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Holding a single fist high for a big-hearted Saint

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Golden fist: Danny Frawley in action against Tony Modra during a 1993 State of Origin contest.

Like many before me, I was helpless in the presence of Danny Frawley's laughter.

If he started up, with his shoulders bouncing along, I was powerless to stop myself joining in. It was a bit like being plonked in a floating tyre bladder and pushed out into a surging river; it was easier to laugh along and go with it. The water would flow as long and as fast as Spud wanted it to, and all you could do was lay back and feel the momentum of the river take you.

I wasn't close with Spud, not like a lot of others in the football community. I was more of a football acquaintance, but we did share time together calling games on radio and we were both country boys. Spud's passion for country people and that way of life was legendary. It was no secret that he favoured those who had come from rural areas, and I was born in Ballarat. But I often felt he was suspicious of my country bona fides. He was not convinced my Blundstone boots had seen many paddocks and he openly scoffed when I told him I wasn't much of a fan of craft beers and that I preferred Melbourne........

© Brisbane Times