Fletch

by Dustin Fletcher

  Hawks captain Richie Vandenberg went nuts in the third quarter after club legend Dermott Brereton had gone into the rooms at half-time and sprayed the team because he was sick of Essendon beating up on them. The two clubs had a great history of epic battles through the 1980s and we’d certainly had the wood over the Hawks in recent years. An all-in brawl erupted after Vandenberg lashed out but it didn’t affect us in the slightest. If anything we went up a notch, and cruised home to a 74-point win.

  The fallout was significant, with a record 18 players from both clubs facing 26 charges at the tribunal. I managed to avoid a visit although I was there three weeks later after being reported for tripping North Melbourne’s Anthony Stevens with my hand. Again it was an instinctive action to try to stop my opponent from getting away, but it cost me a one-week ban and a lot of angst. The coaches, the fans and even my teammates were starting to get sick of these silly little indiscretions costing me weeks on the sidelines.

  Maybe the footy gods were sending me a message, because in my return game in Round 16 against West Coast at Subiaco, I suffered the worst injury of my career.

  It happened innocently enough, in a marking contest. I thought I was in the best position but West Coast’s Andrew McDougall got there first, and as he took the mark his elbow got me flush in the mouth. I’d had my mouth open as I went for the mark and when he made contact it was like someone had smashed me with a hammer. I thought my gum had been caved in. I felt my mouthguard wobble and as I pulled it out I saw two teeth in there. My front four teeth had been knocked clean out, such had been the force of the hit.

  I was in shock when Dr Bruce Reid arrived. It felt weird as I was able to put my tongue straight through this massive gap in my mouth. I jogged off so they could have a better look at the damage. Reidy examined it and then told our other doctor, Ian ‘Rubber’ Reynolds, that there were two more teeth out on the ground somewhere. He ran back to the spot and found them just near the 50-metre line. I thought it was a myth about putting teeth in milk to preserve them but it turns out it isn’t, with Rubber sending trainer John ‘Killer’ Kilby back to the rooms to find a cup of milk.

  I did go back on to the ground but only lasted about 10 minutes because by that stage the Eagles had kicked clear – they won by 44 points – and there was no need for me to be out there. As I was sitting on the bench a man in the crowd put his head around and introduced himself – he was a dentist. He’d been sitting over the other side of the ground when he saw what happened. ‘Can I help?’ he asked. ‘Does anything need to be done?’

  He was our saviour: his surgery was close to Subiaco. Given it was a Sunday, he had to ring up one of his nurses to come in and help him with the procedure. Once I got there he showed me the damage with a mirror. It was frightening. He tried to put the front teeth back into their slots; one slid back nicely but the other took 15 minutes to do with lots of pushing and prodding. A brace was then applied that managed to stabilise them enough to allow me to fly back to Melbourne, where I had some more work done.

  The coaches noticed I was a bit hesitant at training so they pulled me out of the next week’s game. The problem was that every time I put my mouthguard in it felt like the teeth would dislodge when I took it out.

  Naturally this dental disaster didn’t stop me from attending a boys’ weekend away. For a while we’d planned to head up to Corowa to celebrate teammate Aaron Henneman’s birthday. I wasn’t going to miss out but much to the boys’ amusement every time I had a fizzy drink, such as a Jim Beam and Coke, when the sugar hit my teeth there was a stinging sensation through my whole gum. Rama in particular got a lot of amusement out of me trying to sip drinks through the side of my mouth.

  We ended up limping into the finals with a victory over the Western Bulldogs in Round 22 getting us into eighth spot and setting up an elimination final showdown with Melbourne. A brilliant six-goals-to-one second quarter set up a 31-point halftime lead and suddenly we had some belief. Then Melbourne kicked seven goals to our four points to wrestle back the lead and take the wind out of our sails. But in a thrilling final term we managed to pull off the upset by five points.

  The Saturday night semi-final against Geelong was another tight one. After kicking just one goal in the first half, we rattled home with five goals in the last quarter to get back within 10 points before unfortunately running out of time.

  We’d surprised many with our spirited performance but I knew we were basically just hanging in there. The big positive of the year was Rama coming back and playing every game for the season. The negatives were that more of my mates were retiring. At the end of 2004 Joe Misiti, Mark Mercuri and Sean Wellman hung up the boots, leaving fewer than half the 2000 premiership line-up remaining.

  I was turning 30 the next year but had no interest in joining them – although for the first time I had to start contemplating life after football.

  DR BRUCE REID

  Long-time Essendon club doctor, family friend

  Sometimes the tall scrawny rats don’t get injured because they’re tight jointed. Dustin’s got that sinewy body which seems to work. These days they all want to be muscle men but Dustin still doesn’t look like he’s ever been in a gym to pump weights, even though he is quite strong and probably weighs in 15 kilos heavier than when he started playing.

  What keeps Dustin going is his amazing reflexes and incredible speed reaction. We don’t time the players over 20 metres anymore but we did a few years back and Dustin broke three seconds again and again, which is remarkable. He really is exceptionally quick.

