Footy great Robert Walls opens up to Mark Robinson on his blood cancer battle

In the week of last year’s grand final, Carlton and Fitzroy great Robert Walls was told he had between one and three months to live. He tells his difficult story to MARK ROBINSON.

It was time, a pragmatic Robert Walls says, to tell his story to try to help others.

His is jarring.

On the Tuesday before last year’s AFL grand final, Walls was told he had between one and three months to live.

The diagnosis of acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, a rare and aggressive blood cancer which affects about 200 people in Australia each year, landed like a torpedo to the head.

Five or so months later, and still enduring 24/7 chemotherapy treatment, Walls says it is in remission.

It’s the most beautiful word to hear in a cancer battle. But Walls tempers his eagerness. His wife, Erin, was 55 when she died. A non-smoker, she developed lung cancer. It also went into remission. Inside 12 months it had returned and never let go.

“I remember chatting to Sandy Roberts, who’s got his own battles, and we were talking about remission,’’ Walls says.

“I’m not sure about the percentages, but he said to me there is a very high percentage of it coming back. So, when you say you’re in remission, that’s good. But it’s not the end of the journey.

“I regard every day since the start of this year as a bonus. I was told I had one to three months to live and if I died that was going to be at Christmas.’’

Robert Walls, middle, with great mates Gerard Healy and Mike Sheahan. Picture: Michael Klein

The diagnosis, delivered on a telephone call with his doctor, prompted Walls to prepare for death.

He’s at peace, mind you. At 73, he says he’s had a “wonderful life’’.

“I like to have things in order and one of the first things was to get life in order,’’ he says.

“My oldest son, David, I spoke to him a day or two after I was diagnosed, and I said, ‘OK, we need to sort a few things out here, that’s the will, powers of attorney, funerals, who you might want to speak and who you didn’t want to speak and how long they’d speak for.

“Having said that, I wasn’t shattered or felt cheated.

“I just thought I’ve had a wonderful life. I’m 73, and Erin passed away 18 years ago. She never saw the grandkids grow up. I’ve got seven grandkids, the oldest is Tara, 19, and the youngest is Daisy, 5, and the others are in between, and I’ve seen them grow up and I want to see more of that.

“That’s my incentive, to get a few more years. I don’t know how many more. If I could get a few more years, I’d happily sign off.’’

Aches and pains

Walls thought he was getting old, or the injuries from 259 games for Carlton and Fitzroy, had finally gripped him.

For four months, his body ached. The back, ribs and chest were the issues. He enjoys taking his dog, Lily, for a walk. He used to walk for an hour and suddenly he was exhausted after 10 minutes. And sleep was a problem because of the pain. Then he’d be tired. His body clock was crazy.

His cardiologist said it wasn’t a heart issue, so he visited his doctor on the Monday before the grand final.

“My exact words were, ‘There’s something amiss’,’’ Walls says.

He gave blood, and the next day, was lying on the couch when the doctor called with the harrowing news.

“He said, ‘Your blood test results have come back and you’ve got a rare and an aggressive blood cancer, leukaemia, go to Epworth emergency now’,’’ he says.

“I was by myself and I thought, ‘Jesus, he’s abrupt and straight to the point’.’’

Scared? “The first thing I thought about was my dog, who’s going to look after my dog?’’ he says, with Lily at his feet.

He spent the first night in emergency and the next few days in his hospital room contemplating whether to allow the natural course of nature to play out, or take up the fight.

Walls in action for Carlton in 1969.

“I said to my oncologist, ‘If I don’t do anything, where do I stand?’ You’d have one to three months to live. That rocked me,’’ Walls said.

“What if I decide I didn’t want to get any treatment … and I thought for a few days of taking that option. I was going downhill pretty quickly and I just thought, I don’t want my grandchildren to see a sick, disabled old man.

“I don’t think it’s a weakness to think like that …. but I needed to give myself a chance, to see if treatment could help me, and if it does help me, I could enjoy my children and grandchildren.

“I watched the grand final in bed there, I was there for a month, and treated with chemo and tablets.’’

A gruelling program, November and December was spent in and out of the Alfred Hospital. He was told of his remission in December, and to this day – and for the next six months – he carries a shoulder bag filled with chemo which is dripped into his arm, and replaced with a new batch every four days.

Every month he returns to the Alfred for a larger chemo session. It takes 24 hours to filter through and the 48 hours after that is spent flushing it out.

“I’ve got the bottles lined up next to the bed,’’ he says.

Also, he also has bone marrow biopsies and lumbar punctures, which is an injection in the lower back which diagnoses if any there’s any problems in the spinal cord and brain.

The doormat visits

At his most dire, with Dr Death hovering, Walls was overwhelmed by the support and messages from family, friends and nurses.

It’s like being alive for your wake.

“I’ve been amazed how supportive people have been,’’ he says.

He shouldn’t be. He played at Carlton and Fitzroy, coached Fitzroy, Carlton, the Brisbane Bears and Richmond, and worked in the media at 3AW, The Age, Fox Footy, Channel 10 and SEN Radio. That’s a lot of people interaction. All 50 years of it.

Soon after, footy friends and sometimes footy foes learnt of his cancer battle.

Blokes like Mick McLean who he coached at Brisbane. He flew down from Darwin. Craig Lambert flew down from Brisbane. Ross Lyon and Stephen Silvagni dropped in. Contemporaries Mick Malthouse, David Parkin, Stan Alves, Tony Shaw and even Kevin Sheedy sent multiple text messages. Mick Turner, himself in a health battle, kept in touch.

