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March 23, 2022 — 5.00am
Somewhere, inside the high wire fence surrounding Lidcombe Oval, are the ashes of Tom Raudonikis, tenderly sprinkled by myself and his son, Lincoln.
Tom’s partner, Trish Brown, chose Lidcombe because it continues to be the home ground of the Western Suburbs Magpies, where the inspirational halfback played the majority of his games. The club will further honour him by naming the old grandstand the Tom Raudonikis OAM stand.
It is nearly a year since the No.7 died at 7am on April 7, aged 70.
Those who loved him, particularly Trish, see significance in seven, the number considered sacred by the ancients because it combines the square and the triangle. Tommy also lived all seven days of the week, committed some of the seven deadly sins and reacquainted himself with the Seven Sacraments.
Suffering from cancer, he began going to church about two years before he died. He had been educated by the nuns at Cowra and found solace in the thought of an afterlife where, perhaps, he would catch up with Arthur Beetson.
They were the inaugural captains in the first State of Origin match in 1980 and travelled together to speaking engagements. When Arthur died in December 2011, it was Tom, living nearby, who identified his body.
Tom Raudonikis lines up Cronlla’s Greg Pierce at Lidcombe Oval.
Perhaps Tom is teasing Arthur about stands named after them. Arthur, a former great of the silvertail, eastern suburbs-based Roosters, is being considered for the naming of a new stand at the rebuilt Sydney Football Stadium, while Tommy gets rundown Lidcombe!
However, both would wryly note that Manly’s Bob Fulton, who died six weeks after Tom, beat them both to a state funeral.
Tough customers: Magpies teammates Les Boyd and Tom Raudonikis
A small group gathered for the scattering of Tom’s ashes: former teammates Les Boyd from Cootamundra; Graeme O’Grady from the Tweed; Mick Liubinskas, who was president of Wests Magpies until recently and long-term Wests director Rick Wayde. Trish and Lincoln were obviously there, along with a seven-month-old boy, Tommy Masters, named by my son Sean after Tom.
I understand why people loved “Tommy Terrific”.
Lincoln Raudonikis, Roy Masters and grandson Tommy Masters.
Every game, he gave his all, even losing ones. He laid it all out there, made every part of his being vulnerable, and held on to nothing – not even that private, inner core of fortitude that can lift you above the harshest scrutiny. After a loss, his melancholy hung in the air as heavily as the smell of the change room liniment.
He instinctively understood the unspoken contract between player and the fan. The fan pays money expecting the player to perform at his best and the player responds, knowing he is being remunerated with the fan’s money.
He united the left and right. The left loved his empathy for the disadvantaged, while the right relished his disregard for political correctness. Trish would scold him with, “You can’t say that”, only for Tom to reply, “Why can’t I? It’s true, isn’t it?” Only the sneering elitist left ridiculed him, lampooning his speech, dress and lifestyle.
Even racehorses loved him. Singo and Tom owned a horse named “Fisticuffs”. It had five wins, three second places, three thirds and four fourths.
But, as Trish says, “When Tom passed, he didn’t even try.” Fisticuffs threw in the towel and now mooches around Singo’s farm. Trish takes Tom’s place in the punting club with Singo, who says, “She puts the [This word has been automatically removed] [radio] on Tommy’s ashes, so we both listen together.”
Most of Tommy’s ashes are now spread at Lidcombe. But where? Some suggested the Lidcombe dressing room because of the 60 Minutes face-slapping scenes. But the lockers are all gone now, sold off by auction to raise money. The portraits of the Magpie greats are still on the walls as inspiration to Wests State Cup and Ron Massey Cup teams. Maybe spread the ashes under the scoreboard?
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As our small ashes spreading ceremony was coming to a close, Mick Liubinskas reminded me of a visit he made to Lithuania, the home country of his parents and Tom’s father, Wally.
Raudonikis in Lithuanian means a rare red mushroom. Mushrooms thrive after heavy rain. If Sydney has another March downpour, perhaps we’ll see little Tommies sprout up at Lidcombe.
www.smh.com.au
Somewhere, inside the high wire fence surrounding Lidcombe Oval, are the ashes of Tom Raudonikis, tenderly sprinkled by myself and his son, Lincoln.
