Vale Barry McCarty, Mooroopna’s gentle giant with a golden heart and relentless engine

His football career: fearless, revolutionary, silky.

However, one word bridges the gap between the two: great.

Mooroopna lost a true sporting hero and top bloke on September 27 when McCarty, a champion Cat and all-rounder, died.

He is one of eight Mooroopna players in history to win the Morrison Medal as his outrageously good 1962 season was rewarded with the Goulburn Valley League’s top individual gong.

McCarty, a dominant ruckman known for his speed, skill and innovation, also won four Mooroopna club best-and-fairests and was bestowed life membership at the Cats.

Unfortunately, Paul McCarty was too young to catch his dad’s best years on the oval.

But he only needs to grab one from a mountain of old Shepparton News clippings to be reminded how much of a titan McCarty was in the Mooroopna hoops.

An article written by Meo Darveniza during McCarty’s Morrison Medal-winning year just about summed up what the great man was all about.

“In that particular game they played Lemnos, Dad was the change ruckman with Barry Kilpatrick who was also his best mate,” Paul McCarty said.

“Dad had 30 kicks and 15 handballs and I think 17 knockouts and back in them days there weren’t as many ball ups like there are today, they didn’t kick backwards and all that type of stuff.

“Mum’s got a big scrapbook of all those years he played, Shepp News cuttings, and flicking through it there’s article after article about how he mesmerised the opposition.

“I was only a young fella towards the end of his career, but every time I go to the footy I get told how good he was.

“Things that I’ve picked up, he was way ahead of the times in regard to handballing and baulking.”

Kilpatrick, one of McCarty’s old chums, witnessed his brilliance first hand.

He was one of the many who told Paul his father was ahead of the times, and even 62 years on from McCarty’s peak, Kilpatrick believes his rucking partner from back then would cut the mustard in today’s day and age of footy.

“He had everything; he played in the ruck and yet he was quick, his handball skills (were great), his marking, he just had everything,” Kilpatrick said.

“I said to Paul, he’d be starring today if he was playing in this current era.”

Just how did McCarty achieve such a stellar reputation as a footballer?

Was it pure talent? Many thought it to be the case.

But those closest to him knew there was much more to McCarty than just good genes and a big frame.

“He always said to me, natural ability is nothing unless you’re prepared to practice hard everyday,” Paul McCarty said.

“They were the three words that stuck in my mind all my life.”

McCarty practised what he preached, and then some.

He’d perform 2000 high kicks on each leg every day in between milking the cows, followed by a six or seven kilometre run after footy training on the dirt roads at Undera.

His son said it “bordered on self-torture”.

Back then, it probably did.

But while McCarty was drilled to the teeth, he also had a humorous side buried just beneath a quiet and unassuming exterior.

Graeme Macartney, one of his cricketing cronies from back in the day, chuckled when recounting a tale of when McCarty had everyone on the field in a spin — but he wasn’t bowling.

“I played cricket with Barry, we both returned at an old age — we were probably too old to play cricket, but we did,” he said with a laugh.

“He had a bit of a sense of humour. I can remember him hiding the ball in slips at one stage from the captain.

“We were all chasing around trying to work out where the ball was and Barry’s got it hidden behind his back.”

McCarty’s relationship with cricket and football extended well past when Father Time prohibited him from playing, still remaining involved with his beloved clubs through coaching and volunteering.

And between the ferns of practical jokes and sporting excellence blossomed a frond of genuineness that never wilted throughout McCarty’s life.

Illness and injury curtailed his career as a farmer, truck driver and worker in the racing video industry, but he found other ways to stay useful.

He mowed Macartney’s lawns for years until his body said no.

Then, Mooroopna’s supermarkets became McCarty’s favourite haunt.

Kilpatrick knows so — he couldn’t buy a carton of milk without seeing McCarty.

“Just about every time I’d go down to the supermarket here at Woolies or Aldi, you’d meet him,” he said.

“I think he brought one item each day, so he was down there every day to meet somebody and have a bit of a chat.”

That was McCarty in a nutshell.

A charming man and terrific athlete who never tooted his own horn, nobody had a bad word to say about a truly great man.

His mates loved him.

“All the years I’ve known him, he was never putting anyone down — he was just a likeable bloke who liked to have a bit of a joke too,” Kilpatrick said.

Mooroopna cherished him.

“To sum him up, he was just a hell of a nice bloke, a great family man and very well respected in the Mooroopna community,” Macartney said.

And last but not least, McCarty’s unbending loyalty meant the world to him.

“He was loyal in every facet of life, not just footy — anything he approached, whether it was his car or his family,” Paul McCarty said.

“Once he was committed to something, Mooroopna Football Club, his family, that was it until the day he died.”