Even by the exacting standards of the common AFL fan, Dennis Cometti is considered the very best AFL commentator in the land. Notable for turning a deft phrase (“Barlow to Bateman. The Hawks are attacking alphabetically…”) when the occasion demands, Cometti also prides himself on accuracy and knowledge. Graham “Polly” Farmer writes in the foreword to Cometti’s book, Centimetre Perfect, that Dennis was himself a footballer who was good enough for the rest of the world to know about it. He was also an excellent cricket commentator before he settled on his first love, football. This year, Cometti has returned to Channel Seven with the blessing of his bosses at Nine (he joined them in 2002 when they won the AFL telecast rights) and – this is a mark of the man – made no enemies in the process. Although his descriptions and his vocal qualities remind us vaguely of commentators of the past, he brings something of the best of those times to modern commentary. More power to him. He talks to Robert Drane. 

You believe it’s important to entertain as much as call, and you seem to have just the right balance. Do you like to think that even a non-AFL fan might engage with footy if a commentator plays his part right?

That’s a long bow to draw. I’m not sure there’s enough entertainment there, certainly from me. I broadcast the way I like to be broadcast to.  That’s the only litmus test I can apply. I like broadcasters to show a lot of their personality and I try to reflect that. It’s a very subjective thing, the way people relate to it. I guess what I didn’t want was that, after watching me for twenty or so years, people don’t know me any better. I like to think that, as you go along in any relationship, you get to know someone better. Other broadcasters don’t think that’s the case and I wouldn’t be one to say they’re wrong.

You seem to have a great respect for good journos, especially writers like PJ O’Rourke and Hunter Thompson. How does that carry over into footy commentary?

I enjoy the way they use language so even the most straightforward thing can be mildly amusing. They have a sense of the absurd. And if there’s anything that lends itself to that it’s football and football supporters. We’re all crazy! And sometimes a very mundane word in the right place can bring a smile, or a reaction. It can be disarming and still maintain the tension. The best commentators seem to rise to the top because their persona is almost one they’ve chosen, because I think they’re good enough to be something else. I like to do it so it looks as though I’ve put time and effort into it.

You were a DJ in Perth a long time ago. Do you still like your music?

Yeah, I was a top-40 deejay in Perth and Melbourne, briefly. In fact, everywhere I worked was briefly. In those days you got a gold watch if you worked anywhere for over six months. It was turbulent, but lots of fun. I still buy a lot of CDs, download a lot of stuff on the net. Very much today’s music. I’m not so much into rap or hip-hop, but there’s a lot of good music around. It’s probably the best it’s ever been.

 When you were doing the cricket at the ABC, is it true that you were being groomed to take over from the great McGilvray?

There was a tour in the early eighties and they suggested I go with him and meet all the people I needed to meet. It didn’t involve any broadcasting, which I didn’t feel excited about. I chose to stay home and call WAFL matches, which put me offside with a lot of people at the ABC who felt they were giving me a plum. They were doing the right thing, but as much as I like cricket, I’ve grown up in football, I was coaching and I knew the national competition was just around the corner, and I saw that as something I wanted to be involved with. It was a difficult decision, but one I felt happy about.

Cricket’s commentary is very different, and the wit and wisdom of a commentator is pretty important to keep the broadcast humming along. Did that influence your footy commentary style?

I think it did, because the thing with cricket on radio is you’ve got so much time to talk. It’s a wonderful game to broadcast, because it’s a blank canvas, and you’re forced to do a fair bit of talking. I used to love that. It’s a wonderful chance to learn to broadcast. The ABC used to do ball-by-ball of the Sheffield Shield and it was a talkfest. If you were a listener and you didn’t like Cometti, you’d avoid the ABC at all costs. But you’d be down there for the day in an air-conditioned box, and they’d bring in the crayfish and the cake and it was like a picnic every day. Wally Foreman was there, he passed away last year, and we had some of the funniest times.

How many games did you play for West Perth?

I reckon I played about forty. I started young and finished young. I was an only child and my old man passed away at the beginning of ’69. I’d had a very good year in ’68. I really found radio a lot easier than the application required for footy and I just sort of drifted.

You went to Melbourne to play for Footscray. What happened there?

I played in Footscray in 1971. I hadn’t played the year before, and I was injured the year before that, and that was only spasmodic at West Perth anyway. I’d taken a job at 3DB, which was owned by the Herald-Sun. It was a quasi rock station. Talk during the day, and they were looking for someone to do rock at night, which was me. So the football thing was never going to work. That was a deal worked out between West Perth and Footscray, but I had to leave training at 6:15 to be on air at seven. Ted Whitten used to throw his head back and laugh when he saw me leaving for work when they were just starting their training. It was a strange situation. I had no inkling of playing football when I went to Melbourne. I needed a job because I’d been fired from the station I was working at in Perth, and somehow, footy got tacked on the end of it. Obviously West Perth wanted something or owed something to Footscray. If they owed something, they didn’t repay the debt! I played about six or seven reserves games for Footscray. I missed the first month. Believe it or not, there was a clearance wrangle! Not sure what that was about, but I was impressed. I used to like reading about the clearance wrangle I was involved in. I sounded as though I could play and I didn’t have to do anything. I just needed it to go on for 22 weeks! But Polly Farmer was my coach at West Perth and Ted Whitten at Footscray. Two of the all-time great players and great blokes. I did let the clubs down but it was also a difficult time in my life, around the time dad died. We’d been through a lot together and were very close. He loved his footy. I often wonder, had he not died, how this would have all played out. I think I would have played a lot more football at West Perth, and then where that would have put the broadcasting, I don’t know.

