‘When I was 12 I went to Monivae College in Hamilton in Western Victoria. They had produced Ricky Barham, Billy Picken, Phil Walsh. I came down to Melbourne at 16 and played junior footy in Flemington in North Melbourne’s zone.’

—Donald McDonald, November 2017

The North Melbourne Social Club was a squat cinderblock building perched on the half-forward flank at Arden Street Oval. In the 1970s and 1980s – win, lose or draw – the players gathered there after games for a few drinks. The social club became a hub of disappointment or elation, depending on the result.

When Donald McDonald made his debut in 1982, North Melbourne were clinging to the residue of their first great era. Two premierships from six Grand Finals in the 1970s had elevated the club from perennial battlers to VFL trendsetters.

In 1982, many of North’s legends were still playing. Donald was 19 and wearing 43 on his back when he debuted in Round 7 against Melbourne. Two goals from 13 possessions in a 37-point win at the MCG was a portent of his future. His seventh game was an elimination final against Essendon, and his eighth a semifinal against Hawthorn.

Donald’s first season gave him a taste of football. He was 191 cm tall and weighed in at 97 kg. Much was expected of the rookie, and in 1983 he began to deliver on that promise. The North Melbourne Social Club also delivered on his future, far beyond football: one night after a game he met a woman called Terry, who loosely followed Carlton and was in the social club with a friend. She really didn’t care about football, but was happy to give Donald her phone number. She discovered that he loved North Melbourne and he loved playing football. And in the North Melbourne Social Club, he’d met the love of his life.

A Collingwood kid

Donald McDonald was born into a fanatical Collingwood family. His parents ran a hotel in Melbourne and worked hard to keep Saturdays free so they could go to games. Like his parents, Donald was a mad Collingwood supporter and fanatical about football. Given the demands of running the hotel, he was sent to boarding school in Ballarat when he was seven. A few years later he made the school football team. His coach was a nun who was also fanatical about football. She barracked for Carlton, and each year took the children to Melbourne to watch a game of football.

After finishing primary school, Donald went to Monivae College in Hamilton, Western Victoria. The school had pedigree when it came to footballers – Ricky Barham, Billy Picken and Phil Walsh, all former VFL players, had gone there.

At boarding school, Donald could always find mates and a football field to have a kick. Whenever he was in Melbourne on holidays or long weekends, he went across the road to the Flagstaff Gardens and played imaginary games by himself, ‘thinking I was kicking the winning goal for Collingwood. I always visualised myself playing. I was always thinking I was going to play VFL.’

Donald moved back to Melbourne when he was 16 and played for St Brendan’s Football Club in Flemington. The move home coincided with a growth spurt of about 15 cm in six months. He added bulk as he grew, which helped at his new club. St Brendan’s was comprised mainly of players from the Housing Commission flats in Flemington and Kensington. For many of them, playing football was all they had. Donald was from a stable background but most of his teammates came from broken, poor families doing it tough. Their attitude to life and football was the same. ‘We didn’t have too many parents watching us play,’ he said.

St Brendan’s played in the Northern Metropolitan League. It was a brutal competition, particularly when you played against a club like Broadmeadows. It was Housing Commission kids versus kids from the northern suburbs, who were often just as poor as their opponents. Donald recalls being punched from behind several times and big brawls breaking out in games: ‘If you didn’t learn to protect yourself and stick up for your mates you were gone. We were unbelievably tight.’

At 17, after a few good games and brawls for St Brendan’s, Donald was invited to train with North Melbourne’s under-19s team. It shattered his loyalty to Collingwood, but he had no choice – St Brendan’s was in North Melbourne’s zone. Under the zonal rules that had been introduced in the 1960s, clubs were allocated metropolitan and country areas to select players from.

In 1979, Ron Barassi was North Melbourne’s senior coach. Ray Jordon, very much in the Barassi mould, was the under-19s and reserves coach. After introducing himself and shaking Donald’s hand, he told him to train with the seniors, and after a week of that, he selected Donald in the Victorian Teal Cup squad. Donald played in a series of games against a Victorian metropolitan team and a country team, and was selected for Victoria’s under-17s team. ‘Ray Jordon was the first notable influence that I can remember,’ he said.

Playing under-19s for North Melbourne also gave Donald another thrill: it was the first time his parents watched him play football. And it provided an added bonus when his parents, given that their son was playing for North Melbourne, quit supporting Collingwood and put their love into the Kangaroos.

In 1981, after three years at North Melbourne, Donald was selected for his first senior game in the Escort Cup, a midweek night competition. He believes he wouldn’t have played if North Melbourne hadn’t been wracked by injury: ‘They had to get into the bottom reaches of the reserves.’ The opponent was Collingwood. Donald kicked a couple of goals, but his loyalty was tested: ‘I was still barracking for Collingwood more than I was for North.’

