Role models? Turn it up! There’s two types of people. There’s Aussie heroes, and there’s wankers mate. You don’t have to let champion status get in the way of being a dead-set disgrace! There’s legends, and there’s characters mate. Take David Rhys-Jones. He’s both. A record 25 tribunal appearances. Eleven convictions. Carlton champion. Premiership player. Lost a season’s worth of games on suspension. Norm Smith Medallist. The list of achievements goes on. When he speaks out on the hot topics of the day, you just listen. So, yeah nah yeah – total respect mate.

Footy today

They’ve got too much to think about. We used to go to work, train Sunday morning, run the drink out and then put some more in later. You didn’t have the intense scrutiny they have on them now.

I don’t like possession football. Players are too scared to take risks. “Turnovers” is becoming a key word, and “clangers” and all that stuff. Good teams take risks. Too many players are too scared when they get the ball, instead of doing the instinctive thing. The game’s a great spectacle now, but they’re playing on bowling greens, so they’ve got no real excuses. We used to play in mud. At Telstra Dome, why do they even bother tossing the coin? There’s no wind. Doesn’t make any difference which end you kick to.

Nutrition

When I retired at the end of ’92, after the match there were no cans of beer. They were bringing out fruit and bloody lollies. I used hide in the property stewards’ room and have a quiet beer with them and a smoke and the others are out there eating bananas and lollies. I wasn’t keen on another year of that.

Characters

There was a couple in every team, because they didn’t just play football. They had a life. A lot of blokes loved a punt and they’d get to the races. They enjoyed a beer and get in a bit of strife here and there but it was never too bad. We were normal people who happened to play football. Billy Picken never shut up on the field. I see Billy when he comes to Melbourne for the spring carnival.

The 1980s

The best era to play football in. We had fun on and off the field.

Footballers had to put their head over the ball knowing that someone was going to seriously try to take them out. These days, guys put their head over the ball knowing no-one’s going to barrel into them and cause injury. A lot of courage has gone out of it. It makes it easier for squibs. Guys used to get sorted out. If you saw a weakness in a player, gee, they didn’t last long, because everyone knew about it. You had to have a fair amount of courage to play the game.

If blokes like Brereton and Ablett had the opportunity to clean you up, they’d do it. When I started, blokes like Ditterich and Rotten Ronnie Andrews were running around. Crosswell wouldn’t think twice if he had the opportunity. Fair and square, within the rules as they were. You had to have your wits about you.

But there were also individuals like Dermott, Ablett, Blight, Daicos, who could single-handedly change the whole course of a game in ten minutes.

Playing up

We went out on a Saturday night, stick together and go out on a Sunday as well. So it wasn’t out of the ordinary for things to be happening. We had the press. Eddie and Steve Quartermain, blokes like that would come and drink with us. If they reported half the things they saw or heard, some bloke could have been in trouble. There was a bit of faith shown. You could tell a bloke off the record, and you’d say, ‘hang onto this and I’ll let you know when to run with it’ or whatever. Now they’ll jump on any story.

His tribunal record

I don’t think that’ll ever be beaten. I regret clipping Dennis Banks of Collingwood, because he got me back. If I had my time back I wouldn’t have got him again. But that was part of the way I played, so I’ve got no real regrets. I was only found guilty eleven times. I was guilty the other times, but I got off. If I was reported on the Saturday, I’d have myself convinced by Monday night that I didn’t do it. But you done it every time. It’s like getting home at five o’clock in the morning with lipstick on your collar. You’d better have a good excuse and make it stick. Funny thing, Len Thompson sat me down and wanted to manage me at one time. Reckoned I could win a Brownlow. Went in one ear and out the other.

The two blokes who fixed him up.

I split Banks’ eye open. There was no blood rule. He came back on with about seven stitches and chased me about fifteen minutes before he cleaned me up. Greg Williams, we ended up playing together after he got me and broke my jaw. There was the press thing and it was all set up, and you shake hands. I’d have loved to have squared it up, but it didn’t work out that way. It was a bit hard when he was playing on the same team. They even played us in the same team in scratch matches, so it was a bit difficult to get him then, too.

Coaches

Of course you listened to the coach. But I backed myself. Schoolteacher types like Parkin and Walls, you’d upset them at times, but they had to live with me and I had to live with them. Jezza was a bit more casual.

A Shane Crawford-style documentary

There’d be less women and more beers.

Gays

Times have changed a bit. I’m a bit old fashioned. Did it happen in my day? You wouldn’t know. Statistics say there would have been, but I doubt it. It was heavily male-dominated and it would be hard to hide.

Fags

I never got photographed holding one. I never smoked in front of kids. Used to have a bloke at the top of the race and he’d light one up and give it to me as soon as we were out of sight.

The bath he gave Dermie on Grand Final day, 1987

I was ready for him to come out and have a crack, especially after half-time. He was going to have to try something, and I was surprised he didn’t. But I was ready for him too.

Published in Inside Sport, October, 2004