He backed me to the hilt, from the start all the way to now
In the long arc of a footballer's life, it is rarely the trophies that define a man but the people who refused to look away during his darkest hours. Jordan De Goey, twelve seasons into his career at Collingwood, has found himself on the other side of injury and personal turbulence, and he traces the thread of his survival back to one source: Scott Pendlebury, whose 433rd game became an occasion not just for individual celebration but for reckoning with what sustained mentorship can quietly accomplish. The story unfolding at the MCG is, at its heart, a meditation on loyalty — how one person's refusal to abandon another can become the architecture of a second chance.
- De Goey's career teetered on the edge during multiple off-field crises, with his future at Collingwood genuinely uncertain — Pendlebury's unflinching belief was one of the few constants holding it together.
- Two injury-ravaged seasons following the 2023 premiership stripped De Goey of his prime years, a groin problem cascading into Achilles damage and just 24 games across two frustrating campaigns.
- The return has been unmistakable — averaging 28 disposals over his last three matches in a permanent midfield role, De Goey is playing with the confidence and explosiveness that once made him one of the competition's most dangerous players.
- Pendlebury's milestone game carried a quiet symbolism beyond the record itself, with gold commemorative guernseys and a club gathered around a man whose selflessness has shaped its culture for over a decade.
- De Goey, now a father himself, stands at a point where personal growth and professional resurgence have converged — the mentor's influence visible not just in his football, but in the kind of person he is becoming.
Jordan De Goey sat in the rooms after Collingwood's win over West Coast and kept returning to the same thought: none of this would have happened without Scott Pendlebury. The 90,000 people at the MCG had come to witness Pendlebury's 433rd game, a record belonging to him alone — but De Goey knew the deeper story was about what the older man had given to those around him.
Across twelve seasons at Collingwood, Pendlebury had been there through everything. When De Goey's off-field troubles threatened to end his career entirely, Pendlebury backed him without reservation. "He backed me to the hilt," De Goey said, the gratitude unmistakable. The mentorship had grown personal over time — Pendlebury's nine-year-old son Jax regularly wore De Goey's No. 2 jumper, and when De Goey's partner gave birth to their daughter Tatum last December, the bonds between the two men deepened further.
The road back from the 2023 premiership had been punishing. A groin injury cascaded into Achilles problems, and De Goey managed just 24 games across two seasons — years of his prime quietly eroded. "Super frustrating," he said. "It was no fault of my own, it was just one of those things."
This year has been a different story. Missing only one game in 2026 and averaging 28 disposals over his last three matches, De Goey has rediscovered the explosiveness and confidence that once defined him. Operating in a permanent midfield role, he is accumulating the ball and imposing himself on contests in a way that feels like a genuine homecoming.
When asked how much longer Pendlebury might play, De Goey laughed and said he could probably go another five years. It was the kind of remark you make about someone whose presence has become so woven into your life that its absence is unimaginable. With a daughter at home and his form restored, De Goey can now see clearly how close he came to losing everything — and how one man's refusal to give up on him made all the difference.
Jordan De Goey sat in the rooms after Saturday's win, still riding the high of a ten-point victory over West Coast, and his mind kept circling back to one person: Scott Pendlebury. Not because Pendlebury had played brilliantly—though the 38-year-old always does—but because the older man had been there through everything. The 90,000 people packed into the MCG that day had come to watch Pendlebury play his 433rd game, a milestone that belonged to him alone. But De Goey knew the real story was about what Pendlebury had given to everyone around him, and especially to him.
Twelve seasons. That's how long De Goey has been at Collingwood, and Pendlebury has been a constant through all of it—the good stretches and the ones De Goey would rather forget. There were the off-field stumbles, the meetings with the club where his future at the Magpies genuinely hung in the balance. Those were the moments when a player finds out who actually believes in him. Pendlebury did. "He backed me to the hilt," De Goey said, the gratitude unmistakable in his voice. "From the start of my career, all the way up until now, he's been a mentor for me, someone who's supported me and cared for me the whole journey."