Despite the taste of senior football, it would be another year before he played his first official game of VFL, in Round 7 1982. He played eight games in his debut year, including the two finals. ‘My first few games I was okay,’ he said. ‘My first 20 games I probably played some of my better footy.’

It was a different era when he played – violent and dangerous. For him, it was give and take. In the last round in 1983, Melbourne’s Glenn Boland almost ended his season. ‘He belted me from behind and it broke my nose,’ Donald said. He finished the game with four goals and a concussion. The injury, a bad one, required surgery. The surgeon suggested Donald shouldn’t play in the finals, but when Donald rejected that suggestion, the surgeon ordered him to wear a mask. He trained with plaster on his face while the mask was being made and was featured in the Herald newspaper in a photo with his teammates taken when the players were running beneath the scoreboard. Donald stood out. (The scoreboard had been tampered with: it predicted North would win the semifinal against Hawthorn by 30 goals.)

The mask, made and delivered before the semifinal, shrouded Donald’s face and moved as he ran. Minutes before the game started, as he was running down the race, he decided it looked ridiculous and threw it off. It was a bad move. The game was a few kicks old when he misjudged the football and it slammed into his face. ‘Broke my nose again,’ he said. ‘I just felt so weak that game. I was deplorable.’

The following week, in the preliminary final against Essendon, he was still tender in the face and didn’t play much better. North didn’t, either. After finishing on top, they lost both their finals by big margins in a dismal end to the year.

Through two seasons, Donald played an enthusiastic brand of football. If he played well, he was happy. If the team played well and he played poorly, he was happy. Off the field he also enjoyed himself. Straight after a game, he would be drinking with teammates. They would go out and have huge Saturday nights, as most footballers did in that era. ‘I wouldn’t say I wasn’t dedicated, but I always loved a drink with my mates,’ he said.

A low blow

On the eve of the 1984 season, a vein ruptured in Donald’s scrotum, causing a contusion, swelling and intense pain. Varicose veins emerged in his thighs and a haematoma developed in his groin – a huge, life-threatening clot. He underwent emergency surgery and had the varicose veins removed. Unable to train for a month, he started the season slowly, easing back into football at full-forward.

In Round 2 against Richmond, a football emergency required him to shift away from the forward line – Gary Dempsey suffered a broken bone around his eye, and Donald was forced into the ruck. He’d never played there as he was too short to be a ruckman: ‘I was playing half-forward flank and I went from being our third tall to being our ruck.’ Up against Mark Lee, he had one hit-out for the game. North Melbourne lost.

In Round 3, veteran fullback David Dench retired. After finishing on top in 1983, North were crashing. Donald spent the rest of the season in the forward line, kicking a career-high 38 goals and winning the club’s goal-kicking award. He was in career-best form, but North finished second-last and Barry Cable quit as coach. When John Kennedy was appointed, he viewed Donald as a utility, attack, defence and ruck. Donald didn’t hate playing in the ruck, but he found it difficult. Up against players like Simon and Justin Madden, David Cloke, Peter Moore and Matt Rendell, he was beaten in centre bounces and around the ground. ‘They’re big boys,’ he said. ‘Every centre bounce you got smashed. It was a tough caper. I competed well but it took the edge off me a bit.’

Kennedy admired Donald’s ability to compete, even though it reduced his effectiveness. He liked flying for marks and playing with flair. He felt he was more suited to the forward line, but with North Melbourne lacking depth, he was shuffled around the ground. In defence, he played on key forwards like Dermott Brereton, Stephen Kernahan and Terry Daniher. ‘I was never really at their level,’ he said, but always he competed. As he hit his mid-twenties, he felt his best position was up forward, not as a key forward but as the second or third tall: ‘I was a competitor but I didn’t have the real class that the guns had.’

North made the finals in 1985 and missed out in 1986. In 1987 they lost the elimination final to Melbourne by 118 points. Donald never played in another final. A severe shoulder injury in 1989 reduced his capacity to ruck. By 1990, under new coach Wayne Schimmelbusch, he felt he could have held down centre half-back for the rest of his career, but he was in and out of the team. North Melbourne were broke and performing poorly on the field, so they invested in youth. In the reserves, Donald was able to nurture the young players and help set the on-field culture.

Under the VFL’s ground-rationalisation program, North Melbourne played their last game at Arden Street in 1986. It meant the end of the social club, which had helped bond the playing group. Donald worked hard to get the players and their partners together after games, and kept encouraging the young players to improve: ‘In the last three or four years I probably did better work off the field than as a player.’