Tom’s partner, Trish Brown, chose Lidcombe because it continues to be the home ground of the Western Suburbs Magpies, where the inspirational halfback played the majority of his games. The club will further honour him by naming the old grandstand the Tom Raudonikis OAM stand.
It is nearly a year since the No.7 died at 7am on April 7, aged 70.
Those who loved him, particularly Trish, see significance in seven, the number considered sacred by the ancients because it combines the square and the triangle. Tommy also lived all seven days of the week, committed some of the seven deadly sins and reacquainted himself with the Seven Sacraments.
Suffering from cancer, he began going to church about two years before he died. He had been educated by the nuns at Cowra and found solace in the thought of an afterlife where, perhaps, he would catch up with Arthur Beetson.
They were the inaugural captains in the first State of Origin match in 1980 and travelled together to speaking engagements. When Arthur died in December 2011, it was Tom, living nearby, who identified his body.
Tom Raudonikis lines up Cronlla’s Greg Pierce at Lidcombe Oval.
Perhaps Tom is teasing Arthur about stands named after them. Arthur, a former great of the silvertail, eastern suburbs-based Roosters, is being considered for the naming of a new stand at the rebuilt Sydney Football Stadium, while Tommy gets rundown Lidcombe!
However, both would wryly note that Manly’s Bob Fulton, who died six weeks after Tom, beat them both to a state funeral.
Tough customers: Magpies teammates Les Boyd and Tom Raudonikis
A small group gathered for the scattering of Tom’s ashes: former teammates Les Boyd from Cootamundra; Graeme O’Grady from the Tweed; Mick Liubinskas, who was president of Wests Magpies until recently and long-term Wests director Rick Wayde. Trish and Lincoln were obviously there, along with a seven-month-old boy, Tommy Masters, named by my son Sean after Tom.
I understand why people loved “Tommy Terrific”.
Lincoln Raudonikis, Roy Masters and grandson Tommy Masters.
Every game, he gave his all, even losing ones. He laid it all out there, made every part of his being vulnerable, and held on to nothing – not even that private, inner core of fortitude that can lift you above the harshest scrutiny. After a loss, his melancholy hung in the air as heavily as the smell of the change room liniment.
He instinctively understood the unspoken contract between player and the fan. The fan pays money expecting the player to perform at his best and the player responds, knowing he is being remunerated with the fan’s money.
He united the left and right. The left loved his empathy for the disadvantaged, while the right relished his disregard for political correctness. Trish would scold him with, “You can’t say that”, only for Tom to reply, “Why can’t I? It’s true, isn’t it?” Only the sneering elitist left ridiculed him, lampooning his speech, dress and lifestyle.
Even racehorses loved him. Singo and Tom owned a horse named “Fisticuffs”. It had five wins, three second places, three thirds and four fourths.
But, as Trish says, “When Tom passed, he didn’t even try.” Fisticuffs threw in the towel and now mooches around Singo’s farm. Trish takes Tom’s place in the punting club with Singo, who says, “She puts the [This word has been automatically removed] [radio] on Tommy’s ashes, so we both listen together.”
Most of Tommy’s ashes are now spread at Lidcombe. But where? Some suggested the Lidcombe dressing room because of the 60 Minutes face-slapping scenes. But the lockers are all gone now, sold off by auction to raise money. The portraits of the Magpie greats are still on the walls as inspiration to Wests State Cup and Ron Massey Cup teams. Maybe spread the ashes under the scoreboard?
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NRL legend Tommy Raundonikis dead at 70
After all, every fan looking in that direction would be making a spiritual connection. Perhaps the centre of the field? To quote Les Boyd: “That’s where games are won and lost. That’s where the tough action is. And Tommy was always in the middle of it.”As our small ashes spreading ceremony was coming to a close, Mick Liubinskas reminded me of a visit he made to Lithuania, the home country of his parents and Tom’s father, Wally.
Raudonikis in Lithuanian means a rare red mushroom. Mushrooms thrive after heavy rain. If Sydney has another March downpour, perhaps we’ll see little Tommies sprout up at Lidcombe.
Ashes to ashes: Why Tommy will forever be part of his beloved Lidcombe Oval
Nearly a year after Tommy Raudonikis’ death, his memory remains strong – and his spirit has been passed on to a new generation.
