Fev: In My Own Words

by Brendan Fevola

  Alex was a great influence on me. She helped me to focus on things other than football when I was away from the club. However, she was unable to stop me appearing in the papers for the wrong reasons in early March, after an incident at Crown Casino. It was 3 am and Alex, my brother Jason, his partner and I were leaving a Melbourne Grand Prix function, which had been attended by legendary Formula One driver Michael Schumacher. Jason, who’d had a few too many beers, became involved in an argument with another bloke. I stepped in to calm things down, and before I knew it a security guard had jumped in and started throwing his weight around. I copped a black eye in the scuffle. The next morning I was supposed to be at training at 9 am, but when I woke up it was already 9.15 am. I rang the club, hoping all would be OK, but because the session had already started I was in a spot of bother. When I finally arrived at the club, I had to meet with Denis Pagan and Stephen Kernahan, who was now the chairman of selectors. They accepted my story about what had happened at the casino, which was a relief because I knew I had done nothing wrong. But they were not happy that I had missed a compulsory training session. They told me that the punishment was a one-week suspension, meaning I was unable to play in the following weekend’s practice match against Richmond. Instead, I had to play with the Northern Bullants in the VFL.

  The suspension was part of Denis’ renewed push to put his stamp on the club. In the previous six months, he had again overhauled the playing list by getting rid of many players—including my good mate Simon Beaumont, who was despatched to Hawthorn—and bringing in eleven new blokes. One of Denis’ recycled recruits, Nick Stevens from Port Adelaide, was a genuine star. Aged twenty-four and with a career average of twenty-five possessions per game, ‘Stevo’ gave me hope that I was going to get some better delivery into the forward line in 2004. Our other recruits were mainly journeymen or unproven players. They included Heath Scotland (former Collingwood midfielder), Daniel Harford (Hawthorn midfielder), Digby Morrell (North Melbourne key forward), David Clarke (Geelong wingman) and David Teague (North defender). Mike Sheahan summed up the football world’s feelings about where Carlton was at: ‘So, has the club picked up a truck-load of bargains, or simply a string bag of odds and ends? We will know a month or two into the new season.’ Mike then underlined his thoughts on the matter by predicting we would finish in the bottom three.

  Denis’ recruiting policy was understandable, as we had been barred from the first two rounds of the 2003 national draft because of our salary-cap breaches. The AFL, however, had allowed us to keep our priority pick, which we’d earned by winning less than five games in 2003. The club used that selection—number 2 overall—to recruit super-talented teenager Andrew Walker from the Murray Bushrangers.

  The pre-season began really well. We headed down to Lorne for a camp that was more about team bonding than physical work—plenty of that was happening at our training sessions back at Princes Park. There, both Denis and new captain Anthony Koutoufides urged us to forget what had gone on the year before. Although Kouta was no fan of Denis, he was proud that the coach had made him skipper. Previously a pretty quiet bloke, he began to come out of his shell. He started getting us together after training sessions and trying to inspire us for the season ahead. Sometimes he even made us do extra push-ups if he thought we were slacking off. I admired Kouta for getting on with the job and not carrying on about the fact that he thought Denis’ long-kicking game plan was a shocker.

  There was a great vibe around the team when we ran out for our first Wizard Cup match against an undermanned Swans side at the Olympic stadium. Stevo won a stack of the ball in the midfield and sent some great passes down my throat. I kicked eight goals and we won by 102 points. Denis gave me a big pump-up in the media a few days later. He was particularly proud of my effort because he had elevated me into the club’s leadership group: he wanted me to help lead the way for our young players and new recruits. ‘He’s quite different to anyone I’ve been involved with [before]. A very likeable kid. I hope he can get better and grow all the time,’ he said.

  Unfortunately, Bad Fev (and Bad Carlton) resurfaced when we played Geelong at Princes Park in the quarter-finals. I was given a bath by Cats full-back Matthew Scarlett. Denis had to drag me a couple of times because I kept giving away free kicks out of frustration at Scarlett’s close-checking tactics. The 22-point loss meant we were out of the competition, so then it was back to the practice-match circuit for us. Due to my suspension, I spent the following week in the VFL—I kicked four goals for the Bullants in an easy win over the Box Hill Hawks—but I was back in the senior side for our opening premiership season game against Fremantle at Subiaco Oval.

