It’s a difficult question to ask and you would’ve thought even more so to answer.

Was it family first then football for John Beveridge, the revered St Kilda recruiter, or was it football first and family second?

Luke Beveridge barely hesitated.

“It was definitely footy and then family,’’ said Beveridge, without a hint of scorn or accusation. That’s just how it was.

A player at Collingwood under-19s and Sandringham in the VFA, John Beveridge’s CV included being a part-time reporter starting back in 1965, being a stats man under legendary coach Allan Jeans, being a junior coach and mentor and, in 1983, becoming the Saints’ recruiting boss.

For probably 70 years, footy borrowed – and never returned – John Beveridge.

He was 85 when he died on October 24. Fittingly, his memorial service will be held at the St Kilda Football Club at 2pm on Monday.

For Luke, his mum Rosa, and his three siblings, the oldest Cath, then John and youngest Marty, there was no battle lines drawn in the Beveridge household because footy was always No.1.

“The distinction I make is you’re born into families, or you connect with people who you are drawn to in life,’’ Luke says. “You can be drawn to your own family members, (but) the ones you really gravitate to are the ones who have some overwhelming outreach towards you and your own interests.

“I think he went out of his way to make other people feel like he had their best interests at heart. And he went the whole nine yards on that. That’s why I think people speak fondly of him because it seemed like he was caring and nurturing.

“He probably didn’t find that in our family like he did with football.’’

Clearly, football is a central cog in the Beveridge circle.

Luke’s grandfather, Jack, played 148 games for Collingwood and won four successive Grand Finals from 1927-30.

He and his wife, Mercia, died five days apart in 1986, and Luke says that when he was a lad he didn’t quite grasp the magnificence of his grandfather’s stellar footy career.

They lived in Highett and Luke in Bentleigh. Luke vividly remembers his grandpa was always plonked in his lounger chair having a smoke. And, as an aside, he remembered the day when their house went to auction after they died.

You see, the next-door neighbour was the headquarters of the Highwaymen MC. On the day of the auction, half a dozen bikies ventured outside and their presence unsurprisingly silenced the bidders. The house was passed-in and later was sold to the state government for commission housing.

Football for Luke, and for Cath for that matter, was among the earliest memories of their lives.

At five, Luke joined the under-11s at the St Peter’s Football Club, where dad coached. He didn’t play until he was eight, and for the next three seasons, the team didn’t lose a game.

But he says Cath’s story was more compelling.

“Her story is more important than her brothers’ because pretty much she was attached to dad as a young girl and loved footy,’’ he said. “Cathy was skilful and talented and if she had played the game she would’ve knocked a few over.”

Always, though, dad was always home late. Early days, he worked as a salesman during the day and for footy at night and once he became the recruiter in 1983, work took him all around the country as he searched for the NBT.

Luke and Cath, more so than the other two – John was a club champion golfer at Yarra Yarra and Marty was less enthused with football – learnt early about what football is and meant to dad.

With a firm hand, it was about being disciplined, aggressive and passionate.

“Dad, through his anecdotes and his emotion and passion, would physically and verbally go up a level,’’ Luke said. “Even if he was having a kick with you, he’d run at you at speed and create an intense sort of environment in a good way.’’

It shaped Luke the footballer at Melbourne, the Bulldogs and St Kilda, where he played 118 games, and also as coach, at St Bede’s in the Ammos and at the Bulldogs.

Dad’s favourite word to use to inspire was “can’t’’.

“He used to say there was no such word as can’t,’’ Luke said. “Whenever there was a negative or a plateau, in his own way he was urging you to be an explorer and adventurer, take some risks in life, don’t be safe.

“I had a plaque on the wall that gave me – Remember Mean Joe Greene. In essence, his message to me and us all the time was to be the best person you can be in life, but when you step across that white line, there is no holding back.

“He always used Mean Joe Greene as the example, the Pittsburgh Steelers defensive lineman. His reputation was that he was ferocious and uncompromising, but off the field he was a charitable, big African-American nice guy.

Dad loved all sports, Luke said, which meant, like all families, there were internal challenges. Mum held the fort together while footy and all its nuances and demands consumed dad.

“I think the resilience challenge for all of us as human beings never goes away,’’ Luke said.

“There was discipline – he had a threshold – but there was emotion and drive and a belief instilled in you about how you could do things. I think that challenge was always there and you had the choice to come up to it.

“But my mum pumped a lot of love into our house.

“I’m grateful for the discipline in the way I was parented at times, and that we all were. I just have the greatest respect and love for my mother, she was equally as supportive on sport but is an amazingly selfless person.”

THE PHOTO

There’s one photograph that’s been used 100 times in 100 different news sites. It’s the one of Luke and his dad taken, we suspect, near enough to the day Luke was drafted by the Demons in 1989. They don’t look the same. Luke is fresh-faced, tanned and stoutly and John is balding and slight.

“Yeah, I know that one,’’ Luke said. “It’s a strange one because out of all the kids, I got my mum’s father’s features. My mum’s father, Alec Nicolaou, was a Greek man from the island of Samos. I look like him and I don’t look much like my old man. It looks the milkman has swung by, whereas my brothers lost their hair early like dad.’’

He didn’t say it, but you could tell he loves the photo. And despite how football shepherded dad away from his family, or perhaps how dad allowed it to happen, Luke and the family have loved the outpouring of gratitude and respect from the football world since his dad’s passing.

“The significant thing why dad is so warmly held is when you think about all of us when you’re young and you’re aspiring to do things, aspiring to play at the top level, dad was in the privileged position to supply that opportunity,’’ Luke said.

“There’s a lot of ex- and current AFL players who are really grateful for what dad has done. In essence, he has helped them live their dreams. For those families, they think of him really fondly. He had an unconditional passion and love for the game.’’

Of course, Luke will miss him. He’ll miss his humour – “Well, he thought he was funny,” Luke said – and he will tell story after story of how his dad was a walking sporting almanac.

“And you know, he had a firm handshake,’’ he said.

“He’d say it was a sign of weakness if it was (like) a wet fish.’’