Magpie Memoir Magazine - October 2022 (#20)

Andrew Stark grew up just a hefty punt kick from Strathfield Park, in Sydney’s inner west during the heady days of the 1970s. He was quick to become a passionate supporter of the local rugby league team, the Western Suburbs Magpies. Stark began snapping photographs at the occasional game during the early 1980s and later became chief photographer for Terry Williams’ Sydney League News publication, covering grassroots footy from the mid 1990s on.

Stark has captured a myriad of Magpie-centric images over the past three and a half decades, concentrating on the junior representative level, with an occasional foray into the senior grades.

This quarterly fanzine series, aims to combine current events with a look back through the photographers vast collection. It is one man’s humble celebration of the mighty Western Suburbs D.R.L.F.C

MAGPIE MEMOIR MAGAZINE ©Andrew Stark

Above: The photographer as a boy in the backyard at Strathfield, captured discussing team selections with his shadow (Photo: Hugh Stark).

The great Ian Ian Naden Naden -spotted during early September, cheering the Toukley Hawks onto their inaugural Central Coast premiership.

Photos:Andrew Stark

MAGPIE MEMOIR MAGAZINE

October 2022: Volume 3 Edition 5

Welcome to your Hans Christian Andersen edition of MAGPIE MEMOIR (that’s Hans on the cover, along with Joe and the junior Cools). Having recently read Max Easton’s very black & white debut novel The Magpie Wing, I was jolted back a decade to my own high-art literary contribution. My rambling tome, Escaping into Life, certainly didn’t have anywhere near as rich a vein of Westscontent running through its pages, however the heartache of September 1978 does certainly underpin chapter 17. My meaty exploration of street snappers and their somewhat sketchy personality traits was read by visual artists the world over. What they made of the Fibro vs. Silvertail section of the book, is quite frankly anybody’s guess.

Pushing high-art to one side, two highlights to end Wests2022 season were -the rise to the NRL of Campbelltown’s very own, Justin Matamua (see back page), and the well earned semi final appearance ofMagpie hero, Dave Nofoaluma. Having watched Dave play so many barren seasons at the West-Ts, it was terrific to the see our try scoring wiz finally play into September (even if it was for only one game).

W-Tigers

Wooden Spooners

Magpie Dave Semi Finalist

MAGPIE MEMOIR MAGAZINE

On a personal note, my own semi final charge was tragically derailed bumbling men in orange.

by a crippling bout of ankle gout. Laid up for weeks & writhing in pain, the only thing that kept me sane were the truly hilarious late season efforts of those

Written, Photographed, Designed & Published by Andrew Stark. All photographs were taken by Andrew Stark, (unless otherwise credited). ©Andrew Stark 2022 email: 10dollarjpegs@gmx.com ISSN: 2652-4406

-- Andrew Andrew Stark Stark

front cover: John Dorahywith sons (Photographer unknown). inset: Hans Christian Andersen. quote taken from Escaping into Life by Andrew Stark 2010. Above photo’s from Internet & TV.

ESCAPING INTO LIFEESCAPING INTO LIFE

You know Ian Heads, David Middleton and Greg Hartley can goYou know Ian Heads, David Middleton and Greg Hartley can go ‘‘ff’ ’ themselves themselves … … II’’ve read the Hans Christian Andersen versionve read the Hans Christian Andersen version of 1978 and Wests definitely won the premiership that year.of 1978 and Wests definitely won the premiership that year.

I recently had the pleasure of reading the Magpie Wing, an excellent debut novel by former Wests U17s development player Max Easton. The stylish paperback offers a rollicking good read, set in and around the club’s junior league. The black & white content delivered in a most literary context had me quickly transported back to my own best seller, the avant-garde, Escaping Into Life: a psycho study of theEscaping Into Life: a psycho study of the contemporary street photographercontemporary street photographer (Lulu Publishing 2010 USA).

