John Barnes, pictured as an assistant coach in 2007, kicked four goals on debut. Credit:Getty Images In round six, 1987, still not 18, he kicked four goals on debut - against Geelong - in a game that ended in a draw. "I didn't know whether to laugh or cry." The Cats had watched him kick bags for Cobram and after this flying start he was soon wondering if he should have bowed to their advances. He played only 11 more games over the next five years, reflects that fault lay on both sides. "I got on the piss with my mates, didn't concentrate too much on footy," Barnes says. The Bombers saw him as a forward, he thought he was a ruckman. At the time, they weren't a good fit. "I wasn't in Sheeds' mould, wasn't much of a hard-arse, not a bash-and-crash player." Told they were moving him on, he found a Geelong official waiting in the carpark. He'd broken his jaw twice in a season spent in the Bombers' seconds (once against the Cats), and started life at Kardinia Park with a broken hand. One day Malcolm Blight told him his luck was about to change. "I need someone to tag Jimmy Stynes - you're it."

Barnes remembers it as the only time he didn't have a beer after a game. "Couldn't. Too exhausted." He resolved that he had some work to do, but never really tempered his laid-back routine. A natural runner with good endurance, he detailed to Dermott Brereton in a magazine Q&A a routine of a few beers most nights (including Friday), a heap after a game and multiple visits each week to a Bellarine pizza shop where he sat out the back eating and drinking stubbies. "The mates I hung out with were great blokes, I loved their company. And their company revolved around beer, and beer goes with pizza and chips and peanuts. I don't care who you are, before you know it you look at your watch and it's one in the morning." After three grand final defeats in eight years he was cut by the Cats so rang old mate Mark Harvey to gauge the Bombers' interest. He knew recruiter Adrian Dodoro's daily route to Windy Hill, so each morning parked in Buckley Street, sprinkled water on his face, waited until he saw Dodoro's car, then started running. "He was going into the club saying, 'Barnesy's flying! I see him every morning!' "

Sheedy cautioned that he didn't want any dickheads. Barnes retorted that he was 31 and past all that. (Now 46, he still rarely lets a day pass without playing a practical joke.) Over two final seasons in red and black he barely missed a game, although there was a one-week club suspension for hijinks on a pre-season flight home from Wagga Wagga when a farting contest with Aaron Henneman got out of control. He rucked in the 2000 premiership (at 193 centimetres, he's shorter than Patrick Cripps), passed 200 games, knows he was blessed. "Could I have played more? For sure. Am I concerned about it? Not in the slightest." He finished with local footy stints at Melton and East Keilor, made sure there was always a slab for the showers ("drinking in the showers after footy's the best thing"), demanded a unity that country footy clubs are famous for. "I wouldn't let anyone leave the rooms, lock the doors." His 30s were passed with two-day-a-week ruck coaching roles at the Bombers and Western Bulldogs, then he finally got a real job - as a garbo with Hume City Council. After a few hours on the trucks each morning he acts as one of 20 delegates for 1500 staff, working through their issues, trying to find answers to big questions. "We've got restructuring at the moment and people are concerned for their jobs."

He'd been a curator at Windy Hill with Harvey and Peter German ("grouse days"), washed cars for Rex Gorell in Geelong ("spent a lot of hours in Timezone with Peter Riccardi"). He explains his late professional blooming simply: "Now I've got a care factor. Before, I didn't give a rat's arse." Life has had its challenges - a diagnosis of epilepsy a couple of years back, the loss of his younger brother to cancer - but Barnes is drawn to the light. A routine prank when he has a few beers every few months with Dean Wallis and Michael Long is to call Sheedy in the wee hours. "He's an idiot - he answers the phone." He likes watching sons Jack and James, 22 and 21, play with Doutta Stars and Sunbury Kangaroos, will seek out a local game on a Sunday but hasn't watched AFL for years. Pressing, zoning and role playing are hateful to someone who spent his teens roaming Cobram streets with Garry Hocking inventing new ways to play footy - against lamp posts, on pushbikes, in the dark. Instead, Friday nights are passed at a mate's mechanic's workshop. "You could make a Foxtel show out of it," Barnes says of a gathering that can number anywhere from two to a dozen. Everyone is tasked with bringing provisions - pizza, kabana, salami, beer, whiskey. "Someone will throw something and it turns into a food fight. Someone will get on the forklift and pick something up. Someone will get a hose out. Why would you bother watching the footy?"