Good bye and good luck Jack Riewoldt

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Hank Heavenly said:
yeh true, the moniker will go a long way to the colour scheme.

But I reckon there are plenty of clubs with 'black' in their colur scheme that the AFL may look at something else.
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Keeping ‘Dusty’, fearing ‘Dimma’, and how Riewoldt got even with his biggest critic

As he prepares to launch his memoir, Richmond great Jack Riewoldt reflects on his time at Punt Road, a magical journey featuring premierships, drama, Dustin Martin and Ben Cousins.
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Keeping ‘Dusty’, fearing ‘Dimma’, and how Riewoldt got even with his biggest critic​

Jon Pierik

ByJon Pierik​

October 28, 2023 — 5.00am
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Retired Richmond superstar Jack Riewoldt has opened up on the role he and his teammates played in convincing Dustin Martin to ignore a $10 million overture from North Melbourne and commit his future to Punt Road.
In an expansive interview with this masthead only weeks after Riewoldt ended his illustrious 347-game AFL career before his next career step was revealed − a job with the Tasmanian AFL expansion club − Riewoldt has also explained the motivation behind his decision to remain a one-club player and provided an insight into how recovering drug addict Ben Cousins was welcomed into the Tiger fold.
Money man: Jack Riewoldt did all he could to keep Dustin Martin at Punt Rd.

Money man: Jack Riewoldt did all he could to keep Dustin Martin at Punt Rd.CREDIT:GETTY IMAGES
Riewoldt and Martin are two of the central figures in Richmond’s modern premiership era, a period that delivered three flags in four seasons including the club’s drought-breaking 2017 flag.
Martin committed his long-time future to Richmond on the eve of that season’s finals series. North Melbourne had offered him a whopping $10 million.

Riewoldt said he and teammates including Shaun Grigg played a persuasive role in convincing Martin to stay. Riewoldt started a series of phone calls between Martin’s manager Ralph Carr and celebrity agent Max Markson assessing the financial benefits and value of Martin in a Richmond guernsey compared with the Kangaroos. Martin has never explained why he stayed.
“Myself and Shaun Grigg sat down, and we were like ‘I could only imagine the amount of money Dusty had put in front of him, and how life changing that would have been’,” Riewoldt recalled.
“But there are also a whole host of other things that we knew he [Martin] valued as well – the relationship side of things.
“I wouldn’t say it [our involvement] was pivotal or anything like that, but it made people see the commercial value in him, but the true value lay in his relationships and who he is as a person. We were willing to do everything we could to keep him.”
Riewoldt had West Coast champion and 2005 Brownlow medallist Cousins as a Richmond teammate for the 2009 and 2010 seasons.


But the recovering drug addict was only recruited by the Tigers, then coached by Terry Wallace, with the support of the players.
“From a personal point of view, from the guys that played with him, to have had a little bit of an impact to help get his life back on track, has been fulfilling. So much so that when we go to Perth, we see him all the time with his family,” Riewoldt said.
Days gone by: Ben Cousins and jack Riewoldt remain in contact, having spent two seasons together at Punt Rd.

Days gone by: Ben Cousins and jack Riewoldt remain in contact, having spent two seasons together at Punt Rd.CREDIT:JUSTIN MCMANUS
“It was a bizarre set of circumstances [when Richmond were weighing up bringing him in]. The jungle drums were beating that he was either going to go to St Kilda or Richmond. Then we were told no. Then the senior players pushed fairly hard to say yes, and, all of a sudden, he was at the football club.
“We lived a bit of a circus, which was what followed him, for a couple of years there, but his value and investing in the group was amazing, especially for the younger players.”

Riewoldt left the AFL arena in round 22, completing a full circle from when he was drafted by Richmond with pick No.13 in the 2006 national draft as an excitable, talented but raw young lad who left his beloved Hobart to begin a new life in Melbourne.
It’s been some ride, Riewoldt calling it quits as the second-most capped Tiger, with 347 games to his name along with three flags, his place in Punt Rd forever etched in history. Riewoldt is about to release his memoir, The Bright Side. He said the book had given him a chance to review his life through a new prism.
Glory days: Jack Riewoldt celebrates the Tigers’ 2017 premiership, and joins The Killers in their performance of Mr Brightside at the MCG.

