A Personal Reflection
Let me be clear; many people knew Pollyanna better than I did, and I am envious of that. Value this post with that in mind.
It’s been fifteen-twenty years now and I struggle to remember how I met Pollyanna. I think it was when I caught up with the late Ooslumbird at the TAB Bar near the entrance of Subi Oval - one of the coldest and least hospitable bars in the world - and Oos introduced me to Polly. But it might have been via a shared friendship with the great Guy Smiley. In any case, I’ve known Polly for years and years.
Back then, he was an Associate Professor at UWA but the casual acquaintance would never have picked up on his love of teaching or enormous intellect. In fact, many assumed he was a music roadie or a bikie. Though, as you spoke with Polly, the more his wisdom and love for life shone through and the more privileged you felt.
I remember Polly taking the fight up to The Steves when our Club started to loosen its personal connection to the members. This disassociation was evident with the jumper change (not a bad decision but one which they claimed was via membership approval, which was just a fib), the promotion of selected ex-players to the member-elected positions on the Board and a number of other “corporate” decisions that marginalised the supporters.
Polly actually got a meeting with Steve Rosich and came away with just one phrase - “seat renters”. We, as members of the Fremantle Football Club, were viewed as seat renters. For legal purposes let me add here that this is what I remember Polly telling me. If the truth is different, I am happy to be corrected. Soon after we had the panoramic photo taken at Subiaco Oval and we were all encouraged to be present for this game so this super high definition 360° photo could be taken. Polly was there in the third tier of the three-tier stand. With a sign. “Fuck the Steves”, said the sign. Not surprisingly, he and the sign were edited out of the published photo.
In those early years I remember Polly speaking about the up and coming indigenous players - mostly via his beloved Black Ducks. I vividly recollect him telling me of this “Michael Walters” and not only did this kid have fantastic skills but also possessed a great character. I hate to say it, but he had a similar opinion of the over-promoted Nicholas Naitanui. As time passed, Polly had his heart broken when a number indigenous footy players didn’t make the grade, but should have. Polly was of the first nations but not an Australian, he was Canadian. If I remember this correctly, he came out to Australia via the UWA job offer early in the new millennium.
In the *DuFFle, Polly picked his team for fun. His Hooley Dooleys signed on players he would want in his real life side. Too bad if they weren’t the best player available but as long as they had a great character they would find a home in Polly’s tub-thumpers. Consequently, his team usually missed finals but frequently, and consecutively, won the Richmond Cup. (The Richmond Cup was the best performing non-finals team.)
*Geez, you are missing out on something if you don’t have a look at this online fantasy football competition.
One day I asked him about his moniker, “Pollyanna”. Why would he choose that? Peter/Polly described how he loved reflecting on the online reader thinking he was a female and, especially, with the moniker’s association with a fictional Anglo-Saxon goody-two-shoes.
But of all my memories of Polly, what stands out is his love for you. You, his family member, friend or student. We were having DuFFLe drinks one night at the Brass Monkey and, seriously if you haven’t looked at the DuFFle you are missing out, one of his ex-UWA students spotted him. The student approached Polly, gave him a huge hug and joined us all for a drink before heading off to the night’s entertainment. You want a nutshell summary? That’s it. Pollyanna/Bernt/Peter was one you would come across, hug, catch up on stories and move on. In everyone’s life he was a positive.
On a very personal note, some years ago now when my 25 year marriage fell apart, I was heartbroken. Polly was there for me. Not only then, but on random occasions I’d get a phone call to see if I was travelling well. Polly cared. Polly loved you.
We loved you too, Pol. Farewell my friend. You have made our lives better and we miss you.
Polly holding the Richmond Cup