Golden Thread

There will never be too many people who’ll spend the fading twilight hours of their life dressed in oversized puffy red and white slippers whilst sporting an emblazed red and white Sydney Swans windcheater, but then, normalcy was never something David Donoghue was blessed with in life.

If, in a few weeks time, either in presence or in spirit, or both, the ranks of the Swans supporters appear to be much the same, although, seemingly oddly thinner for some inexplicable reason, it will be due to no other reason than the untimely demise of their most loyal and dedicated supporter of the past forty years.

David Donoghue is dying.

Of the countless threads that weave together during the discourse of our lives that go to forming the matrix of the banner that bears tribute and testament to who we are as an individual - a banner that encompasses, reflects and denotes all our joys, accomplishments, trials and tribulation we have experienced and endured during our life - beyond the signifying embroidery; nested, unassumingly, deep amongst the weave and from unknown origins can invariably be found some golden threads, which, if they were anymore obvious they would seem out of place, but as they are, they are perfect, adding an enhanced glimmer and shine that otherwise would just not be there. In the life of the South Melbourne Football Club, and now the Sydney Swans, somewhere in their banner a golden thread bearing David’s name is forever woven into the matrix.

A life, for the most part, without a father who died prematurely, David, has had to endure many hardships in life amongst which has been being the only Swans supporter in a reduced family of eight consisting of six other brothers and a loving mother, who, and in spite of a father who was a North Melbourne supporter, remain a predominantly Bombers supporting family. Born mentally deficient – only brother so afflicted – and swimming against the tide of commonality, David’s choice in the Swans was influenced by his Uncle Harry – husband to Margaret, only daughter and eldest sibling of five of which Tommy – second eldest - was brother and father to David who died when David was sixteen years of age - and for whom he adored as a young child.

There would be few old South Melbourne supporters who would take any umbrage in the suggestion that in some way they share some affinity with David, insofar as – and besides 1970 – some level of mental deficiency would probably best explain why anyone would become, let alone remain, a Swans supporter during the many lean years the club has endured. Despite this common bond, in David’s case however there exists a hidden truth somewhere in the substance of this statement. Whether it was because of David’s awareness of his mental deficiencies - an inescapable reality and unavoidable awareness that was brought about by the fact he had to attend, as well as board, for more than a decade at a special school for handicapped children that was far from home and which was different to the school all his brothers attended locally in Traralgon - he saw something more in the undeterred persistence and faith South Melbourne supporters have maintained in their club despite their many disappointments they have encountered throughout the years they have struggled for success. Whether it was because of these observations a resonating affinity manifested within David of his own personal predicament with those of Swan supporters, which ultimately served as the main catalyst in why he chose to support the Swans with unerring loyalty for as long as he has done, we can only guess.

For of all the unlikely pairs that could ever come together to form an enduring relationship between uncle and nephew - a relationship which has prevailed for more than forty years - there is none more unlikely than between David and Uncle Harry; whose own passion for South Melbourne made it impossible for him to conceal his disappointment when they lost; and whose unrestrained use of the vernacular, which, when they did lose, was uttered with a conviction that could not only make plastic stemmed flowers wilt, it had the capacity to make even the most unflappable person in near vicinity cringe in shock horror and shy away. Whilst others may have thought to have scattered, David, was never in the slighest ever perturbed or unphased and always stood steadfastly by, seemingly, all the more endeared with Uncle Harry. Bob Pratt, Freddy Goldsmith, Laurie Nash, Bob Skilton, Peter Bedford, John Rantall, Wayne Walsh, are just some of the names of the players David would either come to know first hand in his visits to the Lake Oval when in accompaniment, or by getting to know through recitation of the history of the South Melbourne Football Club, with Uncle Harry. In the ensuing years, and now grown to be a capable young man, David would take it upon himself to make his own way to wherever the Swans were playing - whether in Melbourne, Sydney or interstate. In the life that is David Donoghue’s: the Swans became, and remained throughout David’s life, and even now in the final days of his life, the hub by which everything else revolved around.

If, therefore, in the near passing of time, Swan’s supporters happen to detect the winter this year, for some unknown reason seems unusually bleaker than in other recent years, as it shall for those of us who knew and loved David, they now know why.

Postscript:  David Donoghue passed away on Saturday 6th June, 2009.