For those of us on the Labor side of politics, Sunday 25 November 2007 should have been a day of absolute happiness because of the election result.
But you know, November 25 wasn't quite like that for a number of us and each of us here today knows why.
All of us missed Matt on last year's election campaign and we miss him still today and there'll only ever be one Matt Price.
Today however, as Matilda has just said, isn't a sad occasion; it's a happy occasion.
Because this book is a celebration of one of the greats of Australian journalism.
It's a celebration of a man who could write as informatively about AFL, about cricket, about golf, as he could do about the daily business of the Australian Parliament, the Doobie Brothers or the onset of middle age, an affliction which besets most of us in this place.
It's a celebration of he, who John Hartigan described, I think last year as a quality bloke.
It's a celebration of Matt, dedicated husband, dedicated Dad, dedicated family man.
It's a celebration of a man for all seasons. In fact, one of the bloggers at the time of Matt's death last year said of his writings “he always puts a bit of himself in everything that he writes”.
And I think that's what makes it stand out because all these things - Matt the Dad, Matt the family man, Matt the keen observer of political events, Matt the lover of bat and ball and all things to do with sport, Matt the community man.
All these things found their way in one way or another into things that he wrote and he did it with such style.
From politics to sport, music to culture, Matt's musings on just about anything, reminded of a fully rounded human being that Matt was. In fact he was the genuine all-rounder.
He could bat, he could bowl, he could field, he could probably keep as well and then turn around and describe the game afterwards. He's that sort of guy and we see that again alive in his writings.
One thing I'm reminded of in wandering through Matt's columns is just how often he strayed beyond the boundaries of his topic, whether it was politics, sport, the arts, family life. There was something always uncontainable about Matt.
Just as his trousers could never quite contain his shirt tails, and the phone could never quite contain his booming, joyful voice - a column could never quite contain Matt to a single topic, unless he was writing about of course, the Fremantle Dockers.
Matt could somehow start an article talking about politics and by the time it was over, he'd ranged far, wide and broad, from his high school reunion, to a Bob Dylan concert he'd gone to, taking you for a spin in his Volvo and then he'd have you over for a meal with the family. All in 800 words - stunning stuff.
And it's always more than an entertaining tumble of words - Matt always seemed to have a point, a fresh observation and a fresh observation freshly put and therein lay the art and the style and the panache.
He starts a column talking about the 80-something-year old down the street named Joe, who'd never recovered from losing his wife - and by the end of it he's writing sympathetically about “the abiding joy of sport” and how to quote him “the grandstands, the pubs, the lounge rooms of the world are filled with sad people seeking occasional solace in the quirks of a bouncing ball.”
If you think about it, there is something extraordinarily insightful in that observation.
If you think about it, it is an observation of the human condition, rendered in almost exquisite poetry and that is why it's memorable.
Because I think also an observation like that, you see Matt the compassionate human being, who experienced and saw other people's pain.
These are thoughtful articles, always insightful, but were never plodding, never ponderous and never heavy in their style.
As Paul Kelly remarks in his book - in this book I should say - there's a special lightness in Matt's writing, a lightness of spirit, perhaps reflecting Matt's ability to keep politics in perspective and in its place in the bigger story of life.
Something much needed in this, our own temple of democracy, where from time to time we become excessively preoccupied with the (inaudible) of our own politics and our own personal political ambitions.
Matt always seemed to be writing on a broader human canvas, and that I think is what commends him so much to us today.
That lightness often reflects too Matt's very Australian sense of the plight of the underdog - something so deep that he was even prompted to support the English in the 2005 Ashes series, which reminds us, there were times when Matt's sense of fair play transcended the rational.
It's a sensitivity too that shone through in little stories he'd convey about people he encountered, or in those extraordinary, difficult times, like the tragic Yogyakarta plane crash involving Press Gallery colleagues Morgan Mellish and Cynthia Banham.
Of course Matt was not always so sensitive.
He sharpened the pencil a little when it came to dealing with politicians, his meal of choice.
He saw through our foibles, he exposed our follies, he exposed our vanities and our inconsistencies. And that was just the Liberal Party. He really got going when he got onto the Labor Party. He saw that as the main course.
He made us relax a little bit, laugh a little bit at ourselves and always laugh a whole lot more when others were suffering from his sharpened pen.
I suspect my colleagues would quietly confess that once you'd felt the sharp end of Matt's pencil, you always had a faint shiver as you opened the Oz to see what he'd said in today's Sketch.
Though if your opponents had had a rough day in the Parliament the day before, you'd open the paper with relish to see what Matt had to say about their experience of the day before.
