Fletch

by Dustin Fletcher

  Lloydy and Lucas both kicked goals – they finished with nine between them – in the junk time, but we were just going through the motions. When the siren sounded I sank to my knees and turned away from the Brisbane players, who were going crazy, doing exactly what I’d been doing 12 months earlier.

  The two preliminary final losses had been heartbreaking but the feeling of not delivering when everything was on the line was much worse. I’d never experienced anything like it before.

  That’s what the Essendon team of 2001 had to live with. In the end we’d come up 26 points short: Brisbane 15.18 (108) to Essendon 12.10 (82). Playing unfit players had backfired spectacularly, with all those who’d had doubts over them not firing.

  Hirdy was emotional when he went up to the dais. After congratulating the Lions he apologised to the Essendon fans for our performance. He was gutted.

  I knew exactly how he felt.

  Twelve hours later, it was rammed home to me again as I left our wake at Crown Casino. I was coming down the escalator as Brisbane Lions rover Shaun Hart, who had won the Norm Smith Medal, was coming up. If you could freeze that moment, it would be the perfect summation of not just the day’s events but a snapshot of the future; he was still going up and I was on my way down.

  ADAM RAMANAUSKAS

  Premiership teammate, good friend, cancer survivor

  Fletch and Suzie would always have the younger guys over for dinner two or three times a year. They would make a point of it for guys finding their feet at the club. I was only 19 when I started with the Bombers and that simple kindness was something I really appreciated and it made me feel instantly comfortable in Fletch’s company.

  I remember the first time I went over. It was a Tuesday night and I was still very naive on the discipline of top-grade footy. But there was Fletch having his beer and then later in the night, his bourbon and Diet Coke. I figured if it was good enough for Fletch . . .!

  We’d end up regularly having a few beers on a Tuesday or Wednesday night and that’s how we struck up our friendship. Fletch and I had common interests and we were both fairly relaxed characters so after games he’d come to my place or I’d go to his joint and we’d sit around for two or three hours and knock off half a dozen beers while we watched the replay and went through the game.

  There were a few occasions where Fletch would do something in the game that was a possible report. He’d ask me, ‘Do you reckon I’ll be all right?’ He knew I’d always be honest with him, but if I told him, ‘Mate, I think you’ll struggle’, he’d follow up with: ‘What did your old man think?’ My dad was pretty observant with those things and Fletch knew that if the old man agreed with me, then yeah, he was probably in trouble . . .

  Fletch has been reported to the tribunal a lot but look at his rap sheet and you’ll see they’re not malicious acts.

  My favourite was when he shook the goal post – that to me shows his competitiveness. Only Fletch would think to shake the post to make the ball hit it! I know he got fined for that one in the end but I wasn’t alone among the players and the fans thinking, ‘Gee, that’s smart.’

  Even though Fletch is a pretty cool customer, he’s also ultra-competitive. Fletch hates losing. Whether it’s playing table tennis in the players’ room or kicking the soccer ball around before training, Fletch is just onto it. And despite his height he’s as skilful with a cricket bat as he is with a tennis racquet or golf club. Play golf with him and whereas other people stand over the ball – particularly Joe Misiti – for an hour wiggling around, Fletch just walks up to the tee, no practice swings, nothing, and goes wham! You look up to see the ball flying 300 metres!

  If the team were out on the town Fletch and I were happy standing in the corner the whole night, drinking whatever and not looking for trouble. But if something happened to one of us it was like a red light went off in him, he would just click.

  Fletch has got a lot of prick in him, a lot of go. Clip him and he’ll clip you straight back. When the boys would go out in the early days we’d occasionally get in a few little scraps. Fletch would never be the one to start it but he’d sure come over the top and go woooshka!