Donald was an unselfish player who would offload the ball to someone in a better position. He tackled and chased, rating the one-percenters more than marks and goals. ‘I was at my happiest when we won,’ he said. ‘I had this analogy that if we won you’re always a chance to get a game next week. It’s hard to drop guys out of a winning team.’

When Schimmelbusch was reappointed, Donald knew it was time to move on. He’d played a lot of reserves games in the past three years. Wayne Carey and Corey McKernan were developing, and Ian Fairley, once touted as a forward, was holding down centre half-back. Despite Donald’s talent and experience, Schimmelbusch couldn’t find a position for him. ‘Every time I played reserves, I felt shattered,’ Donald said. St Kilda approached him but he rejected their offer, wanting to be a one-club player. Greg Miller, North Melbourne’s CEO, said it was up to Donald if he played on, but senior games couldn’t be guaranteed. ‘It was my decision to retire,’ he said. ‘I was shattered I had to leave.’

Reflecting on his career, he believes that if he’d been given more responsibility, he could have developed into a leader. He was one of the boys who liked a drink and loved playing, so he never nominated himself for a leadership role. He was never a vice-captain and never won a best and fairest. ‘I do think I had the capacity to influence,’ he said. ‘If I’d been given a leadership role my footy could’ve gone to another level.’

Donald was already a leader, but at the time he didn’t know it. VFA club Werribee appointed him captain-coach and he led them to a premiership in 1993. He was just getting started. Two years later, he became a father when Luke was born on 9 February 1995, and he suddenly had his hands full at home.

At the end of the season, Werribee were kicked out of the VFA competition. In 1995 the VFA was renamed the VFL, and the Victorian State Football League (VSFL) ordered the VFL clubs to align with clubs in the TAC Cup. With the AFL about to disband the reserves competition, it meant AFL-listed players and talented juniors could play for VFL clubs. Given there were too many VFL clubs to link with the TAC Cup, Werribee and Williamstown were asked to merge. The clubs had endured a long rivalry, and Donald said it wasn’t a friendly one: ‘They hated each other.’ It was no surprise that they couldn’t agree on a merger.

The VSFL granted Williamstown the licence, which left Werribee without a competition to play in. Donald had no idea if he still had a job. Days after Werribee were kicked out, there was a suggestion that they would be admitted to play in the Geelong Football League. Donald recalls a phone call from a Springvale official offering him a job as senior coach, but he rejected the offer. Amazingly, Williamstown also wanted him to coach, but he knocked them back too. He felt Williamstown were picking Werribee’s bones.

The expulsion enraged Werribee’s supporters, and the local community got involved. Donald was among them, helping fight for readmission. He remained coach but assumed the role of football manager as well. Money was raised to launch legal action before the VSFL relented and readmitted Werribee into the VFL. Reinstatement didn’t go unpunished: under the terms of their licence, Werribee became the only club not aligned with the TAC Cup. Donald kept coaching and helped keep the club financially viable through tireless fundraising. He learned about contracts, sponsorship and membership. The role was relentless. He was leaving home at 7 a.m. and getting home at 10 p.m.: ‘I did that for about three or four years. Probably the most stressful thing I’ve ever done. It was a great little apprenticeship.’

In 2000, when the Box Hill Hawks merged with Hawthorn, Donald was appointed as their inaugural coach. There were benefits – Box Hill was ten minutes away from his home, much closer than Werribee, and he was given more support, which allowed him to concentrate on coaching. In 2001, Box Hill defeated Werribee in the Grand Final. It was Donald’s second premiership as a senior VFA/VFL coach. In the rooms after the game, Luke joined in the excitement. ‘Luke grew up at Hawthorn,’ Donald said.

Though Luke was too young to have watched his dad play, he doesn’t remember his life without football. His first memory is being in the change rooms one afternoon, soaking up the atmosphere at Box Hill City Oval: ‘Footy was all I knew. Getting in the way. I was a bit of a mascot back then.’ He was also soaking up the lessons. It became a life built around football. At that young age, he followed two clubs: North Melbourne and Hawthorn.

In 2004, Hawthorn were struggling badly. When Peter Schwab quit as coach late in the season, Donald was appointed interim coach for the last five games. At the end of the year, the club overlooked him for the senior coaching role in favour of Alastair Clarkson, but missing out didn’t mean the end for Donald at Hawthorn. He could stay, but not in a coaching role. He’d played with Clarkson at North Melbourne and knew him well. He understood that Clarkson wanted to appoint his own assistants. Donald could have accepted the role of Hawthorn’s football manager, but he returned to North Melbourne as an assistant coach under Dean Laidley. Having had five games experience as senior coach, he wanted to fulfil his coaching ambitions: ‘I went back to North. You wouldn’t believe it but within a year I was their footy manager and I have been there since. It’s been awesome.’

