Don't give it to Bartrum

Douglas Newton, Mark's sort of uncle and really old family friend came to stay with us for three months when we were renting in Warriewood.
He lived in New York and was the world's leading expert on Pacific Art.  Had a whole wing designed for him at The Metropolitan Museum New York, wrote articles for Encyclopaedia Britannica, advised the Rockefellers on their collection.
Sort of a bit brainy.
Oh, he drank a bottle of scotch and smoked two packets of gaspers a day.
Lived until he was 81.
Anyway he was with us for the footy season. We loved league. So every Friday night Mark, the boys and I watched the big game.  Douglas read, made notes, smoked ciggies, drank and appeared to pay no attention.
The final game, I don't remember who was playing, the game was to be won or lost with the last goal. Bartrum came up to kick, Douglas's voice piped up behind the Sydney Morning Herald and said, "Don't give it to Bartrum, he can't kick".  He was right.