Hard Luck Motty

Stephen Mott

Description

You will not be able to put this book down once you start!
Hard Luck Motty has been through everything you can imagine.
See if you can find someone who can top my life adventures!
The famous people I have met and spent time with: Hollywood superstars, sporting greats.
The family tragedies along the way.
The excitement and thrills.
The silliness.
The lessons I have learnt the hard way, in my working, sporting and fun life.
You need to read this book.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 10 décembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528986472
• Langue: English

Extrait

H ard L uck M otty
Stephen Mott
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-12-10
Hard Luck Motty About the Author Copyright Information © Chapter 1: Baby Years and Tragedy Chapter 2: Europe Chapter 3: Early Teenage Years Chapter 4: Times With my Best Mate John Difford Chapter 5: Working and Living on my Own as a 16 Year Old Chapter 6: Swan Hill With Rick And Queensland Trip With John And David Chapter 7: District Cricket at St Kilda, and Football at East Brighton Chapter 8: Hollywood Encounter Chapter 9: Europe With Anna Chapter 10: Danzylum and Melbourne: Cup Day, 2008 Chapter 11: Our Wedding at Palazzo Versace on the Gold Coast Chapter 12: Our TV Show, Racing Fashion TV Chapter 13: My Cricket Career Chapter 14: My Children and Life Now Chapter 15: England Wins the World Cricket Cup! And we Were There to Enjoy it
About The Author
Stephen is a very hardworking and honest man. Family is everything to him. From a young age, he was also a very good sportsman. Cricket, football, basketball, soccer – basically he was good at all sports. Later in life, he developed a love for horse racing.
Copyright Information ©
Stephen Mott (2020)
The right of Stephen Mott to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Austin Macauley is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In this spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528986441 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528986458 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781528986472 (ePub e-book)
ISBN 9781528986465 (Audiobook)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Chapter 1 Baby Years and Tragedy

