Ed with Cnr Steve Jolly at Victoria Park Making the historic announcement that the Collingwood Football Club is returning home
Shot for goal on our spiritual home.
Game day 1939 In the foreground you can see the original 300 seat wooden grandstand built in 1892 and moved to the South Western corner of the ground in 1909 when the Member's Stand was built that year were the Sherrin Stand is today.
A crowd is massed along Lulie Street on a sunny, but wet, Saturday. Eagerly waiting to enter Victoria Park for the days big clash. Remember getting wet at the footy?
Thanks for the Memories Gerry
G'day Joffa,
Great for us to meet you yesterday, thanks for the photo yesterday. Knocking off Melbourne topped the day off! I've added a copy of the photo i took of you on the last game at Vic park. I took a couple of rolls of film that day, and then the photos were put in the draw until about 2 years ago when i was looking at my photos and then realised theres "Joffa"! (sorry the quality of the 2 photo prints we gave you yesterday may not of come out as good as the should of because we are still trying to get our head around the new printer we bought?) Also thanks again for taking the time with Liam in putting your funny wedding video message for us that went fantastic with all the speeches,especially its your "brother Joffa Walsh". :-]
Carn'the Pies 2009, Cheers Gerry and Francine
Gerry took this Pic outside Vic Park some Ten Years ago outside Victoria Park. It was to be our last ever game at that venue.
This is Gerry the guy who took that Pic in 1999 pictured with Francine. They presented me with a framed copy of the photograph. A treasured memory i'll keep for a lifetime.
Thanks Gerry and Francine.
The Peanut man Victoria Park
Todays 'Y Generation' Football crowds don't know what they missed in the 70's 80's. Only us 'Baby Boomers' and the 'Old Timers' can remember the good old days of the VFL.
Standing Room.
Splinters in your backside from wooden bench seats.
Lining up outside the ground at 6am to get one of the very few precious seats around the fence.
Watching the 'Two's' to see how the young recruits, and the senior players recovering from injuries or lack of form, were going.
Working out where you would meet your mates at the VFA game the next day.
Throwing a five or ten cent coin at the cheer squad walking around the boundary with an outstreched blanket at half-time, while the 'Little League' players played their usual entertaining match wearing the club colours of the two teams playing that day.
Running out onto the ground at the final siren to kick the Sherrin with your Dad, brothers, some mates or even total strangers.
Forming a queue around the ground prepared for an all-night vigil to present your Seasons ticket to the club secretary the next morning to be able to purchase the treasured Finals Series tickets.
Sometimes the club would leave the few lights on around the oval so supporters in the Finals ticket queue could have a 'hundred a side' impromptu footy match on the ground between 10pm and some ungodly hour of the morning.
And if you didn't join in the footy game, you would sit around an old 20 gallon drum with a wonderful hot fire blazing in it, and listen to the old-timers yarning about the days when Bobby Rose, 'E.J.', Hayden Bunton, the Colliers, and so many other champions graced the suburban fields across Melbourne.
And of course, the Peanut Man. Nobody who went to any of the VFL grounds in those days will ever forget the Peanut Man. Nearly everyone bought peanuts from him, and you didnt even have to leave your seat. He could throw the bag of peanuts from almost any distance, and never miss the outstretched hand that was waiting for them.
The following story was published in 'Hot Pies', an 'unofficial' Collingwood FC fanzine created by well-known Magpie supporter & cartoonist Fred Negro, that was distributed last millenium. It appeared in issue #4 (August 1999), which was also the issue that also featured the sad farewell to that wonderful battleground, Victoria Park.
The story was written by another Magpie fan, John Dear, and it will bring back memories for everyone that attended a VFL game back in those wonderful 'Good Old Days' of VFL footy.
I wonder how many regular footygoers of the seventies and eighties remember that familiar gravelly chant that for some of us was as much a part of the game as the game itself.
He was there every week, at Victoria park, the rotund little man with eyes wedged between a tousled mop of hair and black rimmed glasses that were held together with tape, threadbare brown jumper with more holes than material and pants that always alluringly showed half the crack of his shapeless old arse.
In fact, the huge hessian sack of peanuts he lugged around over his shoulder was the most attractive piece of material I ever saw him adorned with.
Perhaps that was just the clobber he wore when he sold his peanuts at the footy but I always suspected that if I saw him in the city on a Tuesday or walking through the gardens on a Sunday morning he'd have the same gear on and possibly even a sack full of peanuts over his shoulder.
