To most people within the football world, he’s known as Triple Brownlow Medalist Bobby Skilton.

In fact, sometimes it seems as if I took a look at his birth certificate, that’s the name I would find printed: “Triple Brownlow Medalist Bobby Skilton.”

But to me he’s always been, and always will be, just Pa.

Growing up, I had a very different football experience than most kids out there. Sure, I got to pick my team, I got to go to games and I had my favourite players. I would stay up late watching the interstate games and when my team won I celebrated with the rest of my family.

Only things were a little more personal.

My team wasn’t just my team, but rather friends of the family. The players I idolised weren’t just untouchable heroes, but instead were everyday people. A red carpet wasn’t just something I watched on the TV; rather it was something I got to experience.

But at the end of the day, you could take it all away and I wouldn’t think any less of my grandfather.

I couldn’t tell you how many times strangers have approached me, bursting with elation over meeting Pa.

“He was the greatest player I’ve ever seen, the toughest too,” they’d say. “I remember him getting knocked down and, in no time, he’d be back out there.”

I smile and nod, not entirely sure if they realise I’ve never actually seen him play, aside from the few highlights that were lucky enough to be filmed. I agree with them anyway, because those traits that made him a great player are the same traits that make him an even better person.

Anyone that knows Pa can tell you how undeniably strong he is, physically and mentally. In the past three years he’s faced multiple operations, some that have left him in worse condition than what he was when he went in.

In 2013, he spent most of the year in hospital with a troubled hip. For the first time in my life, I saw the one person I deemed as unbreakable, broken. It was also the first time I had to consider what a world without someone who had come to be one of my biggest heroes would be like.

He came out the other end eventually, but the concept is still one that haunts me.

I remember talking to the doctors. They all loved having him around, but mentioned he had a habit of pushing himself. I told them that wasn’t so much a habit as it was his personality.

He can be frustratingly stubborn and will push himself to his limits on a daily basis. Pain isn’t something he likes to let hold him back. “It’s only pain,” as he would say.

Family and friends mean everything. I have no doubt he would go to the ends of the earth for a loved one. We’re a small family and, as he tells me often, I’m his favourite granddaughter (I’m also his only granddaughter).

Bob Skilton with his grandchildren Rebecca (eight) and Jack (six). Source: News Limited

Regardless, we spend time every week dissecting Sydney’s last game and strategising for the next one. We talk player statistics and game outcomes, driving my Nan mad with our inescapable footy talk.

Which was why, seven years after the Swans broke their 72-year premiership drought, I watched on with tears in my eyes. I’ve listened to Pa admit on many occasions that he would swap his Brownlow’s for a premiership — a true testament to his character.

So in 2012, as I sat in the crowd watching him hand over the premiership cup — slightly worried he would try and make a run with it — I shed a few tears. Not only for the fact the Swans had proven themselves again, cementing the public’s respect for the club, but because they had included Pa in their accomplishment, that he finally got to hold that premiership cup.

But with every positive comes a negative.

Would I change my grandfather? Not for the world. But as I said, growing up wasn’t always filled with the norm. Having a last name people recognise can leave you judged before you’ve even been introduced. And for the boys of the family, it meant a pre-assumed talent or love for the game.

Still, the positives will always outweigh the negatives and the external factors become easier to ignore.

My Pa isn’t just my grandfather, but my friend and idol. I look up to him for the same reasons everyone else does, only I’ve seen them play out in a different scene.

I wake up everyday and try to implement the same train of thought the five-foot-very-small-something plumber from Port Melbourne did.

When faced with a hurdle, there will always be one piece of advice he gave me that I’ll always return to: “If you don’t want to get hurt, you don’t get the ball.”

Rebecca Skilton is currently on work experience at Fox Footy and wrote the above piece for FOXFOOTY.com.au.