  From a team perspective, the trip to Perth was very disappointing. I was happy enough with my effort—I booted 3.3 and was named among our best players—but a 47-point loss was a bad way to start the season. Thankfully, we regrouped and flogged Geelong in a Sunday afternoon game at Princes Park in round 2. This time I had the better of Scarlett, bagging five goals as we enjoyed an emotional win. We had lost our previous eleven home-and-away games, a losing streak that dated back to 14 June 2003, so the Blues fans were deliriously happy with our performance.

  We all had a few beers to celebrate our breakthrough victory, but two of the young blokes, Laurence Angwin and Karl Norman, went right over the top. They turned up to our Monday morning recovery session at Port Melbourne Beach in a bad way and it soon became obvious that they were under the influence of recreational drugs. The water was flat, as it usually is in Port Phillip Bay, but they were acting as if they were riding waves. They were right off. I was the first player to notice what was going on, and I told a couple of leadership group members what I had seen. We pledged to do something about it when we returned to the club.

  Back at Princes Park, Kouta saw Laurence in the gym, pedalling on an exercise bike at 100 miles an hour, wearing a full tracksuit even though it was a hot day. Karl was staggering around in the showers, his eyes rolling back into his head. Kouta decided we had to tell Denis that we thought Laurence and Karl were on drugs, to which the coach replied, ‘Surely not.’ Denis was pretty naive about that stuff—he was from the generation that got its fun from having a few beers. Kouta then confronted the pair, and Karl, who was a really good kid, owned up to taking ecstasy. He admitted that he had not slept at all since the game against Geelong. But Laurence, who had already been in trouble on numerous occasions (bizarrely, he had been convicted of stealing some DVDs and a television from Karl the year before), denied that he had taken drugs. The club promptly sacked Laurence, while Karl was fined and told he was on his last chance.

  In a way, I felt sorry for Laurence. He had heaps of talent, which is why he initially joined Adelaide as a top-ten draft pick. Denis then brought him to Carlton because he could see that he was a potential matchwinner. Laurence even played a couple of great games for us during 2003. Off the field, however, his life was a mess. I don’t know where he is these days, but I hope he’s going OK. Karl only lasted one more season with us. He also had a stack of talent, although I think country life probably suited him better. These days he’s back home playing for the Wangaratta Rovers in the Ovens and Murray league.

  Much to Denis Pagan’s chagrin, I was now a regular panel member on Channel 9’s popular Thursday night Footy Show. I appeared on the program the week after the Angwin/ Norman incident and said that the AFL should take a stronger stance on recreational drug use among players. I suggested that out-of-season drug testing be brought in, and I was delighted a few years later when that happened. I have never been someone to get involved in illicit drug taking.

  The 2004 season proved to be the most up-and-down campaign that I had been involved in at Carlton. After the win over Geelong, we lost to North Melbourne by 5 points when Daniel Wells, who would have been playing for us if not for the salary cap debacle, kicked the winning goal from 50 metres out with eight seconds left on the clock. He broke our hearts. We were then quite soundly beaten by Essendon in round 4,
which left us eleventh on the ladder, but we responded by thrashing the highly rated West Coast Eagles at Princes Park. I was all over the shop against the Eagles. I became really frustrated at our poor skills during the first quarter, and Denis dragged me after I flipped the bird to the crowd; I was later fined $5000 by the AFL for that. But after a spray from the coach at quarter time, I came back and kicked six goals, the last sealing our victory after West Coast had mounted a last-ditch comeback. The fans who had abused me earlier in the game gave me a standing ovation at the finish. I love the way that footy can give you such big highs and deep lows. It is a drug of its own. My performance in that win was actually overshadowed by Andrew Walker’s unbelievable debut. Only seventeen at the time, ‘Walks’ picked up twenty-six possessions and later received one Brownlow Medal vote for his effort.

