TONY Lockett doesn’t like to talk about the good old days, never mind the bad old days.

There were more highs than lows, like the way he started the 1991 home-and-away season with 12, 10 and 12 goals and ended it with 13, 10 and 11. That’s 68 goals in six matches, not including nine the next week in a losing elimination final against Geelong.

Lance Franklin won the Coleman Medal this year with 69 goals in 22 matches. And they say Buddy is a freak.

Times change and the game has up-ended itself, but Lockett remains one of its pillars and the most imposing, gifted, frightening, furious full-forward the game has seen.

At full gallop, he was a stone-cold killer with crazy eyes, big hands, a soft touch and a right foot with more certainty than the favourite in race one at The Meadows.

It will be 30 years ago on Monday night when Lockett, 21, won the Brownlow Medal while at St Kilda, a club he loved but left in 1994 because they couldn’t agree on a new deal.

When he retired at Sydney in 2002, he had kicked the most goals in football history — 1360.

In 2015, he was named a legend of the Australian Football Hall of Fame.

Now “Plugger” is being inducted into the Sports Australia Hall of Fame on October 12, the 22nd footballer to do so behind the likes of Ted Whitten, Ron Barassi and Leigh Matthews.

“It’s a great honour,” Lockett, 51, told the Sunday Herald Sun last week. “It was great the AFL one, but this one, which encompasses all sports, is massive really. It’s a great thrill.”

MORE FROM SUNDAY HERALD SUN CHIEF FOOTBALL WRITER MARK ROBINSON

THE MOST BRUTAL GAME

ONE game captures Tony Lockett’s 281-match career for all its brilliance and brutality.

“Which one?” he asks.

St Kilda v Sydney, 1994, SCG.

Reminded that he kicked 10.2, that he tried to kill snowy-haired Swans fans Kenny Williams with a barrel torp into the crowd from the goal square, that he KO’d Peter Caven with a vicious elbow, and that the Saints came back from 42 points down to win by a point, Plugger nods.

“Yeah, I can remember. When I look back, it was silly kicking the ball at Kenny because if it happened to hit him ... you know what I mean,” he said.

“I got to know Kenny pretty well. A more passionate supporter you couldn’t find. I’m glad the ball never hit him and, equally, I’m sure he’s very glad.”

The Caven incident was callous and violent. Caven ran back with the flight of the ball front-on and the first part of Lockett’s body to arrive at the contest was the point of his elbow.

Plugger was suspended for eight weeks. He says he never thinks about it and for a moment opens the door to his ferocious mindset.

“Maybe it was the whatever-it-takes attitude a bit. We won the game. I got eight weeks for it, but we won the game,” he said.

It’s always been said he had white-line fever. “I don’t think I did. I’m no different to other blokes. You get out there and you can get a bit hot under the collar. It’s a common thing. We play a combative game, a combative sport, and that’s the way it is, mate.”

The abuse of Lockett was never more heightened and the media hunted him.

“I never ever read a lot of papers back in the day and I still don’t read them now,” he said.

“A good mate of mine said to me once, and I’ve never forgotten it. He said, ‘Plugger, if it ain’t life-threatening, don’t worry about it’. You can take that for whatever it’s worth, but I think he’s right you know.

“When you’re younger, you don’t think of the consequences.

“None of us are perfect and I’ve never ever claimed to be and never ever claimed that I will be.”

Caven left the Swans for Adelaide in 1996 and tells of the day he was kicking out from fullback with Lockett standing on the mark blowing kisses at him. Caven swears it’s true. Lockett laughed. “I can’t remember that, mate.”

Always, Lockett is bemused by the fascination in him.

“I’m happy with my standing in the game. I’m so grateful I was given the opportunity by two clubs,” he said.

“What are people going to remember? They’re going to remember some good things, some things not so good. But once again, there’s nothing I can do about that. I can’t do anything about the past.

“I’m still appreciative and proud of being involved in the game because it’s a great game.

“Football doesn’t owe me anything. I owe the game. I’ll be indebted to it forever, like we all are.

“As I said, if I look back now, maybe I would change a little bit. But in the overall scheme of things, I’m pretty happy with how it all went. It was a great ride.”

THE MAN WE CALL PLUGGER

LOCKETT shakes hands with a grip that never lets go.

