Rale Rasic: coach led Socceroos to 1974 World Cup finals

RALE RASIC: 1935 - 2023

As a sporting journalist of almost 50 years standing, I have had to write many difficult stories in my time but this is, without doubt, the toughest of them all.

It’s difficult at the best of times to write about the passing of a sporting legend and hero, but when the subject was also a wonderful friend, confidant and mentor it makes it so much more difficult fighting the almost overwhelming emotions because you want every word to truly do the person justice.

Many readers will know Zvonimir “Rale” Rasic as a football coach and the man who helped create history by leading the Socceroos to the 1974 World Cup finals in Germany for the first time.

In a remarkable achievement unparalleled in Australian sporting history, Rasic took a ragtag bunch of part-timers to the greatest football event on earth – one of just 16 teams to qualify, unlike now, when the 2026 edition of the Cup will have 48 teams.

Many of the players were born overseas, all had full-time jobs. Many struggled to get time off work, some lost their jobs. But Rasic never let them down. He had an unshakeable faith in his “boys” and, while they did not win a game at the finals, they repaid him with the ultimate achievement.

While plenty of fans will say the World Cup qualification defined Rasic, the truth is, not many got to see the real side of him … compassionate, caring, full of life and energy, and totally devoted to football and especially “my boys” – the 1974 Socceroos.

I first met Rasic in the early 1970s as a cadet. I had to cover an Ampol Cup game at the E. S. Marks Athletics Field. I was talking to another journalist and Rasic, who was coach of the Socceroos, rocked up and actually introduced himself to me.

He then talked to me for the next 15 minutes without me getting in a single word. I just nodded and was in awe. Rasic spoke to me as if he had known me for 20 years.

That was the true measure of the man. He loved to talk to people about football. It didn’t matter if it was Joe Blow off the street, a fan, or the media.

But I only got to know Rasic on a much deeper level in 1987 when he was coaching Apia Leichhardt in the now-defunct National Soccer League. I spent four hours in an interview with him for the Herald. At the end of it he said: “You spend a few hours with me and you think you know everything about me, but you know nothing!”

From then on we forged a strong and wonderful relationship and I did get to know him a lot more. It helped that he lived a mere five kilometres from me on his property in Cecil Hills. I’d go there for a coffee or lunch, which also allowed me to get to see Rasic’s incredible museum of football memorabilia, much of it to do with the 1974 Socceroos.

It always amazed me that no matter how many times I went into his “special area”, I would discover something I hadn’t seen in previous visits. It was certainly his pride and joy.

Rasic would make sure to ring me every few weeks to talk about the latest drama or situation in the game. The talks, usually one-way traffic, would last a half hour or more. He had the crazy knack of ringing when I was in the middle of a deadline story.

While Rasic was an extraordinary coach and tactician at a senior level, he was often at his best when working with kids.

It gave him a spring in his step. Even at the age of 87, Rasic loved nothing better than putting on the training gear, a pair of boots and kicking the ball around with a group of kids during a clinic in some country town in NSW or Queensland.

Indeed, the last time we spoke, about six weeks ago, he was bubbling over with pride about a trip he had just made to one such clinic in the bush. You see, Rasic would never even consider saying no to any request, no matter how far away, no matter his health situation.

As he saw it, was his duty to give back – a duty born from his time as an orphan back home in what was then the Kingdom of Yugoslavia (now Bosnia and Herzegovina).

As Rasic conveyed to me when I wrote his biography, The Rale Rasic Story, the orphanages in which he spent most of his childhood definitely shaped his life. They were good times in which he was taught the values of life – discipline, respect and camaraderie.

He religiously made his bed every morning before “going down to the river to wash his face in the cold water”. He would say: “It made a man of me.”

You could see the work ethic any time you visited on his property at Cecil Hills, where he would be digging holes for a new fence, mowing the vast acreage or making general repairs. Fit and incredibly strong for a man of his age, he was doing this well into his 70s.

And, of course, there was football in the orphanage. It was crude at times playing with a “ball” fashioned from socks and rags and anything else the kids could get their hands on, and on a patch of dirt littered with rocks.

Yes, there were tough times without knowing the love of his parents (Rasic rarely spoke about them) -- “and a hug and a kiss from a loved one” he would say – but he never looked back on those times with anything less than pride and joy.

It was during his time in one of the orphanages that he was able to impress some football scouts, but while he was a half-decent player, Rasic’s playing career was not stellar by any means. He more than made up for it with his coaching.

However, one of the highlights of his football career helped him to connect with the brother he did not know he had. It’s a story that allowed me to see the emotional side of Rasic – and had us both in tears – when he recounted it for his book. Warming up for a big game, Rasic was summoned to behind the goal by a man calling out “Rale, Rale come here”. He went over to the man who had been very persistent and the man, with his arms around a kid, said: “This is your brother!”

Rasic said he immediately broke down in tears, then told the coach he could not play, before spending the rest of the time with his brother. There were many other times during the writing of his book that Rasic was on the brink of breaking down, always when talking about his family and the 1974 Socceroos.

There is no doubt everyone and everything associated with the 1974 Socceroos was imbedded in his heart. He kept the memories and special anniversaries of their achievements alive and often organised reunions and even overseas trips away.

Sadly, Rasic never got to coach the Socceroos again after a falling out with Sir Arthur George – a crazy decision in keeping with the dysfunctional nature of the sport here.

However, he would go on to be a huge success coaching at club level with a number of clubs including Marconi and Apia Leichhardt, where he won the National Soccer League titles.

He was named NSL coach of the year, and inducted into the Australian Football Hall of Fame and Australian Sporting Hall of Fame. Rasic was a very proud man. His mind was always so sharp and alert. He dressed immaculately and always looked the part, even when he was in a tracksuit.

He did not suffer fools gladly, but would never hold a grudge. During his heyday he often clashed with officialdom, notably Sir Arthur George, who was president of the Australian Soccer Federation at the time the Socceroos qualified for the World Cup in 1974.

Rasic always said he regretted grabbing Sir Arthur by the collar and kicking him out of the dressing room to the cheers of the players. That was Rasic.

And now he is gone. A legend and an icon not just of Australian soccer, but Australian sport. It breaks my heart to know I won’t get to hear the happy voice exclaim: “Raaay…MOND” again.

But, I’ll never forget my mate Rale Rasic.

Ray Rasic is survived by partner Debra and daughter Daniella.

Ray Gatt

The Morning Edition newsletter is our guide to the day’s most important and interesting stories, analysis and insights. Sign up here.