A letter to Brad Johnson
April 2nd 2009 11:09
Dear Johnno,
I know you’ve still got plenty of footy left in you, but sadly your career is coming to an end faster than I’d like to admit and I’ve never really expressed my appreciation for what you’ve done for the last dozen-or-so years.
You see, I don’t think any other Bulldog has performed at the level you have in my football-watching lifetime, I only remember Doug Hawkins in his last few years, Scott West was close, and though Chris Grant’s best was at least the equal of yours, I think you’ve played at an elite level a bit longer than the great man from Daylesford did.
Some may have taken it for granted but I, and many others I’m sure, will forever appreciate the sacrifice you’ve made by spending most of the prime of your career playing out of position. In a better team you would have been racking up possessions, and kudos, in the midfield. Instead, you’ve been holding down a key position for the best part of a decade, and still managed to be among the elite players in the competition – even if too few noticed.
Maybe it was that you’re always grinning and just look too nice to really be feared as a footballer; maybe it’s your short, quick gait, which has always made it look like you’re moving slower than you really are, that you’re not quite the great athlete that a closer look will reveal; maybe, scratch that, probably, it’s the fact that for too many years you’ve been a 5’11” key forward on a team that no one really takes very seriously.
You haven’t always gone unnoticed. Healy, Lyon and Walls have been long-time admirers, even if Sheahan took far too long to recognize your deeds, and appears to have forgotten them far too quickly.
I was disappointed when Luke Darcy was named captain for the 2005 season, not for any ill feelings towards Luke, I simply feared you would never have the opportunity to lead the club you loved; or perhaps more tragically that the club you loved would never be led by you.
Sadly, though I hate to admit it, there is one thing that I fear might tarnish your great career.
You see, when I watched you go to ground against Fremantle in round one and come up clutching your head, I’m almost ashamed to admit that I didn’t believe you.
For all of your greatness, one terrible habit has slipped into your game in the last few seasons: you simply go to ground and play for free kicks too easily and too often.
For the most part this has thankfully slipped under the radar of much of the media, opposition fans, and even many blindly loyal Bulldogs supporters. But I know that I speak for many Dogs fans when I say I, we, have noticed, and we wish we hadn’t.
What makes it even tougher is that I’ve never questioned your courage. Geelong fans might point to the Max Rooke incident in last year’s preliminary final, but I’ve convinced myself that was an aberration; I’ve seen you take too many of those signature short, sharp backward steps with your eyes fixed on the ball and no regard for what’s coming from behind you to question your bravery. But to watch you continually go to ground and then give umpires that oh-my-god-did-you-just-fart-i n-my-face scowl just makes you look like a bad player and a bad sport, and what’s worse, I can’t remember you ever getting a free for it. In fact I think you’ve probably missed out on a few simply because of the reputation you may be earning as a diver.
I can appreciate that your body might not be responding the way it once did, and maybe it’s that frustration that has led to you taking the easy way out in many contests. Not only do I fear that it’s tarnishing your reputation and hurting the team, but, selfishly, it’s making it hard to support you completely and taking away (even if only a little) the joy I get from watching you play – in fact I genuinely fear that if you finish your career this way it will negatively affect my memories of what a great player you are.
I’m not delusional; I accept that you’ll never be held in the same esteem as some of your great contemporaries such as Buckley, Hird, Voss, Harvey, Archer or perhaps even McLeod. But I think you’ll sit comfortably alongside the likes of Ricciuto, Lappin, Akermanis, Crawford and Lloyd.
Unfortunately, the legacies of some of that second group will at least in the short term be stained by their perceived shortcomings: Lloyd was one-dimensional and played for frees; Crawford was a clown; Akermanis was, well, a wanker.
However fair or unfair those reputations are, it’s how many people will remember those greats, I just hope that in ten years, I don’t have to say or hear the words “Brad Johnson was a great player but…”
I know you’ve still got plenty of footy left in you, but sadly your career is coming to an end faster than I’d like to admit and I’ve never really expressed my appreciation for what you’ve done for the last dozen-or-so years.
You see, I don’t think any other Bulldog has performed at the level you have in my football-watching lifetime, I only remember Doug Hawkins in his last few years, Scott West was close, and though Chris Grant’s best was at least the equal of yours, I think you’ve played at an elite level a bit longer than the great man from Daylesford did.
Some may have taken it for granted but I, and many others I’m sure, will forever appreciate the sacrifice you’ve made by spending most of the prime of your career playing out of position. In a better team you would have been racking up possessions, and kudos, in the midfield. Instead, you’ve been holding down a key position for the best part of a decade, and still managed to be among the elite players in the competition – even if too few noticed.
Maybe it was that you’re always grinning and just look too nice to really be feared as a footballer; maybe it’s your short, quick gait, which has always made it look like you’re moving slower than you really are, that you’re not quite the great athlete that a closer look will reveal; maybe, scratch that, probably, it’s the fact that for too many years you’ve been a 5’11” key forward on a team that no one really takes very seriously.
You haven’t always gone unnoticed. Healy, Lyon and Walls have been long-time admirers, even if Sheahan took far too long to recognize your deeds, and appears to have forgotten them far too quickly.
I was disappointed when Luke Darcy was named captain for the 2005 season, not for any ill feelings towards Luke, I simply feared you would never have the opportunity to lead the club you loved; or perhaps more tragically that the club you loved would never be led by you.
Sadly, though I hate to admit it, there is one thing that I fear might tarnish your great career.
You see, when I watched you go to ground against Fremantle in round one and come up clutching your head, I’m almost ashamed to admit that I didn’t believe you.
For all of your greatness, one terrible habit has slipped into your game in the last few seasons: you simply go to ground and play for free kicks too easily and too often.
For the most part this has thankfully slipped under the radar of much of the media, opposition fans, and even many blindly loyal Bulldogs supporters. But I know that I speak for many Dogs fans when I say I, we, have noticed, and we wish we hadn’t.
What makes it even tougher is that I’ve never questioned your courage. Geelong fans might point to the Max Rooke incident in last year’s preliminary final, but I’ve convinced myself that was an aberration; I’ve seen you take too many of those signature short, sharp backward steps with your eyes fixed on the ball and no regard for what’s coming from behind you to question your bravery. But to watch you continually go to ground and then give umpires that oh-my-god-did-you-just-fart-i n-my-face scowl just makes you look like a bad player and a bad sport, and what’s worse, I can’t remember you ever getting a free for it. In fact I think you’ve probably missed out on a few simply because of the reputation you may be earning as a diver.
I can appreciate that your body might not be responding the way it once did, and maybe it’s that frustration that has led to you taking the easy way out in many contests. Not only do I fear that it’s tarnishing your reputation and hurting the team, but, selfishly, it’s making it hard to support you completely and taking away (even if only a little) the joy I get from watching you play – in fact I genuinely fear that if you finish your career this way it will negatively affect my memories of what a great player you are.
I’m not delusional; I accept that you’ll never be held in the same esteem as some of your great contemporaries such as Buckley, Hird, Voss, Harvey, Archer or perhaps even McLeod. But I think you’ll sit comfortably alongside the likes of Ricciuto, Lappin, Akermanis, Crawford and Lloyd.
Unfortunately, the legacies of some of that second group will at least in the short term be stained by their perceived shortcomings: Lloyd was one-dimensional and played for frees; Crawford was a clown; Akermanis was, well, a wanker.
However fair or unfair those reputations are, it’s how many people will remember those greats, I just hope that in ten years, I don’t have to say or hear the words “Brad Johnson was a great player but…”
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