SATURDAY, June 29, 1996. In one short hour, Robert Harvey taught me one gigantic lesson. And he didn't even know it.
It was round 13 and the old Brisbane Bears were playing St Kilda out at Waverley Park. Stewart Loewe kicked nine of the Saints' 14 goals in a 46-point cakewalk and I found myself playing on Harvey in the second half.
I was going OK at the time and I thought to myself, 'This will be a good contest', against one of the game's premier midfielders. But he absolutely towelled me up.
He ran me off my legs. And it wasn't just his phenomenal work-rate. I knew all about that because it was common knowledge. When people talk about the St Kilda No. 35, they talk about his fantastic running power.
This was more than that. He taught me how to run, and how to wear down an opponent. It was tempo running. It helped take my game to another level and was something I tried to implement from that day on.
It wasn't just power running or ultra-quick running. He ran in bursts. He'd lift the tempo for a few minutes and then he'd slow things down. He'd even throw in a couple of walking steps. And then he was off again.
Then he'd stop and give me that trademark "hands on the hips" look and I'd think "finally, I've got him". And then he'd be off again. And we'd do it all over. Eventually, I just ran out of juice. And he was still going.
It's like the Tour de France where the really good cyclists blow their opponents away with their ability to surge and to vary the pace so dramatically.
It's all about rhythm. Or more particularly, never letting your opponent get into a rhythm; never let him feel comfortable or settled.
The easiest running for any player to combat is unbroken running. It doesn't matter how fast or even how long it is, within reason, if it is a consistent pace. You know what you are in for, you get into a groove, and you stick to it.
But this day against Harvey, I never got into the groove. It was a fantastic lesson about how to beat a tag, and how to wear an opponent down.
Of course, it wasn't just his running that impressed me. His ability to read the play was sensational, too, and there were lots of other attributes that I'd come to appreciate already.
One, in particular, had come in lesson one from the man from Seaford only 28 days earlier when Victoria played the Allies in a state-of-origin match at the MCG.
The Big V, captained by Stephen Silvagni and coached by Rod Austin, won by 53 points over a combined side from the so-called second-division states, coached by Neale Daniher and skippered by Jason Dunstall.
I didn't play on Harvey that day, which is probably just as well because he won his third E.J. Whitten Medal.
But I remember following him through the centre square at one stage and it was like he was digging up the ground as he ran. It was almost like a horse galloping.
Every time he put his legs down, they'd rip up the turf, and other than collecting some dirt in the face, it made me appreciate how incredibly strong he was.
I realised then that maybe it wasn't just a fluke that so often when he'd shimmy his hips in heavy traffic, he'd shed would-be tacklers as if they weren't even there. And maybe it wasn't just a fluke that he was able to keep his feet so often in the contest.
Maybe it was just his incredible strength and power. And it was! While some of this may have been a natural gift, I'm sure a lot of it was hard-earned, too. These are two facets of his game that I've appreciated over a long time.
There is another which struck me just recently when he was a guest at an AIS-AFL Academy camp in Canberra, where I do a little coaching these days.
He was asked by a young player when he felt he'd made it in AFL football and he replied that he never felt he'd made it.
It was the perfect answer and said so much about the 349-game St Kilda champion, who was recognised with a testimonial dinner last night. It was a fantastic message to a bunch of future AFL players, and to any other player who cares to take notice of it.
This was a guy who boasts a football curriculum vitae as long as the MCG, and sits comfortably alongside the likes of James Hird and Nathan Buckley as veteran superstars of our game.
He easily could be satisfied with what he's done and what he's achieved.
But instead, he always feels the need to do more; to push the boundaries and try to become a better player.
"Harv" is someone I've admired and respected enormously for as long as I can remember but oddly, despite playing against each other for 15 years, I've not had a lot to do with him personally. We're both long-time Puma men and I met him at a few promotions in the early days but our paths have not crossed too often, except for the odd function.
My brother Brett, a teammate, speaks of him glowingly and he's one of those guys you would love to sit down with over lunch and have a chat to. I'm sure I'd enjoy that.
But if there's one thing that strikes me about one of the all-time greats, it is his longevity. When you stop and do the numbers, you realise how incredible his career has been.
When Harvey played his first AFL game in 1988, I was a 12-year-old wearing short pants and struggling with my readin', writin' and 'rithmetic in grade eight at Trinity College, Beenleigh. Now, I'm a father of three and a retired AFL player. And he's still going. Amazing!
