“What’s the go Frank? Are we on?”
I made the call to Newcastle Rugby League director Frank Lawler 8am on Saturday morning as the heavens opened over Charlestown. I wanted the latest developments from someone on the scene.
No, Frank isn’t the curator of Townson Oval, but he lives directly across the road, close enough that his verandah sits within kicking range of the southern goalposts. Today, his top-floor balcony is draped in Maitland Pickers memorabilia. The centrepiece is a life-sized cut-out of good friend—and sometimes rival—Peter Sleap, proudly wearing a Maitland jersey.
It’s the kind of tribalism that makes the day so special.
“Another Maitland stitch-up,” as Sleapy would say.
“It’s a go, mate. We’re going ahead in all grades. Sleapy’s Day 2026 is a go,” Frank replies, the excitement obvious in his voice.
The Preparation
It’s impossible to escape the meaning of the day.
It hits almost immediately as I pack my club-issued backpack, my initials embroidered on the front. Binoculars. Headset. Pens. Team sheets. The usual assortment of gear required for both the radio call and the Newcastle Weekly match report.
Then I open the wardrobe to grab the Maitland polo.
There’s the first reminder.
A sky-blue 2025 Sleapy’s Day South Newcastle jersey bearing the face of Sleapy’s Day Angel Hayden Moth, who passed away at Christmas in 2024. It was a gift from the Moth family and the Sleapy’s Foundation last season, complete with Hayden’s playing number on the back.
I was once Hayden’s coach at Lakes United. For 18 months he was also my employee. More importantly, he was my mate.
That young man would love nothing more than to be pulling a jersey on today. Tragically, he was denied that opportunity.
The support the Sleapy’s Foundation provided Hayden and his family throughout his battle was extraordinary. Even now, that support hasn’t stopped. That’s always been the Foundation’s philosophy. Cancer might end, but caring doesn’t.
In an instant, I’m reminded that today is about far more than rugby league. For some families, it’s a matter of life and death.
The Sleapy’s Foundation simply chooses to stand alongside them.
Before leaving home I touch base with my co-commentator Peter Jolly, a man who, at the time of writing, is still undergoing treatment. His story isn’t mine to tell, but cancer robbed Newcastle rugby league of one of its most recognisable voices for the opening months of the season.
We go through team lists and pronunciations. Pete is meticulous in his preparation. I still enjoy giving him the occasional dud pronunciation just to see if he’s paying attention.
A professional commentator entering his 24th season, we’d quietly circled the Newcastle Rugby League Grand Final as a realistic target for his return after his diagnosis.
“I don’t want to miss Sleapy’s Day,” I remember him telling me.
“Before anything, mate, you’ve got to get your head right. Remember what Sleapy said that night at Souths training.”
Advice that couldn’t have rung truer.
I’m incredibly proud to say Pete reclaimed his rightful place behind the microphone far earlier than expected, thanks in no small part to the support of the Maitland Pickers board, players and the wider rugby league community.
Townson Oval
There are football days. Then there are Sleapy’s Days. They don’t feel the same. You can hear it before you see it. Everyone is there for the same reason.
Townson Oval prepares for kick-off in the Women’s Premiership as rain buckets down. Umbrellas outnumber footballs. The grandstand is already filling, and every dry patch of concrete has become prime real estate.
The first person I see through the gate is Dennis Beveridge.
Dennis was South Newcastle’s first-grade manager when I arrived at the club in 2001. Twenty-five years later, he’s still holding court near the front gate, greeting everyone who walks through it.
Beside him is wife Lorna, still the smiling face behind the ticket window. She has probably welcomed tens of thousands of people through the gates of Townson Oval over the years, yet still greets every person like they’re an old friend.
Marquees line the concourse. Newcastle Weekly, Sleapys Foundation, plenty of commercial sponsors who support the foundation.
Volunteers dart between them carrying raffle prizes, donation buckets and cartons of supplies as though the weather simply doesn’t exist.
Upstairs, behind the glass of the Green Room, an army of volunteers in red shirts prepares for another enormous day.
The Inner Sanctum
Inside the dressing room of the reigning premiers, the Maitland Pickers, anticipation hangs thick in the air. Players sit quietly around the makeshift gymnasium behind the main dressing room, boots muddy from earlier grades.
Standing in front of them aren’t football identities. They’re families. Families whose lives have been forever changed by cancer. Each player will wear their story.
Head coach Matt Lantry gathers the room.
“Let’s just take a moment to understand the responsibility that today carries with this game , you need to ensure that individually first and foremost then collectively as a team, your performance today represents their battle as an individual, and their battle as a family”
His focus narrows, his voice intensifies
“if you can’t commit to that, you cannot represent this family, you cannot take this jersey, that is your obligation today , it’s your obligation to Sleapys Day, it’s your obligation to this beautiful family here, who are fighting the toughest battle of their life”
One by one, the jerseys are handed to the players by the very families they represent. It feels less like a local rugby league fixture and more like Grand Final day. Both clubs treat the occasion with a reverence rarely seen in community sport. It’s much more than a game.
Eighty Minutes
What follows is exactly the contest everyone expected.
South Newcastle and Maitland bash each other from one end of Townson Oval to the other in conditions that belong in another era.
Within minutes, the mud has made even the game’s biggest names almost impossible to recognise. Around them, however, the carnival never stops.
Most importantly, families connected through the Foundation gather together, sharing stories, memories and support. Laughs are had and tears are shed.
Maitland eventually prevails 10-4, with former South Newcastle centre Harry Van Dartel scoring the decisive try.
Ironically, on a day where everyone comes together, it is a former Lion who delivers the final blow.
From the commentary box I look towards the ocean as the final siren sounds.
A rainbow stretches across the south-eastern sky. At the time, it feels like the perfect finishing touch. I had no idea the day wasn’t finished with us yet.
Later that night back at Souths
The jersey auction at Souths Leagues Club is always special.
This year, one moment rises above the rest.
Former South Newcastle premiership-winning captain Richard Jones watches as fierce bidding erupts for the No. 9 jersey carrying the image of his late son, Ash, who passed away at just 18 years of age.
Leading racing trainer and Newcastle identity Kris Lees refuses to surrender.
The bids climb. $1,000, $2,000, $3,000, Eventually the hammer falls at $5,000. Lees collects the jersey.
Then quietly walks across the room and places it into the hands of Richard’s daughter Averil. It isn’t just a football jersey.
It’s Ash. It’s Richard’s old playing number. It’s a sister holding her brother once more. The room understands without anyone saying a word.
For more sports stories:
- Maitland Makes History While Finals Battle Intensifies
- Newcastle Knights pay tribute to Scott Dureau
- More than a trophy: Rivals unite behind Hayden Moth Shield
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