A conversation with Andy Maher
It’s 8am. I’m sitting in Cavallini’s in Clifton Hill and I’m nervous.
I’m meeting with Andy Maher at 9.10am (to be precise). He could be introduced as renowned football journalist, TV personality and accomplished radio commentator (all of which is true), but to be honest I think the description of one of the most genuine people you’ll ever meet is probably more fitting.
Notebook…check. Laptop…check. The staff are briefed. He’s not to pay (even though he ultimately and instinctively tries to). Toby’s the barista for the morning so the coffee won’t just be good, it’ll be great. When the appointed time arrives (9.05am in fact) the cafe door swings open and in walks a tall, unassuming man with an inquiring look. Realising I forgot to tell him to look for the dwarf I rush over. He makes you feel like you’ve known him for years. ‘G’day, do you mind if we sit outside I’ve got the dog?’ (I soon discover the dog is an enthusiastic, lanky ‘pup’ whose name is Henry). If dogs could be ascribed to AFL players (if that’s not too weird) then I’d reckon Henry is not unlike a Clayton Oliver, eager and impressive. Andy may argue the Cripps type.
The next hour is a sheer delight. We share our fondness for Clifton Hill and the inner north generally. He jokingly ticks me off for not having gone to the ‘Blue Quarries’ (which I subsequently have done, changing my running route). He and his wife have lived in the area for 8 years - they met later in life and bought with a view to having a family and are now blessed with three beautiful girls. It was a stroke of good luck that the house next door became available and is now owned by one of his wife’s best friends and her family. The two households share a strong camaraderie and they’ve even inserted a gate in the dividing fence so the kids can venture from one home to the other.
Andy admires the man who sells the Big Issue in Queens Parade. I feel ashamed, I’m yet to have conversation with the man but will make a concerted effort to next time I’m in the street (which is often). He also has a strong regard for Ian who is the local lollipop stalwart for the Clifton Hill primary school, describing him as a ‘beautiful, beautiful man’. He says a friend of his told him that when you have children you’ll be introduced to a whole new network of friends and associates. As if on cue, a couple of locals pass by and the trio clearly recognise each other from the school community.
Primary school leads to discussion about senior school and we discuss what schools and areas he might be considering down the track. He mentions he went to Marcellin College. Realising it might be a long shot, I ask if he knew my grandmother, Marie Ryan. He doesn’t even blink an eye, vividly recalling her having taught him in years 5, 6, form 1 and 2 in Canterbury. I’m completely biased but I can’t resist a shout out to my gorgeous grandma, a legend in her own right, who passed away at the ripe age of 95 last year. Two things are promptly confirmed 1. it’s a small world and 2. Mards’ legacy continues.
I can’t help but deviating and delving into the realm of footy, my favourite passion. I proudly show Andy my 24 year old woolly Demons guernsey (Pioneer Homes sponsor and all), signed by Garry Lyon. He seems impressed with its antiquity. This leads to other discussions such as his co-hosting role on the The Front Bar. I tell him I admire the show because the focus is on humour and the game. It refreshingly doesn’t broach politics, engage in in-jokes or attempt to create controversy out of nothing (snap!). I query how he goes about keeping Mick Molloy and Sam Pang on track. Without saying as much, I get the impression they’re collectively uncontrollable. As Andy says, while there is a run-down sheet there’s ‘a magical minute or two where the show takes a course of its own’.
Another half an hour and we probably would have solved most of the world’s problems. We comment that many people don’t seem to be satisfied with their lot and want to play their lives out through other mediums e.g. reality shows. It’s one of the primary reasons for wanting to write this blog, to get out there, focus on the now and talk to people. Andy says of all the things he’s done one of the things he enjoys the most and is the most proud of is ‘The Carlton Show’, a podcast he and a friend produce on a Sunday night and upload the following Monday morning. It aims to fill the void of mainstream media by stripping the game back to what it is, put simply, the art and strategy of kicking a football with an emphasis on the Blues. It doesn’t earn him a cent. What started out as a fun venture between mates now has 12,000 followers. I have a deep respect and love for the game and ‘The Carlton Show’ is a podcast for the purist. Ironically by focusing on the game and the game only it’s carved a unique niche in what has become a saturated market.
I’m onto my fourth coffee and nearly execute a cartwheel by the time I enter the office, regaling colleagues with the morning’s events. I’ve just had the most memorable coffee (for someone who averages 2.5 coffees a day [.5 being a DIY], that’s a significant brew). I’ve just spent an hour with fair dinkum one of the greatest guys you’ll ever meet. He’s upfront, has zero ego and notices the ‘small’ things that are actually the biggest things (I think) in life. Whether it’s the natural treasures that lie on our doorstep in Clifton Hill, the humble, community-minded man whose first priority is escorting our precious little ones to safety or commenting on the sheer essence of the game. He’s just a great individual and I feel like I’m a better person for having met him.