I was born and bred black and white. Following footy back in the fifties was a tribal practice. Not only Yorta Yorta but also Magpie blood ran through my veins - and in both directions.

In the forties, my grandfather owned the Magpie fish shop on the corner of Hoddle and Johnston Streets in the heart of Collingwood.  Dad went to Collingwood Tech just a few blocks up the hill where he went to school with Lou Richards, who later went on to captain the Pies.  

To help the family through the lean years, Dad would buy a large hessian bag of roast peanuts at the Victoria markets on Saturday morning, re-bag them into paper bags, sneak under the Victoria Park fence, and sell them in the crowds during match day.

In the early 60’s, my father went on to train the Collingwood captain Murray Weideman, in wrestling in an ill fated venture at the old West Melbourne Stadium.  He should have kept his footy boots on!

Following the Pies wasn’t a choice, but a family obligation, a responsibility that one was proud to wear.  The thought of following the tigers or the lions was would be akin to family disloyalty and the thoughts of being a blue boy was no less than treason.

As a snotty nosed kid, Dad would take us boys to stand in the outer behind the goal posts watching with envy the Black and White cheer squad.

Whilst still a babe in arms to appreciate the 1953 grand final, and too poor to witness the 1958 flag, I was to join the Collingwood Social Club and savour the 1990 win and relive the glory moments in 2010 when the Pies won their 15th flag……….Good old Collingwood forever…..that’s what I mean!