Hamish McLachlan: Mike Sheahan talks footy, family and his good fortune
Fifty-year journalism veteran Mike Sheahan tells Hamish McLachlan what he considers to be his best stories, biggest regrets and the feral interview he will never forget.
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This month, Mike Sheahan can raise his bat as 50 years have passed since he first started writing about football in Melbourne newspapers. The game has been a significant part of his life, and he has been that to many of us who have consumed his work. His list of achievements is long and includes life membership of the AFL. This week, he added Geelong’s RJ Hickey Award for Outstanding Services to Australian Football to the list. We spoke about parenting, lucky breaks, good decisions, the best of all time, and breaking the golden rule.
HM: Where’d you grow up?
MS: I grew up in a place called Werribee, which is not the Werribee that you would know today. It was a little country town 20 miles from Melbourne, with a population of 3000 people. I was one of four boys and grew up in a milk bar, went to the local Catholic school and played footy, cricket and tennis.
HM: Happy family — were your parents good to you?
MS: My Dad died when I was 21,
he was 55. Mum had better luck … Parents of that generation were different — there wasn’t as much emotion.
HM: Do you remember your old man telling you he loved you?
MS: Mum’s actions demonstrated that she did, but I don’t know how often she might have actually said it.
I remember them both being supportive, and they were on our side if there were any issues that required support.
HM: It’s a different world now.
MS: I agree with that — but you’ve got to remember that was a different time. It doesn’t mean that they didn’t, or they didn’t feel that, but I wouldn’t say there was a huge amount of affection in our family.
HM: Were you better with your kids?
MS: I’ve got better, and I’m great with the grandkids. I wasn’t a particularly good parent when my kids were young though. I’m impatient. The “out” for me — and the kids will say this — is that I was preoccupied with work. I still wasn’t a good-enough parent when they were young. We had four under five!
HM: Is that an excuse or a fact?
MS: It’s a fact, but it provides me an alibi of sorts!
HM: If you had your time again, what would you do differently as a father?
MS: It would be to be more patient, more interested, and more curious about them. I served a functional role. Does that make sense?
HM: It does. In terms of work compromising marriages and fathering, did you allow it to?
MS: Yes, I did, sadly. I allowed work to be more important, and I don’t think anyone should do that.
HM: Journalism or football: what do you love most?
MS: Footy. I’m not sure my love is as strong for football now, as it’s been for 60 years, but I’ve been totally absorbed by the game.
HM: You started writing at the Werribee Banner as a wide-eyed teen.
MS: I wanted to be a primary school teacher. I went for three weeks and stayed for five years. So I was the accidental journo!
HM: What did you enjoy writing about most?
MS: I always enjoyed sport most. Out of footy season, I was the back-up cricket writer at a couple of papers.
I was a cricket writer when the World Series Cricket conspiracy was unfolding. I remember sitting in Eden Park in Auckland during a test match talking to Austin Robertson (Jnr), who
was one of the architects for Kerry Packer. We’re sitting there, and downstairs in the change rooms, John Cornell is talking to Greg Chappell and Gilmore and co on behalf of Kerry. None of us knew they were in the middle of changing the face of cricket forever. I was 50 metres from the biggest story of the decade, and I’m sitting there talking to Austin Robertson (Jnr) about his time at South Melbourne in the VFL!
HM: What’s the biggest story in your time in football?
MS: The instinctive response is Barassi going to Carlton after the ’64 Premiership.
It was unthinkable. Leaving Melbourne where he’d personified everything that was good about the footy club — it was where his father had played and all that sort of stuff — and then he’d abdicated!
HM: Have you ever not written a big story to look after someone?
MS: One of my few talents was always extracting something from the wreck. If I didn’t run the whole story, I would generally end up with something in print.
HM: Did you get good at reading those that were trying to mislead you?