  If he wasn’t always getting suspended he’d probably have another 40 games to add to the almost 400 he’s played. I find his tribunal report card very much at odds with the character I know. Dustin is a quiet bloke, he loves everyone. But I think even he’d admit to a little bit of ‘white line fever’ from time to time, which leads him to occasionally get aggressive.

  You’d never say Dustin is a dirty player – even his opponents would never say that of him. However, when you read his record, you think, ‘God, this is comparable to a Dermott Brereton . . .’ but Dustin is just loose elbows and loose limbs and so he trips sometimes, and occasionally he gets a rush of blood.

  I’ve known him a long time now, and he is actually very, very laidback. That’s his mother’s genes; his father is not like that. Dustin got his dad’s footy ability and his mum’s personality and I reckon it has helped him become the wonderful player and person he is.

  CHAPTER 11

  NATIONAL PRIDE

  The park was hidden away from prying eyes and importantly was as far away from Windy Hill as I could get. If I was busted kicking around gridiron balls it would be back-page news and Essendon would be asking questions.

  My manager, Michael Quinlan, had been contacted about whether I might be interested in pursuing an American National Football League (NFL) career as a kicker. Scouts from the US were looking more towards Australia following the success of former Geelong captain Ben Graham, who’d made the big move in 2005 to play with the New York Jets and had been an instant success.

  Given that my long kicking had been a feature of my career from day one, I was an obvious candidate. Even as a 17-year-old I was doing the kick-ins from fullback because I could get it out further than anyone else in the team.

  My right boot had already brought in some extra coin – in fact, it had bought me my first car. In my first year at Essendon I’d been asked to represent the club in a kicking competition down along the Yarra River, next to where they were building the new casino. There were about 20 players taking part, including some of the biggest names in the game, such as Dermott Brereton, and we were all placed on a pontoon. To collect the winner’s cheque of $10,000 we had to kick it over the water and make it on to the bank on the full.

  My preparation wasn’t exactly ideal, given I’d been out on the town with some of the boys, including Chris Anstey, and hadn’t been home. I rocked up to the Sunday morning event wearing dress shoes and feeli
ng worse for wear, but I quietly slipped on an Essendon jumper and hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself.

  There were balls flying all over the place and we didn’t have that many so they had to be fished out of the river and dried off after each round. We each got three kicks and my first couple were ordinary but on my last I made sweet connection. It wasn’t a perfect barrel but it kept going and going.

  The stipulation was that it had to land on the other side and then go forward. My kick hit right on the edge, then bounced straight up before thankfully trickling over the right side. I’d got a lucky bounce and in my hungover state couldn’t believe I’d just won $10,000. It bought me my first car, a VK Commodore. I was pretty happy.

  For as long as I can remember I had been a good kick. Dad was always at us to practise on our right foot and left foot and he clearly taught us the right way to do it. My long limbs, even though they weren’t the strongest, helped, as did the timing I acquired in hours and hours of practice. At school we’d spend every lunchtime kicking torpedos as far as we could and then at training we’d always be having shots from the boundary and launching into big bombs.

  We would often laugh about my kicking habits in games. If I had 15 kicks, at least six of them would be torps, with maybe six drop punts and four or five checksides thrown in. Sheeds was really good about me going for my torps from fullback and wouldn’t go off if the odd one didn’t work.

  Adapting to the NFL ball took a little while but I soon felt reasonably confident with it. The Green Bay Packers had been in constant contact with Michael and it was exciting to know there was an opportunity there. It would take a lot of hard work to get prepared for the challenge but the rewards were handsome, particularly financially, as Graham found out, signing a six-year contract extension worth $7 million in just his second year. The problem was the timing wasn’t right. If my football career had been on the slide a bit, I would have seriously looked further into it. But I was feeling good about how I was travelling even though as a club we were going through a rough patch.

  It was clear to everyone at Windy Hill in 2005 that a rebuild was the only course of action left. The fact that we’d only got one premiership out of this era was something that would haunt everyone for years to come. We had to try to move on. Eight wins for the season saw us finish a dismal 13th. If we thought that was bad, it was nothing compared to the disaster that was 2006.

  The season surprisingly started on a high with a shock Round 1 victory over the reigning premier, Sydney. A nine-goal opening quarter set up the 27-point victory, with Matthew Lloyd kicking eight and Scott Lucas four.

  There were a couple of new faces, including former Carlton midfielder Scott Camporeale, while an old face was back with Chris Heffernan returning after his stint at Melbourne.

  The course of the year changed dramatically in Round 3 against the Western Bulldogs when Lloydy, who’d taken over the captaincy from James Hird, tore his hamstring off the bone. He wouldn’t play again that season. It rocked all of us but we managed to keep fighting for a few weeks, going down narrowly to Collingwood and then by less than a kick to Hawthorn and Richmond in consecutive weeks.

  Unfortunately, that broke our spirit and we then went 14 straight matches without a win, which was the equal-worst losing streak in Essendon’s history. Everything that could go wrong did, and I was embarrassed walking around the streets of Essendon. Mason and Max were showing a liking for football and would proudly get around in the Bombers gear, but even they were starting to ask questions about what was happening to Dad’s team. They wanted answers and so did everyone else. It was the first time in 10 years of living in the area that I found myself walking around with my hoodie over my face and my head down. I didn’t want to speak to anyone about what was going on because I didn’t have the answers they wanted. For the first time in my career I felt like we were a fair way off.

