Danny Frawley’s best mate says death leaves ‘massive hole’ as family shines light on mental health battle

Danny Quinlan knows cousin Danny Frawley will be remembered as “the larrikin from Bungaree”, but he’s speaking out after his best mate’s tragic death to raise awareness around an illness “more complicated than any of us could work out”.

Danny Quinlan and best mate and cousin Danny Frawley on holidays.

On Wednesday Danny Quinlan went to the crash site near Millbrook where his cousin and best mate Danny Frawley lost his life two days earlier.

He consoled a young mourner he had never met before, then placed a golf ball near the floral shrine for the former St Kilda great and Bungaree native, less than 20km from Ballarat.

It was a hard thing to do. But nothing like the pain of finding out about his mate’s car crash or the moments afterwards when he had to deliver the heart-wrenching news to Frawley’s wife, Anita, and other members of his extended family.

There was significance in the golf ball.

The pair had played a lot of golf across the past five years, a time in which Frawley battled serious mental health issues.

They had been sporting partners — and best mates — since growing up on nearby farms, where footy, tennis, running, rowing and other physical pursuits provided a welcome distraction to hard work on the land.

When Quinlan laid the golf ball down on Wednesday, he whispered, “I love you mate … try and hit that one down the guts.”

Danny Quinlan and cousin and best mate Danny Frawley enjoy a drink together in the early days.

A smile briefly overtook the tears, as he recalled Frawley's wayward golf shots “hit over two fairways to the left”.

Through the waves of grief, he can still hear Frawley’s cackle of laughter and recall the riotous fun they had together.

At 57, a year older than Frawley, Quinlan hasn’t always understood the mental health demons his cousin faced.

But he and his family offered unconditional love and support for the man who had been a huge presence in their lives — and will always be. Quinlan’s mobile was always on for a chat, or a text.

“It was a constant battle,” he said. “I went down all different angles with him.”

“(We were) two dumb bastards from Bungaree who were trying to work through the most horrific illness of all time.”

Quinlan has chosen to speak out for two reasons.

“I’ve got the trust in Mick (McGuane),” he said.

“But most importantly, it is to shine a light on mental health issues for the sake of others.

“Danny was trying to help everyone else but, in the end, he couldn’t help himself.

“If something comes out of this (tragedy), it’s got to be a message that if you have a mate, then put your arms around him and make sure they are OK.

“Everyone has someone around them who isn’t doing OK and you have got to ask the hard questions.

“We tried in every way (to help), and it kept coming back to the fact this (illness) was more complicated than any of us could work out.”

Quinlan and Frawley relax on holidays.

BEST MATES

It’s often said blood is thicker than water, meaning family often trumps friendships.

With the “Two Dannys” — as the inseparable cousins were known around Bungaree — they were fortunate enough to have blood and water in equal doses.

“We are cousins,” Quinlan reflected. “That’s where it all started. Shirley (Danny's mum) is my father Peter's sister.

“Danny was always at our place … we used to play as young kids, all sports really.

“We would be on our knees in the lounge room using a pair of socks as a footy and there would be goals at either end. It was always Springbank versus Bungaree.

“It was simple fun. We had to work (on the farm). My old man was tough, so was (Danny’s dad). You had to draft sheep, dig the spuds, do the lot.”

Two things were constant.

There would always be plenty of laughs.

Secondly, Frawley was a competitive beast in whatever he undertook, whether it was running up Mount Warrenheip with a sack of spuds on his back, or his pursuit of the ball on the footy field.

“He was a funny bastard,” Quinlan said.

“We could look at a brick wall and laugh at that. We had our own show going on.

“We would be laughing so hard, you would say to him, ‘Stop it mate’.”

Frawley, Quinlan and former Saints star Stewart Loewe enjoy a laugh.

They rowed together, with Quinlan recalling he and Frawley were the “only ones to ever flip a boat in Lake Wendouree”.

They learnt to swim late in life, culminating in a maiden Lorne Pier to Pub event, where they swam together while Frawley almost knocked out a fellow competitor, due to his fierce determination.

They played tennis where Frawley’s call of “out” often meant it was six inches in, and golf, where a slice through the impenetrable trees would often see him “miraculously” find his ball in a perfect location.

