When I first started watching the VFL, as it was then known, in the late 1980s, Michael Tuck seemed ancient. Much of it had to do with the fact that Hawthorn’s footballing Methuselah had been running around the comp since before I was born. I had a Carlton-loving mate (so naturally, no fried of the Hawks) who used to insist that Tuck had played so many matches, they could’ve snuck an extra 50 into his total with nobody noticing.

Tuck has come to mind a lot recently with Brent Harvey breaking his impressive record for most senior games played in what we now call the AFL. When it comes to Boomer, however, the feeling is altogether different – rather than a grand, old man of football who has been a piece of the league’s furniture, I’ve been able to watch the arc of Harvey’s career from his first days in the great Wayne Carey North Melbourne teams of the late ’90s.

Perhaps it’s that bias of perception that comes from the things you’ve seen as a young sports fan to a mature one, but the fact that Harvey’s span from 1996 to now exceeds Tuck’s tenure of 1972-1991 doesn’t sit quite right. When these kinds of records fall, they’re a great reminder of how sport forges a peculiar continuity, invoking comparison across eras that otherwise can’t properly be compared.

If there’s one thing to come out of Harvey’s achievement, it’s to see Australian football’s old-timey affection for its games record. No other sport in the world, I think, celebrates the mere fact of being there as our home-grown code – to be known as a 300-gamer exceeds any All-Australian or other individual honour, maybe even a Brownlow. It’s the best expression of what is egalitarian in our footy culture, something quickly eroding under the pressure of elite performance. If only for a weekend, It’s nice that Brent Harvey can remind us of that.