In the third of our new feature series, Rhett Bartlett, son of Richmond great Kevin, tells why the Tigers are so special to him
Yellow and Black -- it's in the blood
richmondfc.com.au
11:02:48 AM Thu 3 July, 2003
Bob Wiggins was not replying to my letters. I had never met the man, never spoken to him, never saw him play. Yet, he wasn’t replying to my letters.
Bob Wiggins was a former Richmond player. He played 69 senior games from1944-51. He served this country in World War 2; and I wanted to interview him. So, I sent one letter. Then another, and another. Six letters I sent in total. And he never responded.
I had decided to undertake a project to interview former Richmond players, hopefully for a future Club publication, but also for my website, www.rhettrospective.com. It didn’t matter how many games they played, or whether they played in a premiership. They simply had to have played at least one game of senior football for the Tigers -- a rare feat in itself.
My interest in the history of our Club came from my father. I never saw him play, but I have heard every Kevin Bartlett story known to man. And, I think because I didn’t live through my father’s career, it prompted me to research and find out about the era back then, and the players he played against and with. I was then lucky enough to associate myself with the Richmond Museum and Club historians Ron Reiffel and Bill Meaklim.
From that my interest branched out. ‘Who were these players of the 1930s and 1940s?’ ‘Who played in Jack Dyer’s shadow for all those years’, and ‘Who was Bob Wiggins?’
I wanted to know what made Bob Wiggins play for Richmond. His name rarely appears in the Club’s history books. He wasn’t a superstar; he never won a Best and Fairest. He kicked two goals in his career. But Roy Wright remembered him, and those who I spoke to from his era remembered him. Surely even some supporters had his number on their back.
However, there was no recorded interview with Bob Wiggins. There was an enigma about the man that made me want to meet him. He had played in an era with players whose names now bring smiles on elderly Tiger supporters’ faces . . . Roy Wright, Bill Morris, Polly Perkins, Max Oppy, Des Rowe, Jack Dyer.
Bob came to the Club at the end of Richmond 1940’s success. One or two years earlier and he may have played in a couple of Grand Finals. Instead, the Tigers wouldn’t play in a final series for another 24 years.
I had given up any hope of interviewing Bob Wiggins.
Then, one afternoon at work, my mobile phone rang. It was Bob Wiggins. He agreed to be interviewed. He was 77 years old. And he told me one other thing. He was dying.
Bob Wiggins was fighting cancer. Whether he knew his suffering was coming to an end, or whether my constant letters had annoyed him so much, I will never know. But he agreed to be interviewed at his house, about his career.
‘Yellow and Black’ runs in every Tiger supporter’s blood. But it ran deeper in Bob Wiggins’ veins. He had grown up in Richmond, and used to stand out the front of Punt Road on game days, asking any gentleman who walked in with a Gladstone bag, if he could carry it for them. It meant free entry into the ground. Kids weren’t allowed into Punt Road without a guardian. A few years later, Bob Wiggins was recruited to play for his beloved Richmond . . .
We spoke for a long time -- 30 minutes turned into one hour, which then turned into two hours. And, by the end of the interview, we were both exhausted, each of us having asked and answered every question.
Footballers love to talk about their career. Bob Wiggins had some old photographs, some team shots involving Jack Dyer, and one or two of himself in a ‘footy pose’. And, he had a scrapbook. I think every former player before 1960 had a scrapbook, most likely maintained by their mothers. And every newspaper cutting in that scrapbook had a story behind it.
I left the house that afternoon with Bob waving goodbye to me from his porch. Here stood a handsome man, now in his late 70s, who 60 years earlier had worn the Yellow and Black as a 17-year-old. ‘Thank you’, he said. ‘Thank you for making me forget about the worries in my life for a day'.
Bob Wiggins died three months later. I noticed the mention of his passing in the obituaries. The team did not wear black armbands. But any Richmond player's memory should not be forgotten that easily. And, thankfully, I can pull out that audio tape of our interview any night I wish, and listen to Bob Wiggins speak.
The great happiness that you can hear in his voice, as he is recalling his football career and re-telling the stories of the 1940s, is something that will stay with me forever.
