A good read. From the age website.
http://www.realfooty.theage.com.au/realfooty/articles/2006/09/13/1157827019025.html
Remembering RJ
Martin Flanagan
September 14, 2006
R ON James would be retired by now. He'd be 35, going on 36, but all agree he would have played a lot of games for the Bulldogs. His teammates would have included Scott West, Chris Grant, Brad Johnson and Rohan Smith, and there is every reason to believe he would have been as well known as them.
James' career had a mythical beginning. In 1985, at the age of 14, he played for Williamstown in a VFA grand final. Within Victoria, the VFA (now VFL) was second only to the VFL (now AFL) in standard. It was also notoriously tough. "He had no doubts about his ability to do it," recalls his twin brother Craig. "And I had no doubts he could either." In fact, Craig James thought his brother's elevation to senior football at such a young age "was meant to be".
Williamstown's coach that year, Terry Wheeler, can still give a call of the game's first 20 seconds. The Williamstown ruckman taps the ball to their rover who kicks it forward "and who should be on the end of it but Ronnie James. He runs at goal, takes one bounce, misses to the right." "He lent back on the kick and sprayed it," says his brother, taking up the call when I mention the moment. He sighs as he says it, like he rues the miss as much now as he did then. He was in the stands, "proud, jumping-out-of-my-skin proud". Tony Hannebery, Williamstown's president at the time, describes Craig James as "a good back-up" for his brother.
They were non-identical twins. Craig was academic, and wanted to be a doctor. RJ, as he calls his brother, "only wanted one thing from the day he was born — to play footy". Craig says RJ never read a book in his life. If required to do so for a school essay, he went to the video shop to see if he could find a version of the story there, or asked his brother to write the essay for him. Both were good cricketers. Craig was the fast bowler, RJ the batsman. "He was a beautiful hitter of the ball," says Craig. He recalls RJ's top score — 199.
Their early life was spent playing sport, cricket in summer, footy all year round. Craig was the longer kick, RJ had the better short game. Ron won a competition best and fairest, Craig was runnerup. And they were close. More than once, their parents observed that if one of them spoke in his sleep, the other, also asleep, would answer.
Craig James studied psychology at university and conducts internal training programs for Telstra. He did well at sport but says his brother "had something I didn't — that natural, indefinable stuff only some people have". In part, it was a confidence that not only made him want to take on opponents on the football field whenever he got the ball but also made him easy with people generally. "He was a natural. He was humble, really. He just had no doubt about his ability." He always had time for people and never forgot names.
Ask people who Ron James was like as a player and you get a bewildering array of answers — Nathan Buckley, Chris Judd, Robert Harvey, Brian "Choco" Royal, Gary Ablett Junior. Maybe that's what happens when talent dies young; imagination fills in the picture. But it's a fact that people not given to being effusive or speaking in cliches, like former Williamstown stalwart and Sydney Brownlow medallist Barry Round, speak well of him.
"He was pretty special," says Round. "At a young age, he had amazing talent and maturity. He had all the attributes to go a long way." Former Footscray captain Steve Wallis says: "He was the sort of bloke you'd like to have a beer with and he was also the sort of person you'd take home to meet your family." Wallis emphasises he's not saying this because of the fate that befell James.
In 1985, Ron and Craig James were young to be playing in Williamstown's under 19s, but when they failed to make the finals Wheeler invited RJ to train with the seniors and gave him the job of water boy during the finals. Craig recalls that on the Tuesday before the grand final his brother came home and told him he'd just done the best training session of his life, that he was "jumping out of his skin". An hour or so later, the club rang. Craig remembers his mother saying to his father, "No, Ian, he's too young".
That year, Willy were the underdogs. When asked why he selected Ron James, Wheeler, who is now at the Australian Sports Commission in Canberra, replies: "Because the team we had picked didn't have that spirit of adventure you need to take into a grand final." In retrospect, Wheeler isn't sure whether the decision was "bravado, imagination or whether we were captured by the boy's magic". The result, though, was a sense of excitement and anticipation in the team that wasn't there before.
