Only "Quinzo" could unite them like this.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
As Nic White roars the opening word of Proud to be a Brumby, Brumby No.1 Patricio Noriega, Matt Giteau, Stephen Larkham, Stirling Mortlock, Christian Leali'ifano and George Smith follow. So, too, do Ben Alexander, Owen Finegan, Stephen Moore, Joe Roff, David Pocock, Geoff Didier, Peter Ryan, David Giffin, Pat McCabe, Andrew Walker and Rugby Australia chief executive Phil Waugh.
Where generations divide Brumbies cap No.1 and No.256, Garry Quinlivan unifies them.
At a time when Australian rugby is eating itself alive after the Wallabies' disastrous World Cup campaign, the Eddie Jones debacle and centralisation divides, one man brought together some of the game's biggest names at Canberra Stadium on Thursday morning.
They were all there to farewell Quinlivan, the 86-year-old heart and soul of the Brumbies whose death last month sparked tributes across the globe, during an emotional memorial service which lasted nearly two hours.
MORE SPORT:
Brumbies new and old made their way onto Canberra Stadium at the end of the service, following the coffin loaded onto the back of the buggy Quinlivan once used to zip around club headquarters for one final lap of the ground.
Then the buggy came to a halt. Brumbies players, staff, family and friends gathered in one circle for a stirring rendition of that victory song.
Those were the kind of moments Quinlivan loved. Brumbies chief executive Phil Thomson laughs perhaps never more than one night in a Kings Park change room in Durban. It was 2007, the Brumbies had just beaten the Sharks 21-10 before launching into a victory song.
"Then Quinzo pulled off his T-shirt and showed everyone the brumby tattooed on his chest," Thomson said.
Weeks earlier, Quinlivan had decided to mark his 70th birthday with a trip to a Fyshwick tattoo studio.
Had he been one for LinkedIn profiles, you wonder what Quinlivan might have listed - because assistant manager will never do him justice.
Brett Robinson laughs he was the "chief shitters officer", because he did the jobs nobody else would do.
Quinlivan even had reason to be the "chief drinking officer", always ready with a whiskey for Rod Macqueen and a beer for Thomson at full-time. Wind back to 8.30am on the day of the 1997 Super Rugby final, and you'd see Quinlivan with an ale to calm the nerves.
Behind closed doors, he was the one checking on Matt To'omua after Shawn Mackay's untimely death. He was the one sharing a quiet beer with Guy Shepherdson in a shed after training, and greeting Cadeyrn Neville like an old friend some 10 years after he'd first been in Canberra as an academy player.
Leali'ifano struggles to find the words to sum up Quinlivan's impact. Larkham thinks you'd do well to find someone so passionately one-eyed in support.
From 2024, "Quinzo" will be printed inside the collar of Brumbies playing jerseys, while his name will rest at the top of the club's honour board after Thomson presented the family with a club cap numbered 00.
And the buggy Quinlivan used to race around Brumbies headquarters in? Brumbies head of performance health Byron Field says that vehicle - "OLD FART" licence plate and all - has a new reason to be driven.
Quinlivan is perhaps the only figure who could unite so many generations of the Brumbies, which is why so many lined the inner bowl of Canberra Stadium while his family was seated on the field.
"I warned them we'd be preparing a service for a celebrity," Thomson said, whose journey at the Brumbies started as team manager alongside Quinlivan in Super Rugby's infancy.
"The early days were a bit like the wild west. There was no better person to have by your side than Quinzo.
"Quinzo taught me a lot about people. He didn't tolerate fools and he was quick to let me know if someone fell into that category."
But when it came to his Brumbies boys, and maybe even the All Blacks and Welsh players who wanted Quinlivan as their right hand man during Australian tours?
"His biggest issue was saying no to any of them," Thomson said. "Players loved hearing stories about what he got up to in his early days."
Like the times he toured the United Kingdom and Argentina with the Canberra Royals club, downing schooners that were three parts whiskey and one part Guinness.
Quinlivan spoke through a microphone in his later years, after doctors were forced to remove his voice box during a battle with throat cancer in 2009. Before that, he would be cruising down a highway singing Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire with his daughter Jodi, or joining his granddaughters for a rendition of Bear Necessities from The Jungle Book.
One thing that never changed was his work with the Brumbies.
Quinlivan was helping right until the very end, calling Mal Daisley while the Brumbies were touring Japan last month to make sure everyone's jerseys were in the correct size.
He had already packed their kit bags three times over. Some joked he just didn't trust Daisley to get it right once the bags were put on the bus.
The day the Brumbies flew to Japan marks the last time the playing group and coaching staff saw Quinlivan.
But before they could even drive out of the Brumbies headquarters car park, Quinlivan noticed his car had a flat tyre. The bus stopped and, this time, they helped him.
"His love for the Brumbies rugby club was out of this world," Quinlivan's son Adam said. "He lived breathed and dedicated his retirement to the Brumbies. The legacy he leaves behind is something of legends and something I'm proud of. Until we meet again, mate, fly high."
We've made it a whole lot easier for you to have your say. Our new comment platform requires only one log-in to access articles and to join the discussion on The Canberra Times website. Find out how to register so you can enjoy civil, friendly and engaging discussions. See our moderation policy here.