Donald’s new role at Arden Street sealed Luke’s support: ‘When Dad went to North it was all Kangaroos.’ He played junior football for the Kew Comets, his local club, wearing a Hawthorn jumper. At the Comets, he mapped out his life and it involved football. In Grade 5, he refused to do his homework. The teacher frowned and asked why. ‘I’m going to play AFL,’ Luke told her. ‘I don’t need to do it.’ He viewed his future as already sorted. That afternoon, the teacher called Donald and explained the encounter. In his office at home, Donald said he would talk to Luke. Hanging up the phone, he called out for his son, and when he wandered into the room, Donald asked why he wouldn’t do his homework.

‘I’m going to play AFL football,’ Luke said.

‘Okay,’ Donald said. ‘Are you going to be the best player in the team?’

‘Third- or fourth-best player,’ Luke said.

‘How many teams are in the league?’

‘Sixteen,’ Luke said.

‘How many leagues are in the state?’

Luke had no idea.

‘How many states are there?’

‘Six, and the Northern Territory.’

‘How many kids in Australia play football?’ Luke had no idea. ‘Thousands of kids play football,’ Donald said. ‘There’s probably 800 players on AFL lists. You’re probably not going to make it at this stage, mate.’

Luke walked from Donald’s office in tears: ‘He crushed my dream. Mum gave him a big spray.’

Donald didn’t mean to crush his son’s dream. Luke could dream big, but he had to do his homework too. Having played AFL football for a decade, Donald knew how tough it was. He’d seen players retire or get delisted without a backup plan and didn’t want that for his son.

As Luke grew up, Donald kept quiet about his own playing days. It was rare that he’d tell Luke a story about his career. One afternoon, Luke and his best mate Jack Billings found a couple of photos of Donald playing for North Melbourne. ‘Far out,’ Luke said. They went and asked Donald about his career and listened to stories about footy trips and the Krakouer brothers – how Donald had looked out for them if they were being roughed up on the field. ‘There’s not too much that he tells me,’ Luke said. ‘He’s never been one to talk about his own achievements.’

Most kids love seeing their parents in the crowd at junior football games, but when Luke played for the Comets, Donald was rarely there, instead spending his weekends at Box Hill or North Melbourne. When Luke was at training, Donald was watching training at another club. Luke said it never bothered him. He understood his dad had commitments beyond junior football. Besides, Terry was always in the crowd. ‘Dad never got to see me play too much when I was growing up,’ Luke said. Aside from a few tips, Donald didn’t get involved in coaching Luke, either: ‘He’s never butted in too much. He’s always left it up to the coaches.’ If Luke needed advice, he would ask and Donald would give an honest answer. There were times, however, when Donald thought his son needed a few tips. ‘Whenever I needed a clip around the ears, he’s given that to me as well,’ Luke said.

Donald did watch Luke play whenever the Comets were in finals. He loved watching his son and regrets not being able to watch more often. Conversations on Friday nights after training, during the Comets’ happy hour in the bar, highlighted what he was missing. Happy hour at the Comets was one night Donald could enjoy, a social event that didn’t involve coaching or club administration. At the bar, other fathers would fill him in, describing how well Luke was playing. Donald longed to watch his son play, but thought it could hinder his development. He’d seen overbearing football dads living vicariously through their sons, where the sons’ mistakes ensured abuse from the fathers. That wasn’t Donald’s philosophy, which was all about enjoyment, playing with your mates and forming friendships. ‘The kids need to grow themselves,’ he said. ‘Luke had to learn to develop his own relationships and friendships with footy and become his own bloke.’

Luke was his own bloke. Although his mates, other kids at school and opponents knew about his dad, the McDonald name never impacted on his life during junior football or at school. He can’t recall any abuse or decree that his father was the reason he’d been selected in a representative side. Aside from the surname, there were few obvious football comparisons between father and son. Luke is a left-footer where Donald was a natural right-footer. Donald, with a bigger body, played taller and was a better pack mark. Luke is more skilful and quicker and prefers to spoil rather than crash packs for marks. Simply, they play a different game.

‘Going through juniors, all I wanted was to play AFL,’ Luke said. ‘Our name has never been a burden.’ He remembers a few taunts from kids in the playground, mates and otherwise: ‘They made fun that his name is Donald McDonald.’ The obvious comparison, based on the name, is with a clown from a fast-food chain, but Donald was born in 1962, 12 years before McDonald’s franchises opened in Australia.