The Fibro Lament element to my book is to be found in an hallucinogenic chapter titled, Waltzing Matilda

It was 9pm on a drizzly Australia Day evening and I sat patriotically on a lone schooeyof whatever the barman reckoned was cheapest. A hairy guy hunched over an acoustic guitar presumably

earning a nightly pittance, was playing covers in the spatial Keno barn annex of the HorsnbyRSL. I was soaking up a loose ended forty five minutes having been leftdangling by a State Railway timetable with more holes than a second hand flyscreen. The all-to-Wyong train was due to shunt, choofand generally whirr in alongside the nearby platform five at approximately 9.47 and I shared the bedraggled, holding pattern auditorium with a scattering of similarly bereft trundlers. The soulful plucker bore a striking resemblance to the photographer, Dean Sewell, and he ran through a January 26th set most appropriately book ended by raspy renditions of classic Cold Chisel. Saturday Night wailed westward while up upon a bank of TV monitors; Keno numbers tumbled, South Africa plundered the Aussie new ball attack and the Socceroos held a 4-0 advantage over footballinggiants Qatar. Lifting my frosty glass of amber to tilt upon suncracked lips, I momentarily pondered the sum of my nation’s parts as the auditorium rose as one to the twitched finger of an interstate starter …‘and theyand they’’re racing at Menangle Parkre racing at Menangle Park’ ’ .

As the punters leered expectantly, I noticed well toward the rear of the sparsely filled room, a young lady with pale skin and bucked teeth draped awkwardly uponthe lap of her wheelchair encased boyfriend. And I did for an ardent moment consider pulling the Konica out to snap the forlorn couple, but as the alcohol glided seductively and the chords drifted melodically about my mood, I settled for the -couldn’t be bothered –pikers pledge. …As Dean swivelled clockwise on his stool, apologizing sheepishly for a broken string and a disrupted set, I noticed the surrealist artist, Man Ray push his way gingerly out from the Gent’s dunny. Above and beyond the constant kerchiingof frivolous coins smacking stainless steel trays, the bottom right hand monitor suddenly exploded into voluminous clatter as a big brown horse pushed a nostril to the better of an equally big and brown horse. The elderly surrealist idled toward an adjoining table, throwing me an –owse it goin-.kind of wink, before energetically gesturing in the direction of the buffet. His wildly swung left arm reminded me in a cold sweated instant of that Taiwanese hip hop dancer caught in the dire Tamarama door slammer of a rip last LaborDay.

Bruce ‘Sloth’ Gibbs celebrates a try against. Balmain.

Following Page: Gore Vidal, Man Ray, 1978 jersey, Fred Nile

All photos courtesy of internet

The distant recipient of Man’s frantically aerobic limb based exertion was a dumpy old bloke clasping shakily, a heaped tray of pies and chips. As he struggled closer, I noticed there was also a dainty little side salad and a dish of what looked like dirt soup. It was a noisome swill that in the ensuing moments would reveal as a thick brown Gravoxgoo swooshingabout a bottomless bowl that closely approximated a bathroom basin. The carrier was Gore Vidal, his journey long and comically winding. Upon arrival the tray greeted the table like a flat rocked limply skimmed, coming to rest at the point of Man’s calcified right elbow. The artist uttering dryly, ‘‘Wasn Wasn’’t that Bill Buckley I saw over by the bistro hoeing manfully intt that Bill Buckley I saw over by the bistro hoeing manfully into a Surf no a Surf n Turf ?Turf ?’ ’

