dogupya
11 Jul 2007, 12:26
http://www.realfooty.com.au/news/news/bulldog-brad-best-of-the-west/2007/07/10/1183833519747.html
Bulldog Brad best of the west
Martin Flanagan | July 11, 2007
I WENT to the footy last Saturday for one reason. To watch Brad Johnson play. I reckon he's that good.
I saw him demolish premiership favourite Geelong in the opening round, having seen him do the same thing to the same team last year. Before witnessing those two performances, I'd known he was an excellent player. But now, it seemed, he had elevated his game to some other region. Earlier this year, the Dogs' Lindsay Gilbee said on television that Johnson's teammates rated him with Chris Judd. That is — with the best of the best.
Johnson's career is interesting for several reasons. One is that he has survived — indeed, I would argue, has prospered from — changes to the game. He began in 1994 as a wingman of the old-fashioned kind, players who weren't merely fast and skilful but were also fine overhead marks since in the old days, players were regularly found on the wing one-out with an opponent.
He was in the tradition of names such as Keith Greig and Robert Flower, not to mention his Footscray teammate, "Dancing" Dougie Hawkins.
The position — the stretch of open ground called the wing — doesn't exist any more. Nowadays it's part of a general area known as "the midfield", which is like the Flinders Street intersection with people coming and going in all directions. In this new, crowded, scurrying terrain, at a height of only 182 centimetres, Johnson is a key forward — right now, in fact, he's the leading goalkicker in the AFL with 44 goals.
He actually kicked a 45th — it happened right in front of me. Running at top speed, he collected the ball in the forward pocket and did a Daicos — kicking the ball along the boundary on the ground and giving it the spin that makes it change direction after 10 or 15 metres so that it curved like an inswinger and passed between the goal posts.
Standing beside me, a man shouted with joyful disbelief: "How do you do it, Johnno?" Propped in front of him was a snowy-haired kid of maybe three or four. Taking the cue from his father like a runner taking a baton in a relay, the kid got to his feet and started shouting, "How do you do it, Johnno?", as if he had seen nothing like it in all his years of following the game. The goal was disallowed on a technicality, but the question was worth asking.
Johnson grew up in Werribee, on the edge of Melbourne's western suburbs, barracking for the Dogs. Nowadays, it's unusual for players to end up with either the local club or the club they followed as a kid. Then another difference, he started at the Dogs with three other players who have had distinguished careers and became his best friends: Scott West, Chris Grant and Rohan Smith. Most footballers, when asked to name the biggest influence on their careers, name a parent or an early coach. Johnson names his three best mates.
Smith finished last year and Johnson admits it forced him to make an adjustment to the way he prepares for games. The four always helped each other prepare, he says. Johnson's preparation may be more important than most. He is a finely tuned footballer, his game demanding power, precision and pace.
I ask him who the biggest name is in the history of his club. "That's a hard one," he says. Eventually, he selects Ted Whitten. His other nominations are 1954 premiership captain-coach Charlie Sutton — and his three mates. Whitten's reputation as a likeable rogue tends to obscure the fact that he was, like Johnson, a player of great style. I ask Johnson about that. Oh yeah, he says. He's talked to some of the old trainers about Whitten's skill as a player. He also admires "the passion he (Whitten) had for the club". Watching Johnson on Saturday, I recognised a third similarity between them — as a captain, like Whitten, he is in constant dialogue with the umpires.
Initially at least, people doubted Johnson's ability to lead. His presence in the changeroom was said to be that of someone who was well-liked but not a leader, a man whose personality was summed up by his ever-present smile. Smith says he's known Johnson "for years". "I've never had a fight with him," Smith says. "You just sort of can't."
My observation is that the captaincy made Johnson a better player. This period of his career also coincided with the arrival of coach Rodney "Rocket" Eade. Johnson says that, tactically, Eade is the best he's seen. "The learning and education we've been exposed to over the last three years — myself and the whole group — is enormous." Basically, having got a small but skilful group, Rocket taught them to play the game faster than anyone else. And Johnson played the fastest of them all.
How many players change the course of games? Not many. Fewer now, I suspect, than in former times. But Johnson does it. I've seen opposition teams powerless to stop him. He's been too quick, too complete in his skills, pirouetting and spinning, finding speed from a sudden start, holding marks of a sort only held by bigger men. Smith believes that, "pound for pound", Johnson is the strongest mark in the AFL.
He bristles slightly when I suggest that Johnson is playing the best football of his career now, almost as if I'm suggesting he deliberately saved his best for last. "He was outstanding in '97, '98 and '99." But when he thinks about it, he agrees. "Yeah, he is like a good red wine. He does get better with age."
Smith believes his friend would be an even bigger name if he'd been left to develop as a midfielder. As Smith sees it, Johnson sacrificed his game for the team. But I'm not sure about this. As a midfielder, there would be others in his class. As a forward, there is no one like him. As Smith says: "If they put a tall on him, he outruns them; if they put a small on him, he outmarks them."
But his game, which demands enormous energy and concentration, comes at a physical cost for a player who will be 31 in a month and, barring injury, should play his 300th game this year.