Like most kids, Luke played basketball and cricket, but the lure of football was intoxicating. He enjoyed it more. Playing junior football just seemed part of his progression. Donald told him to play whatever he wanted: ‘Dad’s never put any pressure on me. It’s always just been footy. It’s all I’ve ever known.’

When Luke was 14 he was about 186 cm tall. He said he’s hardly grown since. At the Comets, he played in the ruck and at full-forward. His height gave him an edge over other kids, but it didn’t last long: ‘When I got to 16 everyone started catching up to me height-wise. So I played as an inside midfielder.’

He was a regular at North Melbourne, watching pre-season training in the summer, learning all the time. One afternoon Glenn Archer took him to training. A rugged defender capable of playing tall or short, Archer wore number 11 and played in two premierships with North Melbourne in the 1990s. Having been around football clubs all his life, Luke wasn’t starstruck. Instead, he felt lucky to be driven to training by a legend. More than a decade later, that number 11 would become a part of his own life.

Noticed at 14

Craig Brittain played five games for North Melbourne in 1984 before knee injuries forced his retirement. At North he became great mates with Donald. Returning to Queensland, where he grew up, he played with Windsor-Zillmere in the Queensland Australian Football League (QAFL), captaining the club to a premiership in 1988. In 2000 he spent a year at Carlton as a recruiter before joining Brisbane in 2001 and working in various roles, including recruitment.

One day in 2009, when Luke was playing under-14s representative football, Brittain was in Melbourne watching on. After the game, he caught up with Donald, and Luke’s performance was analysed. ‘He is one of the best under-age kids I have seen play,’ Brittain said. At 16, Luke was selected for the Oakleigh Chargers TAC side. After one year with them, North Melbourne committed to him, and he embarked on his first pre-season with the Kangaroos in 2013. It meant he had to leave the Australian Institute of Sport (AIS) program and would no longer play in representative sides. At 17, he was training with North Melbourne and the club’s reserves team, Werribee. A year out from being eligible for the draft, Luke believed he was good enough to play AFL football: ‘When I got through under-16s, that’s probably when I realised I had a fair crack at it.’

As Luke progressed, Donald was busy at North Melbourne. Luke watched a few internet videos and clips of his dad, noting his versatility. From 155 games, Donald kicked 165 goals, but about half his games had been played in defence. Had North Melbourne’s fortunes been better, he could have been a premiership player. ‘For a long time I didn’t really know how good he was,’ Luke said, ‘other than looking at his stats and a few highlights.’

One trait that stood out to Luke was his dad’s competitiveness. Donald was a demonstrative player. On-field, he’d smile and shout after kicking a goal, and be grim-faced taking a mark in defence. There was a larrikin element to his play, and his size provided danger. Whenever he was given a task, he had a red-hot crack. ‘His teammates would’ve loved playing with him,’ Luke said. ‘They knew what they were going to get all the time.’

North Melbourne knew what they were going to get long before the 2013 draft: a guaranteed top-ten draft pick. Six months before the draft, the McDonald name became a burden, but this time it would be the father who carried it.

Conflict of interest?

Donald had been North Melbourne’s football manager for years. Part of his role was negotiating player contracts with the players’ managers. When North committed to Luke under the father–son rule, Donald was put in an untenable situation with an immediate conflict of interest.

Club recruiter Bryce Lewis met with Terry to talk about Luke being drafted by North Melbourne. During their chat, Terry asked about her husband’s contract. Donald was contracted on an annual basis, and her question left Lewis in a difficult position. Was Terry suggesting that if Donald’s contract wasn’t extended, Luke could go to GWS as a 17-year-old to be on-traded to clubs under a one-off rule created by the AFL for the start-up club? The McDonalds were accused of holding North Melbourne to ransom – no Donald, no Luke. ‘Put yourself in my wife’s shoes,’ Donald said. ‘She wanted to get Luke signed but knew I was going to lose my job.’

North Melbourne president James Brayshaw wanted Donald to resign as football manager. Brayshaw had played cricket for Western Australia when his father Ian was the general manager of the WA Cricket Association and, as part of his role, negotiated contracts. Brayshaw told Donald it had been difficult for him as a cricketer with his father in a key administrative post: the perception was that he’d been favoured over other cricketers because of his dad. Given Donald’s experience in football, Brayshaw felt he could get a similar role at another club – but Donald didn’t want to leave North Melbourne. ‘I’d worked my arse off at North,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t happy about that.’

