Jack’s courage in pairing with relentless Tommy in this pre-game rev-up could only have been surpassed if he had linked with Dallas Donnelly and his wrecking-ball paws.

Tommy and Dallas are gone, as is Jack who died last Friday night, aged 68, following a stroke.

“The doctor reckons I’ve probably got only two weeks left,” Jack said, confused because he did not feel unwell.

The news precipitated phone calls to former Wests players Les Boyd and Ray Brown who were also featured in the Lidcombe scene. I separated them after it erupted. (Face slapping requires each partner to swap roles and Les was never known to turn the other cheek.)

Jack’s captain at St George, Craig “Albert” Young, has been a regular visitor to his Culburra home and, aware of his ex-teammate’s imminent exit, contacted former Roosters Royce Ayliffe and Ian Schubert to arrange a farewell meeting. All played on the 1972 Australian Schoolboys tour to England, which I also coached. Jack was voted the best player, an honour considering Young, Ayliffe, Schubert and Boyd were later Kangaroos.

But only three days after the doctor’s bad news, Albert called with the sad tidings of the stroke and less than 24 hours later followed up with another devastating message: “We lost Jack last night.”

Rugby league friendships endure in a way people in other callings do not understand. It’s the shared camaraderie of physical and mental pain, the mutual understanding that entire careers are often the result of forces beyond our control: a wicked bounce, a gust of wind, a referee’s whistle. The code also teaches you to accept blame, even if the missed tackle or the wrong call was the fault of another.

The Lidcombe face-slapping situation was never planned. It happened on a cold, grim Sunday afternoon and the players arrived rugged up, pasty-faced and certainly in no mood for football. Wests had a highly intense trainer, Dave Dickman, who had a background in martial arts. I recall saying to him: “Get them going. They’d rather be home watching TV.” Dickman paired them off, with one of the wingers relieved rugby league is a 13-player game.

60 Minutes had been following us for six weeks and captured the face-slapping. Perhaps it was the insulting suggestion our aggression was fuelled by pharmaceuticals that led us to grant the camera crew unrestricted access. As it transpired, 60 Minutes concluded that the only high we were on was the love of teammate and club.

However, when I heard reporter Ray Martin whisper “did you get that?” to a cameraman after the Raudonikis-Jeffries fury and the Boyd-Brown scuffle, I knew enough about the media to realise a storm lay ahead. When the episode finally aired, a Monday night meeting of the NSWRL saw club delegate after delegate stand up to castigate Wests. The only club to remain silent was St George.