Was he in your best players, I ask? Not as such, he replies, "but in another sense he was our most important player". Willy got a lot closer than people thought they would. The following year, at the age of 15, Ron James was best-onground in the VFA preliminary final. The following week he played in a Williamstown premiership.
Wheeler says he always played James 80 metres from goal "because he liked to run 40 and take a few on before he kicked it. The few times he was tackled, he wasn't dispossessed. He'd still move the ball on to our advantage." Steve Wallis remembers him as running low to the ground, balanced, a beautiful kick at goal. His brother concedes RJ "wasn't the quickest but he was always able to get away and he could lift his game to the level of those around him".
At 16, Ron James was one of the youngest players to debut in the AFL with Footscray (now the Western Bulldogs). Mick Malthouse was then coach of the Dogs and the team was as tough as a platoon of army marines. Wallis was captain. There is a view around Williamstown that Malthouse didn't see Ron's potential and, in three years under Malthouse, he totalled only 16 games. In one sense, James was ahead of where the game was going — he liked to break the lines and switch play — but Wallis says there is also a hardness that has to be acquired before a player becomes a mature footballer. "It takes time and it takes tutelage. I had to learn it. Choco Royal taught me and I taught Scott West. Ron was on the cusp of getting that knowledge."
Meanwhile, he lived the life of a league footballer. Mullet hair-dos were all the go at Footscray and RJ soon had one. Says his brother: "He thought Magic (Michael ‘Magic' McLean) was magic, he thought Super (Steve ‘Super' MacPherson) was super, and he thought the Hawk (Doug Hawkins) was king." He remembers his brother, as a 16-year-old in a white tuxedo, being carried home drunk by some of his teammates after a club function. "You blokes were supposed to look after him," he hissed, anxious that their mother not be woken and find out. "We did look after him," came the reply. "We brought him home."
Craig remembers scenes from his brother's VFL/AFL career, the day he baulked a wellknown player and left his opponent grasping at air, the time Hawthorn's Robert DiPierdomenico could have cleaned him up and didn't, instead giving the teenager a oneoff warning: "You've got to be more aware, son."
At the end of 1989, it all started falling into place. "He'd been studying to become a teacher at Footscray TAFE and it wasn't him," says Craig. "He'd swapped to a plumbing apprenticeship and was happier. He had a great girlfriend." And, in the wake of the failed merger of Footscray and Fitzroy, the Dogs had a new coach — Terry Wheeler, the man who had selected James to play in a VFA grand final at the age of 14. Once more, a sense of destiny began to gather around him.
Says Wheeler: "Through the preseason at the end of '89, Ron trained the house down. He was the one leading us up the hills."
On New Year's Day 1990, at the age of 19, Ron James was killed in a water skiing accident on the Murray River. Only learning the sport, he fell off and hit a submerged log. Wheeler was "shattered". How did it affect the club, I ask him? "I couldn't distinguish between myself and the club," he replies, but he recalls people like property steward Eddie Walsh and trainer Ben Bradley "looking as if they had lost a grandson".
Wallis, one of Footscray's great clubmen and RJ's captain, was on a holiday with teammate Royal when he heard. "It was a tragic, tragic thing," he says slowly. "He was one of us." Another teammate, Michael Ford, now a sportsmaster at Melbourne Grammar, remembers being "shocked" when he heard. Afterwards? "I missed him, really. He was a great character around the place. You'd find yourself thinking — hang on, where is that face?"
For Craig James, "the world as I had known it finished that day. The word tragic doesn't get close to it." Craig James has the thoughtful, articulate, measured manner of the doctor he might have become. "He was the closest person to me in my life." For years, he refused to speak about the loss of his brother. It was, he now sees, a classic case of denial but he also had to observe the effect of the loss on his mother, father, elder brother and elder sister.
