In August, we said farewell to a man who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bradman in Australia’s consciousness during and after WW2. Victor Patrick Lucca, a slight, skinny son of Italian migrants, was one of our greatest fighters. Fighting as Vic Patrick, he took on every local and import thrown his way for the sake of an Australian public starved of entertainment and in need of heroes. If he’d fought in America, he’d probably have been a world champion. But, at the request of local promoters, he stayed home and, to make up for a lack of good opposition at lightweight, often fought, and beat, men much bigger than himself. The night he won the Australian welterweight title from Tommy Burns, he was outweighed by ten pounds.

When Vic lost to America’s Freddie Dawson – often described as one of the best fighters never to win a world title – Australia was practically paralysed with grief. Vic had come within a second of knocking Dawson out. Vic, an amiable, mild-mannered bloke, retired, made a fortune in pubs, and became one of our best referees. But it’s the awkward, enigmatic southpaw with the laser right and sledgehammer left who will be remembered most fondly by our older sports fans.

Published in Inside Sport, October, 2006