Former triple j metal presenter come ABC Grandstand commentator Francis Leach is an inspired choice of host for Presentation Night, a night of conversation about football, music and life. Leach introduces Paul Kelly and Western Bulldogs player Bob Murphy as two men who dreamed of doing each other's jobs, he too, no doubt, is in a similar position.
Thirty-year-old Murphy is candid and sincere and rarely censors himself when he speaks, particularly when he talks about the corporate, sterile nature of modern football that doesn't sit particularly well with him. “I suspect that the Bulldogs are closer to the Warragul Football Club than, say, Hawthorn,” he says, disarming an early heckler. He is an unabashed fan of alt.country music and uses a rare opportunity to show off his record collection by playing So Much Older by Tex Perkins & The Dark Horses. Murphy confirms his love of Bruce Springsteen by revealing a fresh Thunder Road-inspired tattoo he got done today and shares anecdotes of being an outcast in the locker rooms among younger players. “Six or seven years ago I was on a treadmill playing Exile On Main Street and a draftee walks in on his first or second day and says, 'Who the fuck is this?' So I said to him, 'Who the fuck are you?'” he laughs, as does the entire crowd. “I had to defend Keith and Mick's honour,” he adds, shrugging his shoulders. Murphy touches on his passion for journalism, his politics and how he begrudgingly accepted a cheque from John Howard at the Whitten Oval. He also displays his softer side, when he plays his recording of 'You're 29, You're Beautiful And You're Mine', an appropriation of Paul Kelly's You're 39, You're Beautiful And You're Mine. Murphy's strongest statement of the night comes when he talks about personalities in football and how the public too often confuse the maverick with someone playing the fool. Tonight, he confirms himself as an intelligent, creative, one-of-a-kind maverick.
Paul Kelly starts his conversation by talking about growing up in Adelaide and wanting to play rover for Norwood in the SANFL. How early Bob Dylan, Gram Parsons and The Flying Burrito Brothers turned him on to music, of playing doubles tennis with the Finn brothers and the similarities between sport and music. He even briefly touches on coaching the Rock Dogs for the Community Cup. “I found out my forward pocket player was trippin',” he says. “I only found out afterwards and he didn't get a touch.”
What makes the night so unique is the relaxed atmosphere facilitated by Leach and the byplay between the two guests, both artists in their own right. When Leach quizzes Murphy on pre-game nerves he says, “Barry Hall was a bit of a vomiter, but now it's Adam Cooney,” before Kelly rapidly interjects, “For us musicians it's usually two hours after the gig, not before it.”
Kelly performs a handful of songs, including Bradman and I'm On Your Side, and closes with a brand new song he finished that afternoon, for which he sings the lyrics directly off a sheet of paper that sits on the bar stool in front of him. Inspired by Charlie Parker and his book A Bastard Like Me, this new song is an activist anthem filled with pain and beauty in the same vein as previous Kelly co-writes Treaty (Yothu Yindi/Midnight Oil) and From Little Things Big Things Grow (Kev Carmody).
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As I begin the journey home and walk under the Swan Street Bridge, the walls are currently plastered with posters advertising Leaps & Bounds Music Festival. My car is parked in a dimly lit Richmond laneway, adjacent to, “The clock on the silo,” that is immortalised in Kelly's song Leaps & Bounds. This serves as a reminder of just how much of an icon Paul Kelly is in this town. Exactly the way he, like Aussie rules, should be.