As the music resumed I set my gaze upon a bleak eucalypt dancingthe Matilda waltz on the weatheryside of a giant floor to ceiling window. It was blowing a buster beyond the car park and the prospect of heading out drew a nonplussed sneer. The day had been green, gold, but mostly grey. The night threateninga darker version of the same. Curiously my thoughts drifted at this point to Sydney’s very own pasty faced religious zealot, Fred Nile and his annual February assertion that a rainy Gay Mardi Gras was in fact a direct condemnation from above. It was an interesting piece of paint-by-numbers ethical reasoning. The tabloids lapped it up, the hate mongers fell into line, but I always did laugh whenever it bucketed downas the Christmas pud was settling heavily in outer suburban bellies. And here, now onAustralia’s national day –the Lord was throwing barbs down under, presumably because we drink too much beer and spend way too many lonely nights waiting for sub standard public transport. Predictably, and as is the case with most squinty eyed fundamentalists, the precipitation gauge of high evangelical morality only ever seemed to come into play when the arena housed haughty homosexuals, berkaclad Muslims or whiffy free love hippies with a proclivity to fructify upon publicly owned council manicured parkland. Now without wishing to sound uncharitable, Fred’s got a head like an Easter Island statue and one must wonder what message the great creator was trying to send when the clay of Fred was thrown forcefully onto the wheel of existence, before being spun wild and wet through God’s fondling, all knowing digits.

‘‘I think weI think we’’ll make this one exceedingly unattractive so hell make this one exceedingly unattractive so he’’ll be committed utterly toll be committed utterly to the self righteous persecution of all creatures that donthe self righteous persecution of all creatures that don’’t remind him of mothert remind him of mother’ ’

Gore suddenly began laughing like a lunatic at a funeral. His delicate face assuming an unhealthy ruddy discoloration whilst inexplicably, the little white cap he’d been wearing since sundown now appeared to be canary yellow (oh hang on, that was Ed De Bono yeah?). The object of his mirth was Man Ray, who had dropped an upside down pie into the gravy and was proceeding to push it around the bowl using an overly crusty chip. The Four n Twenty floated like a round battleship as the mawkishly congealed inland sea lapped hungrily at crusty edges.

‘Hey look at this GV, itHey look at this GV, it’’s a f**king Australia Day installations a f**king Australia Day installation’ ’ ..

The cackling Vidal threw his head back so violently he revealedan upper set of heavily filled molars. His laugh echoed effortlessly toward Normanhurst and he accompanied the vocal roar playing leg percussion with a series of meaty slaps to the upper side of his most northerly thigh.

‘‘Now thatNow that’’s an Aussie installation. And Is an Aussie installation. And I’’m here to tell you itm here to tell you it’’s a darn sight better thans a darn sight better than anything I've seen at the Sydney Biennale!anything I've seen at the Sydney Biennale!’ ’

Both men continued to hoot and snigger until finally, the pie sank. The artist jokingly marked the loss by crossing himself solemnly before casually upping and changing seats, a pragmatic preference to further interfering with the nautical crime scene he’d so directly overseen.

His new outlook brought him a clear view of the stage and recognition of the humble house act. ‘Hey, this bloke murdering Peter, Paul and Mary looks like Dean SHey, this bloke murdering Peter, Paul and Mary looks like Dean Sewellewell’, he offered, flicking a limp arm toward the dishevelled muso.

‘‘HeHe’’s s doin doin Cold ChiselCold Chisel ya ya pillock pillock … Khe Khe Sahn Sahn …you know Jimmy Barnesyou know Jimmy Barnes’, countered Gore, a look of utter disbelief curtaining his expression.

Yeah Yeah yeah yeah. But don. But don’’t you reckon he looks like thatt you reckon he looks like that photographer bloke?photographer bloke?’

‘‘Arrgghh Arrgghh

don don’’t talk to me about them camera clownst talk to me about them camera clowns point, point, focus, push a little buttonfocus, push a little button

it’’s the bloody art form of thes the bloody art form of the untalented. untalented.’

