A small piece of a lot of people's lives is gone. For some, Lou Richards, who passed away on Monday at the grand age of 94, was the last link to an era of sporting entertainment, particularly those brought up on Aussie Rules in Victoria and, to an extent, South Australia.
A 250-game Collingwood legend who kicked 423 goals and captained the Magpies' 1953 premiership side, Richards was never going to be the tallest person to take the field; but he was a giant off the field, where he helped to build the spectacle we see today. Richards brought the on-field action into our homes and, for those lucky enough to work in football, he inspired many to become either a player or media contributor.
Richards, who passed in his sleep, has rightly drawn tributes from all sections of the sporting landscape. For those of us who never rose to great heights in the indigenous game, he was a staple of footy. Sport on television became more than a just a game with Richards and other legends such as Richmond's 'Captain Blood' Jack Dyer, Geelong premiership coach Bob Davis, the television grand master Ron Casey, and race-calling great Bill Collins; and Lou Richards was the last piece of those great days.
Younger people might read and think that is just another tribute to a big name of yesteryear. But it is more than that; it is recognition of what formed sports entertainment in many parts of Australia, and the basis from which our television viewing habits outside of the match itself were derived. Through World of Sport, live coverage of football in the heady 1970s and '80s, and later on Wide World of Sports and the Sunday Footy Show with Max Walker and 'Lou's Handball' segment, Richards was front-and-centre in bringing sporting competition to entertainment -- and vice versa. If you've ever laid eyes on The Footy Show, of either code, League Teams with Jack, Bob and Lou was the forerunner. But it wasn't really about all the latest on the weekend's line-ups.
"A few thousand probably tuned in for the actual teams", veteran broadcaster Sandy Roberts told 1116 SEN radio as news of Richards' passing broke. "But probably 250,000 were there when they did the recipe," a cooking segment at the end of each show. That recipe would be for simple things such as "Stuffed Frangas". Short for frankfurts, of course.
"Louie the Lip" was a nickname that stuck as Richards -- like his counterparts -- was never short of a word. If there were an opportunity to rib someone over anything at all -- in the tasteful fashion of the day --Richards took it. Working on television on Channel 7, then Channel 9, on radio at 3DB (now KISSFM) and writing for major newspapers, Richards had the front to declare himself "the first multimedia megastar". Given he was on-board when television began in Australia, he was probably right, too.
"They were magnificent entertainers," Roberts continued. Hawthorn great Dermot Brereton said: "They made the game absolutely entertaining. The genesis of every football show [since]."
Richards knew how to make a declaration. Long before bookmaker odds provided commentators a crutch on which to lean their big statements, or that a favourite could be beaten, Richards put himself out there. Literally.
"I'll wear a nappy down Bourke Street if...." he'd trumpet. It happened, too. The results didn't always go his way, and that nappy was worn in open air down one of Melbourne's busiest streets during peak hour.
Richards was a sharp play-by-play commentator, too; he could describe the game with the best of them. Player nicknames were a specialty, but not in a 'matey' way. More so, it gave the call an extra edge and the references became folklore. "Lethal Leigh Matthews" was just one example. Roberts said: "They stuck, that was the amazing thing."
The show was for the viewers and listeners. They didn't put it on for themselves, like some programs seem to nowadays. Or at least that's the impression they give off. "He was biased in his calling," Roberts said. "But that didn't matter because people accepted that. That was Lou."
Richards' work affected more than the television guide, too. The entertainment factor was such that Sunday church services actually started earlier so the flock could be home in time for the midday kick-off of World of Sport. Mum would have the Sunday roast ready, and it was lunch in front of the set. All that from a television show that started only because of the need for TV sets in shop windows to have something playing to help entice prospective buyers to the new medium.
Richards and his crew were drawcards for charity.
Today's major social media drives raising awareness of one cause or another would only have needed Jack and Lou to don a hat as they pounded a drum and bashed a tambourine. Want to sell a shirt, a ham or an orange juice? Get Lou Richards to hand one over to a guest at the end of an interview. Telethons, meanwhile, are less common today; but if you wanted the end of a TV donation drive to pack a punch in the closing hours, Dyer and Richards were brought right in, centre stage.
"He was bigger than sport," respected AFL journalist Mike Sheahan said on SEN. "He was a monumental figure." Of Richards' days as a newspaper journalist, Sheahan added: "No one scared him. It didn't matter how big the name was in football; he took them on if he wanted to."
Sheahan named the three biggest names in football as Ron Barassi, Ted Whitten, and Lou Richards. Barassi and Whitten claim the status with their achievements as players and coaches, while Richards sits alongside as one of the biggest identities of the game. That's Lou Richards MBE, too. The AFL is steadfast in its view that he doesn't fit the on-field criteria to become an official 'Legend', but he was, or is, a legend just the same.
Modern life, and sport, is shooting by at a seemingly ever increasing pace -- much like the speed at which Aussie Rules is played today. Hence many people may wonder what the fuss over Richards is all about. But we're talking about a real multimedia megastar. Lou Richards' passing is a moment for the game to stop and reflect. One could only imagine what he would have done with Twitter.