He’s at a cafe in Bowral, in the Southern Highlands of NSW, where has lived since 2000.

He’s tall and, somewhat confounding, now extremely fit. For someone who detested the media for all those years, he can’t stop talking. Perceptions can bite you on the bum.

On the field, Plugger was a monster. Like a dog who could wag his tail one moment and then bite your head off if he didn’t like what was happening.

Far removed from the footy field, that description could not be further from the truth.

He’s friendly, a storyteller and funny. One-liner funny. He cracks jokes and, although they aren’t always leg-slappers, they’re funny because he has a great comedic delivery and presence.

He’s incredibly humble, philosophical and overall he’s just a normal bloke.

“To me, that’s all I am, normal. That’s all I try to be. To me, a very plain, simple bloke, mate, that’s it,” he said.

Who could play football.

“I don’t know about that, mate. I’m just a low-key, pretty simple sort of fellow. That’s all I set out to be.”

Asked to describe footy, he said: “Describe footy hey? I don’t know. What is it? It’s a great game, it’s a great time, it has been great to have been involved in it.”

Mainly good?

“It’s no different to life. There’s ups and downs, there’s mediums, there’s every different thing you want to think of along the way. Enjoy the good and just make the most of it while you’ve got it, because it goes quick. I’ve gone past 50, I’m nearly 52. Yeah, you’ve just got seize the moment.”

‘A THUG AND A MONSTER’

LOCKETT was a seize-the-moment footballer. He kicked goals and banged heads. It was an adventure rated MA. He was loved at St Kilda. Same at Sydney. The rest of us loved him and hated him. The media called him a thug and a monster. It was frontier footy.

Asking him, at 51, to remember himself at 24 was asking him to remember a movie.

“I don’t remember it vividly, it’s a lot of years ago,” he said.

“I don’t tend to dwell on back-in-the-day, I’m more of in-the-present sort of bloke, that’s what I think anyway. But I can certainly appreciate and respect everything in history. It was different back then, but it was a lot fun.”

Blaming the boldness or ignorance of youth, he says he didn’t care what people thought of him, nor how the media portrayed him. “It is what it is,” he said.

It doesn’t mean there are no regrets.

“Everyone’s got regrets. Ask anyone and if they say they haven’t, well, I don’t know whether they’ve lived,” he said.

“You’ve got move forward in life. Yesterday’s history and tomorrow’s a mystery.

“Of course there were moments I wish didn’t happen. Everyone would say they would change something. You can’t put an old head on young shoulders, mate. What’s done is done.”

‘A PIG AT FULL FORWARD’

THE dramatic weight loss is not enough to warrant all the headlines, according to Lockett.

His heaviest weight playing football was about 120kg. He now weighs 93kg. He’s lean, healthy, happy and super fit.

The bulging blood vessels running up and down both arms can’t be ignored, although it’s the face that draws the most attention.

Always full and rounded when he played football, today Lockett’s face is chiselled and angular and carrying a smile.

When preparing for a portrait this week, he asked photographer Michael Klein whether he wanted the traditional crossed-arms footy pose. “I can’t be serious anymore,” he said.

At the Don Bradman statue for another portrait, he wanted to muck around. “I’ve wound back a bit, spring has sprung.”

Although he could put out the Tony Lockett Diet book and make squillions, the truth is much simpler.

“A huge percentage of the Australian public could do with losing a pound or two and just because I lost a few, it’s not a big deal,” he said.

“It’s not really newsworthy stuff. I changed a few things. All I did was just start eating a bit better and give up grog. There’s no secrets to that.”

When a pig was released on to the SCG in 1993, accompanied by Sandy Roberts’ famous comment that “there’s a pig at full-forward”, it was believed to be about Plugger’s weight. That he was as fat as a pig.

That is why the next time he played in Sydney against the Swans and Caven, Plugger’s competitive spirits were on high alert.

Did it anger you? “People get a laugh out of it and that’s what we’re here for. I get a laugh about it.”

LIFE AS A RECLUSE?

TONY LOCKETT calls himself a hobby farmer. He owns 100 acres of beautiful highlands about 10 minutes from Bowral, a town of about 12,000.

