Sam Landsberger was the most life-loving figure in any room. Now he was gone, and the collective rawness about his unfair departure remained ripe

Hundreds of grown men wept at the funeral service for the 35-year-old Herald Sun footy reporter. They laughed, too, again and again, about a life led with a movie script intensity of thrills, spills and an uncommon knack for words.

Parents should not have to bury their children.

Nor should they have to stand on stage – before hundreds of friends, family, the odd billionaire as well as AFL and sporting luminaries – to share the private intimacy of their very public loss.

Sam Landsberger, a Herald Sun sports journalist, died last Tuesday, and no one was prepared for his departure.

They still couldn’t fathom his absence at his send-off almost a week later at the Temple Beth Israel synagogue in St Kilda.

Sam Landsberger died last Tuesday. Picture: Rebecca Michael

Former Western Bulldogs players Mitch Wallis and Australian cricketer Glenn Maxwell at the funeral. Picture: Andrew Henshaw

Those gathered at the funeral still couldn’t fathom Landsberger’s absence. Picture: Andrew Henshaw

Landsberger was supposed to be catching up with a mate. He was meant to be best man at another friend’s wedding next month.

He was always there, especially when you needed him most. He was 35, the most life-loving figure in any room.

Now he was gone, and the collective rawness about his unfair departure remained ripe.

Hundreds of grown men wept at his farewell. They laughed, too, again and again, about a life led with a movie script intensity of thrills, spills and an uncommon knack for words.

“Oh my goodness, where do I start?” asked his father Jake, who spoke of the “indescribable devastation” of Landsberger’s passing.

His son didn’t just light up a room, he explained, he had lit up their entire lives.

It appears it had always been this way.

The youngest of three, Landsberger’s grade two teacher called him a “diamond” who was “once in a lifetime”.

He exhibited precocious interest in Michael Jackson music and The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

He was the kid who loved sport, though couldn’t play it very well.

He needed stitches after trying to catch a cricket ball with his face.

He did his knee, much later, when he attempted to take a “speccy” on a netball court.

Landsberger was like that. A kind of magnet. Things happened around him.

The youngster would go to Western Bulldogs games with his sister, Jess.

Sam’s sisters Jess and Sarah speak during the service. Picture: Ian Currie

Once, she banged on the interchange window mid-match to alert her father, who was the club doctor at the time.

Landsberger, about 10, had thrown up after gobbling a box of Cheezels.

His Western Bulldogs jumper was bright yellow, and the club players had a new nickname for the kid (“Cheezels”) who lurked in the changerooms.

Sister Sarah spoke of the family’s inside joke about his occupational commitment to “facts”.

She went on to share some facts about Landsberger, including:

That he wrote or heavily amended every piece of her important writing.

That he coined nicknames which stuck for his mother “Annie” and his grandmother “G”.

That he called Ziggy, his two-year-old nephew and running race competitor, his best friend.

Jess spoke of their childhood nicknames for one another – Fatty and Podge.

“What I wouldn’t give to hear you call me Fatty one more time,” she said.

A school friend described how Landsberger once got him a grand final ticket.

That triumphant night he was serenaded by Landsberger belting out the club song with a raised finger.

Landsberger, whom he called “disproportionately excited”, reflexively shrugged off compliments, preferring to focus on others.

“I’ve read, listened and watched every single word said about Sam in the past week, and what’s obvious is that we all knew the exact same Sam,” he said.

The effort of the onstage poise shown by Landsberger’s parents was of itself heartbreaking. .

Landsberger’s parents Jake and Anne Landsberger. Picture: Ian Currie

Sam was farewelled at Temple Beth Israel in St Kilda. Picture: Ian Currie

Former VFL great Bernie Quinlan consoles Sam’s father Jake. Picture: Ian Currie

AFL CEO Andrew Dillon. Picture: Andrew Henshaw

Bulldogs captain Marcus Bontempelli. Picture: Andrew Henshaw

All communications with his mother Anne (or now Annie) had ended in “hooray”. A photo of them together sat beside his bed (along with a journalism trophy).

She had made him a quilt, which he always sat under or over, which was buried with him on Monday.

“I had my baby, I had him for 35 years, and now he’s missing,” she told the mourners.

Landsberger joined News Corp in early 2010 and quickly made a name for himself as a newsbreaker, becoming one of the biggest names in the footy and cricket media landscapes.

He was hit and killed by a truck in Richmond on August 20.

Among those at Landsberger’s funeral yesterday were former Bulldogs players Scott West and Mitch Wallis and current captain Marcus Bontempelli, billionaire businessman David Smorgon, AFL chief executive Andrew Dillon, AFL Players Association chief Paul Marsh, former Australian ODI captain Aaron Finch and all-rounder Glenn Maxwell, many Herald Sun journalists and several members of rival media including Caroline Wilson and Damian Barrett.

At the Bush Summit in Bendigo, Premier Jacinta Allan also paid tribute to him.

“I never met Sam, but I have been deeply moved by the many tributes that have been penned in his honour. Today, I’m thinking of everyone who loved him. Everyone who worked with him, and everyone who he loved,” she said.