In such a fickle sport, where the bounce of an odd-shaped ball can be the difference between the success you dream of and the heartache more commonly felt, it is the men and women who can bring perspective and make a team feel like a family that keep a club functioning.

We have a “Thought of the Week” board in the clubrooms at the Kennel. 

Last week’s question was: “What does love mean to you?”

Among the answers – some well constructed, others not really answering the question – this one caught my eye: “When I leave home in the morning and come into the club, it feels like I haven’t left home.”

There was more than a hint of sarcasm in this particular answer, but it got me thinking all the same.

In my time at the Bulldogs, I’ve seen the passing of three club legends. 

Charlie Sutton – one of our club’s greatest champions and our only premiership captain – was an exceptional footballer and, importantly, an exceptional man. 

His passing in June, 2012, struck an emotional chord with our playing group, the administration and many in the football world. 

The other two men would be known by very few people outside the club, but internally, the emotion was similar.

Eddie Walsh was a property steward at the club for about 60 years. He died during the 2013 pre-season.

I never saw him in his prime, but he was the man in charge. If a player wanted new shorts, socks or a jumper, they were in Eddie’s domain, and Eddie ruled that domain fiercely.

Every morning as each player shuffled through the property room, he was met with the same greeting: “Morning Ed.”

“Yep.”

The sign-off each afternoon matched: “See you tomorrow Ed.”

“Yep.”

Ben Bradley passed away this past pre-season. 

The club’s head trainer for about 30 years, he was involved either in a paid capacity or as a volunteer for more than 50 years. 

He was the head trainer when my old man played reserves for the Dogs in the 1970s, and upon my arrival at the club he welcomed me with a strong handshake and: “You must be Paul’s boy.”

He was a man of the people, and people from all around the western suburbs would come in with minor ailments for him to fix. 

While I’m not sure what the qualifications to be a chiropractor were in the ’60s, I do know that Ben didn’t have them. But that didn’t stop him from manipulating necks and spines.

His methods for treating injuries were unique, too. When Stuart Wigney went into the doctor’s room looking for some relief from an ingrown toenail, Ben sorted him out. Legend has it that with a sound like tearing Velcro, Ben wrenched the nail out with a pair of pliers and Stu spent the next four weeks on the sidelines.

Few people with more passion than Charlie, Eddie and Ben ever walk into an organisation. 

Fewer still are respected and remembered as fondly as these three are by so many people.

It is people like them who make football clubs feel like home – the boot studders, the property stewards, the canteen workers. 

They are the unsung heroes.

Western Bulldogs vice-captain Jordan Roughead has joined The Courier’s football writing team with a fortnightly column. Roughead was drafted from North Ballarat Rebels in the 2008 AFL draft and made his AFL debut in round five, 2010. He played his junior football with Lake Wendouree.