WHATEVER you think of Wayne Carey, you had to feel at least a shred of sympathy for the man after reading the interview with his father Kevin on the day of his son's publicised confessional with Andrew Denton.

With his son clearly teetering on the edge, Carey senior's summation of his son's troubles, "It's the piss and his dick", was succinct, his message to his estranged son: "You're a dickhead", even more blunt. And cruel.

Fortunately, the vast bulk of AFL players have somewhat better role models. They care deeply about their children, spend innumerable hours encouraging, cajoling and, usually during the formative years, playing human taxi as they ferry their boys from training, to game, to clinic over and over again.

Some of them do so under extreme duress. Like Thelma Madden, who raised three strapping boys single-handedly after their father died, the youngest child not yet into double digits, the elder pair barely in their teens. It's the sort of story you don't hear much about these days, with troubled and wayward champions and their even more troubled parents the stuff of far "sexier" headlines.

But the legacy of Thelma Madden is enduring, in the shape of three successful sons, two of whom managed to play more than 300 games of AFL football and whose respective teams have competed for the Madden Cup since 1997, and a third who, while not as high-profile, is to his brothers every bit the star they each have been.

That in itself, is significant. Ask Simon and Justin whether older brother Paul gets jealous of their records and very public profiles, and they laugh. Both the former Essendon and Carlton champion ruckmen have always had a healthy sense of perspective and cynicism about the trappings of football success, and even their own football abilities.

Paul, says Simon, was widely regarded as the most talented of the trio during their junior football years. He played with Essendon under 19s and reserves, and was popularly tipped for much greater things until an errant elbow in the 1973 thirds grand final against Richmond broke both his jaw and nose, and dampened his enthusiasm for the game.

He had three years out of football before returning to the suburban leagues, where he racked up best and fairests and premierships celebrated just as fully by the Madden family as were the various honours enjoyed by his brothers.

Like them, his success has continued long after his retirement from the football field. Paul is a senior policeman, married to Gillian, with a horde of children. Simon has four kids with Mary, is head of sport at Getty Images, does ruck coaching at St Kilda, and coaches St Bernard's in the amateurs. Justin, of course, has been a State Government minister since 1999 and, with wife Julie, also has four children.

AFL football can take itself terribly seriously at times, but few modern players have combined as imposing a record with as modest a view of their own place as Simon and Justin Madden.

The French phrase "joie de vivre", the joy of living, was a favourite of Thelma Madden's. For all three Madden boys, too, the journey has been as much about the experience as the mere prizes on offer. And for that maternal legacy, we can all be grateful.