Glory days: Jack Riewoldt celebrates the Tigers’ 2017 premiership, and joins The Killers in their performance of Mr Brightside at the MCG.CREDIT:JUSTIN MCMANUS; WAYNE LUDBEY; SUPPLIED

Young cub​

Riewoldt arrived at Punt Road during the Terry Wallace era (2005-09). The facilities were poor – among other issues, wheelie bins were used as ice baths, there was outdated audio equipment, and the walls needed a paint – while the training oval flooded in one pocket under heavy rain, and could not be used in summer because of cricket.

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“You become a product of your environment really, when you walk into an AFL club for the first time, you don’t know what you don’t know. When you see the facilities, you are happy to be there and think this is what it must be like. When you start to hear stories about other clubs and new facilities, doing certain things, coaches, it then starts to dawn on you other things that maybe we are behind the eight-ball a little bit, which is probably where we were for that first period of time. Then we moved into a new facility around 2011. That was probably a catalyst of change,” he said.
Under Wallace, the Tigers conjured game plans to beat more fancied opponents but, according to Riewoldt, struggled to generate their own reliable style, prompting Riewoldt to wonder how Wallace lasted as long as he did.
“We adjusted a lot to the opposition, which was one of Terry’s great strengths, the ability to analyse and then try and effect the way to beat sides. But when you look at the way the game is coached these days, clubs have systems, and they back their systems in,” he said.
“I didn’t really know much about Terry or him coaching prior to getting to Richmond, but he was a really great – I want to say [he was a] salesman, but I don’t want to say salesman. He actually made you believe in the story, and believe in the way we were going to do things. Which is why when it worked, it really worked for us.”

Wallace did not wish to comment when approached by this masthead.

‘Fearing’ Hardwick​

Damien Hardwick was appointed Richmond coach ahead of the 2010 AFL season.
Riewoldt admits the change of coach left him with a sense of dread.
A strong pre-season with players completing a variety of on-and-off field tasks at Wye River set the scene for what was to come.

“I think the first time I found out that ‘Dimma’ was going to coach me, I sort of felt there was an element of fear, in the structure of the group, that we were going to have this hardened thug that was going to come and coach us,” Riewoldt recalled.
Tough guy: Jack Riewoldt said his thought was fear when Damien Hardwick was unveiled as Richmond coach in 2009.

Tough guy: Jack Riewoldt said his thought was fear when Damien Hardwick was unveiled as Richmond coach in 2009.CREDIT:SEBASTIAN COSTANZO
“Change brings on a whole range of emotions. Some people embrace it, some people look at it and fear change. I was probably in the fearing mould of that. It was good to change it up.”

Brutal feedback​

The Tigers turned to cultural change agent Gerard Murphy in 2014 to help players provide honest and open 360-degree feedback to each other - and staff - but Riewoldt was no fan.

Jack Riewoldt ‘The Bright Side’ is out on November 1 through Simon & Schuster. RRP $49.99

Jack Riewoldt ‘The Bright Side’ is out on November 1 through Simon & Schuster. RRP $49.99
“It’s a great example of how it’s not a one-size fits all in the AFL environment. You look at the way players are treated, and also list demographics, what’s the best thing for that group at the time. For us, unfortunately, [Murphy’s program] wasn’t the best for us at that time,” Riewoldt said.
“It didn’t end well for us, but how quickly the narrative shifted when we had a different thinking process brought in, one that was harnessed by our group really quickly. We reaped the rewards pretty quickly after getting that right. That’s not to say [Murphy’s program] isn’t the right model for other people going forward.”
The players’ feedback to each other varied, from the positives to Riewoldt even being told to stop wearing old Nike gear, and to use the new BLK apparel like his teammates.
“It can be unrelenting, but it can also be quite nitpicky for some things,” Riewoldt said. “People look to fill silence with things. It’s not my position to tell other people how to live their lives because I have an ideal in my head, but there are things that happen in people’s lives that we have no understanding of, or have no knowledge of, and we don’t how that could trigger, or why people do things a certain way. That’s why the next model we went down was about that information sharing, so we got to know each other a little bit better.”

The process also involved staff receiving blunt feedback, and one hard-working and helpful employee left in tears.
“That was probably the catalyst for us to say: ‘Is this really the best thing for us going forward, and do we really feel good about ourselves doing it?’ The answer was no to both of those questions,” Riewoldt said.
Murphy had been praised for the work he did in fortifying Geelong’s leadership group before the 2007 premiership. Now working with Hardwick at Gold Coast, Murphy did not wish to comment when told of Riewoldt’s assessment.