MS: I fell in and out of love with lots of people! I tend to think that the big stories I missed, that I got dudded on, were because I didn’t play my cards right. I remember when Blighty was getting the sack from North and I rang Ron Joseph and he said, “Nah, that’s not right”. Three hours later we got called to a press conference in Arden Street, and Blighty was sacked. I was never good at copping stuff like that.
HM: Where would you be compromised now?
MS: I think my personal ethic of taking a bit more time and making sure that the story was right would be compromised now. Having said that, I always say to the journalism students, “If in doubt, leave it out” — but we never did that.
HM: Is there a story you went with that you regret?
MS: I went with a story that Alastair Clarkson was going to go to West Coast. I still think that the job was there if he wanted it, but I went too hard. I broke the rule that I never usually break, and that is to drink on the day that I go on TV. I had four or five reds, and it just loosens you up a bit. We went to the On The Couch meeting and I said, “I’ve got a pretty good story. I think Clarkson is going to go to West Coast”. It ended up going from there, to Clarkson will be at West Coast after the grand final! When I heard the words coming out of my mouth, I said to myself, I’m not sure that this isn’t going to cause me trouble!
HM: How were you and Clarko?
MS: He was justifiably angry with that, and I didn’t blame him. He’s the one who christened me ‘Precious’.
HM: Story you’re most proud of?
MS: I think the best story in technical terms that I ever wrote was the story about Kelvin Templeton and Peter Moore being sold to Melbourne in 1982. I was working at The Herald, and when I finally summoned the courage to write this story, it said “Moore, T’Ton for sale for $1m”, front page of paper. They’re captains of their respective clubs, and they’re both Brownlow Medallists, and they’re packaged up in a deal for a million bucks nearly 40 years ago … and it happened!
HM: How would you go in 2019 writing in this environment?
MS: Not very well. I retired at the right time (2011).
HM: You didn’t?
MS: None of us do. Unless someone is in front of you, and they are the heart of the story and they say, “Yes, this is totally right”, you are always guessing a bit.
HM: Seems harsh given you are dealing with people’s lives — and now the stories are online forever, accurate or not.
MS: It is harsh. I think I have a reputation for being pretty accurate, but I’ve missed a few times. Even in the one I messed up with Clarko, there was no malice in it. I don’t think I ever went for people in print.
HM: Most emotional moment for you at the football?
MS: In a game sense, it was the Bulldogs win in 2016. I’m a western suburbs boy, so I had an affinity with the Bulldogs for a couple of different reasons. Given their history and where they’ve come from, I thought that was brilliant. I was one of those people who thought it would never happen. The system is against them, and they’re just hanging on. To see them win the flag given their history was the most excited I’ve ever been
at any sporting event.
HM: What is it that you actually love about football?
MS: I think it’s just the gladiatorial aspect of footy. It’s just a test of your manhood, courage and your resilience. The adrenaline rush of watching two good teams play, and watching people like Carey, and latterly people like Fyfe, Dangerfield and Cripps, is something I get a huge buzz from. I would say, as a rough guess, I’ve seen 3000 games of footy. That’s a lot of footy, but there’ll be a moment next weekend where I’ll just sit there and say, “I can’t believe they can do that stuff!”
HM: In the 3000 games, you’ve seen a lot of players. One, two, three, in order?
MS: I still have Wayne Carey as the best … he and I agree on that.
HM: (laughs) Two?
MS: The second one’s complicated because Gary Ablett Senior has played football at a level that no one else has, but then Leigh Matthews’ record is just so unbelievably good. They might be tied for second. Then little Gary. Where does he sit with them?
HM: Do you find it extraordinary that we’re talking about the greatest players in the history of the game, and you have mentioned a father and a son.
MS: It is. There’s no question, if you said to me, “Who’s the better player?” Gary Ablett Senior is the better player. Who would make a greater contribution to their footy club over an extended period? I’d go for little Gary.
HM: Your first interview was with Sam Kekovich — how’d you go?
MS: When you mentioned it now, I still get the tingle! I got told, “Kekovich is in hospital having his knee done, ring him up, you’ll get something out of him”. I barely had the courage to dial the number! Sam was great.
