Worsfold and Waters were, in equal measure, both fearless and fearsome during their respective AFL careers. Teammates walked taller in their presence.

Woosha, captain of the 1992 and 1994 premierships, was the personification of white line fever. A mild-mannered chemist by day he transformed into a human hand grenade in the heat of battle.

Waters was a different kind of assassin. A wrecking ball.  It didn’t pay to fumble the footy in his vicinity but he was, at times, recklessly brave in putting himself in the same degree of peril.  

Using the football vernacular when it was their turn to go, they went.

Daniher might not have been as overtly ruthless in a career at Essendon that was ruined by knee injuries. Immensely talented but restricted to just 82 games. So highly regarded that in 1982, at the age of 21, he was appointed as Bombers captain.

He never got the opportunity to lead them into battle. He did, however, persevere long enough to return and play alongside his brothers Terry, Chris and Anthony that saw four brothers play in the same game at the highest level for the first time.

With his playing career extinguished, Daniher turned his passion for the game to coaching, as an assistant at Essendon (1992-94) and Fremantle (1995-97) and then as Melbourne’s senior coach from 1998-2007.

After a stint as CEO of the AFL Coaches Association he joined the West Coast Eagles in 2009 as General Manager of Football. In the five years he was here we formed a strong friendship, played nine holes of golf regularly on a Tuesday afternoon (when the footy department had a day off), followed by a couple of cold beers.

The golf wasn’t that important, not just because Neale generally had my measure but it was an opportunity to get away from the club and casually chew the fat about any imminent issues.

We were hacking our way around Royal Wembley one day in 2013 and Nealo was complaining about pain in his wrist and hand. We didn’t think much of it, dismissing at as carpal tunnel syndrome. Maybe arthritis.

He went through a series of tests which dismissed any of the regular household variety ailments until we travelled to play Collingwood at the MCG late in the season. He was going to see a specialist while in Melbourne.

The prognosis could not have been worse. It was highly probable that he had motor neurone disease. Until doing the Dr Google research I was oblivious to how dire it was.

Naturally, Nealo and his family took some time to digest the enormity of the prognosis. Life would change for all of them as this boisterous, bear of a man contemplated and then met every challenge with his trademark verve and energy.

A few months post diagnosis Nealo went public. He did an interview with Caroline Wilson in Melbourne’s The Age newspaper. That was the selfless moment he committed to make a difference and he used his profile to set about raising funds to help others who would, in the future, confront what he labelled ‘The Beast.’

Nealo knew that any monies raised would not help his own individual plight. So rather than campaigning to help those already dealing with this cruel illness, he co-founded FightMND.

For the last decade while his own health has steadily declined he has been the face of a charity that has raised about $80m to help researchers work on a cure. The showcase event has been the Freeze at the G, held annually on Kings Birthday long weekend.

A range of celebrities have plunged into freezing waters to support the Daniher-inspired fight, the great man standing at the slide, grinning broadly. The MND beanies have also become the signature purchase allowing footy fans to unite behind this courageous icon of the game.

For the last few years our club has held a miniature version of the major fund-raiser with a dunking machine at Optus Stadium. Headlined by Sam Kerr, AFLW Captain Emma Swanson, Luke Shuey and Quinten Lynch they have all dropped into an ice slurry to enhance awareness.

The 2024 version will be held today during the match against St Kilda with surfing great Taj Burrow, Mr Cricket Mike Hussey, 2006 Norm Smith medallist Andrew Embley and AFLW legend Daisy Pearce hitting the ice.

Remarkably, Nealo, the toughest man I have ever met, is still giving everything to his mission. Eleven years after a terminal diagnosis that has an average survival rate of 2.5 years, he’s still punching.

The tag line this year is that it’s not what you say, but what you do.

I’ll leave it there.