My father Jack Mott, (Monte John Edgar Mott), served in the Second World War, in the Air Force. He was colour blind, so could not fly in the air battles, so he had to stay at the RAAF bases. He was based at Pt Cook. They were obviously concerned if you were colour blind, the wrong planes could be shot down, if you could not distinguish the emblems on the planes. Seems a good point, I would say! But he still served Australia proud through the war. I am very proud of him too.
He had 14 or 15 siblings. From the age of 14, he had to start work to help support his family. He worked as a cook hand, and had to ride hours on his push bike to get to his job. His father was away building silos, and there was no one else old enough in the family to earn any money.
My grandfather, William George Broom, on my mother’s side, served in the First World War, at Gallipoli and the Western Front. He had many injuries and illnesses, and was patched up 5 or 6 times in the army hospitals, and sent straight back to the trenches to fight. I cannot even imagine, what he went through, during the great war.
He returned home not the same person, after being gassed by the Germans in the war, as well. He left my nana, just after my mother was born, and I never met him. But I am very proud, of what he did for our country.
My grandfather on my father’s side, I didn’t meet very often. My father didn’t keep contact with his family that often. Sadly, I saw my grandfather the night he died. We went to his house, after they called my dad, and he was still on his bed, before he was taken away to the morgue. That sight has never left my memory. I must have been about 11.
I was born Stephen Wayne Mott, in Bendigo, on the 22 nd of November, 1962. Exactly one year before John F Kennedy was assassinated. My father was, Jack Mott as mentioned, and my mother, was Margaret Mott (Broom).
My mother Margaret, was born in Australia, but her mother, who of course was my nana, came from England. She was Dorothy Broom. We visited her home in Dorset, where she was brought up, when we were in England. Aunty Gladys, still did the milk run with the horse and cart, when we were there! All I remember, is that it was freezing, and we had hot water bottles when we went to bed!
I had six Siblings. Margaret, Patricia, John, Brian, Jennifer and Kaye. John tragically died of a heart attack, when he was only 37 years old. I was very close to John.
We lived in Bendigo, until I was two years old. Then we moved to Melbourne. (Fawkner was the suburb). We were in a new outer suburb of Melbourne. My dad told me, he paid 12 thousand pounds for the house.
I cannot remember much of my early years, up to age five.
I was told, when I was a baby, we had a massive head on car accident, on the road between Melbourne and Bendigo, near Gisborne, in terrible fog. It was on the Calder Highway. The other driver was on the wrong side of the road, affected by drugs and alcohol. There were about six or seven of us in the car. No seatbelts. I was sitting on my mother’s lap, in the front seat, and ended up having a ‘H’ on my forehead for life from the stitches. This happened from me smashing into the roof of the car. Everybody was badly injured, but thank goodness, everyone survived.
My sister, Margaret, got married in 1967, to Steve McKenna. She was a great influence in my early years, and I spent a lot of time at her house. Steve was the union boss of the State Bank of Victoria. The Photos of their wedding, have most of our family, past and present in it. We all look at those photos, to see the loved ones we have lost.
I went to Moomba Park Primary School in Fawkner, starting at grade prep, when I was four. I went there until the end of grade six. Apart from when I was overseas.
Little did I know, the tragedy, that would occur the following year. In grade one.
The world collapsed for us all, when on December the 18th, 1968, on walking home from school, with my sister Kaye, we noticed all the cars parked, across the road from our house, at the Washbrooks House. Our friendly neighbours. This was unusual.
Little did I know, or what to expect.
My mother had died of a heart attack, at the young age of 37. Everyone at the house, tried to keep me in a separate room, as my mother was still there. She had a heart attack, getting off the bus near our home. They had tried everything to revive her. She had seven children. Now, all without a mother.
I had just turned six years old, a few weeks before.
I do not have many memories, of my mother. I was so young, and maybe I shut the memories out, because of the tragic loss. All I know, is that she was a great mother, and that she has watched over me, from heaven all my life.
I can only imagine, what it must have been like, for my brothers and sisters. Most of them had already grown up, from early teenagers, to 19/20. She would have been everything to them. Of course she was to me too, but I was so young.
I became a daddy’s boy. He was the world to me. I learnt everything from him, and tried to copy everything he did and believed in. I love all the stories he told me. I still remember them all today. So many years on.
My best friends at primary school, were Chris Browney, Steve McMillan and Greg Shreiber. We all played sport together non-stop, on the weekends, from early morning, until late at night. Weekdays after school, until late. We actually formed a band at one stage, and played to all the classes at school. ‘Here Come the Aussies’, was our favourite song to perform. It was a song, sung by the Australian Cricket Team, on the 1972, tour of England! And ‘Bowl a Ball, Swing the Bat’ also! I played a guitar and sang, yet I had no idea, how to play the guitar! It was all good fun.
My next door neighbour, was Alex Todorovski. He was older than me, but a good friend too. He actually took me to the 1973 grand finale, between Carlton and Richmond. We went on the train from Gowrie Station. We lost the game unfortunately. Richmond belted up some of our best players, John Nicholls and Geoff Southby, being two of them . Fun day though. We beat them the year before convincingly though. 28.9 to 22.18, so I suppose we cannot complain. Carlton won eight premierships in my life, before I was 33, so I have had it pretty good. Some people, don’t even get to see their teams win the competition!
My dad used to teach me boxing. We both had a pair of boxing gloves. We used to spar together quite often. I used to try and knock my dad’s block off! I do not think, I ever landed a single blow! My dad was very good. He used to poke his tongue out at me. That used to make me try even harder. Many of his siblings were boxers. He used to say, I couldn’t knock a top off a rice pudding! One day, I invited my friends from school, over to my place, so I could take them all on in order, with these boxing gloves. Four or five of my closest friends came over. One by one, I took them on, in the street outside my house. As I got tired, things were not going well for me. I was taking a lot of punishment. Thank goodness, Alex Todorovski heard all the noise, and came outside, and stopped proceedings! He said, “You are going to kill him! Leave him alone.” My friends all went home.
One day, I was playing football by myself out in the street, just outside my house. I accidently kicked the ball into my neighbour’s car, and broke one of his windows. He was a Scottish man, with a strong Scottish accent. I hid in the backyard, awaiting my fate. I heard the neighbour knock on the front door, and say to my dad, in his Scottish accent, “Jack, he’s bloody kicked his ball, into my bloody car, and broke my bloody window!” I h