Man’s eyes squinted, bounced, then reset –forming a fiery yet jocular coalition. A sweet n sour outlook to go. ’’Ease up GV. IEase up GV. I’’m actually a world famous, universally revered camera clownm actually a world famous, universally revered camera clown meself meself you know!you know!’ ’ , ,said the surrealist laughing uproariously from within a facial façade of mock ambivalence. ‘‘But seriously, IBut seriously, I gotta gotta agree with youagree with you – photography isnphotography isn’’t art.t art.’ ’

Rogue moments drifted into wayward thoughts as I hazed to conceive of a reclassification of Bob Frank as ‘the non-artist’…of course one man’s artist is another mans Beyonce. Some exertorssweat while others perspire …and does an aubergine ever acknowledge monsieur eggplant without the conciliatory tones of a skilled facilitator?

Without due contextual reason, Gore stood bolt upright as if reacting to the national anthem. Dean warmed into Breakfast at Sweethearts, crooning wearily of street sweepers and toast and dreams that fly away. Upon reaching his full height the writer began peeling off his fleecy lined track top, revealing a faded black jersey with two distinct white Vs plunging south toward a woebegone waist band. The name Victa, boldly branded across an acutely concave belly. I was feeling maudlin mellow; content with my day’s work, subdued by fermentation and at relative ease seated amongst the pervading ambience of mid week desperation. Yet my first glimpse of Vidal’s top, raked coarsely across a deep psychological gash, gaping and raw, festering beneath decades of loose arm regret. Without realizingjust what was happening to me, I thrust back tensed shoulders and shouted, ‘‘1978 1978 … Noooooooooooooo Noooooooooooooo!!’ ’

An involuntary yell hurled wildly toward the cruelty of an embryonic disparity. My outburst was delivered with such explosive candorthat the Tongan security guard

seated adjacent to the lucky draw momentarily dislocated his longing gaze to the deepest reaches of the gateaux heavy patisserie carousel. Wheelchair Wayne stuttered, ‘‘FFFAAAARRRRK FFFAAAARRRRK’, jolting his girlfriend’s slumber and slurping beer down the front of her acid washed delight. While Dean unloaded a laconic sideways glance that would have reduced Leon Trotsky to a free market trot. Taking a hefty gulp of house white, Gore threw me a, ‘‘I hear your pain brotherI hear your pain brother’’kind of wink, before re-engaging Man, embarking energetically into what is colloquiallyknown asThe Lidcombe Lament.The Lidcombe Lament.

‘‘Les Boyd was as fit as a Cootamundra bull back then.

Les Boyd was as fit as a Cootamundra bull back then ’’ ‘‘Yeah, that was his primeYeah, that was his prime’ ’ . .Offered Man, folding his arms defensively.

‘You know, Ian Heads, David Middleton and Greg Hartley can go

You know, Ian Heads, David Middleton and Greg Hartley can go ‘‘FF’ ’ themselves themselves … Ive Ive read the Hans Christian Andersen version of 1978 and Wests defiread the Hans Christian Andersen version of 1978 and Wests definitely won thatnitely won that year. year.’ ’

‘‘And 74And 74’, added Ray limply. ‘‘Oh mate, wasnOh mate, wasn’’t Mickt Mick Liubinskas Liubinskas a sight in full flighta sight in full flight … scored a try from the kick offscored a try from the kick off in a semi at the old Sports Ground, moments before the rains camin a semi at the old Sports Ground, moments before the rains came e … II’’ll neverll never forget that run.forget that run.’ ’

Man sat nodding, an uncomfortable hue feathering a persona of benign incarceration.

Vidal continued vigorously, gesticulating like a three armed Sicilian and occasionally thumping a closed right fist upon the tiny magpie motif coveringhis left ventricle.

‘‘1978 was the1978 was the epicentrical epicentrical catalyst for the anarchic capitalist rampage that followedcatalyst for the anarchic capitalist rampage that followed throughout the eighties. The whole greed is good: values are forthroughout the eighties. The whole greed is good: values are for wimps vibe waswimps vibe was conceived under the stewardship of putty faced Kevin Humphries aconceived under the stewardship of putty faced Kevin Humphries and the New Southnd the New South Wales Rugby League. That the Silvertails were able to cheque booWales Rugby League. That the Silvertails were able to cheque book the title back tok the title back to Brookvale that year; as fair tries were mysteriously disallowed,Brookvale that year; as fair tries were mysteriously disallowed, tackle counts becametackle counts became conveniently miscalculated and suspensions were afforded to onlyconveniently miscalculated and suspensions were afforded to only those with athose with a singularly monochromatic shadingsingularly monochromatic shading … Mate, that was an orchestrated, conspiratorialMate, that was an orchestrated, conspiratorial outrage. A f**kin red hot rort!outrage. A f**kin red hot rort!