Contract capers​

With Riewoldt off contract in 2013, and with a new agent, Liam Pickering, Fremantle offered Riewoldt a deal of almost $1 million a season. The Brisbane Lions also came knocking. The Lions returned in 2016, along with Essendon, Riewoldt taking a call from then Bombers coach John Worsfold while he was shopping at Myer at Southland.

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But Riewoldt said loyalty was always a driving force.
“People always want to be loved and be wanted as well. There is that aspect of it as well, but in my internal fabric, I really value loyalty. It would have been near-on impossible for me to leave, and then go and face Richmond again,” Riewoldt said.
“I think the only way it could have happened was if I was 27 in five years time and a Tasmanian team came in and that was a realistic chance.
“But I am not in that position, so I don’t have to make that decision, thankfully.”

Prank calls​

Carlton great turned expert commentator Mark Maclure once labelled Riewoldt a prima donna, prompting an angry Riewoldt to source Maclure’s number and have friends prank him through private-number calls. Watching Maclure on a live Fox Footy broadcast, and knowing his mobile phone was on the table, Riewoldt even called Maclure through a private number.
“Sometimes it’s water off a duck’s back, sometimes there is a chance to get even. I got even, I probably got ahead, to be honest,” Riewoldt said.
“We used to prank call him when he was on air, me, Brett Deledio and Shaun Grigg. We would sit around and have dinner, and he would be on Friday night footy. We would just sit there pranking him all night. You could see him touching his phone, then turning it on silent.
“I have spoken with ‘Sellers’ about that. He finds it quite funny, but I probably wouldn’t do it again.”
 

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Some more from Jack.(Bit more interesting)
Can understand why Liam McBean didn't make it.


The Bright Side: Jack Riewoldt opens up on Richmond’s difficult 2016 – on and off the field​

Pile ons. Personal attacks. There were even tears from staff – it’s clear Richmond’s struggles in 2016 weren’t confined to the field. Jack Riewoldt tells the story of the dark times at Punt Road.
Jack Riewoldt





00:28
Jack Riewoldt sings with The Killers

A star on the field and a cracking entertainer off it, Jack Riewoldt celebrated Richmond’s AFL Grand Final win by singing on stage with The Killers. Video: Sam Landseberger


​

​

In 2016 things went incredibly poorly, and incredibly fast. For the third year in a row we staggered through the early rounds. We were 1–6 after round seven, then we beat the Swans by a point at the MCG thanks to Sam Lloyd kicking a goal after the siren. We clawed our way back to 6–7 then fell away badly from there.
Nothing went right. Bachar Houli missed months of football through injury. Dylan Grimes was still struggling with his recurrent hamstring problems. Brett Deledio, who had been Mr Durable up until then, played only eleven games for the season. Our depth was tested and it didn’t hold up. Daniel Rioli, who had turned nineteen during the early weeks of the season, should have been eased into AFL footy by playing no more than a handful of games. Instead, he was called upon most weeks. Injuries are a legitimate explanation for a faltering team, but cited by one of its players, they never sound like anything more than an excuse.
Our struggles weren’t confined to the field either. Another developing problem was our leadership culture program, which was run by Gerard Murphy, who’d arrived at the club following the 2014 season. He introduced us to the type of feedback sessions that he’d used at Geelong to great effect. One person sat out the front of the group and everyone was invited to give them feedback on things they should ‘stop doing’, ‘start doing’ and ‘keep doing’.
Gerard had seen the exercise – one of a suite of offerings used by the group known as Leading Teams – work wonders. Gary Ablett Jr received an infamous dressing-down in 2006 when senior Cats savaged his work ethic. Apparently shaken by the serve, he went on to win three consecutive AFLPA MVP awards and two Brownlow Medals.
Jack Riewoldt after the Tigers lost to Hawthorn in 2016. Picture: Wayne Ludbey