He was that type of bloke. He didn't care about fashion, he was far too old for that. He just sold peanuts for tweeysensabag at the footy.
He was a bit of an institution, the Peanut Man. He was a relic of the gritty, industrial inner suburban school of hard knocks. A survivor.
When you saw the Peanut Man you thought of the Great Depression and Collingwood boot factories. Phonse Kyne and gladstone bags.
I saw him plying his trade at Waverley a few times but it just wasn't the same. He was a little piece of the past walking the boundary line, out of place, his aura swallowed up by the cavernous, concrete mountains.
People didn't see him in all his dilapidated glory out there, they just saw a funny looking old bloke with a sack.
They don't want peanuts for twennysensabag at Waverley, they want Hyperspace dogs that cost $27.50 or Alpha Centauri burgers in exchange for their first born from the 48th floor snack bar.
They want to be served by people who are dressed like Captain Kirks love children, not bloody old deros with sacks.
"Don't go near that dirty old man, Trent, I don't like the look of his sack."
No, the Peanut Man belonged at Collingwood. He belonged on the working class gravel terraces, surrounded by blue smoke haze and corrogated iron fences and chimneys.
I think about the Peanut Man now and then. When I go to the footy I always hope that raspy chant will come wafting over the crowd. It doesn't anymore. Maybe he died.
Maybe he got mugged by an Elephant.
If he died I hope they buried his sack with him, I wouldn't like to think it could go on without him.
I liked the Peanut Man.
***
What a great story!
I am certain that I read somewhere that he did die a few years ago, but I cannot confirm it anywhere. I also heard that he used to drive his Mercedes to every VFL ground on the Saturday to sell his beloved bags of peanuts. I also heard that he died a very rich man. I hope that he was rich, because he was certainly a rich part of the tradition of the old VFL days.
It is time that characters like the Peanut Man were allowed to be nominated for the 'AFL Hall of Fame'. I, and many others, certainly would not object.
I just wish I knew his real name!
The Peanut Man...a true VFL Legend!
Darren Wharton the Nephew of The Peanut Man replies to joffasfrontpage
G’Day Joffa
Just read the article about the Peanut Man after “googling” The Peanut Man.
The Peanut Man’s name was Johnny Boyd. He was born in Collingwood on 11 August 1930. How do I know this? He was my uncle. My mother’s brother and one of seven children born to Winifred and William Boyd.
Win, my grandmother, was a mad, one eyed Pies fan and instilled this trait in most of her children.
John learned to ply the peanut trade from his father and did so with his two brothers Bill and Len, both mad Collingwood supporters with Len having his own piece of Collingwood history when, as a boy, he escaped the family back yard in Hoddle Street, crossed the road to Victoria Park, jumped the fence and lined up with the team to shake the Governor’s hand on the Queen’s Birthday Monday some time in the mid to late 30s.
Unlike his brothers John continued with the peanut selling all through his adult life. He loved it and Vic Park was one of his favourite grounds until the council made parking difficult for him. He was then forced to Windy Hill more regularly but somehow always found a way to find a “legal” park within striking distance of Vic Park. As he got older those bags got heavier.
What he didn’t sell at the VFL on Saturday he’d unload at the VFA on Sunday where he’d venture to either Cramer Street Preston or City Oval Coburg.
He loved selling his peanuts and was recognized all over the world. He was spotted by footy fans in London, Munich and Fiji on the odd occasion he went for a holiday, mostly at the insistence of one of his sisters, quite often my own mother a truly mad Collingwood supporter.
Johnny Boyd died suddenly of a heart attack on 12 December 1991 aged 61 years.
Until now his secret remained but as we near his 79th birthday I will declare his secret with this story. When Peter McKenna was badly injured and lost a kidney Uncle John was bailed up by the, then, cheer squad to sign a Get Well card which he did very reluctantly. He swore his entire family to secrecy for fear the Cheer Squad or anyone at Vic Park ever found out the dirty truth. The Peanut man was a Carlton supporter.
As a lifelong Collingwood supporter I’d like to say I’m ashamed of my uncle for this but he belies the myth and shows that there are a few, only a few mind you, half decent Carlton supporters.
He is also the Grand Uncle of the Bulldogs’ Matthew Boyd who is the grandson of his late brother Len.
Despite this, he is a proud part of Victoria Park history. If there was a Hall of Fame for such icons The Peanut Man would be a very early inductee.
Regards and GO PIES
Thanks Darren for a great email im sure it will be appreciated by all who read it.
With many thanks to Kraig at Australian Rules Football.com.au
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