As far as ex-footballers go, Garry Lyon is a Renaissance man. After playing 226 games with Melbourne, Lyon made a spectacular start to his journalistic career. Outstanding Performer, 2000; Best Special Comments, 2001.

He’s also author of the Speckie Magee books, live commentator, host of the Sunday Footy Show, star of the House of Bulger skits and Footy Show panellist, patron of the Brosnan Centre, board member of the Shane Warne Foundation and coach of the International Rules side. Having just finished as anchor of SEN 1116’s ‘Morning Glory’ show, he’s renowned now as a radio man. Thanks mainly to the efforts of Lyon, SEN’s morning show is the liveliest listening in Melbourne, and has evolved surprisingly well.

SEN 1116 looked daft when its all-sport format was proposed, but now, thanks mainly to Lyon and the remaining ‘Morning Glory’ crew, Billy Brownless and Tim Watson, it fits so comfortably into Melbourne’s culture, it’s a wonder it never happened sooner.

Lyon talks to Robert Drane

The SEN 1116 format and content took everyone by surprise. How much of it was preconceived?

It happened real quick. Over last Christmas we put this whole format together. It’s a work in progress. While I was there, everyone did a pretty amazing job. We realised people don’t want the politics of sport thrown down their throat. It’s about trying to be a bit entertaining, look on the lighter side of stuff. We introduced someone, got into the meat, and hopefully finished off with them having a bit of a laugh, and tried to get something out of them that you wouldn’t normally get.

Did you find yourself in awe of some of the people you interviewed?

Oh, sure. I’m a bit of a sports junkie, so to be able to talk to some of these people…you wouldn’t have imagined it. Early in the piece you get a bit on edge, but our producer did an amazing job, chasing down anyone. We got in there and Henri Laconte was on the line from Paris to talk about the French Open. We talked to them like we were just having a beer with them and hopefully the listeners picked that up.

I notice you touched on controversial issues in interviews, but don’t linger. ‘Morning Glory’ has kept that approach.

We didn’t want to shy away from it, but we didn’t want to be consumed by it. I listen to a lot of radio, and people get caught up with what interests them, and not the listeners. Once we got Warnie saying “I think Murali’s a sook”, or someone saying, “I reckon he should stay home”, then you can’t labour it. They have their say, then let’s get into what else is going on in the world.

You’ve been popular as a media commentator because people see you as balanced. You like to give a bit insight, while those around you tend to trade in black and white.  Do you feel comfortable inside the world of journalism?

I don’t see myself as a journalist. When you come out of footy and into, well – your world – I was conscious of not smacking heads and being opinionated just for the sake of it. But you get more comfortable in the role. I’ve written stuff that might perhaps upset people, and you’re more comfortable doing that. But I’m not a sensationalist just for the sake of it. People say “get off the fence”, but I’ve never been a fence sitter. I’ve got an opinion on almost anything.

Now that you’ve finished on radio, do you ever get tempted by the “put up or shut up” pressure that people in Melbourne get – people like Dermott Brereton – who are goaded into having a go at coaching?

I don’t feel one bit goaded. I love the whole concept of coaching. But I don’t feel deeply enough to want to do it. That’s not saying I won’t.

There’s a culture in the media of those who have played the game and those who haven’t. If someone gets annoyed with a caller or another commentator, you’ll hear, “When did you ever play?”…

That’s a really ignorant point of view. You don’t have to have murdered someone to write about it. Some people who write about footy are every bit as astute as those who played. The fact that you played doesn’t necessarily mean you can communicate it properly. I sometimes cringe at some ex-players’ attempts to communicate what they’re trying to say.

The best footy brains in the world wouldn’t be comfortable in the media. Everything’s a contest in sport. But when you get to the stage where someone’s slagging someone for not having played, time to take a holiday.

When you first heard of the SEN concept, did you think, “too much sport, won’t work?”

The first thing you wonder about is whether there’s enough content. And there is. They have three hours a day and they’re heavily geared towards AFL footy, but you give what the audience asks for. We’d throw the lines open wanting to talk Olympics, and the first caller we’d get says “how ya’ reckon (Essendon player) Justin Blumfield’s going?” What do you do? You say, “Justin’s struggling” and away you go. It’s a supply and demand thing. Lazy people say there’s not enough content and don’t look outside the square. Successful people say, “let’s delve into content that hasn’t been done before, let’s do things in ways that haven’t been done before.” Whether it’s good luck or good management, all the shows at that station do things differently.

Your first day on the job was the day Hooksey died. What was that like?

I worked with Hooksey for eight years, so he was a mate. When we put this thing together, we had a big go at Hooksey. We spoke about him doing breakfast with me…all sorts of things. He was a fantastic influence. Gerard (Healy) and David were on 3AW. They knew we were going to be a good competitor. It was going to be a lot of fun, we were going to hang a lot of shit on each other. I’m up at four and feeling nervous. I’m driving in and hear that David’s been involved in a hotel incident. I ring Rod Law (Program Director), thinking that he’s just been thrown out of a pub. I thought, “Hooksey’s trying to steal our thunder on our first day.” By the time I got here, I understood the gravity of it and just wanted to go home. The last thing I wanted to do was come bouncing down the airwaves for a new radio station and be excited and upbeat. It was a horrible time.

