Hamish McLachlan: How country footy and love of family got Brendan Fevola back on the ball
FORMER footy bad boy Brendan Fevola reveals he guzzled pies, McDonald’s and Jim Beam before booting 13 goals in the 1999 millennium match for Carlton in his candid chat with Hamish McLachlan.
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BRENDAN Fevola was blessed with football talent and loved by the Blues faithful for his laid back style and light hearted ways. But “Fev” had his share of troubles. His career arguably ended before it should, but says he has never been in a better spot than he is now.
We spoke about getting married again, his mother’s push to play football, a big night at the Brownlow, his gambling problems, misconceptions, a new life in radio and the only thing that matters to him.
HM: You look happy Fev — you’re getting married again?
BF: Thanks Hame … I feel good … and I am getting married again. It was unfortunate that Alex, now my beautiful fiance, divorced me after a long and sustained period of disasters by me. But when I got my stuff together, and I asked her to marry me again, she said yes. My girlfriend, became my wife, and then my ex-wife, and now my fiance. It’s complicated.
HM: I’m not trying to be flippant on this, but would you have divorced you too, given the way you were behaving?
BF: (laughs) Yes … probably. Actually, definitely. Yep, she made the right call, and it helped me, and we are all better for it. It’s funny how things work, and how they end up.
HM: It’s like we are in a time warp … you are marrying Alex again, and you are allowed into Crown again.
BF: I would have banned me from Crown too! It was eight years ago that I put on a show at the Brownlow in 2009. I was told to steer clear of Crown for a while, which I completely understood, but all is great now, I have dinner at Crown a lot, and I’m back this year with you Hame — Brownlow Red Carpet!
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HM: It’ll be fun. Let’s go back to the very start. Your father, Angelo, was born in Belgium?
BF: Dad was born in Belgium in the middle of a war. My nan is French, my pop is Italian, and my aunties and uncles are all Italian. My nan, Monique, was pregnant with Dad, and they migrated to Belgium while the war was on. She gave birth to Dad there, and then moved back seven months later. He shipped over here on a boat when he was eight.
HM: Looking for a better life?
BF: Yeah, without a visa! He came over with his three brothers and his sister, and he played lacrosse. He loved it.
HM: For Australia?
BF: For Australia, and he coached Victoria. My mum wouldn’t let me play lacrosse because it’s a really tough sport. It’s probably the fastest sport on grass, and Dad’s a very quiet man, but then he got on the pitch he’d get very aggressive and whack people with his stick. He’d always get fouled off, and he’d have stitches and all sorts of things. Mum said “You’re not playing Lacrosse, I’ll put you into football!”. Thank god she did!
HM: You owe footy to your mum?
BF: And Dad for being hot headed I guess! I started playing in prep, and I’d never played football before. At the age of 5 I was playing under-9s, because everyone was playing football. I had no idea about it because my uncle played ice hockey, and my pop played soccer.
HM: So you started playing for the Narre Warren Juniors. Were you a stay at home full forward?
BF: No, that came when I got much fatter! When I was young I was playing ruck, and I just ran around a lot. By under 10s I was kicking 100 every year. As you can tell I’m not very academic, so school wasn’t really my cup of tea. I was a massive Saints fan, and I thought to myself, “If Tony Lockett can play footy for a job, so can I — that’s what I will do”. As a result I didn’t really worry about school.
HM: Did you not concentrate on school at all?
BF: No, I didn’t even concentrate when I was playing footy Hame! I got drafted in year 11, and in my first year of AFL in ‘99 I was playing AFL footy. I was doing my HSC and playing for Carlton at the same time.
HM: Did you go to school during that period?
BF: I did go to school, but I had all the teachers bluffed. David Parkin was my coach, and when I got drafted at the end of ‘98 he got me into a room and said “Son, what’s your plan for next year?” I said “Mate, obviously I don’t want to go to school anymore, because I want to play footy. I’ve been drafted, I don’t need to go”. Little did I know David Parkin is the head of just about every schooling institution known to Australia! He’s a lecturer at Melbourne University, he’s a principal, and he’s on various boards. He said “Mate, you’ve got two choices. You’re either going back to school, or you’re not playing footy for Carlton”.
HM: So you …
BF: ... went back to school. English was a given, because everyone has to do English. I did biology … I still don’t even know what that means! I did maths methods, and I’m horrible at it! But the reason I did that Hame was because the teachers were all Carlton supporters! I got them tickets, jumpers, and into the rooms after games. They all gave me A-pluses! Mum thought I was a genius, and so did Carlton.
HM: But you delayed your medical studies?
BF: Yep … medicine is still on the back burner, but I did bluff my way through school, as you can probably tell!
HM: At the end of ‘99 there was that millennium match. You kicked 12, and basically announced yourself — what was your pre-game liquid and food intake?
BF: It was New Year’s Eve at the end of ‘99. No one wants to be playing football at the MCG at 6.30pm. New Year is a time to be around friends, to have a few beers and to bring in the new year. I was 18 at the time and I was living down in Narre Warren.