  24 April 2004: Brendan kicks at goal during the third quarter of the Carlton v West Coast Eagles AFL match at Optus Oval. (Newspix/Michael Klein)

  In round 6, I kicked only two goals and we lost to Melbourne by 105 points. A week later, I bagged six in a best-on-ground performance and we beat Collingwood, the team that had played in the previous two grand finals. It was that kind of year. I went from zero to hero to zero to hero, as did the team and the coach. I can’t really explain why my form fluctuated so much. Some days I got out of bed feeling like a champion and other days I just felt flat. Still, my bag against the Magpies had me equal fourth in the race for the Coleman Medal, with twenty-eight goals in six games. St Kilda’s Fraser Gehrig was at the top of the list after kicking thirty-one in four games.

  The low point of my season occurred when we played the Western Bulldogs at Princes Park in round 9. My opponent was Adam Morgan. I’d never heard of him before the game, but he annoyed me to such an extent that by the last quarter I wanted to throw him over the fence. He pinched me and prodded me and pushed me in the back every time the ball came towards us, yet the umpires let him get away with it time and time again. In an attempt to draw some attention to the situation, I started staging for free kicks, which, in hindsight, made me look like a spoilt brat. I also became furious with the way my teammates were delivering the ball to me. Our skills were terrible. I wondered how we could train all year and not get any better. It was so frustrating. One of our midfielders would try and pass the ball to me and it would just dribble along the ground. ‘Fuck,’ I’d yell out. ‘The blokes at Narre Warren can kick better than this. They were kicking better than this when I was in the under-14s.’

  We lost by 25 points, meaning our win–loss record slumped to 3–6, and Denis was filthy with me. He told me to stop wearing white boots and to get a haircut (I did get some less gaudy boots, but my dreadlocked hair stayed—I just used an old shoelace to keep it out of my eyes). He also said I was going to learn a few lessons when we played St Kilda at Telstra Dome the following week. It wasn’t an empty threat. Denis named me at full-forward on the Thursday before the game, but in our pre-match team meeting he announced that I would be starting at full-back on Fraser Gehrig. Understandably, when we took our positions for the opening bounce, the St Kilda players thought I was heading to the wrong end of the ground! Anyway, I found myself trying to stop Gehrig, a bloke so big and powerful that people called him the ‘G-Train’. It was pretty embarrassing, to be honest. My old Stingrays teammate Stephen Milne, who was starting to make a name for himself at the Saints, gave me plenty as I tried to bump Gehrig. Even the Carlton supporters were laughing at me.

  The Saints were on the verge of becoming a gun side that year, and their midfield, which included two-time Brownlow medallist Robert Harvey, Lenny Hayes, Luke Ball and Nick Dal Santo, among others, tore our boys to shreds. The ball came into their forward line over and over again. I tried hard to stop Gehrig, but it was to no avail. By quarter time, he had kicked five goals from seven shots. Denis decided I’d had enough. He moved me back to the forward line and put Bret Thornton on Gehrig, but the Saints still ended up booting thirty-one goals in all—Gehrig finished with nine—as they won by 108 points. Denis said to the press after the game, ‘I’m sure he [Fevola] would have learnt a hell of a lot under that sort of pressure.’ But in reality, what I learnt was that I never wanted to play in the back line again. When Denis came to see me later, I just grinned at him and said, ‘See, I’m a smart man. You’ll never play me at full-back again!’ He just shook his head and walked off.

  The following week, former Melbourne captain Garry Lyon wrote a column in the Herald Sun saying that Carlton should get rid of me. But by that weekend, he was eating his words. I think Denis’ tactic to play me on Gehrig did change my mindset, because I played like my life depended on it when we took to the field against Adelaide at Football Park. So soon after one of my most embarrassing afternoons in the AFL, the clash with the Crows proved to be one of the best days of my life.