HM: Made it easy?
MS: He did. These blokes were on an exalted level for me.
HM: When did that stop being the case?
MS: It hasn’t — they’re still tin gods to me.
HM: How many Open Mike (talk show) epidodes have you done?
MS: 210.
HM: Which is the one that made you most uncomfortable?
MS: Do you need an answer to that, do you? Every person in the English-speaking world knows the answer to that! Mark Jackson.
HM: Who said at one point during the interview that he hoped that you got cancer. You must walk away from that completely disappointed?
MS: I didn’t want to do him because I didn’t think he was of the quality that we’d been having on that show —genuine champs of the game — so I did it but with some reluctance. As soon as the red light went on, he went feral.
HM: The interview you’re most proud of?
MS: I’ve talked to lots of people with lots of tears, because there have been horrendous situations where people have lost loved ones. Peter Schwab was talking about losing his little girl to cancer. I said, “Do you feel cheated?” I still struggle thinking about saying it now. It was like I had plunged a dagger into his heart. I remember this gut-wrenching look on his face and his words, “Do I feel cheated?”, as if to say how could you ask that question. Here’s a man talking about his little girl who was gone. So, so sad. Then there was John Kennedy telling about searching in vain for a pulse on his little baby. These are tough, brave, talented footballers, but they are all just emotional human beings, baring their souls. I think the pride I take in that program is that we have gone to places that not many people do.
HM: TV, radio, writing — favourite forum?
MS: Not TV per se, but Open Mike. That’s me, I pick the subjects, I do the questions, if it succeeds or it fails, it’s on me. But the adrenaline rush of newspapers is hard to beat.
HM: Beats the red light?
MS: You were talking before about being first and all that. Peter Simunovich, a friend of mine who used to work for The Sun, rang the then CEO of the Bulldogs in 1982 about eight o’clock one night, and said, “I believe you’ve sacked Royce Hart”, to which the CEO said, “No, that’s not true”. Nothing in The Sun the next day. The next morning, at about twenty to nine, the CEO rings me and says, “We’ve sacked Royce Hart”. The moral code went out the window, I got excited. By 11.30am I’m walking up to Chinatown to meet a couple of people, with the paper under my arm. That is a rush. In the space of two-and a-bit hours, there’s this huge story for everyone to read in print.
HM: Why the Demons?
MS: Parents and family. I had flirtations with a few clubs when
I was a kid. Then when I got into newspapers, I was genuinely neutral then, but my parents had both been keen Melbourne supporters, my two brothers were keen Melbourne supporters, and one of my good mates at the time was a Melbourne supporter, so I was drawn back to Melbourne.
HM: You were close to Robbie Flower, weren’t you?
MS: I was. When I got the news that Robbie Flower had died, that was the most emotional that I’ve been about anything outside of family. I never claim to be best buddies with footballers, and football people, because we’re thrown in together
and we become good mates for a time, but Robbie Flower was a genuine mate, and a beautiful person. Not one person ever uttered a bad word about Tulip …
HM: When was the last time you cried at the footy?
MS: When Ted Whitten went around in the car before the state game, with young Ted.
MORE HAMISH:
DYLAN ROBERTSON’S HEART CONCERNS
HAMISH TALKS TO TENOR STEPHEN SMITH
HOW CATH BAKER BECAME AN MND PATIENT
HM: You sure that was the last?
MS: Actually you are right — when Kate (daughter) debuted — and she did her ACL. It’s the most talked about one-possession game in the history of football, male or female.
At least she’s been out there. I was emotional as she ran out to debut, and in tears when she did her knee.
HM: If you were CEO of the AFL for a day, what’s the one change you’d make?
MS: We always complain about the state of football, and then you put it on people to say, how are we going to make it better? I’d love to reinstate State of Origin. Dangerfield and co will rue the fact they didn’t push for it. The game needs to be showcased more than ever.
HM: Thank you for talking.
MS: Thanks, Hamer.
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