You also coached in Perth for a few years. What sort of insights did you gain as a footy coach that you can bring to the microphone? 

Well, I was a playing and non-playing coach. It gives you a terrific insight into how football clubs run. Supporters and coaches, because they don’t play, have all the hangover of losses and all the bitterness that goes with it for a much longer time. Players go out and give their all, and if you’ve lost, there’s not much you can do about it. Players cleanse themselves by actually playing, but the feelings of whole cities and suburbs ride on winning and losing.

What coach do you respect today?

I love Paul Roos’ attitude. You don’t want an emotional coach. People making decisions need to be clear-headed. I just love his attitude. He’s like a bloke who’s gone out to get the mail in the morning. He just saunters around. Rodney Eade is a bit more emotional, but he’s good. But I respect them all. I just like the way those two go about it. But I can’t really pick favourites.

You have a great store of aphorisms and sayings, but seem to drop them in at just the right time. Are some more spontaneous than others?

I suppose the breakdown is fifty-fifty. But even the spontaneous ones have been floating around. Now and then, something suddenly just hits you. Football is predictable in a way. The more you see of it, the more you realise there’s a tempo to it that’s a bit like dancing and music. Certain things are going to happen in every game. The sequence might be different, but they’re going to come. If you’re patient, you’ll find a spot and you know going in what that spot is and where it will be.

It seems obvious to me that you enrich your knowledge with interests outside of football. What are they?

We’re very close as a family, my daughter Ricki and son Mark – he’s had to live with the fact that I couldn’t call him handpass or kick – I’ve asked them to try and keep me contemporary. We have music in common. We’re probably one of the first generations to have music in common with our kids, particularly if you’re happy to go along with what’s happening now. If I start to waffle on and get nostalgic they quickly bring me into line. We’re probably out for three or four meals a week as a family. My son-in-law’s a very bright young man and into technology, wonderful with a computer and iPods and things, so they drag me along into all that. My son likes the wrestling, so he keeps tossing names at me and I’ll sit and watch it with him. It all keeps you abreast of what’s going on. I can talk to my peers as well about the past, but that’s not a growing audience. If you want to grow the audience, and remain topical, younger people add to those who have grown up with you.

What about commentators you have admired, past and present? 

You’re a product of the people you hear. There was no conscious effort from me to change the language. I’d been brought up in Western Australia. People in Victoria thought it was strange, some of the expressions I would use. It wasn’t any one expression, it was just the way it was done, and I was a product of what I’d been brought up with. I wasn’t going out of my way to be different. There wasn’t a lot of cross-pollination in those early days. We didn’t get exposed to much footy on TV or radio from Victoria. We had our own competition, and the thing that influenced me was the broadcasters I was listening to. There was no Lou Richards and Mike Williamson. From Perth, I liked Oliver Drake-Brockman, Frank Sparrow – they were guys I admired. There was one some folks would know, Jim Fitzmaurice. I probably owe more to him than I think. He was an entertainer, and had these flippant, off-hand remarks, and even as a kid he used to make me chuckle a bit. I like the American golf commentator, Garry McCord.  With cricket, I liked the Yorkshireman, Don Mosey.

Who are the best commentators to work alongside?

Richie Benaud is probably the only bloke I broadcast with who I found intimidating, and I shared the booth with Prime Ministers. He’s just outstanding. The way he conducts himself, everything. I’ve always admired Bruce as well. I had a lot of fun with Dermott and Garry. Wally Foreman. I don’t want to leave anybody out.

How has the creation of two AFL sides changed Perth?

Most people support one and then the other. But there are pockets of resistance to both clubs because there are people who barracked for Victorian clubs before the AFL. So you can’t escape footy over here. It’s become a real glue for the community though. I suppose there is a tendency to think there’s a conspiracy with those Victorians. But I think Victorians were terrific the way they accepted the expansion of the AFL. They were more than generous, I think they put up with non-Victorian clubs winning premierships, probably until Brisbane won their third. Probably the biggest difference is that we see it as State versus State. Because Victoria has so many clubs, they see it more as a club competition. But here, when both clubs are struggling, it can be a pretty bleak place, and there can be recriminations and finger-pointing, and suddenly civic pride’s on the line and the town doesn’t feel too good about itself. But a town responds to good victories, and the Premiership’s just a wonderful tonic for the entire state. Whereas, if you barrack for Collingwood and Essendon win, I’m not sure it changes your life dramatically. Over here, the tribe is much bigger.

Who was the best footballer to come out of Perth?

I’d say Graham Farmer.

Who was the best you’ve seen anywhere?

Leigh Matthews. Chris Judd is closing quickly. I have a tremendous regard for him. He and I own a horse together, but unfortunately, he’s faster than the horse. But the only thing that separates Matthews and Judd is time. Matthews was a great player for such a long time. Chris is on the way.

What about your name – got some Italian in there?

Yes. It’s very diluted though. My father’s father was Italian. But I married a Sicilian girl, Delia, and my children are actually much more Italian than I am. My son thrives on it. He’s got the gold chains and everything.

Are you glad to be back at Seven?

It’s comfortable. I was there for fifteen years. A lot has changed and a lot hasn’t. I had a great five years at nine. If you’re around quality people, it doesn’t matter what the number is. It happens to be Seven. I’m really looking forward to it. We’ve got our work cut out, because Nine did a really good job. I’m sure Seven can match if not surpass it.

Published in Inside Sport, April 2007