Jack Riewoldt after the Tigers lost to Hawthorn in 2016. Picture: Wayne Ludbey
While the method is still used at several clubs, many others have stridently rejected it as giving players licence to bully and degrade. Whatever, it was a complete failure at Richmond.
The sessions opened the door to a kind of mob mentality. As humans, we’re programmed to go to negativity in difficult moments, and at Richmond at this time, it led to an outsized emphasis on what people needed to stop doing. Once a fortnight or so, a player would have to enter the auditorium, knowing that his teammates had been divided into groups to discuss and critique him.
It was my turn midway through 2016. I entered the room alone and sat on a stool in front of forty-three teammates, who’d gathered in private to list my shortcomings, as well as behaviours for me to add, keep or delete. They came up with words to describe me, and a seemingly never-ending list of feedback nuggets.
Stop speaking over others. Stop feeling the need to be the matchwinner, instead of just playing your role. Start critiquing your own game. Start finding solutions instead of pointing out problems. Start condensing your comments in meetings. ‘What you have to say is really important,’ said Alex Rance. ‘The first ten seconds of it, anyway. But then it loses impact the more the message goes on.’
Even though it was largely silent in the room, it felt noisy, because my mind was racing. They said I was trying too hard to be an individual – wearing the older Nike-branded gear to training, rather than the newer BLK apparel.
They wanted me to be more respectful in dealings with all people – and to watch my body language on the field. They said they wanted ‘consistency’, but I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I asked them, and Dylan Grimes answered. ‘We feel like one week in our personal relationship with you we love you and we’ll go to war with you,’ he said, ‘and the next week something will happen and it feels like we’re a piece of shit to you. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster.’
In the program that just didn’t work, Riewoldt was told by his teammates to be more respectful. Picture: Scott Barbour/Getty Images

In the program that just didn’t work, Riewoldt was told by his teammates to be more respectful. Picture: Scott Barbour/Getty Images
But teammate [PLAYERCARD]Alex Rance[/PLAYERCARD], right, told Riewoldt how relatable he was. Picture: Michael Klein

But teammate Alex Rance, right, told Riewoldt how relatable he was. Picture: Michael Klein
There were positive pointers, too. Keep asking questions and challenging the group. Keep educating forwards and backs by showing them your tricks. Keep showing interest and care for your teammates.
‘You’re really relatable now,’ said Rance. ‘Everyone loves spending time with you, and you show a lot of genuine care and a better connection.’
Steven Morris showed me some love: ‘Playing against you as the opposition in training, it just feels like you’re leading this increase in camaraderie in the forward-line group really, really well.’
Shane Edwards did, too: ‘More than half the time you’re the perfect leader,’ he said. ‘It won’t take long or much tinkering for you to be the most influential player here.’
We had so many kind and authentic people in my time at Richmond, but that feedback forum had a way of changing everyone. I can freely admit those sessions brought out the very worst in me. I dished out some terrible feedback, and I doubt any of it helped anyone. If anything, it tore holes in the fabric of the team psyche. I was senior enough to cope with the criticism, but young fringe players just trying to make their way? Such attacks must have been devastating.
We had a young key forward named Liam McBean, who was struggling at the time. Liam was told that he was weak over the ball – just weak in general. I hate to imagine how that must have felt to him alone up the front. Liam was delisted at the end of the 2016 season, having played just five AFL games. I look back now and it’s no wonder he didn’t succeed. He had no chance in an environment like that. Those sessions weren’t about constructive feedback. They were a pile-on.
Riewoldt says it all back-fired spectacularly. Picture: Yianni Aspradakis

Riewoldt says it all back-fired spectacularly. Picture: Yianni Aspradakis
AFL clubs spend so much time thinking they can copy what’s been done at other clubs. I’m sure that’s what happened when we hired Gerard. His appointment as our leadership consultant was sold to us as a massive coup: the guru who had turned the Cats around was going to do the same thing for us.
Everyone became so infatuated with the idea that one man had the secret sauce that would automatically make us better leaders and better players, and it was bullshit. It back-fired spectacularly, and even spread into the rest of the club.
Instead of just players, our player development manager, Bronwyn Doig, a bubbly and enthusiastic young staff member, was put up in front of the group, too. Bron was the person who nurtured draftees and rookies when they first arrived at Punt Road, helping them acclimate and assimilate.
She was the person who helped you find lodging and bedding and transport. The person who made sure we all had adequate literacy and numeracy – that we knew how to pay our bills and had a plan for our careers (and our lives) after football.
Bron helped us develop and grow up as professionals and people. She rode with us in the back of the ambulance when we broke a leg or punctured a lung, and called our parents when things went wrong.
Bron felt she had to buy into the new cultural program, and was encouraged to sit up the front one day and receive her own barrage of ‘add-keep-delete’ feedback, framed as an opportunity for her to enhance her relationship with the list.
Former player development manager Bronwyn Doig, left, left one of the sessions in tears.