Great Article..... The Kudos this great man richly deserves!!!
Bulldog Brad best of the west
Martin Flanagan | July 11, 2007
I WENT to the footy last Saturday for one reason. To watch Brad Johnson play. I reckon he's that good.
I saw him demolish premiership favourite Geelong in the opening round, having seen him do the same thing to the same team last year. Before witnessing those two performances, I'd known he was an excellent player. But now, it seemed, he had elevated his game to some other region. Earlier this year, the Dogs' Lindsay Gilbee said on television that Johnson's teammates rated him with Chris Judd. That is — with the best of the best.
Johnson's career is interesting for several reasons. One is that he has survived — indeed, I would argue, has prospered from — changes to the game. He began in 1994 as a wingman of the old-fashioned kind, players who weren't merely fast and skilful but were also fine overhead marks since in the old days, players were regularly found on the wing one-out with an opponent.
He was in the tradition of names such as Keith Greig and Robert Flower, not to mention his Footscray teammate, "Dancing" Dougie Hawkins.
The position — the stretch of open ground called the wing — doesn't exist any more. Nowadays it's part of a general area known as "the midfield", which is like the Flinders Street intersection with people coming and going in all directions. In this new, crowded, scurrying terrain, at a height of only 182 centimetres, Johnson is a key forward — right now, in fact, he's the leading goalkicker in the AFL with 44 goals.
He actually kicked a 45th — it happened right in front of me. Running at top speed, he collected the ball in the forward pocket and did a Daicos — kicking the ball along the boundary on the ground and giving it the spin that makes it change direction after 10 or 15 metres so that it curved like an inswinger and passed between the goal posts.
Standing beside me, a man shouted with joyful disbelief: "How do you do it, Johnno?" Propped in front of him was a snowy-haired kid of maybe three or four. Taking the cue from his father like a runner taking a baton in a relay, the kid got to his feet and started shouting, "How do you do it, Johnno?", as if he had seen nothing like it in all his years of following the game. The goal was disallowed on a technicality, but the question was worth asking.
Johnson grew up in Werribee, on the edge of Melbourne's western suburbs, barracking for the Dogs. Nowadays, it's unusual for players to end up with either the local club or the club they followed as a kid. Then another difference, he started at the Dogs with three other players who have had distinguished careers and became his best friends: Scott West, Chris Grant and Rohan Smith. Most footballers, when asked to name the biggest influence on their careers, name a parent or an early coach. Johnson names his three best mates.
Smith finished last year and Johnson admits it forced him to make an adjustment to the way he prepares for games. The four always helped each other prepare, he says. Johnson's preparation may be more important than most. He is a finely tuned footballer, his game demanding power, precision and pace.
I ask him who the biggest name is in the history of his club. "That's a hard one," he says. Eventually, he selects Ted Whitten. His other nominations are 1954 premiership captain-coach Charlie Sutton — and his three mates. Whitten's reputation as a likeable rogue tends to obscure the fact that he was, like Johnson, a player of great style. I ask Johnson about that. Oh yeah, he says. He's talked to some of the old trainers about Whitten's skill as a player. He also admires "the passion he (Whitten) had for the club". Watching Johnson on Saturday, I recognised a third similarity between them — as a captain, like Whitten, he is in constant dialogue with the umpires.
Initially at least, people doubted Johnson's ability to lead. His presence in the changeroom was said to be that of someone who was well-liked but not a leader, a man whose personality was summed up by his ever-present smile. Smith says he's known Johnson "for years". "I've never had a fight with him," Smith says. "You just sort of can't."
My observation is that the captaincy made Johnson a better player. This period of his career also coincided with the arrival of coach Rodney "Rocket" Eade. Johnson says that, tactically, Eade is the best he's seen. "The learning and education we've been exposed to over the last three years — myself and the whole group — is enormous." Basically, having got a small but skilful group, Rocket taught them to play the game faster than anyone else. And Johnson played the fastest of them all.
How many players change the course of games? Not many. Fewer now, I suspect, than in former times. But Johnson does it. I've seen opposition teams powerless to stop him. He's been too quick, too complete in his skills, pirouetting and spinning, finding speed from a sudden start, holding marks of a sort only held by bigger men. Smith believes that, "pound for pound", Johnson is the strongest mark in the AFL.
He bristles slightly when I suggest that Johnson is playing the best football of his career now, almost as if I'm suggesting he deliberately saved his best for last. "He was outstanding in '97, '98 and '99." But when he thinks about it, he agrees. "Yeah, he is like a good red wine. He does get better with age."
Smith believes his friend would be an even bigger name if he'd been left to develop as a midfielder. As Smith sees it, Johnson sacrificed his game for the team. But I'm not sure about this. As a midfielder, there would be others in his class. As a forward, there is no one like him. As Smith says: "If they put a tall on him, he outruns them; if they put a small on him, he outmarks them."
But his game, which demands enormous energy and concentration, comes at a physical cost for a player who will be 31 in a month and, barring injury, should play his 300th game this year.
Great Article..... The Kudos this great man richly deserves!!!