  It didn’t start so well, as the Crows dominated the first quarter and led by 29 points at the opening change. I kicked a couple of goals in the second quarter, only for us to slip 25 points behind at the last change. We all looked each other in the eye during the three-quarter-time break and pledged to go for broke. With Scott Camporeale on fire in the middle, the ball kept coming in my direction and I kicked three goals in the first four minutes of the last term. Suddenly, we were right back in the contest. The Crows were tiring. We edged closer and closer until, with a minute or so remaining, I led out and juggled a mark about 48 metres from goal. The Adelaide players remonstrated with the umpires because they thought I had taken the mark over the boundary line. But as the boundary and field umpires conferred, I kept pointing to the replay screen, which clearly showed that I had taken the grab inside the line. Eventually, I was allowed to have a shot at goal, with the Blues trailing by 2 points. I tried to creep around the boundary line to open up the angle, but the umpire brought me back around, which meant I had hardly any run-up. Then, as I was preparing to take the kick, Nick Stevens ran up to me. He had played a lot of footy at Football Park during his stint at Port Adelaide, and he had a message for me. ‘Right to left, right to left,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’ I put my head over the ball and took a couple of steps towards the man on the mark, then sunk the boot in. It was a shocker of a kick. I had hooked it to the left. But a breath of wind seemed to grab the Sherrin and swing it back to the right, then guided it straight through the goals. My teammates, including a shocked Stevo, ran from everywhere. It was the most amazing feeling. Adelaide had one last chance to snatch the game when Graham Johncock had a shot with 27 seconds remaining. But his kick sailed out on the full and we won by 4 points.

  A week after being pilloried, I was a superstar again. A couple of days later, Adelaide coach Gary Ayres was sacked. My performance was a bitter reminder of what might have been for him. He had tried to recruit me at the end of 2001, and now it was as if I had ended his AFL coaching career.

  I gained a huge amount of confidence from that performance against Adelaide. In the following two games, I kicked six goals against Hawthorn and 8.5 against Richmond, helping the Blues to wins both times. People started saying that I was a chance to win the Brownlow Medal (I did end up polling three votes for each of my efforts against the Crows, Hawks and Tigers), but that soon came to a halt when I was cited for striking Richmond’s Nathan Brown. I had not deliberately struck Brown, but the vision didn’t look good. It showed me collecting him in the head with a swinging arm. The tribunal handed me a two-match suspension, with the chairman saying that my clean record in the AFL had helped me avoid a harsher penalty. Carlton decided to appeal the decision, but we were unsuccessful.

  I booted 1.5 in my next game against North Melbourne in round 16. Luckily, my wayward kicking didn’t stop us from winning, albeit by a narrow margin. At that stage, we were still in the hunt for a berth in the finals, but that evaporated when we were belted by Geelong and Fremantle in the next two rounds. I was also back in the bad books after an ill-tempered display against my nemesis, Cats defender Matthew Scarlett. The Herald Sun’s Mark
Robinson was scathing in his match report:

  Coach Denis Pagan would be well within his rights to ask what the hell was going on in the head of his gun forward yesterday. He probably did at half-time and the results were immediate, but five minutes of dedication doesn’t cut it.

  Sorry, but Fevola’s insistence on bellowing at his teammates, running under the ball and not chasing opponents, is a blight on his game and has a negative effect on his teammates. What they felt as Scarlett ran down the ground, alone, and booted the last goal of the third quarter is anyone’s guess.

  Fevola, 70m behind, was a spectator, along with the other 43,000 people at Telstra Dome.

  ‘It’s disappointing, isn’t it?’ Pagan said afterwards. ‘That’s where he lets himself down. For all the good things he does, he lets himself down.’

  All I can say about those days is that I certainly wore my heart on my sleeve. I couldn’t hide my emotions on the footy field, so everyone could see how I was feeling. Interestingly, when I was on fire, my displays of happiness were praised. But when we were losing and I showed my frustration, everyone said I was a selfish prick. What can you do?

  Denis gave me a fearful bake after my shocker against Geelong. But often he was at his most positive when dealing with me after games like that. He would remind me that I had great talent and that I needed to make sure I didn’t waste it. Chatting to Denis in those circumstances usually made me feel a lot better. He had a way of connecting with me—he could pick me up off the floor and get me going again.

  We won three of our last four games of the 2004 season to give us ten victories for the year, a vast improvement on the four wins we’d recorded in 2003. We beat Collingwood by 1 point in our final match, which was a great way to end what had been a tumultuous campaign. My three goals against the Magpies gave me a tally of sixty-six for the season—three more than the previous year—and I won my second leading goal-kicker award at Carlton. Yet I still had plenty of doubters. Would I still be at the club when it made the finals again? Most people seemed to think it was a fifty-fifty proposition.