He believes it was the birth of his son Callum 18 months ago that finally put him on the road to coming to terms with what occurred. His professional training also persuaded him it was better to speak about his brother than suppress his feelings within. And so speak he does. What does he see now when he looks back on his brother's life? "A sheer love of life," he replies. That is his consolation. "He was happy. He broke through and lived his dream."
http://www.realfooty.theage.com.au/realfooty/articles/2006/09/13/1157827019025.html
Remembering RJ
Martin Flanagan
September 14, 2006
R ON James would be retired by now. He'd be 35, going on 36, but all agree he would have played a lot of games for the Bulldogs. His teammates would have included Scott West, Chris Grant, Brad Johnson and Rohan Smith, and there is every reason to believe he would have been as well known as them.
James' career had a mythical beginning. In 1985, at the age of 14, he played for Williamstown in a VFA grand final. Within Victoria, the VFA (now VFL) was second only to the VFL (now AFL) in standard. It was also notoriously tough. "He had no doubts about his ability to do it," recalls his twin brother Craig. "And I had no doubts he could either." In fact, Craig James thought his brother's elevation to senior football at such a young age "was meant to be".
Williamstown's coach that year, Terry Wheeler, can still give a call of the game's first 20 seconds. The Williamstown ruckman taps the ball to their rover who kicks it forward "and who should be on the end of it but Ronnie James. He runs at goal, takes one bounce, misses to the right." "He lent back on the kick and sprayed it," says his brother, taking up the call when I mention the moment. He sighs as he says it, like he rues the miss as much now as he did then. He was in the stands, "proud, jumping-out-of-my-skin proud". Tony Hannebery, Williamstown's president at the time, describes Craig James as "a good back-up" for his brother.
They were non-identical twins. Craig was academic, and wanted to be a doctor. RJ, as he calls his brother, "only wanted one thing from the day he was born — to play footy". Craig says RJ never read a book in his life. If required to do so for a school essay, he went to the video shop to see if he could find a version of the story there, or asked his brother to write the essay for him. Both were good cricketers. Craig was the fast bowler, RJ the batsman. "He was a beautiful hitter of the ball," says Craig. He recalls RJ's top score — 199.
Their early life was spent playing sport, cricket in summer, footy all year round. Craig was the longer kick, RJ had the better short game. Ron won a competition best and fairest, Craig was runnerup. And they were close. More than once, their parents observed that if one of them spoke in his sleep, the other, also asleep, would answer.
Craig James studied psychology at university and conducts internal training programs for Telstra. He did well at sport but says his brother "had something I didn't — that natural, indefinable stuff only some people have". In part, it was a confidence that not only made him want to take on opponents on the football field whenever he got the ball but also made him easy with people generally. "He was a natural. He was humble, really. He just had no doubt about his ability." He always had time for people and never forgot names.
Ask people who Ron James was like as a player and you get a bewildering array of answers — Nathan Buckley, Chris Judd, Robert Harvey, Brian "Choco" Royal, Gary Ablett Junior. Maybe that's what happens when talent dies young; imagination fills in the picture. But it's a fact that people not given to being effusive or speaking in cliches, like former Williamstown stalwart and Sydney Brownlow medallist Barry Round, speak well of him.
"He was pretty special," says Round. "At a young age, he had amazing talent and maturity. He had all the attributes to go a long way." Former Footscray captain Steve Wallis says: "He was the sort of bloke you'd like to have a beer with and he was also the sort of person you'd take home to meet your family." Wallis emphasises he's not saying this because of the fate that befell James.
In 1985, Ron and Craig James were young to be playing in Williamstown's under 19s, but when they failed to make the finals Wheeler invited RJ to train with the seniors and gave him the job of water boy during the finals. Craig recalls that on the Tuesday before the grand final his brother came home and told him he'd just done the best training session of his life, that he was "jumping out of his skin". An hour or so later, the club rang. Craig remembers his mother saying to his father, "No, Ian, he's too young".
That year, Willy were the underdogs. When asked why he selected Ron James, Wheeler, who is now at the Australian Sports Commission in Canberra, replies: "Because the team we had picked didn't have that spirit of adventure you need to take into a grand final." In retrospect, Wheeler isn't sure whether the decision was "bravado, imagination or whether we were captured by the boy's magic". The result, though, was a sense of excitement and anticipation in the team that wasn't there before.