So when I opened the contents page of Top Price, I can't say I didn't shudder just a little to see an entire chapter dedicated to what has been called ‘Kevinism'.
Matt didn't show much mercy to me at the beginning, or actually, towards the end of my time of association with him.
First opening up a front on my carefully manicured hair style - in Matt's words, quote, “with the greatest respect, Kevin, it's a shocker”.
I've been affected by that ever since. Much more so my hairdresser in Brisbane who to this day still wishes to remain nameless.
Then there was the scientific dissection of my hand movements - the Count Manoeuvre, the Karate Chop, the Fist Thrust Forward and the Thumb Over the Shoulder. That “don't throw fairness out the back door”.
And as I said, if you'd grown up watching television in the 60s, on the earlier occasion, and watching some of those marvellous puppet shows, then frankly you were condemned to that in your future political career as well.
I worry about how much footage he must have watched to come up with the analysis of my hand movements and I'm only glad he didn't write particularly on the question of the examination of my ear on a particular day in the House of Representatives.
Then there was his outrageous assertion that I often deliberately sought out media coverage. And he said this, I think this is most unfair, he said “had Rudd been born female, buxom and American he'd have left Paris, Britney and Anna Nicole in the shade” unquote.
Unfair, not necessarily untrue.
But I might let that one just go through to the keeper.
But still, there were the good days, mostly days when my name wasn't in his column.
And every day, Matt brought colour and warmth to the often bland debates of the parliamentary chamber.
You see, he literally did write a “sketch” - because while Matt used words, in fact, what he was doing was painting pictures. He was actually drawing cartoons and he was enlivening our mind's imagination in a different way.
That was his gift and it was an extraordinary gift.
Like the column in which Matt writes that Labor's strategy in parliament - I think this refers to my own period - was having on my then political opponent Mr Howard. He described it as this, quote: “roughly the same effect as a brace of redback spiders in the prime ministerial boxer shorts” unquote.
It takes a unique mind to actually put those two visual metaphors together - Prime Ministerial boxer shorts - let's not dwell on that, and a brace of redback spiders. But to unite them in a single phrase I think requires, and took and reflected genuine talent, inspiration and poetry.
I'm not sure how he came up with that particular image, and I'm not sure I want to know how he came up with that particular image. It's certainly evocative, particularly for those of us who grew up in rural Queensland for whom the thought of a late night visit to the little house down the back, and the threats of arachnophobia, the fears of arachnophobia - I suppose arachnophobia is a fear - visiting the outhouse with spiders in the middle of the night. Maybe that was part of Matt's own experience, I'm not sure.
But as I sat opposite Mr Howard in the Parliament last year, images like that, that is of a brace of redback spiders in the Prime Ministerial boxer shorts, never entirely left my mind. And that again, we can skip.
Then there's his passing observation last year that when the worm turns in politics, it can wrap itself around your throat and strangle you. Wow.
Or his comment in late 2005 that the legislation had been tumbling through the Parliament like dirty underwear in an industrial drier.
These are remarkable phrases. These are remarkable expressions. Each of them indelible.
Sometimes disturbing, often incisive and forever fresh, but above all, simply first-class writing, and a tribute to his profession.
Matt was a sophisticated master of the ancient art of political satire - poking fun at us politicians, personalities and institutions and with just one image or phrase, cutting through the mounds of blather, which affect us all in our various professions from time to time in this place.
Matt's great skill was that he was never just clever and funny, he was never just informative, he was never just arguing his point.
He was always doing more than any of those things, or all of those things together.
There was always something a little extra in a Matt Price column - a touching aside, a breathtaking analogy, or a startling new general theory, like his argument, that I thought of a lot, that you never need more than four albums from any musician.
And that's why his writing gave us so much pleasure.
Congratulations to HarperCollins and to the team at News Limited for the good work of putting this compilation together.
It's a fitting tribute to one of our best, to one of your best, to one of the nation's best.
And it lets us all enjoy some of Matt's best columns a second time round.
I hope this book can be an inspiration for a new generation of writers.
If it can help spark in tomorrow's writers some of the curiosity, some of the style, some of the exuberance that belongs to Matt, the newspapers still have a very bright future indeed.
Susie, to Jack, Matilda and Harry, we're delighted, absolutely delighted, that you can be with us today - and we know that this has been a tough year for each of you.
Well, we don't really know how tough it's been because this is a very personal experience.
But we also know that you have been among friends - that you've been among real friends.
For me, it is now a singular honour, a singular honour, to officially launch Top Price - Matt Price on Sports, Politics, Music and Life.
Matt Price, an Australian renaissance man: Top Price, top bloke, top journalist, top dad, top husband, top mate, top Australian.
Thank you.