Our People
14 August, 2026
The stories only get better with age
"CAN we just say that we’d like to deny everything in advance?” Greg Kerr has been sitting down for less than a minute when he decides that disclaimer is probably necessary. Across the table, Brett “Babes” Dalkin is surrounded by diaries he has kept since the mid-1980s. Chris “Skills” Dalkin has newspaper clippings spread out in front of him. Kerr leans back and watches the two brothers begin the sort of argument that has probably been going on for most of their lives. Forty years have passed since the three men helped Ararat win the 1986 Wimmera Football League premiership, but time has done very little to settle the arguments.
A score is mentioned before somebody disagrees. A game is recalled, only for Babes to disappear into another diary while Skills insists the diary is wrong. Kerr watches the exchange with obvious amusement before another story comes back to him, and within minutes the conversation has wandered somewhere completely different.
It doesn’t take long to realise this weekend’s reunion will involve far more laughter than nostalgia.
Between them, the three carried serious football credentials into the Ararat side of 1986. Skills had played league football with Collingwood, Babes had represented the Army at national level, while Kerr would become a club life member and kick six goals in the grand final.
Forty years later, none appears especially burdened by false modesty.
Asked what he made of Wimmera football after returning home, Babes barely pauses.
“Well, we enhanced it.”
Skills immediately points towards the recorder.
“You got that down there H?”
For all the confidence, however, the brothers insist they came home for one reason only.
Money barely entered the conversation.
The club could offer little more than petrol money.
“I wanted to go home and play some football,” Skills said.
“I just wanted to win a flag.”
The first training session did not unfold quite the way anyone expected.
The arrival of a former Collingwood player naturally attracted attention. Teammates watched to see what Skills might produce.
Instead, he stubbed his foot.
“I fell down,” he said, laughing.
Kerr can still picture it.
“Skills stubbed his foot and the ball went about two feet.
“Everybody stopped.”
Todd didn’t.
Kerr remembers the coach looking around at the players before delivering the line that immediately dissolved any awkwardness.
“Well boys, if you’ve ever got the inspiration to play league football, that wasn’t a very good example of what to follow.”
The track erupted.
The Dalkin brothers had arrived carrying enormous reputations. One joke stripped all that away and turned them into teammates.
“That really broke the ice,” Kerr said.
Ask what made the side work and the answers come quickly. Babes remembers structure. Skills remembers young footballers who wanted to learn. Kerr remembers belief.
“When you’re winning, you’re arrogant,” Skills said.
“Everyone’s confidence just skyrockets.”
The mythology surrounding the 1986 side doesn’t always survive contact with Babes’ diaries.
Every so often Babes pauses, flips back a page and quietly corrects something Skills had been absolutely certain about only moments earlier.
Skills isn’t always convinced, while Kerr rarely bothers taking sides.
The argument has wandered a long way from where it started, eventually arriving at the Ararat side every generation seems to end up talking about – the premiers of 1975.
Kerr grew up hearing those stories.
He admired them.
He envied them too.
“Quite frankly, I wanted them to talk about me and us, not them,” he said.
“I felt like it was time for us to shine and carry on the tradition, and for others to follow.”
Kerr became exactly what those 1975 players had once been to him.
That moment arrived in 1999.
Ararat had finally won another senior premiership and, afterwards, Kerr walked over to members of the new team.
He knew exactly what to say.
“Welcome to the club.”
Decades later, Kerr still pauses before continuing.
“To be able to pass the baton on to the next crew was nearly as sweet as winning it in ’86,” he said.
“We were the last yardstick.
“We created our own history, and these guys had now created it.”
He pauses again.
“Representing Ararat means a lot,” he said.
“That’s how we felt in ’86.
“It was one of the proudest moments of my life.”
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