FootyPoet

I just typed this out for the Melbourne website. The "Robbie Flower Wing" first called for 27 years ago.

In 1987 this "Ode to Robbie Flower" by Greg Shalless appeared in the Lilydale Express. I've kept it forever.

For fifteen years he dodged and weaved,

He had to be seen to be believed,

That scrawny four-eyed weakling kid,

Oh! What magic things he did.

We just went along to see him play,

Hoping to catch him on his day,

Win or lose it mattered not,

Our day was made when he ran hot.

When players left, like Alves, Wells and Crackers,

To play in finals, we lost some backers,

No white cells in his blood, only Red and Blue,

To the Demons he remained loyal and true.

He'd fly like Jezza to take the big mark,

Or a Big Nick tap-on or Bartlett shark,

Or with Baldock magic and Ian Stewart class

He'd hit a chest with a pin point pass.

When about to be nabbed by a would-be attacker

He'd spin his way out like the Brothers Krakouer,

There was nothing like it to lift your soul,

When he swept down the wing and dobbed a long goal.

At the Western Oval in his last season,

To play in a final the only reason,

In the third quarter, our run seemed to late,

Three quick Scragger goals, it was shut the gate.

It looked like his swansong, it made us sick,

Our hero hadn't gathered a single kick,

Then out of the blue he dobbed two in a row,

"CARNA DEES! HERE WE GO!"

In the last it was Footscray, who booted the first,

Washing away our grim finals thirst,

The Cats were in front, we were just dreamers

Then Robbie flew and took one of those screamers.

He banged it through, and then we knew,

If the Hawks could win his dream would come true,

With our radios blaring Dunstall kicked truly,

Hawthorn's in front, YOU BLOODY BEAUTY.

After 23 years you'd think it enough

To see Robbie in a final, doing his stuff.

But success makes greedy and hungry for more,

To knock off the Roos was the Dees next chore.

'Bout finals experience we didn't want to know,

With 18 Demons having a red hot go,

We reckoned we'd see our Robbie hold up,

The 1987 Premiership Cup.

Well disposing of North was an absolute breeze

And we demolished the Swans with consummate ease,

But the Preliminary Final dealt a cruel blow,

How the Hawks got up, I'll never know.

The game'll be remembered as one of the greats,

But how could it happen that miss by Yeats,

Then Eishold and Campbell each missed a sitter,

But it was that last fifteen metres that left us bitter.

We cried tears in buckets for Robbie Flower,

Who was cruelly robbed of his finest hour.

The Dees'll kick on and win flags there's no doubt,

But what a sad way for the great man to go out.

Of the MCG chants, the loudest you'll hear's

When we stand and yell "ROBBIE!" as the ball comes near,

We'll never forget the grace and the power,

Of our Demon hero, Robbie Flower.

Round the Members wing, it's a magical sight,

When he soars like an eagle in full flight,

And wouldn't be a fantastic thing,

If they renamed it, THE ROBBIE FLOWER WING.

Thank you for posting my poem, I am amazed that you have kept it all those years. I signed up to Demonland just to respond. By the time I had the absolute honour of reciting it at his Testimonial Dinner in 1988 I had made a few slight changes to it and I have edited your original post above to show it as it now stands. Just added a few missing verses too.

Thanks to David Schwartz and his producer Mitch for allowing me to record it at SEN yesterday, and Eddie for the very appropriate music he put behind it. https://soundcloud.com/sen1116/ode-to-robbie-flower

There has never been a more inspirational footballer than Robbie Flower. He was my hero.

Condolences to the entire Flower family who must be feeling the pain we are all feeling, a hundred times over.