  He’s the ultimate team man. He was firmly of the opinion you shouldn’t miss football trips ever because they are the single greatest way to create camaraderie among the team. That said, in social situations, Fletch is the best I have ever seen at being ‘the ghost’. He’d be there all day, no dramas, then bang! He’s vanished. You’d turn around, ‘Where’s Fletch?’ But even though he was 6 foot 5 and head and shoulders above most people, he’d be gone. Next day we’d ask, ‘Fletch, what happened?’ He’d say, ‘Ah, I just had to go to bed.’

  And you know what? There’d be those of us who’d be the last to leave because we didn’t want to miss anything. But when nothing happened, every time we’d find ourselves thinking, ‘I should’ve gone home with Fletch . . .’

  CHAPTER 10

  TRIBUNAL,

  TEETH AND

  DISAPPOINTMENT

  The celebrant knew what she was doing, with the five-minute ceremony perfect for me and the guests who were standing around in 40-degree heat.

  Suzie and I exchanged vows on Australia Day 2002, which just happened to be one of the hottest days of the year. The ceremony, which was conducted by the mother of well-known singer Kate Ceberano, was in the park at St Vincent’s Place, right next to the Yarra River. I’m not a fan of being the centre of attention so the quick ‘I do’ was followed by my attempt at a bridal waltz – which was interesting given I hadn’t had any lessons in the build-up.

  The wedding photos were an adventure at St Kilda Pier as a massive storm was looming while we posed and the photographer was very excited at the images of the clouds building behind us. For the next hour and a half it belted down with hail, but thankfully by the time we got back to South Wharf for the party it had stopped and evolved into a perfect warm evening.

  We wanted it to be an informal affair with lots of finger food delivered to the guests as they stood around outside. It was a great night with all my school friends – my best man was Damion O’Callaghan – and premiership teammates on hand for the celebration. To this day the likes of John Barnes and Michael Long tell me it was one of the best weddings they’ve been to. The best part of it all for Suzie and me was having our little Mason there. We might have done everything back to front but we couldn’t have been happier about it.

  Getting married was a good excuse to interrupt preseason training, which had been tougher than usual because of the lingering hurt from the Grand Final loss. The memory of that feeling at the end was hard to shake, plus the realisation was kicking in that the group would never be the same.

  On top of the immediate retirements we’d lost another key member of the backline, Damien Hardwick, to Port Adelaide. Then in a pre-season practice match Dean Solomon blew out his knee, which put an end to his year.

  Sheeds had pulled another of his left-field moves, following his Tim Watson precedent by luring Paul Salmon out of retirement. The ‘Big Fish’ had played 100 games with Hawthorn since leaving the Bombers after the 1995 season. He’d retired at the end of 2000 but given that Barnes had hung up the boots, Sheeds was after an experienced ruckman and talked the 37-year-old into going around again.

  Our new recruit wasn’t up and running for the start of the season, which began on a promising note with back-to-back 50-plus-point wins over Geelong and Richmond. However, a reality check came our way in the Grand Final rematch against Brisbane at the Gabba. Once again they ran all over us in the second half, to win by 50 points. Alastair Lynch didn’t kick a goal but Daniel Bradshaw, who wasn’t as high profile as other forwards in the competition but was always a handful, kicked six.

  That feeling of mine of driving to games with not a care in the world was gone, and it was soon obvious that the days of us dominating most games was over. A bad loss in the Anzac Day game against Collingwood was followed by an even more demoralising performance against Frem
antle at Subiaco. The lowlight of the Dockers game was a horrific facial injury to James Hird, who stumbled and fell into the knee of Mark McVeigh when he was coming in the opposite direction at full speed. Hirdy suffered multiple fractures to his eye socket and had to undergo three hours of surgery. Shortly afterwards Matthew Lloyd ruptured a finger tendon, so in the space of a couple of minutes we’d lost our captain and gun forward to long-term injuries.

  We were up and down all season and never managed to string more than three wins together during the home and away rounds. Despite this we still finished fifth, which set up an elimination final against West Coast at our home ground of Docklands Stadium. A six-goal final term got the job done by 33 points, but I had a lot on my mind after an incident in the second quarter involving exciting Eagle Chris Judd.

