THERE are some names that fans and commentators love to sing out. They have musical cadence when the game rises from the horizontal the syllables of the name seem to rise, and fall, accordingly. Jesaulenko is such a name. When the game stops, the music of the name plays on.

Ron Barassi summed it up within the visual tribute to football's latest legend at Thursday night's Hall of Fame induction dinner. Among the various accolades bestowed by latter-day Carlton greats, the former Blues' coach and football icon succinctly said: "Jesaulenko is a famous name. He is a legend."

Alex Jesaulenko brought the flavour of eastern Europe to the football of Melbourne in 1967. It was an entrance to command attention. In just his second game, against Hawthorn at Princes Park, he would kick four first-half goals from a forward flank. As much as the goals, it was the manner of their acquisition that delivered the message: the recruit from Canberra was special. By the end of that first season he had gone from unknown to third place in the Brownlow Medal.

The Jesaulenko story is among the greatest the game has turned up. The 22nd legend in the Hall of Fame is the first to have been born outside Australia. Salzburg, Austria, was his city of birth, in 1945, within weeks of the end of World War II; his Ukrainian father and Russian mother would move to Australia in its wake.

With haunting timing, Jesaulenko has been made a legend of the Australian game on May 8: the anniversary of the end of the European war that was responsible for bringing him here.

It is a story of sliding doors. Why Australia and not somewhere less distant? Why did Jesaulenko take to the Australian game in Canberra where there were more obvious options? Why did he, at age 21, come to Melbourne to play when he had so little background in the game? At each decisive moment, the door that would produce a freakish football career was chosen.

Such was Jesaulenko's skill that he would be the weapon Carlton could repeatedly draw upon in times of need. By the end of his second season the Blues had won their first premiership in 21 years. The credit for that success is generally attributed to the convergence of George Harris, Ron Barassi, and John Nicholls as leaders of a club on the make. Jesaulenko, though, was at least on the second line of influence. The only time he was completely silenced came in the second semi-final when teammate Brian Kekovich accidentally knocked him out.

It is doubtful the contribution Jezza made to his club's next three premierships could be bettered by any individual, at any club. The importance of "The Mark" in 1970 can never be measured. Who could know what it meant? It happened before the long interval and it was only after the break that the fight-back began. Yet a genius had shown what was possible and perhaps instilled fight into an apparently beaten team.

Whatever, it was just so Jesaulenko to take one of the greatest marks, in front of the biggest crowd, in perhaps the most famous game. Later, he would conjure the remarkable, sealing goal from not far forward of the centre. All of it was done with the ease of someone having a kick in the park.

Jezza produced more heroics in 1972, having played brilliantly in the centre. It was only after the Blues were restricted to 17 goals in the drawn, then replayed, second semi-finals, that Nicholls produced his trump. Jesaulenko lined up in the goal square on the big day, kicked seven, and the Blues had 18 at half-time on their way to a grand final record score.

In 1979, now as the coach, it was his move out of the centre that sparked Carlton. The Blues hadn't kicked a goal halfway through the second quarter when Jezza demoted himself to a back pocket and threw Wayne Harmes into the middle. Such was the Jesaulenko magic that Harmes would win the Norm Smith Medal and seal the game, a feat almost as famous as Jezza's 1970 mark.

The mark was highlighted on Thursday night. The manner of it being re-lived contains a story that says something for the man who has become somewhat footy-reclusive.

Sitting at the Jesaulenko table was Michael Williamson, the legendary commentator whose "Jesaulenko you beauty!" is such a part of the legend. He was invited, Jezza told him, because "you are family". It's also fair to say Mike was being looked out for by his old mate, having lost Greta, his wife of 57 years, last December.

Unknown to Jesaulenko, the organisers had invited Williamson to perform a reprise of his 1970 commentary classic over the old black-and-white footage. At the moment Jezza was rising from his chair, anticipating his moment on the stage, he was shocked to hear that it wasn't his turn quite yet; his old mate had a surprise in store. The music that is the name Jesaulenko was to be played one more time.