The Snitch: West Coast Eagles fans, rub Harley Reid’s foot for good luck, just like David Beckham’s

In 1973 the Snitch was on a journey of self-discovery. It was the year the Sydney Opera House opened, the White Australia policy was torn up and Gough lowered the age of federal voting from 21 to 18. To quote Frank Sinatra, it was a very good year. But the Snitch was lost. So I found myself on the side of the Great Eastern Highway, a backpack and a pair of Raichle hiking boots my only companions and my thumb the best chance for a new life. I got a lift. His name was Dave. He drove a Leyland P76. We crossed the Nullarbor on 50 bucks. We pulled the smoking Leyland up in Victoria. I picked fruit in the shadows of the Dandenongs. I travelled to the surf coast where I befriended Michael Peterson on his way to a victory over Tony Cerff in the final of the Bells Beach Easter Classic. Then I headed north to the groovy, hippy Queensland town of Nimbin, just a tumbleweed from Coffs Harbour, for the Aquarius Musical Festival. It was there, while mesmerised by the dexterity and daring of Philippe Petit, a tightrope walker who would make international headlines the following year by crossing between New York’s ill-fated Twin Towers, that I met one of my great mentors in life. He was an old man who had owned a big life, a travelling faith healer by the name of W. Jock Merryweather. “Merry” was American down to his red, white and blue jock strap, but he was also a subversive with a kind heart. He’d been living in Pokomoke City, Maryland, where he’d been running a nursery for injured bald eagles just the other side of Chesapeake Bay. Merry was strange even for the S-Man. He wore the feather of one of his favourite baldies, Swooper, in the side of a black velvet fedora. A disciple of Aimee Semple McPherson, a Canadian-born American Pentecostal evangelist of the 1920s, Merry had mastered the power of faith healing. How by touch and thought we can cure long-suffered ailments. “Any living thing can be cured by faith,” he told me. “Whether it be snail, bald eagle, fowl or human form. They can all be healed. You must have faith.” So I learnt his three-step process: Awareness, curiosity and divine invitation. I have been a healer ever since. I do keep it quiet, but I am good. I have healed our pets. From Freckles the moggy to Tony our resident tawny frogmouth. I bought Tony back from a life-threatening bout of rat lungworm with only hope and the light, subtle touch of my palm on his beak. These days, I use my powers sparingly. I pick my projects. Just recently I did help Mrs Snitch get over her tennis elbow. But now I am on a mission. I want to use my powers to help keep Harley Reid at the West Coast Eagles. The kid is out for the remainder of 2025. Will we see him again in Eagles colours with so many other AFL clubs poised to strike? I say, yes. Because I have faith. The faith of a faith healer. And this is what I did. All I needed was a chime candle, some tea lights, a photo of Harley’s foot, some champaca essential oil on my limbered fingers and an infinite supply of positivity. I unleashed my healing powers on the image, imparted my faith on the pedal that I now believe will lead to hundreds of Eagles goals and centre clearances. But now I need your help dear readers. I have asked The West Australian to feature the image of Harley’s foot to accompany this column. A bit like the London Sun did in 2002 when David Beckham had a damaged metatarsal heading into the Word Cup. I rubbed Harley’s image for 12 hours. So long that the ink was wiped, so long that it took a jumbo joss stick to fizzle out while I listened to the complete studio albums of Simon & Garfunkel, all 526 minutes, with some time left over for Spacey Jane and Wolfmother. I was so exhausted Mrs Snitch carried me to bed. I now ask you to do the same. Give the image a rub. Visualise Harley re-signing with the Eagles on that 11-year, $24 million deal. Picture him streaming from the centre and delivering the ball on a perfect trajectory to Jake Waterman or Archer Reid or Jack Williams in the dying moments of the 2030 grand final. Two points down, 10 seconds remaining. The power of more than 100,000 gold and blue members. The power of positive thinking. Let us heal Harley’s foot and keep him in the West. So let’s focus on the image. Light that joss stick. Now listen carefully. Are you relaxed and ready? One rub for good luck. Two for the ailment. Three for his signature. Faith.