‘‘You know, if all had been fair and above board andYou know, if all had been fair and above board and Tommy had been allowed to hold aloft the JJTommy had been allowed to hold aloft the JJ Giltinan Giltinan Shield, then the world would be a far more decent placeShield, then the world would be a far more decent place today. today. And a credible argument can be made, drawing a linkAnd a credible argument can be made, drawing a link between the shenanigans of September 78 and the formation ofbetween the shenanigans of September 78 and the formation of working class terror cells. They didnworking class terror cells. They didn’’t pick September to fly thoset pick September to fly those planes into buildings for nothing. Injusticeplanes into buildings for nothing. Injustice begats begats injustice andinjustice and chiselling chiselling ‘‘Manly Manly’ ’ onto that trophy came at an exorbitant moralonto that trophy came at an exorbitant moral cost cost

nah mate, I tell you this black jersey stands proudly as a symbnah mate, I tell you this black jersey stands proudly as a symbol; a humbleol; a humble beacon for truth, justice and an eighty minute softening up peribeacon for truth, justice and an eighty minute softening up period. od. ‘‘

The surrealist was by now resting a heavy head between thumb andcrooked forefinger, his propping elbow pressed hard into frosted Formica.

Wiping a salty and sentimental tear from my good eye, I ran my tongue over the remaining beer froth, wiping clean the inside top edge before shimmying a score of empty tables toward the funereal darkness. Passing Man Ray I noticed he’d sketched a small line drawing on his paper napkin - the doodle delineated a striking, beautiful looking woman sitting achingly alone. She appeared to have a giant pineapple balanced precariously by her left hand side. Although,on reflection, this over sized fruit may well have been an uneaten chip –salty, deep fried refuse gone

AWOL from the great artists discarded plate. Hurrying through the dreary night like a short priced WentyPark dish licker, my elusive transport was impending and thoughts rattled to the cultural attraction of Hornsby and just why it is that high intelligence so often mimics plenary madness.

I wondered just how long Gore Vidal could grieve: just how far his conspiratorial ball of yarn could roll out until it lay wholly linear.

Extract is taken from the book –Escaping into Life: a psycho study of the contemporary street phEscaping into Life: a psycho study of the contemporary street photographer otographer by Andrew Stark. Lulu Publishing ©2010.

Above: Manly win the 1978 premiership/ New York’s twin towers under attack 2001. Previous Page: John Donnelly, Les Boyd, Tommy Raudonikis

All photos courtesy of the internet

2022 Results2022 Results

Rd1 …vs. Mounties(H) lost 16-20

Rd2 …vs. Newcastle (A) lost 4-30

Rd3 …vs. Canberra (A) lost 24-47

Rd4 …vs. Norths(H) lost 18-28

Rd5 …vs. Newtown (A) lost 10-40

Rd6 …vs. Parramatta (A) lost 10-40

Rd7 …vs. Souths(H) lost 4-34

Rd8 …vs. St Geo-Ill (A) lost 16-46

Rd9 …vs. Blacktown (A) won 30-26

Rd10 .. -bye –

Rd11 .. vs. Canterbury (H) lost 0-42

Rd12 .. vs. Newtown (H) drew 21-21

Rd13 .. vs. Souths(A) lost 32-36

Rd14 .. vs. Blacktown (H) won 40-30

Rd15 .. vs. Canterbury (A) lost 12-48

Rd16 .. vs. Newcastle (H) won 18-12

Rd17 .. vs. Parramatta (H) lost 20-38

Rd18 .. vs. Penrith (H) won 32-20

Rd19 .. -bye –

Rd20 .. vs. Mounties(A) lost 24-36

Rd21 .. vs. Penrith (A) lost 6-56

Rd22 .. vs. Canberra (H) lost 22-26

Rd23 .. vs. Norths(A) lost 20-24

Rd24 .. vs. St Geo-Ill (H) won 38-22

NSW CupNSW Cup

Finished 15th (of 16)