Former player development manager Bronwyn Doig, left, left one of the sessions in tears.
The criticism came – a laundry list of faults and deficiencies and limitations – and she listened and watched as the boys read from their critique sheets. Blindsided, gobsmacked and dumbfounded, Bron finally walked out. She left the club in tears that day – not over the judgemental things that had been said to her, but for not having had the courage to speak up and voice her concerns about the program.
Given all we now know about mental health, it’s a wonder the dangers of the blunt feedback approach weren’t raised immediately.
I wasn’t in the leadership group at that stage, but I’d had enough. I went to see Brendon Gale. ‘This isn’t working,’ I said. ‘This can’t go on.’
The playing group was told in July that Gerard was departing. He still works in this space. But the work he did with us was never the right fit for our group.
In a way, how poorly it worked almost became his parting gift. Richmond went through such turmoil that season that perhaps we worked out what we didn’t want to be as a club. Perhaps the first seeds of the fun, friendship and success that were yet to come were sown in those dark times.
Riewoldt, [PLAYERCARD]Trent Cotchin[/PLAYERCARD] and Dustin Martin didn’t expect the success that followed 2016.

Riewoldt, Trent Cotchin and Dustin Martin didn’t expect the success that followed 2016.
Another long off-season began, and legendary Richmond ruckman Neville Crowe died. Neville was famous not only for his work on the field in the 1960s; he later became Richmond president and led the Save Our Skins campaign that rescued the club in 1990.
His death thickened the pall that hung over Tigerland, a sense of doom magnified by the impending results of the Ernst & Young review of the football department.
Handed down on September 12, the key outcome was that Dimma kept his job, which was a massive relief, but several of his assistants were let go.
I asked my manager, Liam Pickering, what my options were, and he told me exactly what he was hearing: I was being thrown up as a trade option. I asked Richmond list manager, Blair Hartley, about it, and he said I wasn’t.
That same game of ducks and drakes plays out every year at every club, and it does make for a strange working life, with an odd kind of conditional trust. Regardless, the media had dubbed me as potential ‘trade bait’, and that has its own effect – plenty of clubs made inquiries based solely on the perception that I was gettable.
The Brisbane Lions came hard again. And the Bombers were unequivocal about their interest. One day, I was in the bedding section of Myer at Southland when my phone rang, and Essendon coach John Worsfold was on the other end. There I was, lying back on a nice new mattress, chatting to the coach of an arch-rival.
Brendon Goddard called later to give me a feeling for what was happening at the Bombers, doing his level best to see me swap a yellow sash for a red one.
Cotchin and Riewoldt with their families and the three premiership cups after their final game in August this year. Picture: Michael Klein.

Cotchin and Riewoldt with their families and the three premiership cups after their final game in August this year. Picture: Michael Klein.
Throughout it all I felt dirty – There’s just no way; I couldn’t, could I? – almost as if I were cheating. It was such a strange and disorientating period, and yet at the same time, I was by now mature enough to manage myself and have those grown-up conversations.
Over time, when enough deals have been put `to you, you learn how to talk about money, and identify your self-worth, and stand by your value without sounding like a w***er. You understand the salary cap, and how everybody in the side needs to be paid fairly. I knew when other players were coming off contract, and that what I asked for would impact what they got. I was never interested in any deal that would see my teammates ripped off.
I never came close to leaving Richmond. I couldn’t. It was ingrained in me to be loyal. Instead, I sat down with Trent Cotchin, who himself had had a big heart-to-heart chat with Dimma after Neville Crowe’s funeral, and we made the decision that we needed to stick by the club.

​

We had coffee at St Rose café in Essendon, and spoke about what we wanted our legacy to be. We wanted to leave the club in a better place than we found it, and that meant we needed to try and finish the job we’d started. Were we hopeful that we could compete for a premiership in the coming years? I don’t think so. We were just hoping we wouldn’t be shit. We were hoping the sun would come up the next day.
At the core of our conversation was an acceptance that Trent and I were most likely never going to win a premiership. Given that, we needed to invest our time in creating a great club, so that the likes of Daniel Rioli could taste the success that we would never enjoy.
This is an edited extract from Jack Riewoldt ‘The Bright Side’. ‘The Bright Side’ is out on November 1 through Simon & Schuster, RRP $49.99. You can meet him at a book signing event at 1pm, November 1 at The Avenue Bookstore, 91 Swan St, Richmond.
 
Great extracts...thanks for posting.
His comments seem to backup the impression I'd got over the years, that's he developed into a really good human being.
Interesting that Hardwick now has Gerard Murphy at Gold Coast. Does that mean Emma Murray is still at Richmond and won't be at Gold Coast I wonder.
 
loser 81 2 16 said:
Great extracts...thanks for posting.
His comments seem to backup the impression I'd got over the years, that's he developed into a really good human being.
Interesting that Hardwick now has Gerard Murphy at Gold Coast. Does that mean Emma Murray is still at Richmond and won't be at Gold Coast I wonder.
Click to expand...
You'd have too question why Murphy?Seems like he's the opposite too the outcomes we got from Emma.
 
