Spare a thought for Rex Mossop, Ron Casey, and Norman May when you try to get your head around the $1.25 billion being paid for the AFL television rights.
Far removed from the likes of the “Moose”, “Case”, and “Nugget” in their hey-days of early sporting television in the 60s, and 70s.
The three Musketeers – Mossop on Seven, Casey on Nine, and the ABC’s May.
And they were almost television triplets – Mossop born February 18, 1928, Casey July 5, 1929, and May on June 15 1928 – but they were the trail-blazers.
At the risk of offending two great mates, Mossop was the leader of the pack.
The dual international footballer was selling Holdens at Stacks when he answered a Channel Seven ad for a sporting director in 1963 – and won the job over hundreds of hopefuls.
That began a two decade span where anything that happened in rugby league, Mossop was at the coal-face, he was the voice of the 13-man code.
And the host of “Sports Action” every Sunday morning – it was compulsory viewing.
Who could ever forget “Controversy Corner” with Mossop in the chair, to his right two former league internationals – teak-tough Noel Kelly, and Ferris Ashton, who also played first grade cricket for Waverley.
On his left, Alan Clarkson, chief league-writer for the SMH and Sun-Herald, and former referee Col Pearce, one of the very best.
They were a fantastic team, dissecting rugby league to the bone, with the “Ferdie Bird” Ashton doing his live spruik for Viking saunas, even though he had never been in one for fear of bursting at the seams – a very robust bloke.
And the Commonwealth Bank passing competition to a target, a hoot with a knockout format throughout the season, culminating in the big decider the day after the grand final.
The most memorable – 1972 – Manly’s first premiership, captained by the incomparable hooker Freddie Jones, a finalist in the passing competition.
Jones was so drunk, Mossop had to plant him on the line, and steady him, for his four passes from the right, and four from the left.
Freddie had no idea what he was doing, ballooning eight hospital passes – but somehow managed to score six bulls to romp home.
When he woke up late Monday afternoon, he wondered how he’d drunk so much yet his pockets were still full of cold hard, the remnants of the $750 he won on “Sports Action” the day before.
Freddie had no recollection of that whatsoever, and with no DVD’s in those days he had to rely on his mates to tell the story. Damn shame that, it was hilarious television that deserved to be replayed for eternity.
So too Ray Price the day after the Wallaby-All Blacks Test played in atrocious conditions at the SCG, in 1974 – Ray’s debut.
I rang the Randwick Rugby Club around 8.30 on Sunday morning, wondering if Ray was still there from the after-Test reception. Yes, was the reply, he’s asleep behind the bar with his umpteenth Black Russian in his hand. Ray was bundled into a cab heading for Epping.
Crack All Black winger Grant Batty was the other guest, so I thought I’d better ask Ray the first question to get him involved quickly, in case he went back to sleep. The Black Russian fumes were so thick, you could cut the air with a knife.
Ray’s first answer? Yes, then repeated my question verbatim. Throughout the 10-minute interview, Grant was answering questions superbly, Ray kept saying yes, and verbatim.
It was hard not to crack up, but the whole studio did just that when I bailed out by asking Grant the final question – he answered yes, and repeated my question verbatim. That segment should also have been on DVD for posterity, what a tragic waste of history.
Those were great days in the 17 years I spent covering cricket and rugby on that show with the pipe-smoking David Jack, then Johnny Warren covering the soccer, and “Punter’s Post Mortem” with Ian Craig, Max Presnell, and Paul Ambrosoli.
Sam Keckovich covered Aussie Rules for awhile as a bundle of nerves, nothing like the slick professional performer he is now as a sporting comic.
And Barry Ross, Mossop’s rugby league stats-man, and sideline commentator.
There’s only one Barry Ross, who became a legend for overcoming looking like a rabbit in the headlights when on camera, and the way he bantered with Mossop, on air.
So much so the story goes with countless thousands at the Vatican, one bystander was heard to say – “I don’t know that bloke with the white gown, and little white cap, but the bloke on his left is Barry Ross”.
Great days alright, and to put the AFL’s $1.25 billion in perspective, we, as “Sports Action” segment hosts, were paid $10 every Sunday, the cheque was in our respective folders.
Every guest received far more than that with a big Meapro ham, Bernard moccasins, Pantene for the hair, Patra orange juice, and a Whale car-wash.
When asked for a pay-rise, Mossop would say: “Think of all the exposure I’m giving you, that’s priceless, you should be grateful”.
The Eastwood Rugby Club was indeed grateful every Sunday: it was three schooners more over the bar on the way home.