I remember it like yesterday – my first encounter with god. It was May 1983. I was a wide-eyed eight-year old streaming across Prospect Oval after the Mighty Magpies staged one of the greatest comebacks in SANFL history. After trailing by seven goals at three-quarter time Port Adelaide stormed home to win the unwinnable game by 8 points.

Russell Ebert was captain-coach that day. Yes, he could do it all. And straight after the final siren echoed around the ground, Russ was in my sights. I charged from the outer side, duffle coat and scarf flailing in the wind as I made a bee line for my hero. My feet never touched the ground, adrenaline driving my every step forward. Masses of jubilant Port fans were in front of me, but if you want something enough you’ll get it. Eventually I made my way through the legion of fans to the promised land, the vicinity of Russ. He was pacing with that typically exhausted walking gait, slightly hunched over saluting delirious Port fans in the terraces. As he was about ten paces from the race my moment arrived and I was in touching distance of Russ. But what to do as an eight year old in the company of greatness? I simply extended my left hand, reached up and touched the number 1 on the back of the famous prison bar guernsey. I still remember it so vividly. The sweat on the guernsey, the smell of liniment in the air, the raucous celebrations. For an eight-year old touching Russ made me feel like superman, all powerful, like Shazam connecting the two rings.

I, along with tens of thousands of others, continued to idolise Russ until he hung up his boots at the end of 1985 after 392 games. That was a sad day but also one of great celebration. Nearly 400 games, 30-odd State games, six best-and-fairests, three premierships and those four Magarey Medals. Never to be beaten.

My favourite football photo is of Russ lifting the premiership cup after the 1977 Grand Final. I was too young to remember. Sometimes, I wish I was born 10 years earlier. Before the digital age, I watched that Grand Final so many times the VHS tape became worn out. My favourite moment was when Russ lifted the cup in front of those adoring fans. His arms were like granite pistons as he elevated the Thomas Seymour Hill Cup, on that wooden base, above his head. It was like he was lifting the entire Port Adelaide family above his head, he was that strong. It’s my favourite image, and even more special now. It’s taken a bloody long time, but by geez it’s worth it.

The next time I would meet Russ was in 2004, after I was appointed producer of FIVEaa’s Saturday morning sport show. I had to pinch myself. How does this happen? 20 years earlier I was a tongue-tied kid too nervous to ask Russ for an autograph and now I was talking to him in a professional sense as part of a commercial radio program.

They often say be careful when you meet your heroes for they may not be in reality as you imagine in your fictious mind. It couldn’t be further from the truth with Russ. A more humble, gentle and caring person you couldn’t wish to meet. He was interested in other people, not in a token way, but genuinely interested. He always sought to understand and asked how you were and if he could help. I recall I had a Port guernsey that I wanted to be signed and Russ went out of his way to offer. The following Saturday morning a fully team signed guernsey was on my desk at FIVEaa. When Russ said he was going to do something he never let you down. Integrity.

A few years later I landed my dream job at Port Adelaide. Part of the dream was to work alongside Russ. Boy, this was getting surreal. That eight-year old had come a long way since that day in 1983. I would see Russ daily and work closely with him on various occasions involving community youth programs, the programs he set up in at Port Adelaide in 1999. His selfless attitude was always at the fore. Anything involving helping people – from children to the elderly, Aboriginal or non-Aboriginal, rich or poor – Russ would be there. He could just as easily dine with the Queen as he could with a commoner. I know which one Russ would prefer. I set up a football program a couple of years’ ago for children with special needs. I sent around an all-staff email asking if anyone was able to assist at the sessions. Russ replied immediately to confirm he was willing and able to help. Nothing was ever too hard. And that’s the way it’s always been. I saw an article from 1978 when Russ visited a sick boy in hospital on the Friday before Port’s Round 1 clash against Norwood. I suspect additional service marketing contracts didn’t exist in 1978. Russ simply did it because he cared.

So we’ve lost an all-time great. Many of us are carrying a very heavy heart today and we will for some time. It feels like the day the music died. It hurts, a lot. We’re all a little angry and confused. Why does this happen to the best of people? Sometimes it doesn’t make sense. At times like this, I hear Von Williams words to Tim Ginever about the tragic passing of her son Anthony. “God only takes the best, that’s why he took Anthony.” At 72-years young, the same applies to Russ.

Heaven is going to be an even better place now with Russ. He can now share stories again with his great mate Bruce Light, wax lyrical with Fos Williams and kick a perfect stab pass to Eric Freeman. Russ leaves Alberton as the Magpie at the top of the tree. He leaves a legacy of greatness that will live on forever and ever.

I can hear Russ now. When Brucey Light asks how he’s going, Russ, with his cheeky smile, will respond as quick as a flash “I’ve been better, I just can’t remember when.” Rest in peace Russ. My inner eight-year old is still crying, as is the 47-year old version. Tears will flow for some time. But the memories will live on forever, including that day at Prospect oval in 1983. Nothing can take that away. Thanks for everything Russ. Onwards and upwards.