Carlton great turned expert commentator Mark Maclure once labelled Riewoldt a prima donna, prompting an angry Riewoldt to source Maclure’s number and have friends prank him through private-number calls.
Click to expand...

This fills my heart with joy

Also that he kept wearing Nike gear during the BLK era.
 
Tiger_Of_Old said:
Some more from Jack.(Bit more interesting)
Can understand why Liam McBean didn't make it.


The Bright Side: Jack Riewoldt opens up on Richmond’s difficult 2016 – on and off the field​

Pile ons. Personal attacks. There were even tears from staff – it’s clear Richmond’s struggles in 2016 weren’t confined to the field. Jack Riewoldt tells the story of the dark times at Punt Road.
Jack Riewoldt





00:28
Jack Riewoldt sings with The Killers

A star on the field and a cracking entertainer off it, Jack Riewoldt celebrated Richmond’s AFL Grand Final win by singing on stage with The Killers. Video: Sam Landseberger


​

​

In 2016 things went incredibly poorly, and incredibly fast. For the third year in a row we staggered through the early rounds. We were 1–6 after round seven, then we beat the Swans by a point at the MCG thanks to Sam Lloyd kicking a goal after the siren. We clawed our way back to 6–7 then fell away badly from there.
Nothing went right. Bachar Houli missed months of football through injury. Dylan Grimes was still struggling with his recurrent hamstring problems. Brett Deledio, who had been Mr Durable up until then, played only eleven games for the season. Our depth was tested and it didn’t hold up. Daniel Rioli, who had turned nineteen during the early weeks of the season, should have been eased into AFL footy by playing no more than a handful of games. Instead, he was called upon most weeks. Injuries are a legitimate explanation for a faltering team, but cited by one of its players, they never sound like anything more than an excuse.
Our struggles weren’t confined to the field either. Another developing problem was our leadership culture program, which was run by Gerard Murphy, who’d arrived at the club following the 2014 season. He introduced us to the type of feedback sessions that he’d used at Geelong to great effect. One person sat out the front of the group and everyone was invited to give them feedback on things they should ‘stop doing’, ‘start doing’ and ‘keep doing’.
Gerard had seen the exercise – one of a suite of offerings used by the group known as Leading Teams – work wonders. Gary Ablett Jr received an infamous dressing-down in 2006 when senior Cats savaged his work ethic. Apparently shaken by the serve, he went on to win three consecutive AFLPA MVP awards and two Brownlow Medals.
Jack Riewoldt after the Tigers lost to Hawthorn in 2016. Picture: Wayne Ludbey

Jack Riewoldt after the Tigers lost to Hawthorn in 2016. Picture: Wayne Ludbey
While the method is still used at several clubs, many others have stridently rejected it as giving players licence to bully and degrade. Whatever, it was a complete failure at Richmond.
The sessions opened the door to a kind of mob mentality. As humans, we’re programmed to go to negativity in difficult moments, and at Richmond at this time, it led to an outsized emphasis on what people needed to stop doing. Once a fortnight or so, a player would have to enter the auditorium, knowing that his teammates had been divided into groups to discuss and critique him.
It was my turn midway through 2016. I entered the room alone and sat on a stool in front of forty-three teammates, who’d gathered in private to list my shortcomings, as well as behaviours for me to add, keep or delete. They came up with words to describe me, and a seemingly never-ending list of feedback nuggets.
Stop speaking over others. Stop feeling the need to be the matchwinner, instead of just playing your role. Start critiquing your own game. Start finding solutions instead of pointing out problems. Start condensing your comments in meetings. ‘What you have to say is really important,’ said Alex Rance. ‘The first ten seconds of it, anyway. But then it loses impact the more the message goes on.’
Even though it was largely silent in the room, it felt noisy, because my mind was racing. They said I was trying too hard to be an individual – wearing the older Nike-branded gear to training, rather than the newer BLK apparel.
They wanted me to be more respectful in dealings with all people – and to watch my body language on the field. They said they wanted ‘consistency’, but I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I asked them, and Dylan Grimes answered. ‘We feel like one week in our personal relationship with you we love you and we’ll go to war with you,’ he said, ‘and the next week something will happen and it feels like we’re a piece of s**t to you. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster.’
In the program that just didn’t work, Riewoldt was told by his teammates to be more respectful. Picture: Scott Barbour/Getty Images

