Mark Robinson on Ron Barassi’s legacy and why the premiership cup should be named in his honour

Ron Barassi will be remembered as one of footy’s Godfathers, writes Mark Robinson. As such, there’s only one fitting way to honour his incredible legacy in the game.

Ron Barassi. Picture: Alex Coppel.

Ron Barassi was the Godfather of the football family.

As such, the AFL should name the premiership cup after him in his honour.

The Ron Barassi Cup.

It’s just perfect isn’t it? He won 10 of them as a player and coach.

And it would be fitting — and certainly deserving — if Gillon McLachlan, in his final act as AFL boss, decreed that Barassi’s name would live forever in an official capacity.

Because in 150-odd years, there wasn’t a bigger name in the game.

And it was a name — Ronald Dale Barassi — that conjured all manner of emotions.

In a football sense, he was intimidating, gruff and furiously demanding.

The only thing louder than his booming voice was his 1970s rock-star shirts, with the big cuffs, the big collars and the flower power colours.

He was also successful, innovative and challenging of frontiers, both as a player and coach, first at Melbourne, then Carlton, North Melbourne, Melbourne again and finally at Sydney, when he answered the AFL’s call for help.

Mark Robinson says the premiership cup should be named after Ron Barassi. Picture: David Caird

Nothing or nobody could stop Barassi if he had an idea which he believed could benefit the game. When others said why, Barassi would say why not.

Personally, he had this knack of making every person he spoke to feel like the centre of his world. He liked to talk, but also loved to listen.

He had a warmth and engaging personality which flew in the face of his devil demeanour of his coaching days.

There are other Godfathers in the game — Jack Dyer, Leigh Matthews, Ted Whitten, John Kennedy Snr and Kevin Sheedy — who all made/make a contribution in a broad sense: Playing. Coaching. Media.

They are/were statesmen and people from the corridors of power to the laneways of homelessness hung off their every word.

But you suspect they’d all agree Barassi was the Godfather of them all.

Former chief football writer Mike Sheahan learnt of Barassi’s death at 5.45pm on Saturday when he was at the Sorrento pub.

Ron Barassi with Melbourne’s current No. 31 Bayley Fritsch. Picture: David Caird

At 6.30pm, he said he was still in shock.

He knew Barassi was crook and didn’t have long to live, but the enormity of the news set him back.

“I’m genuinely in shock,’’ Sheahan said.

“He was the biggest name in my time in football, in the 65 years that I’ve been aware of what football means and who people are.

“I had a deep affection for what he did on the field, but also for what he was in the dealings I had with him post football.

“He was a good man. That image of thunder and fire was true, but there was another side to him, a softer side to him, almost a gentle bloke in a social sense.

“He was prepared to do anything in football and he never worried about his reputation, he was always prepared to accept challenge regardless if it was a risk in a personal sense.’’

Barassi will be remembered as one of footy’s ‘Godfathers’. Picture: David Caird

The Barassi name was celebrated through Ron Jnr, but lived through Ron Snr.

Barassi was five years old when his father, also a Melbourne premiership player, died in action at Tobruk.

Barassi Jnr was one of the first football people to talk about the war, what it was and what it took from families like his.

Barassi would become one of the game’s great players.

He played in six flags for the Demons and if we are to trust those who came before us, Brassi was a star.

Dyer once called him “the best VFL player since Ivor Warne-Smith”,

He was stocky, brave and if he played today, he would be called a contested ball beast. He played ruck early in his career and then made ruck-rover fashionable.

Neil Roberts and Ron Barassi

If you’d care to make a comparison, maybe a smaller Patrick Dangerfield?

He was before his time. He could kick either foot, handball either hand, could mark strongly and break packs with a shrug of his heavy shoulders.

A week ago, it was hoped that Barassi would be able to be driven around the MCG, much like Whitten was with Teddy Jnr ahead of that state game, which remains the most iconic film on record.

The AFL made inquiries, but it was too late. His health wouldn’t allow it.

Instead, never-before-seen vision of Barassi was played on the MCG scoreboard ahead of Friday night’s clash.

It was a treasured moment for a treasured figure.

But Barassi would’ve hated what happened Friday night and what happened the week before against Collingwood.

Football was his everything when he played and coached. And his demands on his players and his criticism of his players was legendary.

Guessing here, but if Barassi could describe the Demons on Friday night, he’d probably shake his head, wave his hands, bristle the moustache and say, weak as piss.

And no one would dare disagree with the Godfather.

Originally published as Mark Robinson on Ron Barassi’s legacy and why the premiership cup should be named in his honour