That is what Richmond means to me . . .
Yellow and Black -- it's in the blood
richmondfc.com.au
11:02:48 AM Thu 3 July, 2003
Bob Wiggins was not replying to my letters. I had never met the man, never spoken to him, never saw him play. Yet, he wasn’t replying to my letters.
Bob Wiggins was a former Richmond player. He played 69 senior games from1944-51. He served this country in World War 2; and I wanted to interview him. So, I sent one letter. Then another, and another. Six letters I sent in total. And he never responded.
I had decided to undertake a project to interview former Richmond players, hopefully for a future Club publication, but also for my website, www.rhettrospective.com. It didn’t matter how many games they played, or whether they played in a premiership. They simply had to have played at least one game of senior football for the Tigers -- a rare feat in itself.
My interest in the history of our Club came from my father. I never saw him play, but I have heard every Kevin Bartlett story known to man. And, I think because I didn’t live through my father’s career, it prompted me to research and find out about the era back then, and the players he played against and with. I was then lucky enough to associate myself with the Richmond Museum and Club historians Ron Reiffel and Bill Meaklim.
From that my interest branched out. ‘Who were these players of the 1930s and 1940s?’ ‘Who played in Jack Dyer’s shadow for all those years’, and ‘Who was Bob Wiggins?’
I wanted to know what made Bob Wiggins play for Richmond. His name rarely appears in the Club’s history books. He wasn’t a superstar; he never won a Best and Fairest. He kicked two goals in his career. But Roy Wright remembered him, and those who I spoke to from his era remembered him. Surely even some supporters had his number on their back.
However, there was no recorded interview with Bob Wiggins. There was an enigma about the man that made me want to meet him. He had played in an era with players whose names now bring smiles on elderly Tiger supporters’ faces . . . Roy Wright, Bill Morris, Polly Perkins, Max Oppy, Des Rowe, Jack Dyer.
Bob came to the Club at the end of Richmond 1940’s success. One or two years earlier and he may have played in a couple of Grand Finals. Instead, the Tigers wouldn’t play in a final series for another 24 years.
I had given up any hope of interviewing Bob Wiggins.
Then, one afternoon at work, my mobile phone rang. It was Bob Wiggins. He agreed to be interviewed. He was 77 years old. And he told me one other thing. He was dying.
Bob Wiggins was fighting cancer. Whether he knew his suffering was coming to an end, or whether my constant letters had annoyed him so much, I will never know. But he agreed to be interviewed at his house, about his career.
‘Yellow and Black’ runs in every Tiger supporter’s blood. But it ran deeper in Bob Wiggins’ veins. He had grown up in Richmond, and used to stand out the front of Punt Road on game days, asking any gentleman who walked in with a Gladstone bag, if he could carry it for them. It meant free entry into the ground. Kids weren’t allowed into Punt Road without a guardian. A few years later, Bob Wiggins was recruited to play for his beloved Richmond . . .
We spoke for a long time -- 30 minutes turned into one hour, which then turned into two hours. And, by the end of the interview, we were both exhausted, each of us having asked and answered every question.
Footballers love to talk about their career. Bob Wiggins had some old photographs, some team shots involving Jack Dyer, and one or two of himself in a ‘footy pose’. And, he had a scrapbook. I think every former player before 1960 had a scrapbook, most likely maintained by their mothers. And every newspaper cutting in that scrapbook had a story behind it.
I left the house that afternoon with Bob waving goodbye to me from his porch. Here stood a handsome man, now in his late 70s, who 60 years earlier had worn the Yellow and Black as a 17-year-old. ‘Thank you’, he said. ‘Thank you for making me forget about the worries in my life for a day'.
Bob Wiggins died three months later. I noticed the mention of his passing in the obituaries. The team did not wear black armbands. But any Richmond player's memory should not be forgotten that easily. And, thankfully, I can pull out that audio tape of our interview any night I wish, and listen to Bob Wiggins speak.
The great happiness that you can hear in his voice, as he is recalling his football career and re-telling the stories of the 1940s, is something that will stay with me forever.
That is what Richmond means to me . . .
