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From the mid-nineteenth century through most of the twentieth century, Collingwood had been the most deprived, poverty-stricken suburb in Melbourne, considered by outsiders as little more than a slum. In the middle of this slum, however, surrounded by textile and footwear manufacturing plants and breweries, stood Victoria Park, feared by football opponents for over 100 years.

It was a  cauldron of fanaticism, blind loyalty and solidarity, and a symbol of resistance.

Rea had grown up in a migrant family in the Australian Capital Territory and had a non-football background, so I told her that she needed to see me in my natural habitat before she went through with our wedding. I knew at the time that this was a huge risk, because once she witnessed me having my out-of-body experiences, screaming my fool head off, abusing umpires, and generally behaving in a way completely devoid of all rationality, I might not seem like such a good catch.

Despite this risk, however, I didn’t want her, years down the track, to claim that she had had no idea of my fanaticism for all things Collingwood. If we were going to get married, she had to marry me warts and all.

This particular game sticks in my mind for two very clear reasons. Firstly, it was a game in which the Pies were soundly beaten, an occurrence that was extremely rare at the fortress of Victoria Park. Secondly, but much more importantly, this was the game made famous by the heroic display of courage by St Kilda’s Nicky Winmar, who, after copping a torrent of racial abuse from a small number of Collingwood supporters, bravely faced the Magpie cheer squad just in front of where we were seated, lifted his jumper above his waist and proudly pointed to his black skin. It was like a line in the sand, with the clear message ‘I’m black and I’m proud’—to me his actions said, in the Australian vernacular, ‘No more of this shit’.

For close on 150 years, Indigenous players had been forced to endure racial abuse as a matter of course if they wanted to play football. It was an accepted part of the game, usually dismissed by white players and officials with the line, ‘What’s said on the ground, stays on the ground’. From this day onwards, however, racial abuse would no longer be accepted, either on or off the field, in Australian Rules football.