  Once again my long limbs had got me into trouble, but this time there was a fair bit of force in my swinging knee that connected with Judd. It was a reflex action to try to stop him from getting past, but it didn’t look good. While the field umpire told me at the time he thought it was an accident, I wasn’t confident that the video evidence would come to the same conclusion. The problem was that Judd hadn’t been able to take his free kick and had hobbled off the ground, favouring the knee that I’d connected with.

  I’d already had a holiday that season: suspended for two weeks for striking Melbourne’s Nathan Brown in Round 13. It wasn’t long before news arrived that I’d been booked on video evidence for unnecessary leg contact. I didn’t like my chances at another tribunal hearing and I was right: two weeks was the penalty.

  I was shattered, not just on a personal level but because I was letting down the team, which was travelling to Adelaide for a cut-throat semi-final against Port Adelaide.

  ‘You’ve just got to stop it. You’re costing the footy club,’ was Sheeds’ statement on my tribunal rap sheet, which was getting disturbingly long. I had all summer to think about it, because unfortunately we were unable to get over Port despite leading at half-time. The final result was a disappointing 24-point loss.

  It was hard to explain to people why I found myself in these situations. My intent wasn’t to go out there and hurt someone; it was more my fullback mentality that was causing the problems. Being on the last line of defence your mindset is like a goalkeeper in soccer. You will do absolutely anything to stop the ball or a person getting past you to score.

  It was hard to stop that thinking. It wasn’t like I was hanging elbows out or delivering cheap jabs. What I was getting in trouble for were instinctive acts. I would have my arms out to tackle but because of my size and frame the leg would be trailing, and that’s what kept getting me in strife.

  We did a bit of work on my tackling technique at training with guys running around me. I had to try to stop myself from jumping in the air – once I did that, the instinctive action was to thrust the leg out. What concerned me the most was that the whole tripping uproar was in my head, and the last thing I wanted was to be thinking about it out on the field.

  That spelt danger.

  *

  The proposal caught us by surprise.

  We’d heard rumours that there were salary cap issues; this had been a factor in the departure of Hardwick a year earlier.

  It was made clear by the club’s management that good players – not just some on the periphery, but premiership heroes – were likely to have to leave. They asked if we were prepared to take pay cuts and the majority of us were in favour given we knew the 2000 team had been a special outfit and we thought we were still in the premiership window despite an indifferent 2002.

  But there is only so much a club can ask for before it starts impacting on players’ livelihoods. It was never going to work, and there were rumblings in the playing group about how it had come to this point. We all knew something was going to go down in the trade period but the extent of it still shocked us.

  Three quality players – Blake Caracella, Chris Heffernan and Justin Blumfield – went to Brisbane, Melbourne and Richmond respectively. These weren’t just bit-part players who were past it: they were all in the prime of their careers with 150-plus games. You can’t replace that experience, and their departures were going to leave a massive hole in our team.

  We did get a couple of players from other clubs during what was a hectic trade period, with Adam McPhee from Fremantle and Damian Cupido from Brisbane arriving. The national draft also provided an interesting name that made me feel a bit old. Jobe Watson, the son of Tim, was a father—son selection at No.40.

  All this upheaval was put into perspective by April the next year, when I got a phone call from Adam Ramanauskas. Rama was only 22 but we’d become quite close because he was a character and liked a laugh like I did. His partner, Belinda, and Suzie got along well too, so we were regular dinner guests.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind you coming around if you can,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.’ He sounded strange, and as soon as I hung up the phone rang again. It was Dean Solomon.

  ‘Did you just get a phone call from Rama?’ he asked.

  When I got round to Rama’s house a number of my teammates were already there. James Hird, Matthew Lloyd, Mark McVeigh, Scott Lucas and Solly were present along with Dr Bruce Reid. Since the minute he’d arrived at the club Rama’s cheeky smile had been his trademark, but you could tell instantly that something was wrong now. He proceeded to explain how two months ago he’d been on the massage table when he asked Rebecca, one of the club’s myotherapists, to work on his neck because it was a bit stiff. She found a lump, which turned out to be a tumour. While he’d managed to play the first three rounds of the season and again be one of our best players, he now had to have surgery to remove it.