In the program that just didn’t work, Riewoldt was told by his teammates to be more respectful. Picture: Scott Barbour/Getty Images
But teammate Alex Rance, right, told Riewoldt how relatable he was. Picture: Michael Klein

But teammate Alex Rance, right, told Riewoldt how relatable he was. Picture: Michael Klein
There were positive pointers, too. Keep asking questions and challenging the group. Keep educating forwards and backs by showing them your tricks. Keep showing interest and care for your teammates.
‘You’re really relatable now,’ said Rance. ‘Everyone loves spending time with you, and you show a lot of genuine care and a better connection.’
Steven Morris showed me some love: ‘Playing against you as the opposition in training, it just feels like you’re leading this increase in camaraderie in the forward-line group really, really well.’
Shane Edwards did, too: ‘More than half the time you’re the perfect leader,’ he said. ‘It won’t take long or much tinkering for you to be the most influential player here.’
We had so many kind and authentic people in my time at Richmond, but that feedback forum had a way of changing everyone. I can freely admit those sessions brought out the very worst in me. I dished out some terrible feedback, and I doubt any of it helped anyone. If anything, it tore holes in the fabric of the team psyche. I was senior enough to cope with the criticism, but young fringe players just trying to make their way? Such attacks must have been devastating.
We had a young key forward named Liam McBean, who was struggling at the time. Liam was told that he was weak over the ball – just weak in general. I hate to imagine how that must have felt to him alone up the front. Liam was delisted at the end of the 2016 season, having played just five AFL games. I look back now and it’s no wonder he didn’t succeed. He had no chance in an environment like that. Those sessions weren’t about constructive feedback. They were a pile-on.
Riewoldt says it all back-fired spectacularly. Picture: Yianni Aspradakis

Riewoldt says it all back-fired spectacularly. Picture: Yianni Aspradakis
AFL clubs spend so much time thinking they can copy what’s been done at other clubs. I’m sure that’s what happened when we hired Gerard. His appointment as our leadership consultant was sold to us as a massive coup: the guru who had turned the Cats around was going to do the same thing for us.
Everyone became so infatuated with the idea that one man had the secret sauce that would automatically make us better leaders and better players, and it was bullshit. It back-fired spectacularly, and even spread into the rest of the club.
Instead of just players, our player development manager, Bronwyn Doig, a bubbly and enthusiastic young staff member, was put up in front of the group, too. Bron was the person who nurtured draftees and rookies when they first arrived at Punt Road, helping them acclimate and assimilate.
She was the person who helped you find lodging and bedding and transport. The person who made sure we all had adequate literacy and numeracy – that we knew how to pay our bills and had a plan for our careers (and our lives) after football.
Bron helped us develop and grow up as professionals and people. She rode with us in the back of the ambulance when we broke a leg or punctured a lung, and called our parents when things went wrong.
Bron felt she had to buy into the new cultural program, and was encouraged to sit up the front one day and receive her own barrage of ‘add-keep-delete’ feedback, framed as an opportunity for her to enhance her relationship with the list.
Former player development manager Bronwyn Doig, left, left one of the sessions in tears.

Former player development manager Bronwyn Doig, left, left one of the sessions in tears.
The criticism came – a laundry list of faults and deficiencies and limitations – and she listened and watched as the boys read from their critique sheets. Blindsided, gobsmacked and dumbfounded, Bron finally walked out. She left the club in tears that day – not over the judgemental things that had been said to her, but for not having had the courage to speak up and voice her concerns about the program.
Given all we now know about mental health, it’s a wonder the dangers of the blunt feedback approach weren’t raised immediately.
I wasn’t in the leadership group at that stage, but I’d had enough. I went to see Brendon Gale. ‘This isn’t working,’ I said. ‘This can’t go on.’
The playing group was told in July that Gerard was departing. He still works in this space. But the work he did with us was never the right fit for our group.
In a way, how poorly it worked almost became his parting gift. Richmond went through such turmoil that season that perhaps we worked out what we didn’t want to be as a club. Perhaps the first seeds of the fun, friendship and success that were yet to come were sown in those dark times.
Riewoldt, Trent Cotchin and Dustin Martin didn’t expect the success that followed 2016.

