Before the days of school uniforms, all the kids wore their footy jumpers to school. As an eight year old in 1964, I would wander across the road from Cheltenham East State after school with all the other kids to the local milk bar for an ice cream and some lollies. While most of the boys had Collingwood or Melbourne garb, I steadfastly wore the red, white and black.
Next to this milk bar was a dry cleaner. Every day around 4:00pm, a tall, young curly haired gentleman used to arrive in a blue Volkswagon delivery van and cart merchandise to and from the store. Often he would also join in the kick-to-kick on the road. My particular memory is of how much attention he afforded me.
I didn't know him and he certainly didn't know me any better than any of the other kids, yet he always seemed to be patting me on the back, calling me "champ" or giving the ball to me. Of course, I was to learn several years later why a lad in a St.Kilda jumper would get such special treatment from this seemingly wonderful guy.
He and I became great St.Kilda allies as the season progressed and I particularly looked forward to his arrival at the shops on a Monday afternoon after a Saints victory. Of course at this time, I was still unaware that he actually played in those victories.
But the story doesn't end there.
Around June or July of that season, I recall my older brother taunting me because my football jumper did not have a number on the back like "real" footy jumpers. This was a serious assault on my pride. Tears were shed. Consequently, my mum took us shopping and invited me to select a number. In those days, numerals were printed black on a white, plastic panel. Mums were recruited to sew these rectangular panels onto the rear of the guernsey. They cost two shillings each.
I don't recall having any particular preference for a number but oddly enough, it was my older brother who convinced me of the fiscal logic of acquiring a two-digit number for two shillings rather than an economically irresponsible choice of a single digit for the same outlay. For absolutely no other reason whatsoever, I amazingly asked mum for number 23.
I can only imagine how Kevin reacted on seeing this young kid wearing a 23 on the Monday afternoon!
It wasn't for a couple more seasons when the identity of the friendly dry cleaning delivery man became apparent to me. Although I didn't give it much thought for many years, the enormity of this series of coincidences means a lot more to me now and I would cherish the opportunity to share this story with my hero. I loyally wore the number 23 all through the 60s and Stephen Theodore reaped the benefit for a few years after that too.
While immortal on his pedestal in my childhood memories, Kevin Roberts was to play one more pivotal role in St.Kilda history two years later. Enjoying career best form and playing a significant part of a very successful team in 1966, Kevin broke his leg two or three rounds prior to the finals. His season was over. He missed the premiership.
The injured Kevin Roberts' was replaced on a half forward flank by a 17 year old Barry Breen. The rest is folklore.
In my eyes, as famous as a wobbly punt kick is Kevin Roberts.
Warwick Nolan