  We were all speechless. Cancer. It was such a terrible thing and I shuddered when I heard it mentioned about anyone, let alone one of my best mates.

  Rama didn’t want a fuss made about it and only a couple of people at the club actually knew what was happening.

  Our first half of the season had been up and down and we didn’t find any real consistency until midway through, winning eight of the last 10 – including my 200th in Round 18 against Carlton – to scrape into the finals. We got a boost in Round 12 when Rama made his comeback and seemed to be back to his best. He played the next seven games before unfortunately the cancer resurfaced. More surgery was required to his neck and shoulder. In typical Rama fashion he just shrugged it off and got on with it. ‘I’m all right,’ was his stock-standard answer when he was quizzed about his health. We all vowed to get something out of the season for our little mate, and certainly lived up to our promise in the elimination final against Fremantle at Subiaco. Scott Lucas again led the way for us, continuing his brilliant season, while Lloydy kicked five goals to take him past the 90-goal mark. We’d restricted the Dockers to just four goals at three-quarter time and the lead was 44 points, which ended up being the final margin.

  Unfortunately, I’d experienced a case of déjà vu. There had been an incident with Fremantle’s Roger Hayden where again I got caught jumping at my opponent. This time it wasn’t a trip, but I’d made slight contact to Hayden’s head with my forearm as I came down. It was very minimal and I was hoping it would be seen that way. While I was confident it didn’t constitute a strike, given what had happened the previous year I was nervous.

  Those nerves multiplied by a thousand when I was told to front the tribunal again, with newspaper reports informing me that it would be my 11th visit. My advocate, Iain Findlay, told the tribunal my action was on ‘the lower end of the (striking) scale’. However, field umpire Matthew James said after he viewed video of the incident that I’d acted recklessly and made contact with Hayden’s face with my arm.

  When it was time for my evidence, I admitted making slight contact but emphasised that it ‘couldn’t possibly’ constitute a strike. My plea fell on deaf ears and after a 10-minute deliberation my finals dreams were iced with another two-match ban. I would miss the
semi-final against Port Adelaide and the boys would have to make the Grand Final to keep my season alive.

  My mood wasn’t brightened when I had to face Sheeds the next day. ‘You are costing everyone,’ he said bluntly.

  This was rammed home when I joined the team in Adelaide when they played the Power, who’d finished the year on top of the ladder but had slipped up the week before in the qualifying final against Sydney.

  I hated watching from the stands and it was obvious early on that the boys had a serious battle on their hands. They hung tough and Port’s lead was only 16 points at half-time, but they pulled away in the second half to win by 39 points.

  The flight home was a long one but thankfully I had something exciting happening just around the corner – Suzie was pregnant with our second child and due in the next few weeks. Max arrived on 9 October 2003 and everything went really well, so I hadn’t ruled out making a late dash on the end-of-year footy trip, which this year was heading to London and Prague. I’d followed the advice of Harvs and Wally and hadn’t missed one since my first year. It was going to be touch and go, but Max and his mum were going well so I thought I’d bring it up in conversation.

  As soon as I opened my mouth I regretted it. I copped a big spray, and deservedly so, which resulted in some quick backtracking. It was a silly move because I knew that having kids was the best thing that had ever happened in my life. They certainly gave me happiness, even though it was a rough ride at times, because life at Windy Hill was in a state of change.

  *

  We were hanging around. That’s the best way to describe our 2004 season. A couple of bad losses to start the season – Port got us by 96 points in the opening round, which I missed because of my suspension from the previous year – were turned around with six wins on end. But our inconsistency was a problem, and from then on we won only four more games for the season, one of those being the famous ‘Line in the Sand’ game against Hawthorn in Round 11.