Riewoldt, Trent Cotchin and Dustin Martin didn’t expect the success that followed 2016.
Another long off-season began, and legendary Richmond ruckman Neville Crowe died. Neville was famous not only for his work on the field in the 1960s; he later became Richmond president and led the Save Our Skins campaign that rescued the club in 1990.
His death thickened the pall that hung over Tigerland, a sense of doom magnified by the impending results of the Ernst & Young review of the football department.
Handed down on September 12, the key outcome was that Dimma kept his job, which was a massive relief, but several of his assistants were let go.
I asked my manager, Liam Pickering, what my options were, and he told me exactly what he was hearing: I was being thrown up as a trade option. I asked Richmond list manager, Blair Hartley, about it, and he said I wasn’t.
That same game of ducks and drakes plays out every year at every club, and it does make for a strange working life, with an odd kind of conditional trust. Regardless, the media had dubbed me as potential ‘trade bait’, and that has its own effect – plenty of clubs made inquiries based solely on the perception that I was gettable.
The Brisbane Lions came hard again. And the Bombers were unequivocal about their interest. One day, I was in the bedding section of Myer at Southland when my phone rang, and Essendon coach John Worsfold was on the other end. There I was, lying back on a nice new mattress, chatting to the coach of an arch-rival.
Brendon Goddard called later to give me a feeling for what was happening at the Bombers, doing his level best to see me swap a yellow sash for a red one.
Cotchin and Riewoldt with their families and the three premiership cups after their final game in August this year. Picture: Michael Klein.

Cotchin and Riewoldt with their families and the three premiership cups after their final game in August this year. Picture: Michael Klein.
Throughout it all I felt dirty – There’s just no way; I couldn’t, could I? – almost as if I were cheating. It was such a strange and disorientating period, and yet at the same time, I was by now mature enough to manage myself and have those grown-up conversations.
Over time, when enough deals have been put `to you, you learn how to talk about money, and identify your self-worth, and stand by your value without sounding like a w***er. You understand the salary cap, and how everybody in the side needs to be paid fairly. I knew when other players were coming off contract, and that what I asked for would impact what they got. I was never interested in any deal that would see my teammates ripped off.
I never came close to leaving Richmond. I couldn’t. It was ingrained in me to be loyal. Instead, I sat down with Trent Cotchin, who himself had had a big heart-to-heart chat with Dimma after Neville Crowe’s funeral, and we made the decision that we needed to stick by the club.

​

We had coffee at St Rose café in Essendon, and spoke about what we wanted our legacy to be. We wanted to leave the club in a better place than we found it, and that meant we needed to try and finish the job we’d started. Were we hopeful that we could compete for a premiership in the coming years? I don’t think so. We were just hoping we wouldn’t be s**t. We were hoping the sun would come up the next day.
At the core of our conversation was an acceptance that Trent and I were most likely never going to win a premiership. Given that, we needed to invest our time in creating a great club, so that the likes of Daniel Rioli could taste the success that we would never enjoy.
This is an edited extract from Jack Riewoldt ‘The Bright Side’. ‘The Bright Side’ is out on November 1 through Simon & Schuster, RRP $49.99. You can meet him at a book signing event at 1pm, November 1 at The Avenue Bookstore, 91 Swan St, Richmond.
Click to expand...
What a disgrace leading teams are.
And to put the admin staff up there as well, absolutely shocking behaviour.

Geez no wonder Deledio left the club pissed off.
 
Rich01 said:
What a disgrace leading teams are.
And to put the admin staff up there as well, absolutely shocking behaviour.

Geez no wonder Deledio left the club pissed off.
Click to expand...
Godsmacked why they would put her up there.
 
Rich01 said:
What a disgrace leading teams are.
And to put the admin staff up there as well, absolutely shocking behaviour.

Geez no wonder Deledio left the club pissed off.
Click to expand...
Was thinking the same thing.
I'm surprised we kept any players at all. No wonder kids like Liam McBean looked miserable most of the time, because he was.

Have to admit that interview Lids did talking about driving home in tears one night saying he couldn't do it anymore thought it was a tad sour grapes but when you read that bit about the club, who could blame him.
 
Last edited:
Rich01 said:
What a disgrace leading teams are.
And to put the admin staff up there as well, absolutely shocking behaviour.

Geez no wonder Deledio left the club pissed off.
Click to expand...

It’s pervasive in corporate culture. That’s where it comes from with culture surveys, 360s etc. its lazy thinking thankfully they moved on to Ben Crowe and Emma Murray that’s not how high performing organisations work
 

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Good bye and good luck Jack Riewoldt

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