On this day, as Lockett walked 200m from the cafe to his car, not one of them recognised or bothered him. “I’m part of the furniture. This is a rugby union town.”

The property goes on the market this week and there’s a tinge of sadness.

“Yeah, it’s time for change, somewhere back down the coast I reckon. This place has ticked all the boxes. It’s been good for the family, the kids have loved growing up here,” he said.

To get home, we turn off the main road south and onto a dirt road, head past the horse breeding and training farm that looks like its straight from Kentucky, go over the grid, veer left, up the rise, through the pines, over the grid, skirt the shetland pony farm on the left, turn hard right and veer left again.

“Through these gates and pull up on left,” he said.

The farm is manicured. In the distance are the mountains, and cattle graze in lush paddocks with tree-lined fences.

“I’m a bloke with a bit of land. You can do what you want to do, there’s a bit of privacy, a bit of peace, and there’s a lot of grass to mow. There’s a few hours on the mower, I tell ya. I’ve solved a lot of problems on the mower and I f ... ing created a few, too. But I have solved a few.”

It’s a sanctuary, but not for a recluse, as Lockett has often been described.

He moved to Bowral after retiring from football and hopped into the local community. Married to Vicki and with four daughters — Courtney, 22, Chloe, 21, Steffanie, 17 and Kirra 15 — Lockett did the school drop offs, was at sports events, all the stuff dads do. And to them, he was just dad.

“That’s it. They don’t know any differently. You know, ‘Can I have some money, dad?’ ‘I’ve got to go here, dad.’ It’s unbelievable,” he said.

Even bringing home boys for the first time to meet mum and dad — imagine Plugger opening the door — was a breeze.

“It’s part of life, it’s going to happen. As I always said to them, ‘you’d want your kids to be able to talk to you about anything’. And that’s the way it’s got to be. You don’t want them not being able to approach you,” Lockett said.

“At some stage, they’re going to have boyfriends, so, mate, deal with it. I knew it was going to happen and didn’t have a problem with it. The kids are good.

“At the end of the day it’s their decision. I’ve loved being a father. They’ve been fantastic, no worries at all. I’ve been lucky.”

The media liked to fuel the narrative that Lockett avoided life post-football.

“I played footy for a lot of years, plus junior football, and all of a sudden you’re finished and you’re starting a young family. I wanted to put time into a young family. I just got on with life, no problems, mate.

“They’re whole new chapters, kids. Getting the property and all of sudden free time ... just live the life, mate. When you blokes leave, I’ll be straight on the mower, feeding the cows. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I’ve enjoyed it thoroughly. It’s close to town, but out where you can be your own person. That’s important, you’ve got to have space.”

DAY-TO-DAY LIFE

HE’S early to bed and early to rise, any time between 5.30am and 6.30am every day.

“I just start my day. My first job is to let the dogs out for a piss and then you just start. There’s always things to do,” he said.

“I can’t cop that sleeping-in caper. I can’t sleep in and I don’t know how these blokes have these naps during the day, mate. It’s not my go. I’ve got to be moving.”

The dogs are retired greyhound pets named Von and Yogi.

They are all that’s left of a 15-year career owning greyhounds.

“It was a great 15 full-on years and I had a hell of a time. I was very lucky to get some bloody good greyhounds. It isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

It was the motorbikes, however, that filled the football void. He owns 10 of them, from big swanky roadsters to dirt bikes. And the thrill of going full throttle in outback Australia delivers the same adrenaline surge as playing footy.

“You know how some people like to play lawn bowls, some play badminton, some play backgammon, they don’t do anything for me,” Lockett said.

“I want to get on a bike (raises his voice) and I want to go, I want to be competitive, I want to ride, mate, you know what I mean. It gives me a buzz.”

He has raced the Finke Desert Race in the Northern Territory, starting at Alice Springs, almost every year since 2008.

Bikes, buggies and cars go-off road for three days in one of the most remote places in the world. Lockett loves it.

“They get 500 blokes on bikes tearing down to Finke one day and tearing back the next. There’s buggies and trophy trucks. It’s a petrolhead’s weekend. Alice Springs comes alive. That’s what I like doing,” he said.

“Each to their own. If you want to go fishing or join your local squash club, go for your life. Bikes do it for me and while I can do it, I’ll do it as much as I can.”