Eventual Premiers: Penrith

Coach –Wayne Lambkin

Photos –Andrew Stark

Photos: Andrew Stark

Brett Hodgson

Brett Hodgson is pictured in the main photo on the opposite pageas a 15-year-old. He is captured slotting a goal for the Wests Matthews Cup team during their 26-8 loss to Illawarra at Hillier Oval, Liverpool back in April 1994.A strong Steelers outfit included future Test back rower and current Sharks coach Craig Fitzgibbon, as well as Koori Knockout legend Dennis Moran. Wests were captained by Kim Corbett, coached by Eric ‘the Guru’ Grotheand off the bench they featured a lightning quick halfback named Ronald Jones.

In a preview of Hodgo’sundoubted X-factor, I have a memory of him knocking down the Leichhardt Oval crossbar a month after this photo was taken.The diminutive fullback quite ridiculously brought the house down at the Iron Cove end of Balmain’s home ground when a shot at goal resulted in the H frame falling to bits. The game was held up for quite some time while the unhinged woodwork was hastily resurrected (thankfully Darcy Byrne was nowhere to be seen).

During the previous year, Hodgson played in the centres for the Ron Ingram coached Magpies Matthews Cup side, having progressed to the famous black& white jersey from the Ingleburn RSL junior club.

What can one say that hasn't already been said about one of Wests favourite sons? He made his top grade debut for the Magpies in 1997 and despite being 12 stone ringing wet he battled manfully through three of the toughest seasons in the history of the Western Suburbs club. Hodgson became one of only a handful of Magpies to be invited to play for the newly merged Wests Tigers in 2000 however out of loyalty to Tommy Raudonikiswho’d been overlooked for the merged club’s coaching role, he decided to decline the offer. He spent the next four seasons at the Parramatta Eels, scoring a brace of tries in the club’s 2001 grand final loss to Newcastle. Hodgson debuted for NSW in the 2002 State of Origin series and is probably best remembered for being rag dolled halfway across the park by a fired up Gordon Tallis.

In 2004 the Ingleburn junior signed with the Wests Tigers and hebecame a key member of the premiership winning run at the tail end of the following season. After five seasons at Wests, the last few cut short by injury, he was forced to play out his career in England.

In 2015 Brett Hodgson was named as a Wests Tigers life member and he returned to the club in a coaching role in 2018. The pluckiest of Magpies quite fittingly oversaw the Wests NSW Cup side in 2018 & 2019 before jumping at the chance to become head coach of Hull FC in the English Super League. The inset photo on the opposite page shows Hodgson on the charge for the NSW CHS rugby union 2nd XV of 1995 (Photos –Andrew Stark).

2022 Results2022 Results

Rd1 …vs. Ryde (A) lost 6-38

Rd2 …-bye -

Rd5 …vs. Glebe (A) lost 4-44

Rd6 …vs. St Marys (H) lost 10-32

Rd7 …vs. Mounties(H) lost 18-20

Rd8 …vs. Blacktown (A) lost 16-18

Rd3 …vs. Silktails(H) lost 12-34

Rd9 …vs. Wenty(H) won 28-24

Rd10 .. vs. Ryde (H) lost 18-28

Rd11 .. -bye -

Rd12 .. vs. Silktails(A) won 30-26

Rd13 .. vs. Hills (A) lost 0-42

Rd4 …vs. Hills (H) lost 6-24

Rd14 .. vs. Glebe (H) lost 0-38

Rd15 .. vs. St Marys (A) lost 6-32

Rd16 .. vs. Wenty(A) lost 12-30

Rd17 .. vs. Blacktown (H) drew 16-16

Rd18 .. vs. Mounties(A) lost 18-36

Finished 9th (of 9)

