40 years on - Chapter 1

adam casey: my journey through football and life.

THE HIGHS. THE LOWS. THE LOSSES. THE LESSONS.

Chapter 1 – Where It All Began

It was 1986 in Western Sydney. Crocodile Dundee had just been released, Diego Maradona had led Argentina to World Cup glory, and the Parramatta Eels were the best rugby league team in the country.

I arrived as the first child of two young parents. Dad was serving in the Australian Army, and Mum was a registered nurse. Like many young families starting out, they were working hard to build a life and raise a family.

I didn't know it then, but football had already begun shaping my story long before I ever kicked a ball.

Dad had played throughout his youth and represented the Australian Defence Force football team. Around Canberra football circles, he was known as "the fastest man in boots." My Grandma still tells the story of the only time she went to watch him play. Sitting amongst a group of passionate Eastern European supporters, she suddenly heard someone yell in a thick Yugoslav accent:

"Dat Casey... he have legs like SCISSOR!"

Forty years later, it still makes me laugh.

The truth is, I inherited more from Dad than just a surname. I inherited his running style too. Anyone who watched me play would probably agree, although I'd like to think I was just a little quicker.

The Casey side of the family was filled with musicians, writers and high achievers. As far as I know, Dad was the first footballer in the family. Like many Australians during the 1980s, he was a passionate Liverpool supporter, inspired by players like Craig Johnston, Ian Rush and the great Liverpool teams of that era.

If football had a place on Dad's side of the family, it was woven into everyday life on Mum's.

Mum was the first-born child of Maltese migrant parents—my much-loved Nunna and Nannu. Like so many migrant families, they came to Australia in search of a better life, bringing with them little more than hope, determination, a relentless work ethic and a deep love of family.

They also brought something else.

Football.

The Maltese community has always lived and breathed the game, and some of my earliest memories involve listening to my Nannu proudly talking about clubs like Melita Eagles, Canberra City and Canberra Arrows. These weren't simply football clubs to him; they represented family, community and the life they had built in Australia.

My Nunna was no different. She could name players, coaches and matches from decades earlier. From the legendary Johnny Warren to Tom Sermanni—who also happened to be Mum's and my uncle's schoolteacher—football conversations were simply part of everyday life.

Naturally, my uncles played too. One was regarded as one of Canberra's brightest young football talents, something later confirmed by his childhood friend, future Socceroo Andy Bernal. Years later, Andy would become my player agent before going on to play a significant role in David Beckham's famous move to Real Madrid.

Another uncle, Steve, became a well-known figure in Canberra football and later managed Canberra Croatia, one of the ACT's most successful clubs.

Then there was Mum.

Long before women's football received the recognition it enjoys today, Mum represented the ACT at the Women's National Championships in Perth. Yet if you ever asked her about her football career, she rarely mentioned representing her state.

Mum is a character. A bit of a wild child. Always ready with a joke.

Whenever I asked how they went at the championships, she'd grin and say, "Great!"

Then she'd launch into her favourite story.

Apparently, after conceding their fifth goal in one match, all eleven girls decided to celebrate anyway. They threw themselves onto their backs and waved their arms and legs in the air like a group of dying ants. Mum would laugh uncontrollably as she described the scene. Her team thought it was hilarious. The opposition certainly didn't. They simply stood there staring in complete bewilderment.

Of all her football memories, that's the one she remembers most vividly.

Well... that and the time she scored from inside her own half—a desperate clearance that somehow turned into a wonder goal.

Looking back now, I realise football wasn't something I discovered.

It wasn't simply a sport I happened to fall in love with.

It had been part of my story from the very beginning.

On one side I inherited the Casey competitiveness, athleticism and drive. On the other, the resilience and sacrifice of Maltese migrants who built a new life in Australia, along with a football culture that flowed through family gatherings, conversations and memories.

Between the two, I inherited ambition, determination, creativity and an obsession with the game long before I understood what any of those things meant.

At the time, I was simply a kid growing up in Western Sydney.

Looking back now, I can see the foundations of the person I would become were already being laid—both the strengths and the struggles.

But while football had always been around me, confidence hadn't.

The next chapter isn't about goals or trophies. It's about a young boy trying to find where he belonged.