My mate had a party which started at noon. I went to the party, thinking I was doing the right thing, and I would be disciplined. They were bringing around pies and pasties, and I just ate anything that came near me. I thought: “I can’t eat that; I’m playing football tonight against the Pies”.
Anyway, I’m not big on discipline as you know ... It got to 2pm, and I thought, “a can of Jim Beam wont hurt ... just to be social”.
At 3pm I had another one. I had to leave at 4 to be at the ground by 4.30pm, and I was really hungry on the way in. I’m two cans of Jim Beam in at this point, so we stop at a McDonald’s in South Melbourne, and had two McChicken Burgers.
HM: Seriously?
BF: Dead set. I smashed them, got to the MCG, and by three-quarter time I’d kicked nine. I thought “Jeez, I’ve got a great little potion here!” I ended up with 12, and I thought that would be the recipe for the next couple of years. It didn’t quite work out that way. I didn’t play good footy, and I got really fat.
HM: If you have a look at your Blues record, it is pretty remarkable. 187 games, 575 goals, 3rd on the Blues all time goal kicking list. How dedicated were you — what could you have done?
BF: Umm, it’s a good question. I hope I didn’t leave much behind. I had a good time off the field, but throughout the season I didn’t really go out too much at all. People think that I was on the piss all the time, but during the year I actually trained really hard. It was more the end of the season, on the mad Monday’s, and the footy trips, when I’d have a crack. I was a little bit immature. As a result of my time at Carlton ending early, I obviously left seasons on the table, and goals, but when I was there I tried as hard as I could. But in the off season, the ADD would kick in, and I should have listened to Alex a lot more! When I was training and playing footy though, I gave everything.
HM: You mentioned.
BF: Hame, can I just say, we’re bloody fortunate as footballers. I was lucky that I was good at playing footy, and I got the opportunity to live out my dream, because that was my dream as a kid. I was lucky enough to fulfil it. Obviously it stopped prematurely at the age of 29, but life doesn’t stop once you’ve finished playing footy. Hopefully I’ve got another 50 years left. I have three beautiful kids, and as long as I’m having fun with them, my life it perfect.
HM: Great outlook. You’ve mentioned attention deficit disorder (ADD) — have you been diagnosed with it?
BF: Yes. When I was put in rehab in Brisbane, I was meant to be there for seven days, and I must have had a few issues, because I ended up staying for 70.
HM: What did they diagnose you with?
BF: I was diagnosed with depression and ADD. I was in there for a long time, and when you’re there you realise how sick people really are. I needed to man up a little bit and say “Deal with your problems mate, and get your life in order. You’ve got three kids at home”. It was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me though, Hame, going in there.
HM: Your problem with the punt has been well documented — did you punt mainly when you were drinking?
BF: No, I’d punt without grog — I was punting a lot.
HM: Through boredom?
BF: Through boredom, yeah. I think with the AFL footballers now, they make them study and do a lot more. I was in that period from ‘99 to ‘05 where it was transitioning from the old footballers, to the new robots that run around now. I had a lot of time on my hands, and was bored, and ended up punting too much — daily pretty much.
HM: Did Alex know you were betting?
BF: She knew, but she didn’t know the numbers, or the regularity. When she got involved with the bookies, she was really shocked. She didn’t know that stuff, that I was betting on credit, I kept that on the hush, and that came back to bite me on the bum. But that’s OK, it’s all fixed now, and I’m glad it’s behind me.
HM: What happened?
BF: The bookies would ring me up and say “Fev, we’ll give you $10,000 credit” and I’d say “Yeah, no worries”. They knew I had the money, and when it’s on the phone, and not in cash, it doesn’t feel real. You wouldn’t go to the TAB and say “Here’s $10,000 on Winx”, only to win a $1000, but when it’s in your bookie account, you just ring up and say 200 on so and so. It’s like Monopoly money, but when you can’t pay it back, it becomes very real.
HM: And it became very real.
BF: It did, but I think sometimes in life when you have everything given to you, you get into this bubble. Especially with AFL footy. You’re in a bubble where it’s not real and you float along, but then once that bubble’s popped, you come back down to earth. I came back down to earth to the point where I was under, for a long time. I was 6 feet under.
HM: In ‘09 when you had the bad night at the Brownlow at Crown, were you in a bad spot mentally?
BF: Not at the time — I was just drunk, thinking I was having a great time. That was just a bad night. My issue was not manning up and saying something wasn’t right. I found it hard to express my feelings, and I bottled everything up. Once I did drink, it was like a volcano; I erupted. Everything was to the extreme, but I think I had to hit rock bottom to appreciate what I had. Now that I’ve worked my way back, I appreciate things a lot more. I reckon that if I didn’t hit the bottom and get down to that point, I wouldn’t be as appreciative as I am now of everything that I’ve got.
HM: And who at the Carlton footy club came and said “it’s time to go”?