“It makes you feel very humble,’’ Walls says.

Peter Moore, who was at the Alfred visiting a family member, was also a visitor.

“I thought, how nice was that because I didn’t really know him,’’ Walls says.

Sheahan, Healy and Walls on set at Fox Footy. Picture: Michael Klein

Healy and Sheahan have been by Walls’ side during his cancer battle. Picture: Michael Klein

Fox Footy comrades and long-time friends Gerard Healy and Mike Sheahan have not been absent.

“I’ve known Mike for 45 years. Early days when I was coach we weren’t that friendly, but I wasn’t friendly with anyone,’’ Walls says with a laugh.

“One Saturday morning, I was half asleep and someone came into the room. They have to wear masks and I looked up, wondering who’s that, and it was Bruce Doull. I said to him, ‘You’ve made my day’.’’

The nights were different. When you think you might die, you replay your life. Memories consume you. What have I done? Have I been a good person? My family?

‘‘That first month I struggled to sleep and I’d stare at the clock at 3am and 4am and my thoughts went back to my childhood a lot, when I was a boy, my mum and dad,’’ he says. “My dad passed when I was 16. I had a really good mum and dad and sister. We didn’t have a lot, but we’d go up to Maryborough every second weekend to see the grandparents, aunties and cousins and they’d take me fishing and yabbying and a bit older shooting rabbits.

“I just thought how fortunate I was

“I went to Carlton as a 15-year-old to try out for the thirds. Myself and Bruce both went to Carlton in 1966. All we talked about were the kids who were with us and how most of them didn’t make it. And we talked about the coaches we had. I came through a lot quicker than Bruce but, by geez, he lasted a lot longer.’’

Grumpy old man?

He’s not now, but boy he was a grumpy young man. Erin used to say he was rude when he interacted with fans. He had a bluntness about him.

He played with a sharpness through the rough ‘n’ tumble 1970s and then coached with an even sharper edge. Some Carlton boys still shiver when they remember the late 1980s and how ruthless he was as coach. In simpler terms, Walls was always up for the fight.

It’s the same now. He’s fighting to live, yet there is a softness to his voice. And a realisation how precious life is.

Not once has he shed a tear for himself.

“If I was to die tomorrow, I’d say how fortunate I’ve been,” he says.

“No ‘woe is me’ at all. My sister’s had cancer, her husband had cancer, their little boy when he was four had cancer and lost his arm. He’s now 35 or 36 and a strapping big guy. How tough’s that? My wife passed away at 55. Shit, I’m in my 70s, I’ve got nothing to complain about, nothing at all.’’

Walls as coach of Richmond, addressing Brendon Gale.

Living “three Bernie Quinlan torpedoes’’ from the MCG, every morning he takes Lily for a walk, buys the paper, completes the crossword and has a coffee at his favourite joint in East Melbourne. He’s limited. This day, he was picking up three of his grandchildren from primary school and taking them for a milkshake or a doughnut. Other times, he’s across town watching other grandchildren playing netball. “To me, that’s magic,’’ he says.

The afternoons are quiet. He likes Netflix docos and “I probably spend too much time watching the races and having a bet, but I enjoy that’’.

“I don’t bet heavily but it’s an interest. I own a couple slow race horses. I want to be well enough so if the horses are running at Ballarat or Bendigo I can go see them.’’

He will embrace the footy season. “I’ll watch as many games as I can over the weekend. I’ve got the teams that I like an the teams I don’t like and I’ve got the coaches I like and the coaches I don’t like, and the commentators I like and the commentators I don’t like.’’

He is curious about the Alastair Clarkson episode last week and the lack of condemnation from parts of the media. Still, he remembers a time in the ’80s, when Essendon’s Roger Merrett was the alleged “hit man’’ and Walls was coaching Fitzroy.

“I couldn’t get out there quick enough and tell him what I thought of him,’’ Walls says.

It prompted a fracas at halftime. He claims Merrett’s teammate, “Rotten” Ronnie Andrews, punched him. “He punched me as I was going up the race … I was coach!’’ he says, laughing. “I gave it to Roger and Ronnie’s gone whack. I had a pair of slip-on shoes and someone stood on my heel and I lost my shoe. A couple of blokes were pushing me up the race, and I said, ‘Get my effing shoe’. Yeah, things have changed.’’

Casual in shorts and t-shirt, Walls looks pretty good. He says everyone says that. The first few months or so, he lost 6kg. Now, he’s back at 103kg.

“I feel fine, except I’m tired,’’ he says. “If I walk the dog 200m down the road and I come back, I’m tired. And I don’t sleep well at all.’’

Walls coached Carlton to a flag in 1987.

At the same time, Walls admits he’s become forgetful. He sees footballers on TV and can’t remember their names. One word he struggles with is capsicum. He’d be in the supermarket staring at them and … nothing. “It sounds silly, but I could never remember the name so I ended up writing it on a piece of paper and sticking it on the door,’’ he says.

“With this concussion thing, I think how many times was I completely knocked out? I can think of four. Has that affected me? I think it has. But in some ways, it’s convenient to say it’s a result of head knocks, rather than you’re just losing it. Who knows? I’m 74 in July, I’m not young, am I?”

He says he is inspired by Sandy Roberts, who has myeloma, a blood cancer. The pair have caught up several times since the diagnosis

“Sandy’s messaged me, seen me in hospital, invited me to his home, and he’s doing all he can to promote the cause and raise funds,’’ Walls says.

“I just felt it was time for me to speak up and maybe, if somebody’s out there with aches and pains, I can help one or two people as well.’’