Premiers: Hills District Bulls

Massey CupMassey Cup

Coach –Leo Epifania

Photos –Andrew Stark

Rugby League Review

A terrific write up appeared in the August/September edition of Rugby League Review pushing Magpie Memoir Magazine into the realms of the mainstream.

In his detailed summation, journalist Peter Roberts describes yours truly as a - tragic Wests Magpies supporter. Given my somewhat dishevelled appearance and fanaticism shown toward a club which hasn’t competed at the NRL level for 23 years -I must concede, his coupling of adjective to noun does have legs..

I’ve known Rugby League Review publisher Terry Liberopoulos since he was a teen working at Marrickville Cash Converters.

Following the demise ofboth Rugby League Week & Big League Magazine, Liber has done a grand job in keeping rugby league on news stands.

Stuart Flanagan

Stuart Flanagan began playing rugby league with the Cooma Colts under 6s during the winter of 1992. Half a dozen years later he won himself a scholarship to St Gregory’s College, Campbelltown. A halfback during his early teens, it was during year nine that one of his school coaches suggested a move into dummy half.

I photographed Flanagan across three SG Ball Cup seasons. The talented hooker represented Wests at this level from 2003 through to 2005 having previously failed to win a spot in the Magpies Matthews Cup squad. In 2006 he represented the NSW under 19s and also the Junior Kangaroos. He played Jersey FleggCup for Wests before heading home to Cooma due to an illness in the family. Upon his return,

Flanagan turned out for the Narellan Jets in Group 6 before winning a call up to the Western Suburbs NSW Cup team. Twenty NRL games across three seasons for the Wests Tigers followed, however with Robbie Farah entrenched as the club’s premier number nine, opportunities were limited. Flanagan linked with the Canberra Raiders in 2009 yet ashoulder injury thwarted his time in the nation’s capital. After spending much of his post recovery time playing for the Raiders feeder team, Souths-Logan in the Queensland Cup, Flanagan signed to play with Cronulla in 2010-2011.

By the end of the 2010 season, long time Wests fans marvelled as one former Magpie hooker –S. Flanagan was being coached by another former Magpie hooker – S. Flanagan. Yet this quirky spot of black & white engine room symmetry counted for little when the Sharks ran headlong into a spot of quite considerable bother. Stuart Flanagan, his coach, Shane Flanagan and another 16 Cronulla players, were all caught up in the peptide scandal of 2011.

Stuart Flanagan’s time in the NRL ended following the Shire boys supplement shenanigans.

All up, he played 40 top grade games spanning six seasons.

A further stint in Group 6 followed and Flanagan had the honour to represent Hungary in three international matches during 2017 & 2018 (a teammate in the Hungarian forward pack at this time was former Wests junior rep prop James Kovac).

Fifteen year old Stuart Stuart Flanagan Flanaganon the charge for Wests SG Ball Cup team during 2003. Opposite Page: Wests SG Ball Cup hooker Stuart Flanagan pictured in 2004 Photos: Andrew Stark

Coach

Photos

Justin became the first Western Suburbs junior to debut for the Wests Tigers in nine years.

The stat offers a stark insight into the horrible neglect the joint venture club has shown toward it’s south-west base. We had to wait 3341 days between the NRL debuts of David Nofoaluma (17-5-2013) and Justin Matamua (9-7-2022).

Justin Justin Matamua Matamua

Congratulations toCongratulations to Campbelltown CityCampbelltown City’ ’ s s Justin MatamuaJustin Matamua on making hison making his NRL debutNRL debut in round 17in round 17 of 2022.of 2022.

Photo: Andrew Stark