S T E P H L A N D

Ok, so yesterday I went to a funeral for my former coach Roger. He died last Friday. No-one really said what it was. It was my first funeral, and as I expected, was crying. Considering that I was just another athlete there, I wasn't that close or anything, but when it came to the prayers and what not, I just couldn't speak.

What I have learnt was several Maori funeral customs (not a Maori funeral though), a little bit more about my culture, more about my own parents and most especially, how to handle the barage of feelings when someone has died, to look upon the new life, eternal life and to be inspired by the very person you are commemorating the life of.

So, from the memories of Roger's close family and friends, along with my own personal experiences, I have been inspired by Roger's spirit, his love, and his devotion to his athletes. He always wanted everyone to do their best, and was always there to help.

From my time with Roger, at the gym and on the track; after spending Sunday mornings doing sprint training while he cracked jokes and pumping weights to the best of my ability while he looked on, I really did gain more confidence in myself, my own skills and my strengths. Hell, I may not have been a fast runner or anything, but I tried the things he wanted me to. I thought back to when I first met him at Vulcan's Gym, April 2008. I was scared to meet this man: short white hair, small in height, but he was full of muscles. He had a gruff-sounding voice to match that exterior. Typical coach material. He shook my hand and I giggled tentatively. Oh hell, I was a 14-year-old standing in a gym with a bunch of men I didn't even know. He wanted to know who I was, what sport I did, but the rest was really up to my mum. I was going to start training for my strength. When I did, I remember doing the 45 degree leg press. I lay down and looked up at the strange machine literally at my feet. Without any weights, and Roger holding on for support, I gave it a go. For 0kg, it seemed pretty heavy to me. A few months later, I was pressing 100kg, 120kg, 140kg for several reps. Oh yeah, that was all Roger.

I remember one game, from last season, it was the Preliminary Finals for 16W2; Bankstown vs. Sutherland at Bankstown on Court 2. We had a 12 o'clock game or something like that. I arrived at the Athletics Track at the Ridge for a 9am sprint session. They were normally meant to go for half an hour, but tended to be more. It didn't matter, as it made all the difference. I went to my game. I may have been tired from running around, and I thought of Roger. He'd trained me for the purpose of getting faster for basketball, and this was my moment. We won that game and went on to lose the Grand Finals, but nonetheless, a job well done; my stamina and incresed speed had pulled me through. I'm dedicating those times to Roger.

To conclude, I dedicate this post to Roger Green; a loving man, tough on the outside, but a true softie on the inside. You are an inspiration to me, and my aspirations, my future. I'd really hope to get to the Olympics: it sounded so good when you were around. Thank you. Rest in peace, and I hope to see you again.

Roger Anthony Green

26th May 1942 - 10th July 2009

My inspirational song of the moment: We'll Fight - Something With Numbers

"Against the others, we'll prevail
Against the odds, we won't fail
We'll pick up all the pieces and we'll fight"