DON'T LET truth get in the way of a good story.

Legend has it that in the inaugural Collingwood vs Essendon Anzac Day match in 1995, a young man burst out of the centre of the MCG in the dying seconds with the scores level and passed to his full-forward, when he should have shot for goal.

The full-forward in question was Saverio Rocca and the young man, who wore No. 5, was me.

If I had a dollar for every time I've been asked about that moment … well … let's set the record straight.

I gathered a ground ball in the centre of the ground and headed straight at goal. A quick survey of my options ahead showed a loose Essendon defender sweeping close to goal. Upon winning the ball, my initial intentions were to take the shot at goal and, more often than not, I used the long option at that stage of my football. At 70 metres out and with the loose player there, I was going to have to cover the distance on the full or give up an uncontested possession. It was a poor option.

With time and space quickly disappearing, the next option was to get it into the scoring area, just one possession from goal. I saw Sav move to my right and popped it out in front of him. He had taken two or three massive pack marks in the last quarter and was on fire.

I wasn't the only one that thought Sav was a good option. He was swamped by three Bombers defenders, who were sweating on him, the ball hit the deck and the siren blew just moments after. It was a draw.

This could have happened in any other game and it wouldn't be highlighted, but it didn't. It was Anzac Day and it holds not just a special place in the Australian calendar but, now, in football's as well.

Three hours before that moment in 1995, the players on that field had little idea about what they were about to step into and, indeed, what the occasion was to become. The game had been built up and it was perhaps the first time a home-and-away game had been marketed so heavily by the powers that be.

At Collingwood, I'd already become used to playing in front of big crowds but this was something else. As we ran out, it seemed the sense of occasion hadn't just rubbed off on the respective teams, the fans could feel it too and it carried in waves over the fence. It was like nothing I'd felt before.

Just when I was ready to burst, we lined up, acknowledged the national anthem and stood in silence, and in awe, as we, and 95,000 people, were reminded about why we were there that day. I was lucky to play in grand finals later in my career but there is nothing that matches the aura that surrounds an Anzac Day pre-match. It's about so much more than the game and if being able to hear a pin drop in a crowded arena doesn't get you, then the Last Post does.

Thoughts raced through my head that first year …What a massive crowd! …What a huge opportunity … This is awesome … I wonder what it was like to go to war? … No matter what happens today, I'll still have my life at the end of it … Lay an early tackle and get into the game … How lucky am I to be here?

I was humbled by the experience and it reminded me that I was part of something so much bigger than I'd imagined.

I've since become more aware of the day's significance and have shared in visits to the Shrine with my teammates and gained a greater appreciation for the opportunities I share and how different life could have been if not for the ultimate sacrifices made by many.

Every person has their own connection to recognise how important this day is. My father, Ray, served in Vietnam before I was born and it is obviously a day of significance for him and the family. You would also be hard-pressed finding someone who loves the game of football more than Dad. Even so, he explained to me that few of the harsh realities of the war zone, if any, apply to the sport that has been such a big part of both our lives. No one will die on the MCG today.

Mick Malthouse has always been a great student of history and of the battles that often defined the course of a nation. When he first came to the club, he used to tell stories about war and it often served to highlight how trivial the courage required on a football field was.

The Anzac Day occasion was one that I know he felt honoured to be a part of. I've seen him in tears before the game reading out a letter sent by one of the diggers back to a loved one at home, and as a team we've shared in the emotion of the day.

These are memories that I'll always have, and they'll always flood back this time of year.

The game itself has, more often than not, lived up to its hype and the ledger stands at six wins apiece and that now-famous draw. Ladder positions have never been indicative of the result and it has become season-defining on more than one occasion.

Every year seems to provide a story. Sav kicked a few bags in the early days, a young Mark McGough won the medal in his second game in 2003, Andrew Lovett in his breakout performance in 2005. But the guy who made the game his own was James Hird.

Since the medal was first presented in 2000, he won it three times on the back of some of his most inspired performances. The champions love a big stage and he consistently delivered on this day. For him and me, there are no more Anzac Day matches, but generations roll on and for every one of the Collingwood and Essendon players there is a fantastic opportunity and experience that awaits them today.