too much disappointment to believe in fairytale endings, but I’m sure I’m not the only one to have allowed the image of Murphy holding the 2017 premiership cup aloft to cross my mind a few times since Tuesday.