The relationship had deepened in unexpected ways. De Goey became a father last December when his partner Aisha gave birth to their daughter Tatum. Pendlebury's son Jax, nine years old, had already claimed De Goey as his favorite player, regularly wearing the No. 2 jumper. These small connections—the ones that happen away from the field—had woven De Goey into Pendlebury's life in a way that made the mentorship real and reciprocal. When Pendlebury organized a late surprise for his milestone game, having all Collingwood players wear gold numbers on commemorative guernseys, De Goey was struck by the selflessness of it. "It was pretty special," he said. "That's just what sort of bloke he is, he's a selfless bloke and wants everyone to be by his side wearing the same stuff."
But the path back to form had been brutal. After Collingwood won the 2023 premiership—a grand final where De Goey and Pendlebury played together, executing a crucial centre bounce play—everything fell apart physically. A groin injury that wouldn't heal properly led to compensatory injuries elsewhere. His Achilles started breaking down. One thing after another. Across the last two seasons, he managed just 24 games. Two years of his prime, stolen. "Super frustrating," he said flatly. "It was no fault of my own, it was just one of those things."
This year has been different. De Goey has missed only one game in 2026, and over the last month, the player everyone remembered has started to reappear. He's averaging 28 disposals over his last three games, operating in a permanent midfield role where he can accumulate the ball and impose himself on the contest. The confidence is back. The explosiveness is back. "I think playing up the ground and around the ball a bit more has helped me out," he explained. "I've just grown and got some confidence. I haven't been playing this sort of footy for a long period of time. To get back to where I am now, accumulating more ball and honing in on my craft, it's been really good."
When asked how much longer Pendlebury might keep playing, De Goey laughed. "You can't kill the bloke, he's like a cockroach, he just keeps going," he said. "I dunno, he can probably play for another five years, to be honest!" It was the kind of thing you say about someone you genuinely admire, someone whose presence in your life has become so normal you can't imagine it ending. For De Goey, Pendlebury's constancy through the worst moments—the off-field troubles, the injury wilderness, the self-doubt—had done something that no amount of talent alone could have done. It had kept him whole. Now, with his own daughter at home and his form returning, De Goey was finally in a place where he could look back and see how close he'd come to losing it all, and how one person's refusal to give up on him had made all the difference.
Citas Notables
He's just a special person in general, he'll always have your back. From the start of my career, all the way up until now, he's been a mentor for me, someone who's supported me and cared for me the whole journey.— Jordan De Goey
You can't kill the bloke, he's like a cockroach, he just keeps going. I dunno, he can probably play for another five years, to be honest!— Jordan De Goey, on Pendlebury's longevity
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you say Pendlebury backed you to the hilt during those difficult times, what did that actually look like? Was it words, or something else?
It was both, really. But the thing about Scott is he doesn't make a big show of it. He'd be there in the meetings, yes, but it was more about the consistency. He didn't disappear. A lot of people do when things get messy, but he just... stayed.
And now you're a father yourself. Do you think that changes how you understand what he did for you?
Completely. When you have a kid, you understand what it means to believe in someone even when they're struggling. You don't give up on them. I think Scott always saw something in me worth fighting for, even when I couldn't see it myself.
The injury years must have tested that relationship in a different way.
Yeah, because it wasn't about behavior anymore. It was just bad luck, bad timing. But he was still there. He knew I was frustrated with myself, and he didn't need to say much. Just his presence meant something.
What did it feel like wearing those gold numbers on Saturday, knowing it was his idea to include everyone?
That's pure Scott. He could have made it all about him—433 games, the milestone—but instead he made sure everyone felt part of it. That's the kind of leader he is. That's what he's taught me.
Do you think you'd still be at Collingwood if things had gone differently with him?
Honestly? I don't know. There were moments where it could have gone either way. But having someone like that in your corner, someone the whole club respects, it changes everything. It gives you a reason to fight through the hard stuff.