He is already planning a double crossing of the Simpson Desert early next year, all with his wife’s blessing.

LOVE IS LOVE, TRUMP IS TRUMP

LOCKETT is an old-fashioned bloke with new-age thinking and a flip-top Samsung mobile phone from the late 1990s. He says it is destined for the museum.

He doesn’t bother people and doesn’t want to be bothered, not by this newfangled technology, anyhow.

Plugger doesn’t use text or emails. “I’m not big on the email or texts caper, if you want me or need me, you have to ring me,” he said.

He doesn’t read newspapers and doesn’t watch TV news.

“I can’t get into information overload. If hear it, I hear it. If I don’t, then I don’t.”

Modern pop culture is a no-no, while he is sort of across politics. Lockett is an adamant “yes” voter for same-sex marriage.

“They’ve got their own lives, their own private lives. Let them have it,” he said.

“Why is there so much interference these days in everything? Get on with your own life, worry about your own backyard. That’s my theory.

“It’s a joke, a waste of money. If they want to get married just let them get married. Wonder what Trumpy would have to say about it.”

He’s intrigued by the tension between American president Donald Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong-un.

“I don’t know enough about what Trump is doing or what he stands for. I can understand from the bits I’ve seen how he wants to fix the country up. But it’s going to be a bit harder than what he thinks it is. He could be a bit of a loose cannon.

“I get a bit of a laugh out of it because he’s a little bit gung-ho. I’d love to have a private chat with him and ask: ‘Is it what you thought it was going to be?’ How does he run that empire of his, let alone running America?”

And the bloke from North Korea?

“He’s trigger happy, isn’t he? What’s going on? It’s going to be interesting times ahead.”

As for pop culture, he’s less intrigued.

He’s never heard of carpool karaoke. “What that?” If he had to sing a song it would be Jimmy Barnes. “I love music, I’m a big Jimmy Barnes fan. It would be something from Jimmy, I reckon.”

The Bachelorette? “You’ve got a missus and daughters at home, they watch it, but it doesn’t interest me, mate.”

Game of Thrones? “I’ve got no interest whatsoever with that far-fetched bulls ...”

He watches football, the Moto GP and any of the car shows on Foxtel.

He likes the Discovery Channel, mainly the Alaskan docos, Ice Road Truckers and a bit of Aussie Gold Hunters, which has on it a bloke named Vernon who Lockett met at Finke a couple of years back.

Lockett is happiest on his bikes and in his beaten up van he uses as a farm runabout.

A couple of years ago, the neighbours pranked him by rewiring the blinker and horn on the van, so when Lockett hit the blinker, the horn blared. It took him several weeks to work out what was going on.

WHAT MIGHT COME NEXT?

FOOTBALL for Lockett — and his surly, scowling face — is a lifetime ago.

The only memorabilia on display in the house is a pair of boots made of brass given to him by Puma. The jumpers, footballs, trophies and the Brownlow Medal live in boxes.

He says his most asked question is about the point he kicked to beat Essendon in the 1996 preliminary final and that after 20 years in footy he has countless mates — players, officials, trainers, boot studders and fans — and says he certainly appreciates that he wouldn’t have got to his heights without all the hard work from everyone involved at both football clubs.

What’s next for Plugger is yet to be decided.

He’ll sell the farm and move away when the last of the girls finishes high school.

“There’s not too many plans, just take it as it comes, take it for what it’s worth and see what happens,” he said.

Vicki, his mother-in-law and two daughters head to New York tomorrow. Lockett and the family had previously visited Los Angeles, and its theme parks, and he wants to go back.

“It was unreal, a real good joint,” he said.

“I’d love to get over there and spend six months and have a real look around. I’d like to do the old things: Route 66 and Sturgis (a motorcycle rally held in South Dakota over 10 days).”

He says he wants to remain involved with the Swans, where he is the goal kicking coach.

“I loved being back in footy.”

On the drive back into Bowral, and back to the cafe, he said he rarely spoke about football.

“You don’t have to talk about football all the time,’’ he said, before adding, “But just one thing, mate.

“You better check your stats. I’m pretty sure it was 11.2 I kicked against Sydney that day. You keep saying it was 10. It might’ve been 10, but I’m pretty sure it was 11.’’