Footy is full of soldiers who never found a war and on the 80th anniversary of the Gallipoli landings, one of them was asleep in the birthing ward. Dermott Brereton was barrel-chested, chicken-legged, born for the big occasion and, on this day, a new father. He fused Frankston street smarts with Glenferrie conservatism; morning television affability with an Irish thirst for vengeance. At 30, his body was at war with itself. But as police escorted the team bus to the MCG for the inaugural Anzac Day game between Collingwood and Essendon, he heard the bugle call.
His apprentice that day was a mild-mannered discus thrower from Reservoir. A fortnight earlier, Saverio Rocca was playing in the reserves. “He was just a nice, well groomed, well cared for Italian boy whose mum probably cooked his dinner every night of his life,” Brereton later said. He was constantly in Big Sav’s ear that day – blocking, encouraging, gesticulating, cajoling. Rocca had the game of his life, and Brereton hasn’t stopped talking since.