Donald pointed out to Brayshaw that Lewis wanted to recruit his son. Cam Joyce, North’s list manager, also wanted Luke. Donald had no influence over Lewis or Joyce or over the father–son rule, which stipulated that North Melbourne had first access to Luke. He explained that Luke wouldn’t receive any favouritism and that his being asked to step aside was disrespectful to Lewis and Joyce and the coaching staff – Donald, as football manager, didn’t select the side. The issue dragged on through 2013. For various reasons, North Melbourne CEO Eugene Arocca had quit the club in June 2012. ‘It got really messy,’ Donald said. ‘We were accused of trying to bribe the club.’ Through the fiasco, Luke just wanted to play football for North Melbourne.

Midway through 2013, Donald agreed to step aside as football manager at the end of the year to avoid any perceived conflict of interest. He was shifted into a commercial role and no longer has an office at the club: ‘If I wanted to leverage Luke for my future I could have done that easily. I didn’t want to do it. It didn’t sit right with my values.’

The rumblings of disharmony got worse when Luke needed a manager. Donald said he stepped aside from those discussions, leaving it up to Luke and Terry. Donald had a lot of relationships in football and received offers from several influential player managers, but by abstaining from negotiations he removed another perceived conflict of interest. It didn’t stop the turmoil. Archer, who had once driven Luke to training, was involved in player management, and when Terry and Luke selected Paul Connors, Archer wanted to know why they hadn’t chosen him. ‘Luke and Terry had to feel comfortable,’ Donald said. ‘It affected my relationship with Glenn.’

Connors negotiated a contract with the club that guaranteed Luke would be taken under the father–son rule. It cost Donald his job and strained relationships with friends and club officials. ‘That created an enormous amount of anxiety at that time,’ Donald said. ‘It was a tough period.’ Donald’s passion for the club got him through. Despite his desire to coach an AFL club, he stepped back for his son.

While Luke was playing with Werribee, Donald set about raising money to erase debt at North. He proved as adept at raising money there as he had been at Werribee. The money helped the club, and Donald enjoyed his role. He’s been doing it ever since, without any conflict of interest.

The 2013 draft

In an interview before the draft, Luke said he was hopeful that North would pick him, but ‘I’m happy to go anywhere’. It was a throwaway line – Luke knew he was going to North Melbourne and didn’t want to play for anyone else.

Under the rules, North Melbourne had to match another club’s pick. If another club bid for Luke in the first round, North had to use their first-round pick. It was West Coast who put a bid on Luke with their first draft pick, number 5, forcing North to use their first pick, number 8. ‘Even though I wasn’t much of a bargain for North, I wanted to go as high as I could,’ Luke said.

Behind the scenes, Donald was adjusting to his new role with the club he loved. He was also dealing with sad news: his father, Donald McDonald senior, was seriously ill. Having watched his son play for North Melbourne, Donald Snr wanted to stay alive long enough to see his grandson play for the same club. In Luke’s first year, he got his wish. He died on 16 May, the night before Luke was due to play against Brisbane. ‘Luke had a unique relationship with his grandad,’ Donald said. ‘There was a special bond there.’ Donald called coach Brad Scott and said, ‘My dad has just passed away. Luke is very distressed. He may not be playing, as he may not be in the right frame of mind.’

Scott understood and left the decision up to Luke, who wanted to play. He tagged Dayne Zorko and played well, picking up 22 possessions. North Melbourne won. After the game, Luke found his father in a hug and there were tears. ‘He was passionate to play for his grandad,’ Donald said. ‘My dad was always a fighter, a real team man. He was tough, and he was passionate towards his family. He passed it down to me and I passed it down to Luke. He was a pivotal part of it all.’

Donald Snr had been brought up in a pub and worked all his life in hotels. He saw many different characters and learned many life skills, including how to be street smart. He enjoyed life and made sure his son did, too. And Luke, with that special bond with his grandfather, carries the same outlook. ‘My dad’s name was Donald McDonald,’ Donald said. ‘His dad was Donald too. Luke was very lucky not to be given the same name.’

In his debut season, Luke finished third in the Rising Star award. He was quiet around the club, unable to form instant friendships, so he gravitated to his father: ‘I hung out a fair bit with Dad. No one’s ever looked at it funny and I’ve never felt funny about it.’ Luke said Donald is one of his best mates and it has always been that way. Football is just one link.

Playing for North Melbourne seemed Luke’s destiny from a young age. It is why he loves playing football now. Donald had that same belief, and it provides a link between father and son. Donald, with his larrikinism, obviously enjoyed playing. He was fun to watch, because he loved playing football and playing with his mates. One crucial piece of advice he offered to Luke was about enjoyment: Enjoy playing. Enjoy training. Enjoy what you do and it isn’t a job. ‘All the way through I’ve just tried to enjoy it, even at AFL level,’ Luke said. ‘I probably get a clip around the ears every now and then because I’m having too much fun. I can’t take it too serious.’ The larrikinism might not manifest on the ground as it did with Donald, but Luke loves playing so much it is impossible for him not to enjoy it: ‘I feel if you get too caught up in it, you don’t enjoy it.’

