Johnny Peard can tell a yarn, don't mind that. With the timing of Switzerland's finest and the dryness of a Group 10 paddock in March, the Bomber had a memorial in stitches. When he was done, unprompted, the 1,000-odd in attendance at the time-honoured Sydney Cricket Ground stood and cheered.

The Bomber still had it.

The great halfback, who fundamentally changed the nature of the game with his kicking, has been in ill health for a while. He needed help to the podium. He needed help off it. At one stage he lost his way during his speech. He suffered a nasty stroke in 2002 and it still affects him physically. Once he gets rolling though, he hasn't lost a step.

Peard, of course, was there to honour his great mate Arthur Beetson. He was joined by rugby league luminaries, greats of days gone by, league-loving politicians, first graders, reserve graders and punters who were drawn there to say goodbye to a figure that meant so much to the game they loved.

Sydney turned on a bottler of a day, the first day in three weeks it didn't rain. Sun drenched the city. The gates to the Members Stand were open to the general public and for once, dress regulations were not enforced. The usual stuffiness was gone. Only Artie could have pulled it off. He would have enjoyed seeing the usual riff-raff from the hill - donning thongs and frayed footy jerseys - being guided to their seats in the Members.

A barbeque with cheap sausages was sizzling away inside the gate. It was help yourself to the big bottles of tomato and barbeque sauce, after a little chat with The Men of League fellas on the tongs. I had two, as did my mate Robbo. We are both two young to remember Artie's heyday but we felt the need to honour the life of an Immortal, a true son of the game.

When the sausages were polished off and with the SCG Trust having gouged me ($4.30 for a bottle of water at a memorial service ... astonishing), I ran into a colourful racing identity who once fielded behind the posts at Leichhardt Oval and probably still does. He knew Artie, had played cards with him. A Balmain man, he spoke sadly about the way he left the club.

It was quite a sight when we went to take our seats. The Sydney Cricket Ground, in the middle of summer, adorned with rugby league posts, corner posts in. Magic.

Everyone was there. The Premier, a true fan of the game, and Senators Arbib and Faulkner. The NRL boss was there, at one stage wearing a floppy hat that made him look more like Gilligan than a big-time sports administrator. It was hot though, I guess. The usual hangers-on - Geoff Carr and John Chalk - were there too. Fellow Immortal Johnny Raper was in the stands. Many of Artie's '74 and '75 premiership teammates were there, led by the great Ron Coote. The '69 Balmain side was also there, headed by that wonderful field goal kicker Dave Bolton. The racing identity pointed to where he was sitting when Syd Williams scored the match-winner in '69.

There was a wonderful list of speakers. Ray Warren was a delightful compere. William "Smiley" Johnstone spoke of what Artie had done for aboriginals. "I can't imagine rugby league without black fellas and I can't imagine black fellas without rugby league," he said.

Former ARL chief executive John Quayle then told some wonderful tales about Artie's Rooster days while ex-teammate Keith Barnes spoke of his time at Balmain. Both spoke with a great deal of fondness for The Big Fella, lovingly mocking his eating while speaking so glowingly about his ability as a footballer, as a leader and as an inspiration.

Rodney Cavalier, head of the SCG Trust, put Beetson's career in perspective: such was Artie's reputation and legacy that he didn't need Origin to enhance it ... but Origin needed Artie's legacy.

It was Peard who stole the show though, having the crowd keeled over with tales of Artie. He told of how a bus full of aboriginal boys came into a pub he owned with Artie shouting them all a schooner. When they had polished them off, a boy comes up to Beetson and asks Artie for a photo. Ever generous, Artie said sure, pulled a comb out, did his hair and leant on the bar. Soon after the boy went to the far wall, grabbed a picture of Beetson in action and had it on the bus within a flash.

And then there was the time Peard and Beetson, in recent times, went to Ivanhoe to spread the rugby league word and scout for talent. They went to a hotel and asked for a room. "$150 a night," the girl at the desk said. "We will have that with pleasure," Beetson responded, chuffed at the price. Not missing a beat, the woman at the desk said that it would be $450 with pleasure.

Tommy Raudonikis said yesterday that really, at the core of it, Artie was so beloved because "he was just a bloody good bloke".

It is such a shame that we have lost one so early because rugby league could really use a bloody good bloke right about now.