Shortly after hearing of Brian’s death, inaugural Crows Captain Chris McDermott said on radio that a glass of Red would be a fitting tribute to the passing of a great man. Usually a lectern has a glass of water for the speaker - in this case this is more appropriate.
After calling on his mates and citizens of Rome to listen up, Shakespeare’s Mark Anthony began his funeral oration with
“I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him - the good that men do lives after them, the evil is interred with their bones. So let it be with Caesar”.
I’m no Mark Anthony and the occasion is different but I do think the quote appropriate. It gave me a direction in how to present a short commentary on Brian.(It’s a bit unfair on Brian though, as, apart from a wicked sense of humour or evil intent in the nurses quarters in his student days there wasn’t a lot of evil about him).
In his way Brian was a Caesar: a leader, a colossus, imperious, a visionary, ambitious, honourable, larger than life, a fighter, an innovator and a builder. While not interested in empire building he was a creator and developer. He will certainly be remembered and acknowledged as leaving this world, his profession and his passion, medicine and sports medicine, better for his being, his involvement and leadership.”The Good Lives After Them”
I will not praise him for his impressive list of appointments, achievements, awards, honours and recognitions. That has already been done. I want instead to talk about Brian, the man. I am particularly honoured to have been asked to represent those thousands of people world-wide who knew Brian - many of whom are here today. I have known Brian for forty years in many roles some of which you may also relate. His interests, influences and involvements were varied and vast. I knew him as my doctor, a colleague, a clinic director, a team mate, a fellow surrogate coach of the Crows, sports fan, a generous companion, a ready, wise and trusted counsellor, a lover of red wine, good food and a good yarn, a shared interest in history and above all, my friend. Mark Anthony again:
“Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me”
Varied and vast too, was the range of acquaintances of Brian. Sportspeople, the elite and the amateur, professionals, politicians, business people, administrators, support staff, the media. Importantly, he was the same to all whether it be an orthopaedic surgeon or a team trainer, an Olympic medallist or a rookie footballer, a patient with a runny nose or one who required major surgery. He would even treat umpires regardless of what he thought of them (In fact I think he rather enjoyed giving them their annual flu vaccination although I think he might have used blunt needles!)
He had a great sense of fun and this was one of the attributes that particularly endeared him to those who knew and worked with him. No appointment or meeting was so important that it couldn’t wait until his latest joke (most of which couldn’t be told here) was shared. His eventual acceptance of the internet expanded his repertoire considerably. As all of the middle aged males who had their regular check up with Brian can attest “that test” was always accompanied by a somewhat demeaning quip from the examining doctor. The bonds, the relationships he formed with athletes and patients positively redefined “bedside manner” and which engendered confidence and trust in him.
He did however love recounting the time where the table was once turned in the doctor/patient relationship (“This is not going to hurt either of us-is it Brian” story). While a good story (and he insisted it was true) that that could happen clearly illustrates the unique relationships that Brian’s character engendered. For someone whose main claim to sporting fame was as a fourth change bowler who batted number eleven and fielded as backstop in the school C Cricket team he had an enviable career in elite sport - he loved being with and working with athletes.
He was neither a humble man nor vain yet paradoxically humility is an apt adjective to associate with him. Immensely proud of his awards and honours they were never on public display and rarely referred to. A case in point is his OAM which he was awarded in 1995. Very proud and protective of it I never saw him wear the emblem or indeed any of the various Life Membership medallions he had. He did wear his heart on his sleeve for all to see however, reflecting his love of and loyalty to Prince Alfred College, the Norwood Football Club, The Adelaide Crows, his swimmers and his footballers and his country. You just had to see him, bursting with pride, marching behind the Australian flag at the opening of the OGs to see what his country and its athletes meant to him.
That obvious pride was eclipsed however when he spoke of his family. As husbands, fathers and grandfathers are wont to do, at times maybe reticent to tell them direct, Brian would talk to me, full of glowing praise of the professional and charity work that Lee was doing, the latest contract that Matthew had won, the course at Harvard Andrew had undertaken, the sporting and scholastic achievements and progress of his grandchildren, what Sue was doing and the latest stories about his Heinz 57 varieties dog - Lizzy. Oh his dog - how much fun and joy they gave each other and how important Lizzy has been in the last two years.
One of the great delights in working with Brian was the meetings our medical and physiotherapy staff would have in my hotel room the night before an interstate game or in my office after a home game. By tradition we each produced an “agenda item” - one of the bottled, aged red variety. In addition to the latest Sando jokes and a critical preview or review of the game we did discuss serious medical matters. To move from the Roman to a Greek metaphor, Brian was revered Socrates like - the master, the teacher, the mentor, sharing, questioning, provoking but not dominating, (fortunately at the time sipping not hemlock but a Coonawarra shiraz or something similar). Occasionally criticised by the unknowing for being too methodical, conservative and “not quick enough” as he explored all options he was rarely proven wrong and true to his creed, the interests of the player, the athlete, the patient were paramount.
