I was just looking thru some old things and thought you would all enjoy this article. I have just copied it from a photo copy of the article that appeared in the Sunday Age a few years ago.
Enjoy
Les Parish - still a Lionhearted fighter
In the early 80's, Fitzroy Football Club was a hard and competitive outfit. None were tougher than Les Parish, who is now battling cancer. As Barry Dickens writes, Parish's former teamates are rallying behind him.
When I ran out of heroes in the early 80's, I only had to stand behind the goals at the Junction Oval to see them again. The Royboys played there then, booting the sea air out of the bladder as much as anything else. It was good when Fitzroy played in St Kilda. After all we have played everywhere else on Earth.
Les Parish was a rogue Royboy. He played "sort of" centre half forward, but just about everywhere else, simultaneously. He was more leopard than lion, cabale of gliding around the snail killer all day, never running out of puff.
He was an old fashioned Royboy. He put me in mind of men from the Reservoir Baths, who dived off the high boards in tough ways, who wore sideboards because Elvis did. I suppose Les was the Elvis of league football.
Together with fearless captain Garry "Flea" Wilson, Bernie "Superboot" Quinlan and Micky "Fridge Door" Conlan, Fitzroy players in the early 80's were hard men with business to do. We never buggerised around then, before the suicidal shift to meaningless Brisbane, where we now play only in memory and sunburn.
When I remember Les "Tatts" Parish, I immediately see in my mind hundreds of unselfish physical moments on behalf of his bretheren.
He was a good, strong mark, and possessed a rather bullocking, no stuffing around style, similar to a decent barman on his day, when pub clients come in on pay-day thirsty and fairly well behaved. They drink beyond belief, but don't insult the women. Les Parish would never insult the women. He is one of natures gentlemen.
He was a quick and talented boot of the ball and his long, raking left foot drop punts were good to look at. Les understood the wind and had an uncanny ability to drop the football into the sure hands of Garry Wilson as "Flea" ran into yet another open goal. Conlan the Courageous; Wilson the Unstoppable; Quinlan the Quintessence of Poetry and Parish the Left-Foot Lair.
I loved to watch "Tatts" run on. When he ran down the concrete race, I felt better just seeing him, his strong body bristling with life like a decent thoroughbred at the top of his form. Men in the outer identified with him, and toffs in the members stand thought it'd be good to have him on their side in tough times.
I speak of Les in the past, I suppose, because he hung up the jockstrap a while back. But champions like Matt Rendell and Les Parish keep on running down the concrete race of my mind, because on Saturdays they gave me hope - sneer if you like - life isn't worth a bumber as old blokes know.
Les has cancer and things look crook, and a few of his teamates have organised a fundraiser for his family. All who have loved - -better yet, worshipped Fitzroy, must come along to sing his praises.
For many Fitzroy people, Les Parish represents a boot-and-all style of guts and determination typical of those great years when Fitzroy had more to do with beauty than bankruptcy, less to do with debt and a lot to do with grace.
I cam from the "Butch" Gale school of football, where each man on the field was lucky to get a few quid and a few torn buttock ligaments each Saturday night after a bloodied and unforgiving encounter with anything that moved in the wrong colours. Football as we knew it is as dead as a maggot.
Les Parish represents a golden kind of unselfishness and a silver kind of heart for others whom he is offering the footy in the dying seconds of a real nail-biter.
When I contemplate a golden style of rough but unselfish football, it is always players such as Parish I see in the dying moments of the cherished nail-biter. Les has given Fitzroy Football Club more than anyone should, probably; and he will give the rememberers of the Royboys much more than any footballer ever could.
Vale Les Parish.
Les Parish - still a Lionhearted fighter
Enjoy
Les Parish - still a Lionhearted fighter
In the early 80's, Fitzroy Football Club was a hard and competitive outfit. None were tougher than Les Parish, who is now battling cancer. As Barry Dickens writes, Parish's former teamates are rallying behind him.
When I ran out of heroes in the early 80's, I only had to stand behind the goals at the Junction Oval to see them again. The Royboys played there then, booting the sea air out of the bladder as much as anything else. It was good when Fitzroy played in St Kilda. After all we have played everywhere else on Earth.
Les Parish was a rogue Royboy. He played "sort of" centre half forward, but just about everywhere else, simultaneously. He was more leopard than lion, cabale of gliding around the snail killer all day, never running out of puff.
He was an old fashioned Royboy. He put me in mind of men from the Reservoir Baths, who dived off the high boards in tough ways, who wore sideboards because Elvis did. I suppose Les was the Elvis of league football.
Together with fearless captain Garry "Flea" Wilson, Bernie "Superboot" Quinlan and Micky "Fridge Door" Conlan, Fitzroy players in the early 80's were hard men with business to do. We never buggerised around then, before the suicidal shift to meaningless Brisbane, where we now play only in memory and sunburn.
When I remember Les "Tatts" Parish, I immediately see in my mind hundreds of unselfish physical moments on behalf of his bretheren.
He was a good, strong mark, and possessed a rather bullocking, no stuffing around style, similar to a decent barman on his day, when pub clients come in on pay-day thirsty and fairly well behaved. They drink beyond belief, but don't insult the women. Les Parish would never insult the women. He is one of natures gentlemen.
He was a quick and talented boot of the ball and his long, raking left foot drop punts were good to look at. Les understood the wind and had an uncanny ability to drop the football into the sure hands of Garry Wilson as "Flea" ran into yet another open goal. Conlan the Courageous; Wilson the Unstoppable; Quinlan the Quintessence of Poetry and Parish the Left-Foot Lair.
I loved to watch "Tatts" run on. When he ran down the concrete race, I felt better just seeing him, his strong body bristling with life like a decent thoroughbred at the top of his form. Men in the outer identified with him, and toffs in the members stand thought it'd be good to have him on their side in tough times.
I speak of Les in the past, I suppose, because he hung up the jockstrap a while back. But champions like Matt Rendell and Les Parish keep on running down the concrete race of my mind, because on Saturdays they gave me hope - sneer if you like - life isn't worth a bumber as old blokes know.
Les has cancer and things look crook, and a few of his teamates have organised a fundraiser for his family. All who have loved - -better yet, worshipped Fitzroy, must come along to sing his praises.
For many Fitzroy people, Les Parish represents a boot-and-all style of guts and determination typical of those great years when Fitzroy had more to do with beauty than bankruptcy, less to do with debt and a lot to do with grace.
I cam from the "Butch" Gale school of football, where each man on the field was lucky to get a few quid and a few torn buttock ligaments each Saturday night after a bloodied and unforgiving encounter with anything that moved in the wrong colours. Football as we knew it is as dead as a maggot.
Les Parish represents a golden kind of unselfishness and a silver kind of heart for others whom he is offering the footy in the dying seconds of a real nail-biter.
When I contemplate a golden style of rough but unselfish football, it is always players such as Parish I see in the dying moments of the cherished nail-biter. Les has given Fitzroy Football Club more than anyone should, probably; and he will give the rememberers of the Royboys much more than any footballer ever could.
Vale Les Parish.
Les Parish - still a Lionhearted fighter
