Masters holds very fond memories of the glorious Lidcombe Oval, which still exists today, albeit as if on the wrong end of a heavy set of six, but like the grand warriors of the era – Dallas Donnelly, Les Boyd and Tommy Raudonikis et al - it stands there defiantly, showing off its black-eyes with pride, while displaying no signs of melting away anytime soon.

“It got to the stage where people would turn up to Lidcombe Oval to watch games … I recall a chemist who had a fairly successful pharmacy practice not too far away. He’d change out of his coat and tie and come and stand on the hill at Lidcombe Oval dressed in a boiler suit,” Masters recalls. “He wanted to be seen to be a fibro. He’d get two bits of actual fibro, nail them together at the bottom to form a V, and stand there on the hill waving this V about. It just captured the ethos of the people at the time.”

The gates to heaven; Lidcombe Oval. (Photo by James Smith)

Masters had coached Wests’ under-23s side for a few years prior to taking over the club’s first grade duties. During that time he had closely observed the machinations of the so-called great class divide in which Sydney’s residents lived and worked. After living it for a few years himself following his move to the big smoke from Tamworth where he was a school teacher, he deducted there was a lot of truth in this perception. Indeed the world of Sydney rugby league contained especially strong doses of it.

“There was a view that there was entrenched privilege at certain clubs; that there was in fact a cartel that ran the game, that principally included clubs such as the Bulldogs under Peter Moore, Manly under Ken Arthurson, South Sydney with Terry Parker and even Balmain with Kevin Humphries, who was the chair of the league at the time,” says Masters.

Dream factory; Lidcombe Oval today. (Photo by James Smith)