In his second year, Luke got caught up in it. Opposition clubs put extra time into him to negate his run and creativity from the backline. They tried isolating him deep in defence, hoping to expose him. After three games in his second year, he was dropped. He said it had nothing to do with the McDonald name or being a father– son selection: it was his own fault. He’d grown up in football but the leap to the AFL had been huge. For the first time, doubts crept in and one bad game turned into another. ‘I didn’t enjoy footy as much that year,’ he said. ‘I was overthinking when I didn’t go well. Freaking out a bit.’

Pressure. Every footballer feels it. A fracture in his back left Luke unable to train some weeks. When he was dropped, that name, McDonald, was brought up in the media. The price North Melbourne had paid in the draft, pick 8, was also questioned. After a great first year, Luke had faltered. He vowed to get back, to work hard and reclaim his spot: ‘Never once did I think I’m not living up to anything. I was never going to get defined by one year or a few games.’

Donald and Terry watch each game Luke plays, live or on television. If asked, they give him an honest appraisal. In his difficult second year, he spoke regularly with his dad: ‘Whenever I had a quiet game he was the first I’d call in the car, and he was always positive and honest. He would never call me, but I sought him out.’ That second year, when form deserted him, Luke never worried about his name or the pressure of being a top-ten pick: ‘It was always something I embraced. Never been a burden at all.’

In 2016 he was badly injured in Round 13 against Hawthorn when he tore his hamstring tendon from the bone while tackling Cyril Rioli. The injury required surgery. Donald provided a pat on the back and drew on memories of his own injuries. ‘It’s one thing to have talent,’ he told Luke. ‘The thing that gets you through a long footy career is dealing with adversity, the capacity to keep fronting up.’

When Luke was injured, North Melbourne were third on the ladder, but after winning their first ten games, seven players from their best 22 had been lost to injury. Luke missed nine games, and when he came back North were eighth. They made the finals but were eliminated by Adelaide. At the end of the year, the club delisted four veterans and embarked on an aggressive rebuild. Luke, at 22, would be part of that rebuild. A midfielder for most of his junior career, he was moved to half-back. The club had a strong side filled with skilful midfielders, so he had to learn a new role, using his pace to set up attack from defence: ‘I had to cut my teeth at half-back.’

In 2017, Luke was offered the number 11 jumper previously worn by Archer. It highlighted the faith North Melbourne had in him. During the year, as North slipped down the ladder, Luke played multiple roles: defence, wing and occasionally in the midfield, wherever the team needed him. Like his dad, he can play multiple roles. ‘I could never see myself not playing for North,’ he said. ‘Especially now I’ve got the number 11 jumper. I’m privileged to play for them.’

After the homework debacle in Grade 5, Luke knuckled down at school. He went to Trinity Grammar and completed Year 12. Terry, a schoolteacher, wouldn’t let him get away with neglecting his homework, and Donald didn’t either. ‘They were massive on my schooling,’ he said. ‘They always made me take it seriously.’ After four years in the AFL system, he has seen a lot of talented players succumb to injury and get delisted. He knows how cruel injury can be. Donald still suffers from sore shoulders due to his football injuries. Playing golf is difficult, and he blames his slice on his injuries. Luke is studying a Bachelor of Arts at Melbourne University and wants to be prepared for the unexpected.

Aspirations are still there

In 2017, Donald was appointed coach of Avondale Heights in the Essendon District Football League. It is satisfying his coaching urge, and he splits his time between Avondale Heights and North Melbourne. To improve his coaching, he is always learning, and has been to England three times on study tours with English Premier League soccer clubs, wanting to understand the role of manager as opposed to that of coach. He believes the coach’s role is more managerial now. Senior coaches have offence, defence and midfield assistants. There are conditioning coaches, recruiters and doctors. The coach doesn’t have to be as hands-on anymore and can have more time with the players. ‘I think it’s super-important that the coach has a relationship with his players,’ Donald said. ‘It’s a delicate role.’ He still has confidence in his coaching ability and has no doubt he could coach at AFL level. At 56, he feels he has two more years to prove to the industry that he can do it. Certainly he has extensive experience in football as a player, coach and administrator. And football has proved that age does not limit a coach’s effectiveness. ‘Maybe in a few years’ time I will have something to offer an AFL club,’ he said.

Times have changed from when Donald played. Arden Street is different – the social club and demountable buildings are gone, bulldozed along with the old change rooms and the condemned grandstand. The redevelopment includes a pool, gym, basketball court and suite of offices. North Melbourne, after almost being shunted off to the Gold Coast, have built a facility the local community can be proud of. ‘We have made profits eight years in a row,’ Donald said. ‘We are in a far better position than what we were 12 years ago.’