“He was just such a competitor, he always wanted to be three feet ahead of you in whatever you were doing,” Quinlan said.

“He trained harder and for longer than any of us, and he deserved to get to the level of football that he did.

“All of the Bungaree community have always been so proud of him.

“He always had time for people. In all of our travels together, never did I ever see Danny knock back a kid for a photo or an autograph or a chat. He had time for everyone. That was just him.”

The pair had countless hours of laughter together, including at Ballarat nightspot, the Canopy Club, where the mates got up to some lighthearted mischief.

Quinlan said: “We were a good team together when it came to sledging. But there was an unwritten rule where we would leave each other alone, but get stuck into everyone else.

“We never had a fight with each other.”

As they grew up, and even after Frawley left Bungaree for Melbourne and football stardom, that bond was unbreakable.

“We were the best man at each others’ weddings,” Quinlan said, showing numerous photos of the good times he and his wife, Nicky, always had with Danny and Anita.

“We were godparents for each other's children, and we spoke at each other’s (milestone) functions.

“It (Frawley's passing) just leaves a massive hole in our lives.”

Now he’s preparing for the hardest speech of his life, speaking at the funeral next week.

The two Dannys with wives Nicky and Anita.

THE STRUGGLES

Quinlan noticed a change in his mate about five years ago.

There were still good times, of course, but plenty of tough moments he won’t forget in a hurry, and will take to his own grave.

“The last five years changed him,” he said.

“Sometimes you would look into his big eyes, but there was no bastard in there, especially in the last few weeks.”

Frawley spent more time in Ballarat in recent years, setting up Sylvan Lodge, where he and Anita had been running a pre-training establishment, while balancing his media career back in Melbourne.

He seemed happier back in Ballarat.

“Danny was built to be on a farm,” he said.

“He was happy out there, getting annoyed by no-one, fixing fences, cutting down trees and talking to farmers.”

He loved having a few beers with the leading horse trainers at the Miners Rest tavern, near the Ballarat racecourse, and even took some of them to the footy a few months ago.

But his high-profile media career — as good as he was at it — wasn’t always conducive to his mental wellbeing.

“He had that career as a bit of a clown and the media got a bit too big for him,” Quinlan said.

The media figure was “Spud”, but Quinlan never called him that: “He was always Danny to us.”

Danny Quinlan says cousin Frawley was most at home on the farm and mixing with locals.

As Frawley's internal struggles intensified in recent weeks, the mates had some direct conversation, including the tough question of whether he could potentially self harm.

“We had some big talks,” Quinlan said.

“He would be going, ‘How many people do you think I have helped?’

“I said, ‘Hundreds mate’.

“He would try to tell me to toughen him up, but I’d say, ‘It is not about toughening up mate, it is about backing off yourself’.

“I did ask the hard questions, straight out. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to ask.

“He would look at me straight and say, ‘I’m all good mate’.

“He was getting help. There were professionals dealing with him.”

Quinlan last saw him two-and-a-half weeks ago, but had been in constant communication, including last weekend when a series of Frawley text messages detailing his anxieties came during the middle of his radio slot.

That concerned his best mate.

“He could be on the phone to me texting about how tough it was for him before he went on (his TV show) Bounce or on radio, then do the professional gig he had, and be straight back on the phone to me again afterwards,” he said.

“He was the expert at keeping the straight (public) face.”

Quinlan and his wife, Nicky, who own Oscar’s Hotel in Ballarat, were in Queensland last weekend for the Australian Hoteliers’ Awards.

He missed calling Frawley for his birthday last Sunday as he returned to his accommodation too late at night, but planned to phone him the following day.

Tragically, he never got the chance.

On Monday afternoon, Quinlan took a call from Stewart Loewe — mates of both — saying there had been reports a footballer had died in a single-car accident near Ballarat.

He immediately feared it was his best mate.

“I want everyone to remember him as the larrikin from Bungaree, because he never really left that,” Quinlan said.

As hard as it has been for him, and for the family, he is determined to never let the manner of Frawley’s passing overshadow the fun they had together.

He’s equally committed to ensuring that he keeps shining a light on mental health for the sake of others struggling, because that's what his best mate would have wanted.

Originally published as Danny Frawley’s best mate says death leaves ‘massive hole’ as family shines light on mental health battle