Was he in your best players, I ask? Not as such, he replies, "but in another sense he was our most important player". Willy got a lot closer than people thought they would. The following year, at the age of 15, Ron James was best-onground in the VFA preliminary final. The following week he played in a Williamstown premiership.
Wheeler says he always played James 80 metres from goal "because he liked to run 40 and take a few on before he kicked it. The few times he was tackled, he wasn't dispossessed. He'd still move the ball on to our advantage." Steve Wallis remembers him as running low to the ground, balanced, a beautiful kick at goal. His brother concedes RJ "wasn't the quickest but he was always able to get away and he could lift his game to the level of those around him".
At 16, Ron James was one of the youngest players to debut in the AFL with Footscray (now the Western Bulldogs). Mick Malthouse was then coach of the Dogs and the team was as tough as a platoon of army marines. Wallis was captain. There is a view around Williamstown that Malthouse didn't see Ron's potential and, in three years under Malthouse, he totalled only 16 games. In one sense, James was ahead of where the game was going — he liked to break the lines and switch play — but Wallis says there is also a hardness that has to be acquired before a player becomes a mature footballer. "It takes time and it takes tutelage. I had to learn it. Choco Royal taught me and I taught Scott West. Ron was on the cusp of getting that knowledge."
Meanwhile, he lived the life of a league footballer. Mullet hair-dos were all the go at Footscray and RJ soon had one. Says his brother: "He thought Magic (Michael ‘Magic' McLean) was magic, he thought Super (Steve ‘Super' MacPherson) was super, and he thought the Hawk (Doug Hawkins) was king." He remembers his brother, as a 16-year-old in a white tuxedo, being carried home drunk by some of his teammates after a club function. "You blokes were supposed to look after him," he hissed, anxious that their mother not be woken and find out. "We did look after him," came the reply. "We brought him home."
Craig remembers scenes from his brother's VFL/AFL career, the day he baulked a wellknown player and left his opponent grasping at air, the time Hawthorn's Robert DiPierdomenico could have cleaned him up and didn't, instead giving the teenager a oneoff warning: "You've got to be more aware, son."
At the end of 1989, it all started falling into place. "He'd been studying to become a teacher at Footscray TAFE and it wasn't him," says Craig. "He'd swapped to a plumbing apprenticeship and was happier. He had a great girlfriend." And, in the wake of the failed merger of Footscray and Fitzroy, the Dogs had a new coach — Terry Wheeler, the man who had selected James to play in a VFA grand final at the age of 14. Once more, a sense of destiny began to gather around him.
Says Wheeler: "Through the preseason at the end of '89, Ron trained the house down. He was the one leading us up the hills."
On New Year's Day 1990, at the age of 19, Ron James was killed in a water skiing accident on the Murray River. Only learning the sport, he fell off and hit a submerged log. Wheeler was "shattered". How did it affect the club, I ask him? "I couldn't distinguish between myself and the club," he replies, but he recalls people like property steward Eddie Walsh and trainer Ben Bradley "looking as if they had lost a grandson".
Wallis, one of Footscray's great clubmen and RJ's captain, was on a holiday with teammate Royal when he heard. "It was a tragic, tragic thing," he says slowly. "He was one of us." Another teammate, Michael Ford, now a sportsmaster at Melbourne Grammar, remembers being "shocked" when he heard. Afterwards? "I missed him, really. He was a great character around the place. You'd find yourself thinking — hang on, where is that face?"
For Craig James, "the world as I had known it finished that day. The word tragic doesn't get close to it." Craig James has the thoughtful, articulate, measured manner of the doctor he might have become. "He was the closest person to me in my life." For years, he refused to speak about the loss of his brother. It was, he now sees, a classic case of denial but he also had to observe the effect of the loss on his mother, father, elder brother and elder sister.
He believes it was the birth of his son Callum 18 months ago that finally put him on the road to coming to terms with what occurred. His professional training also persuaded him it was better to speak about his brother than suppress his feelings within. And so speak he does. What does he see now when he looks back on his brother's life? "A sheer love of life," he replies. That is his consolation. "He was happy. He broke through and lived his dream."