  It made you realise how easy the good times were. When you’re winning, you fall into a routine with training and it’s not a problem getting into it. This was completely different. The doom and gloom surrounding the place meant that when you got to the club you had to work hard to try to get up and about. It was draining and when there were no rewards on the weekend, it just got harder and harder for everyone.

  Eventually things turned. A draw with Carlton in Round 16 was followed by victory against Brisbane in Round 17 thanks to an eight-goal final quarter. Lucas kicked seven goals and Hirdy contributed four, as did Kepler Bradley, one of the many new faces in the team, while ruckman and acting captain David Hille kicked three goals. The excitement of actually tasting victory again rolled on and we took down Collingwood the next week by 13 points. But that was where it ended: three wins, one draw, 18 losses and 15th position.

  It had been an emotional season on and off the field, with Rama suffering a relapse. He’d actually missed most of the 2005 season after season-ending knee surgery in Round 4 but had fought back and was on track to return when his illness flared. This time he needed more invasive surgery and six months of chemotherapy treatment.

  It was a scary time and Dean Solomon and I wanted to do something in honour of Rama. One of the veteran trainers, Charlie Italia, came up with the idea for us to start carrying a picture of him when we played.

  It was hidden in our socks; I stuck mine to the tape on my ankles. After each game we’d hand the photos back to Charlie, who’d hang on to them until the following week.

  Rama didn’t know we were doing this but it was a small gesture that meant a lot to both of us. He’d always been there for me. If I wasn’t getting a kick or things weren’t going great, all I had to do was drop around for a few beers and everything would be good.

  I went and visited him in hospital a few times even though I knew he didn’t want people coming to see him. He’d lost a lot of weight because he couldn’t do anything with his shoulder where the tumour had been cut out. It was a tough time but we all knew that if anyone could come out of it with a smile on his face, it would be Rama.

  On a personal note it certainly put everything in perspective. Playing AFL football was great and a privilege but your health, your family’s health and the friendships you had with those around you were much bigger than the game. To see someone so young, someone close to you, go through a fight for their life was a shock and in many ways hard to comprehend.

  *

  The phone woke up the whole household. It was 3.30 am and we were staying at Suzie’s aunt’s house just outside Manchester.

  I bolted down the stairs because I knew at that time of the night it must be someone from Australia. ‘Are you in England?’ the familiar voice of my coach, Kevin Sheedy, said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, do you want to play in the international rules?’

  The previous year I’d made my debut against Ireland in the international rules series that had been played in Australia. It had been Sheeds’ first year as coach and we’d won both of the tests, the first in Perth by 36 points and then a 21-point victory at Docklands Stadium. I hadn’t spoken to him about this year’s series and we still had a week to go of our holiday in England. Sheeds talked up how he wanted me to be the goalkeeper and how he’d adopted a different direction with selection: rather than base it around the All-Australian team, he’d gone and selected players whose style was suited to the hybrid game.

  I didn’t need much convincing. He suggested I stay over there, but the flights we’d already arranged had cost us an arm and a leg so I flew home with the family. A day and a half later I was on another plane, although at least the AFL had done the right thing and put me at the pointy end.

  Sheeds had another surprise for me when I arrived: he’d appointed me captain for the first game, with Sydney full-forward Barry Hall to captain the second test. It was a great honour to lead my country and good for me to step out of my comfort zone. Although I’d been in the leadership group at Essendon, I had never aspired to the top job. I felt I was doing my bit in other ways and was alway
s one to sit down with the younger players and look at their games and help them out.

  I wasn’t a big fan of leadership programs. We’d tried a few over the journey and one company, Leading Teams, had been lauded for the work they’d done in turning around the culture at Sydney. I’m not sure it worked for us. Part of the program involved having each player sit at the front of the group while teammates delivered some honest feedback. Each time it was the same message to me: they loved the way I went about my footy, loved me as a person but wanted me to be more vocal on and off the field. ‘You have to start coming out of yourself a bit and putting it on a few more blokes,’ Lloydy said.

  I wasn’t shy about letting someone know if they’d done something wrong, but they wanted me to be more demonstrative in getting my point across. That wasn’t who I was, but when I was captaining the Australian team I found myself being more vocal than I’d imagined and passionately addressed the team on the ground before the start of the opening test in Galway. It helped that I felt comfortable with the game after having experienced it the previous year and I really enjoyed being in goal.

  The rivalry between the two countries was strong and there was a lot of feeling in the opening test, where after a slow start we surged in the third quarter and hit the front, but the skills of the Irish on the ball got us in the end, 48–40.

  The second test match was at Croke Park in Dublin, with a crowd of more than 82,000 people providing an extraordinary atmosphere. It was a particularly fiery contest and the Irish afterwards blamed thuggery for their convincing defeat: 31–69. They threatened to pull out of future series if there weren’t changes to the tackling rule.