His ethical approach brought some conflict as well in that he would not always bend to pressure to “scan it”. Not pig headedly because he knew clinically it was not needed, but because of the risk of excessive radiation on the patient, because of the cost to the taxpaying public and needlessly tying up equipment that someone else needed. As close as our working roles were over a number of years I cannot remember a breach by Brian in doctor/patient confidentiality. If you didn’t need to know you didn’t. Those who have worked with him hold him in the highest esteem and credit Brian for much of their own professional development and opportunity and are honoured to follow in his footsteps. The AFC has a policy of not naming any of its facility after anyone. There is, however, a photo of Brian Sando in the medical room placed there by his colleagues, and no one, repeat no one, would suggest, let alone countenance, its removal. The Brian Sando Trophy recognising professionalism and attention to detail will be awarded by the club for the first time at this year’s trophy night.
A workaholic and ultra professional, his hours were long. Meetings and preparation for them, reports to be written, the latest sports medicine journal to be read. It was not exceptional for him to leave a social function and then work well into the following morning. He was the consummate professional. His thirst for knowledge and the need to be up to date knew no boundary. Conferences, workshops, meetings (and of course the bon homie that accompanied them) were important to him. This was not just in a passive sense as he was very much a sought after, respected contributor as evidenced by his presidencies of SMA National and state bodies and numerous other professional organisations. While in his waiting room you usually had plenty of time to catch up with friends who were also waiting to see Brian. But it took its toll. In the true tradition of medicos he was invariably late for dinner engagements. Lee would usually have to elbow him to stop snoring when we went to the theatre. In fact, after sleeping through the Phantom of the Opera our wives Lee and Trudie gave him a graphic description of a made up rape scene he supposedly had missed. A couple of years later in London he couldn’t wait to go and see what he had missed and rang home complaining that it had been cut out!
At times like this it is often said “He lost his battle with cancer”. Well Brian didn’t! He and Lee fought and beat that bastard of a disease for two years. On his diagnosis they made a pact to live with the condition and not to die from it. He even exploited this - TV and cup of coffee story! Their resolve and fight have been nothing short of inspirational - determined yes, but also realistic and prepared.
To use sports medicine - an appropriate analogy - injuries can be divided into two major categories “Acute” and “Chronic”. The acute has sudden onset, can be quite spectacular, are treated from onset and usually resolve relatively quickly. While accompanied by some initial anguish this too is comparatively easy to handle. Conversely the chronic injury which has an insidious onset, is sometimes difficult to diagnose, is usually long term and with its potential to end careers is not infrequently accompanied by anxiety, depression and a slew of negative thoughts, feelings and mood swings which require strength to accept, handle and overcome.
Brian’s chronic condition has ended his career. He showed unbelievable strength, resolve and humour in dealing with it in the 22 months after it was diagnosed. Quote “22 Months ago doctors gave me 12 months to live - bloody doctors what would they know?” At times he wavered - briefly. Round 21 season 2011 “It would have been nice to have seen them win for my last game” but was quite chuffed to have seen another 13 wins (half of them live) this year. He wasn’t angry “Not at 76 but I would have been bloody angry had I been 56”. He had goals that kept him going. When seriously ill in hospital in January he said “I want to be around to see my new grand-daughter. I want her to be an addition to the family, not a replacement.” Since his diagnosis He and Lee continued to travel going ...to China, Peru, and England. He maintained his sense of humour although at times it was somewhat black. (Peru wig story) When asked how his tomato crop was going he said that he hadn’t planted any because if he wasn’t going to be around to eat them he wasn’t going to leave them for freeloaders to do so (he eventually did plant). Last November, as we studied the bill for a dinner he offered to pay for more than the usual 50/50 split because he had saved some money by not buying a 2012 diary he wouldn’t need. A week or so before his death, on having his pain relief medication upped considerably he quipped “They’re trying to give me a preview of where I’m going. Bugger it, if I don’t like it I won’t go!” Each morning when I arrived Lee would say “He’s still here - he obviously didn’t like it”. He continued to work “Why sit around feeling sorry for yourself waiting to kick off?” His approach to the considerable pain he endured at times was “Shit it hurts but it’s better than being dead.”
Well old friend it doesn’t cause you hurt anymore. Be comfortable in that in life, you and your work have meant so much to so many.
As I did to start, I’ll again let Mark Anthony finish for me:
“My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me”
Hail Caesar!
Vale Brian!
