Preston Makedonia Never Dies
In Memoriam: Robert Kolevski 1984–2025
February 23, 1992. I was eight years old, and I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was the first time my dad and I made the drive together from Sunshine, in Melbourne’s west, to the hallowed ground of BT Connor Reserve in the north.
The matchup? Preston Makedonia versus cross-town arch-rivals Heidelberg Alexander — a clash that went far beyond football. It was Macedonians vs. Greek-Macedonians, in an arena pulsing with the raw energy of a divided community.
Thousands packed the stands, the air thick with passion and political tension. At the time, Australia’s stance on recognizing the Republic of Macedonia fueled a cultural and nationalistic fire that extended far beyond the pitch. This wasn’t just a game; it was a battle of identity.
The match ended in a 1–1 stalemate, but the tension didn’t stop there. Outside in the carpark, tempers flared, fists flew, and the car park erupted into chaos.
At eight years old, I should have been terrified. And part of me was. But another part of me? I was exhilarated.
Hours earlier, I’d been sitting in my living room, playing Super Mario Bros. Now, I was watching a riot break out over a football game.
I didn’t fully understand it, but I knew one thing — I wanted more.
The club seemed to represent something much bigger than me, and I wanted to be a part of it.
Becoming a Fixture at BT Connor Reserve
Over the years, my visits to Preston games were sporadic, mostly dictated by whether my dad decided to take me.
Then came 2002. I was 18, freshly licensed, and cruising in my Holden VS Commodore. No more waiting for Dad.
That year, I became a regular, and it was during an Elimination Final against Altona East Phoenix that I first heard a voice that would come to define BT Connor Reserve for years to come.
A deep, commanding, gravel-edged cry filled the grounds:
“MA-KE-DO-NI-A!”
No microphone. No speakers. Just one man’s voice shaking the terraces and loud enough to fill Rod Laver Arena.
That voice belonged to Robert Kolevski — better known to the Preston faithful and online ‘Preston forum’ dwellers as ‘Robbka’.
A former Preston junior turned diehard supporter, he was the heart and soul of the club’s hardcore faithful.
We became fast friends. So much so that just two years later, he was at my 21st birthday, surrounded by a handful of Preston diehards.
To us, Preston wasn’t just a club. It was family. It was belonging. It was home.
Lifelong bonds were forged on the terraces, in bars and pubs pre-game, on away and interstate bus trips, in victories, and in heart-wrenching defeats.
Between 2002 and 2009, Preston rode a golden era, winning two Victorian Premier League championships and a premiership.
Whenever the team trailed and the crowd’s energy started to dip, you could count on Robbka to lift the spirits.
“Come on, Preston!”
“Abreh Makedonche!”
“Oooh! Aaah! Makedonia!”
His chants kept the fight alive — even when the club’s fortunes turned for the worse.
The Fall Into Oblivion
After 2009, the dream unraveled.
Preston tumbled down the divisions, landing in the football wilderness of Victorian State League Division 2 — the equivalent of England’s EFL League Two.
For many of us, life pulled us away.
At 27, my priorities shifted towards my career.
And for a long time, I felt that my support of the club and the tribalism that ensued brought out some of the worst aspects of my character, and were preventing me from becoming the man I wanted to become.
The friends I had made on the terraces (including Robbka) quickly became ‘old friends’, and my Sundays were more likely to be spent on a beach than on a terrace.
It would take me years to realise that I simply had growing up and maturing to do, and that the club offered something that is in short supply in today’s modern screen-attached isolated world… brotherhood and community.
For most Preston fans during these dark days, games became less frequent, the pull of the club — no longer a symbol of strength or success — became weaker.
But not for Robbka.
While many drifted away and turned their backs, he stayed.
Despite becoming a busy husband and father with his own business to run, he stuck by the club through every gut-wrenching relegation, through the darkest days, he stood in the terraces, and even in the changerooms (below).
His company Kingdom Caravans became a major sponsor of the club, and he even stepped into the boardroom, briefly serving as club President.
Through it all, his familiar smile never left his face.
Even when several years would pass between my appearances at BT Connor, he would see me at the odd game, and come over and give me a big bear hug.
And soon, his positivity, belief, and loyalty paid off.
After 15 long years, Preston fought its way back, climbing through the ranks. In 2024, the club not only returned to Victoria’s top flight but was admitted into the National Second Tier (NST).
For the first time since 1993, Preston was back on the national stage.
But in a cruel twist of fate, just as the club rose again, Robbka’s own battles reached their breaking point.
The Darkness That Took Him
For all his booming energy, infectious passion, and unwavering loyalty, Robbka carried a private weight — a darkness that never truly lifted after losing his father at a young age.
Like so many men do, he turned to the bottle.
At first, maybe it was just to take the edge off. But over time, it took more than just the pain — it took his character, his business, his family, and eventually, at the age of just 40, it would take his life.
Preston had come back from the brink.
But Robbka couldn’t.
A Lesson for Every Man
Let his story not be in vain.
Too often, we’re told that to show vulnerability is weakness — that we should “suck it up and get on with it.”
But true strength? It’s having the courage to admit when you need help.
There’s no strength in numbing yourself with booze or substances. No strength in becoming a shadow of the man you once were. No strength in losing the ability to provide for your family.
Life is hard.
We all wrestle with the constant challenges of life — relationships, finances, jobs, health, our at-times overwhelming responsibilities, and most of all, we wrestle with ourselves.
Our own psychology can become our biggest foe if we don’t learn how to regulate it to be the best version of ourselves.
So if you’re struggling, know this: you are not alone, and support is there.
In the Preston Lions community.
In the Macedonian Church.
In organizations like BeyondBlue.
Asking for help isn’t weakness.
It’s maturity.
It’s strength.
If you can first help yourself, then you can help others.
Robbka’s Legacy Lives On
Though Robbka is gone, his spirit will never fade.
His chants will echo through BT Connor Reserve once again this Friday, when Preston Makedonia faces its legendary rival, South Melbourne Hellas, in their first league showdown at the ground in 16 years.
And as the roar of “MA-KE-DO-NI-A!” erupts from the terraces, we will remember:
God might take one from our ranks, but Robbka’s spirit lives on because… Preston Makedonia Never Dies.
Rest in peace, Robert Kolevski, 1984–2005.
Bog da te prosti, old friend. ✝️
Raising Funds for Robbka’s Family
Please give what you can: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-support-robbkas-kids-a-legacy-beyond-the-terraces
Support is Available
Beyond Blue: beyondblue.org.au or call 1300 224 636 for a free consultation.
