Most of the readers of this newsletter are people who earn their living from the sport industry.  It is our bread and butter.

In the hurly burly of going about our jobs it is not hard to forget what a fantastic contribution sport has made and continues to make to society - the pleasure it brings and the impact it has on the lives of so many people.

To participate in sport, at any level, is such a great educator.  Sport teaches fantastic life skills.  Those attributes which are so vital to growth as an individual - persistence, determination, courage - are all words which fall off the lips of coaches so readily as they stand among their charges encouraging them to achieve.

But achievement is not necessarily about winning the race, holding aloft the premiership cup or medal.  Achievement is recording a PB, battling on to finish the distance, or perhaps not even finishing but knowing that you gave it your absolute best shot.

Sport allows us all an opportunity to hold up our heads with pride, provides us with mateship and it provides us with memories.

As we near 2000 it's appropriate for much discussion and many articles on the "Team of the Century" or the "Athlete of the Century".  Reminiscing about events and feats of the past becomes even more popular.

I hope I can be forgiven for deviating from the subject of risk management to embark on my own little time of reflection.

Earlier in the year the Australian Football league named its team of the century, and many other sports have recently done similar.  Obviously all these teams contained some fantastic athletes, true champions.  Names that are well known right around the country - some great role models.

But sport is such a great leveller that it is not only the high profile teams that we see on television that influence our lives so greatly.  I think back to my youth, growing up in a small country town in Tasmania.

My local footy team had never won a grand final in what in those days was one of the three major leagues in that state.  In fact they hadn't even come close.

But then came 1964.  A great year, 1964.  My beloved Mighty Magpies became the greatest team on earth by winning the Northern Tasmanian Football Association premiership.

Brian Donohue ("The Donk"), had to be the greatest coach there had ever been in Australian Football.  Our centerman, Mannie Gonninon, had to have had the best skills ever.  That little red headed rover, Karl Beattie, the fellow who was only 173 cms tall and was on the bottom of every pack but somehow came out with the ball - he was my inspiration, and he was my next door neighbour.

Who could ever forget that Saturday night as the whole town of Scottsdale (population somewhere around 1,500) and all those in the surrounding district lined the main street as their heroes returned triumphant.

The cheers for each player as they were introduced to the crowd on the balcony over Rexy Lethborg's electrical store were just as loud as they are for Ian Thorpe when he smashes a world record.

Every person in the district of Scottsdale owned that premiership.  That team belonged to them - they were the team.

The experience was a lifetime highlight.  In the ten years from 1964 to 1973 Scottsdale won six premierships, which included a trip to the Australian club championships in Adelaide to play against the other state premiers; including Richmond from the then VFL.

In those years if you mentioned the town Scottsdale anywhere around Australia the chances are the response would be along the lines of "that's where that football team comes from isn't it?"

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