It throws things into perspective. It’s so important that it all works. Then suddenly it’s not.

After a great career with Melbourne, you left and the next year they made a Grand Final. Did you ever feel there was unfinished business?

I’ve never once said, “Gee, I wish I was still playing.” I think that’s a great way to go out. I’d had enough. When you’re done and dusted, it’s almost a relief.

Are your three boys the ones who inspired or possessed you to write your kids book series Speckie Magee?

My writing partner, Felice, approached me with the concept. We went to school together back in Kyabram. He became an actor. He had the framework, but no footy ideas. I introduced that. The second one, we worked out together from scratch, brainstormed and went through it from start to finish. That’s been the process. Now we’re on the fourth.

Are the issues in the books important to you? Fatherhood, bullying…

Oh yeah. Once we came up with the idea. I said, “There are the issues we’ve got to address.” The ugly parent syndrome for instance is a big bugbear of mine. Parents to go to junior sport and lose perspective on why they’re there. So I said, let’s put this anti-character in who’s Speckie’s great rival. Let’s give him an old man who can’t differentiate from his own ambitions and troubles. The message for parents is, “Don’t be a peanut.” It puts enormous pressure on the kids. We touch on things like adoption, smoking. Injuries. Disappointment and dealing with it. But you can’t preach to kids. It has to be authentic.

Did you pre-conceive some of the routines on your morning show? You developed some funny ideas, and you got callers making contributions. It can either sound like one big “in joke”, or it can work. And it worked.

The pleasing thing is that the audience got the joke and joined in with it. We had things happen where we ended up laughing to the point where we couldn’t talk. You worry that people will say, “That’s not professional”, but we don’t pretend we’re professional. We were just a couple of old footy players who loved their sport. There was a bit of irreverence. Sometimes Billy worked blue, you know, but he knew when I pointed at him, and if I double-pointed he was in a lot of trouble. But, even now, they never want to smother that side of him, because that’s what people relate to when it comes to Billy. He works blue, but as long as it’s not navy blue. But he loved hanging shit on me and loved it when a caller hung shit on me – he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. So I acted offended. And Tim, I worked with over the past two years.

The whole tone was often mock-serious, and you took the mickey out of the self-important journalist thing. They’ve retained that on the show.

Yeah, but we had a fair-dinkum blue one day on air, over Tony Jones and the naming of Nathan Thompson as the Hawthorn player with depression. It got heated and it was just before nine o’clock. We walked off and never carried a grudge or anything, and driving home, I thought we’ve almost arrived as a team, because you can have a blue on air and not dwell on it, next day you’re onto something else. 85-90% of the guests we had on, no matter how serious, we’ve got a laugh out of them. They still do.

What do you think of footy now?

The game’s fantastic. It’s scrutinised to the point where nothing doesn’t get touched. That’s the hardest thing. Peverill pushing a team doctor, Shane Crawford breaking his arm, all on the front page. It’s a pity for Shane, but it’s not Princess Diana passing away. I’m not absolving myself from that. On the Sunday Footy Show we look at every issue that comes up. But there’s a tendency to lose perspective. There’s a lot of angst around. The slightest hint of a disagreement, people get the petrol can out and see how far they can stoke it. If people want to hear that, fine.

It can be incestuous and self-serving and competitive. People are taking more licence to push it and see where they can take these things. But it’s about balance. I’ve got friends outside football who warn me not to get too caught up.

What about this “sportspeople as role models” assumption?

I’ve had long debates and arguments with Sam Newman about this. He says it’s total bullshit. Just because you’re a footballer doesn’t mean you’re a role model. That’s probably right. But footballers have no say in it. Whether they like it or not, they are role models. You don’t have to go out and be a role model, but what you can’t be is an anti-role model. I’m not saying you’ve gotta go out and do footy clinics and go to church and visit sick kids. Someone can go out and drink and drive or rob a bank and they deal with the consequences. It’ll affect their life and their family but not the broader community. Whereas that’s the responsibility that footballers have.

You always seemed reluctant to hang people out to dry; to judge. Are you religious? 

Nah I’m not religious. I probably think about how it would impact on me. That’s a fine line. I get on well with people and sometimes it’s hard to be hard. I’m not gunna be hard on someone because I was told to. I’ll be respectful and take a lot of advice, but no-one will tell me how to act.

Why did you decide to leave the show after only a year?

I’ve had to back off a few things. I do the Brosnan Centre…Peter Norton is a relation of mine, he took over from father Brosnan, he was the Pentridge chaplain. And I sit on the board of the Shane Warne foundation. I had to sit down at the end of the year. It’s been a tough year. My kid’s playing his third year of competitive footy and I’ve seen him play once, because I do the Sunday Footy Show. But people work in factories, get up at five and struggle their guts out. That puts it in perspective.

Published in Inside Sport, February, 2005