Football has always been a business, but the AFL is now the biggest competition in Australia. Everything from club administration to recruitment, memberships and training has been revolutionised. When Donald played, pre-season training started in January; now, the players can begin pre-season training four weeks after the season ends. Where footy trips were once spent overseas, pre-season training is now spent overseas.

In November 2017, North Melbourne held a training camp in Utah at the US Ski & Snowboard association’s headquarters. Nineteen first- to fourth-year players completed an intensive high-altitude training program that included 12 km mountain hikes, hill runs and obstacle courses. By mid-November, Luke and his teammates had already been training for a month: ‘Two weeks in Utah and two weeks in Australia.’ In Utah, the players took turns to talk about their journey to the AFL. The stories were powerful, their backgrounds diverse. Hearing everyone’s journey, Luke felt lucky to have been involved in football since birth. Graduating to the AFL system had been natural. He knew how it all worked. And Donald was a big part of that.

In junior football, Luke was usually captain or vice-captain. He was leading at a young age without thinking about it. At North Melbourne, he has learned to talk to everyone, giving honest feedback and encouragement. Donald was like that, too. And like Donald, Luke has been held back from a leadership role not because of his talent, but because of his enjoyment of the game. ‘I do have a lot of fun and probably muck around too much,’ he said. ‘That’s held me back. I’ve really worked on that the last couple of years.’ He has leadership aspirations at North Melbourne. Donald did too, but never articulated them. ‘I know Dad would’ve been a great leader,’ Luke says. ‘I think he was a bit like I am, struggling to find that line between enjoying himself and being a leader. Once he went to Werribee as captain-coach he was a bit older and probably matured a bit.’ Some players mature late. It doesn’t mean they can’t play.

Luke is committed to his coach, Brad Scott, and to North Melbourne. His training and coaching are Scott’s responsibility. On occasion Donald has had an opinion about on-field performances – not just Luke’s, but the team’s – but he never lets Luke know what he’s thinking. ‘It would be disrespectful to his coach,’ Donald says. He never talks about on-field matters with Scott or any of North’s assistant coaches. When Scott was hard on Luke in his second year, Donald didn’t interfere: ‘Luke has earned every game. He hasn’t been gifted anything. He earned the respect of his teammates through his actions. Luke has said being father–son hasn’t been a burden on him. There haven’t been any issues.’

Donald played in seven finals. By the end of the 2017 season, Luke had played in five finals from 74 games. Neither has played in a Grand Final. Their careers seem to be tracking parallel. ‘We’re both lucky to have played in big games at young ages,’ Luke said. ‘Hopefully it doesn’t keep tracking parallel, because I’d like to win a premiership.’ He is like his dad in many ways. Off the field they are similar: positive and loyal, looking after family, friends and teammates. Luke’s biggest attribute is one he shares with his father – competitiveness, never wanting to be beaten. ‘You can’t measure it on the footy field,’ Luke says. ‘I think that is the biggest correlation between us.’

The father–son rule has changed in the last 15 years. Clubs now must pay a fair price for their father–son selections and it is no longer the massive advantage it once was. Luke loves the father– son rule. Donald played ten years at North Melbourne and helped galvanise the under-19s and reserves in the early 1990s. Luke is proud of his father’s career, on and off the field. To follow Donald to North Melbourne under the father–son rule is all about sentiment: ‘To play in the same jumper that Dad wore, coming down to Arden Street where he’s trained and spent ten years of his life, it’s still really special. It’s special for North fans.’

But Luke said the father–son rule provides more than sentiment – it strikes at the romantic side of the game and is a unique rule that transcends eras: ‘To play 100 games and then have a son who’s good enough to play AFL is at the heart of it.’

The heart of football. A link to the past. Father–son. Look for the spirit. The fans understand where to find it. Donald rarely saw his son play junior football, but now he never misses a game. If he watches a game live, he will watch it again at home, win, lose or draw. He is making up for lost time from a lifetime in football.

Luke is also catching up. He and Donald have a running joke about longevity. Donald played 155 games of football, and Luke wants to play at least one more than his dad. ‘I want to keep adding to what he started,’ Luke said. ‘He’s got it over me until I get there. I’m coming for him.’

Donald McDonald was short for a ruckman but often beat bigger opponents, like Mark Lee. (GSP Images/AFL Media)

Luke plays a different game to his father but the courage and endeavour are the same. (Ian Hitchcock/AFL Media)

Luke and Donald after the 2013 national draft. Donald once told Luke he wouldn’t make it. (Ian Currie/Newspix)