BF: Well Carlton was actually my decision in the end. I think Sticks wanted to sack me because I was about to break his record and be the number one goal kicker! No, it was agreed I needed to leave the Blues, I knew it, and so did they.
HM: And what about Brisbane?
BF: It was actually Michael Voss who came into rehab when I was in the mental institution, which was probably the wrong timing. That’s when he sacked me from Brisbane, which was very strange. It wasn’t a great couple of days after that. I’ll tell you this. I went into rehab at 99kgs, and I’d never been fitter. I rolled out at 128kgs, and that was from all the medications I was put on, it was amazing.
HM: So when you left the farm were you feeling good mentally?
BF: When I left the Farm I thought footy was finished. I went back and played at Casey, which is the Melbourne reserves. I started training with a guy called Gibbo, and I got really fit again. I think in the last 10 games I kicked about 60 goals. Then I got an offer from a club who were going to take me with their last pick in the draft, but I said no, I just didn’t want to go back into the AFL system. I needed a break from it.
HM: But you wanted to keep playing footy?
BF: I did, it was all I knew at the time. The timing was great when Matty Tripp, a mate of
ours, who was a Yarrawonga boy, rang me up after they’d just lost their third grand final in a row. He said “Mate, come up to Yarrawonga”. I said “Where’s Yarrawonga?” He told me where it was, and he sent the deal through. I said “Shit, where do I sign?” Two years later I was living there, and coaching them. They really changed my life up in Yarrawonga; they were great people, and I think a huge turning point in my life. I’ve got a lot to thank Matty for.
HM: You kicked 357 goals in 65 matches!
BF: I did.
HM: That’s unbelievable.
BF: Not bad for a bloke who was having pies at half time and frothies afterwards!
HM: Celebrity. The jungle. How tricky was that six weeks?
BF: It was good for weight loss — actually, I need to get back in there! To tell you the truth Hame, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my whole life. I thought it would be so easy, but you’re there for 2 months, and it goes for 50 days if you last to the end, which I did. It was good to have Warnie in there, who I’m good mates with, but his stories get a little bit long in the tooth after 5 days though. He just keeps telling you the same thing! I had to branch away from him a little bit.
I became really close with The Chief, Paul Harragon, who’s a great man from the NRL. He was in there for one purpose only, and that was for his best mate Mark Hughes, who has brain cancer. He’s 40 years old now, and he was 39 at the time.
He’s got three kids, and every three months he goes in for a check-up to see if he’s still going to be alive in the near future. I thought he was just a beautiful man, to do that for his mate. Another little guy in there was Anthony Callea, who is one of my best mates now.
Who would have thought that a big footballer would be mates with little Anthony Callea? We hit it off. He’s a ripping guy, and we catch up all the time.
You just get to meet people that you wouldn’t normally meet, and he is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. He loves the kids, and loves Alex.
Getting back to The Chief. At the start of the show everyone nominates their charity of choice, and my charity was the Shane Warne Foundation. The Chiefs was obviously the Mark Hughes Foundation. I knew Warnie had been raising a lot of money, because he does a really good job for his foundation, so I really wanted The Chief to win, to raise awareness for his mate. When they read my name out, before the producers could say anything I said “Chief, we’re both up here, we’re both winners.
I’m giving your charity $50,000, and I’ll donate the other $50,000. We’ll halve it”. You should have seen the producers’ jaws drop! You’re not allowed to do it, because it’s charity. I said “It’s done now. It’s been on national TV”.
I was lucky enough to go down to Newcastle last year and give Mark the $50,000-dollar cheque, which was amazing. Who would have thought sitting on your butt for 50 days could change your life Hame!
HM: The Fev turnaround has been remarkable. You’re now getting up at 3.30am every morning, and doing so well on breakfast radio.
BF: I am in a really good spot. Radio is great — great discipline, great regularity. I say “it’s Fev and the others on Fox!” I’ve got to pinch myself sometimes, Hame. If you had said that was to be the case at the end of 2011, it would have been a million to one.
I’ve got a good job, I’ve got my family, and that’s the most important thing. I’m back with Alex, and I’ve got my kids. That’s all you need in life. No matter how much you’ve got in life, or how much you don’t have, if you’ve got your kids and your family and everyone is healthy, that’s all you need.
HM: Well said. That’s the biggest misconception about Brendan Fevola?
BF: I’m not sure, and to be honest, I don’t really care. I think the problem with society in Australia is that we do judge people too much, on everything. A lot of it is faceless critics, and then there are others who are full time critics. Why be a critic — just be happy, be glass full, not empty. I don’t really care what people think of me, as long as the people closest to me know who I am, and they know what I’m about, that’s all that matters. I’m me. If you like me, you like me, and if you don’t you don’t, but at the end of the day, I’m going to be me.
HM: I like you Fev.
BF: Thanks Hame — been fun to chat.
Originally published as Hamish McLachlan: How country footy and love of family got Brendan Fevola back on the ball