Legend No.7: Gary Ablett
http://www.realfooty.com.au/news/news/legend-no7-gary-ablett/2008/06/29/1214677845426.html
By John Harms
IF YOU ever saw Gary Ablett play you will remember him. And you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. The mention of his name will have you shaking your head.
If you are too young to have seen him play, then I suggest you go to one of those internet sites such as Youtube. From time to time I logon myself, and just a few minutes of highlights make that familiar smile return to my face. That smile you get when you watch him. That Ablett smile.
I'm not sure words can convey what sort of footballer Gary Ablett was. He wasn't conventional. Not a classical player like Bob Skilton. Nor a thinking player like James Hird. Not a routine champion like Wayne Carey. Nor someone whoever sat down to work out how he could make the most of his ability. He just played.
Yet he could do all the conventional things, but in his own way. Even the way the ball came into his possession. Or the way he carried it. Or the way he collapsed his lower body when he realised he was a storey and a half high and had to return to terra firma without ruining his knees and ankles. It all had his own look. The Ablett look.
It is safest to say this: people - a lot of people - went to the footy to see Ablett play. They were drawn to him, beckoned by the promise of a dazzling performance. Even though there were many times when he disappointed them. Because Ablett's genius wasn't always set free. You could never be sure.
Part of his attraction was that he seemed to do everything on natural talent alone. People loved that he wasn't one for training; he just wanted to play footy. That he could be erratic. That he wasn't one for the business or the enterprise of footy. He was somehow outside the system, never on the conveyor belt of the industrial complex that football was becoming, during his time.
No-one doubted his ability. But after a short stint at Hawthorn in 1982 he decided VFL footy wasn't his go. He disappeared up north, before having a year in Myrtleford where his feats beggared belief. Geelong picked him up.
He was 22 during that first Geelong season. He had a mop of sandy hair. When he ran it trailed in the wind like Manikato's mane. He looked to be moving so fast. Because he was. When he set after the footy it seemed no-one could match him for pace.
Even though he played on a wing or a flank in those early days he was the lead character whenever he pulled on the boots. The game was about him and he drew the eye. He was big and strong and not afraid to use his physical power. There was an element of brutality in him. And he managed to strike fear in many of his opponents some of whom were injured when they got in his way.
By the late '80s he was the freak. His talent remained untrimmed by the demands of his club or the competition. He would start on a wing, have a stint in the centre, roam about, go up forward for a while, and kick 14. Especially against Richmond. And then he cemented his place with nine goals in the 1989 grand final against Hawthorn.
People were intrigued by him. He was restless. When he sat out of footy for half a season there was genuine disappointment across the entire footy community. We wanted Ablett.
We wanted to go to the footy or watch on TV with the prospect that he would be flying for marks, kicking 60-metre goals (post high), bursting through packs.
He leapt closer to the heavens than anyone of his era. A pack would form, and suddenly Ablett would appear above it. He could run and fly or he could get his knee on the shoulder of opponent (or teammate) from a standing start. And at the instant the players' jump launched him higher.
Yet he was very human. A man of some complexity. Seemingly lacking peace or serenity.
By the '90s he looked like the players of yore. Like he could have stood with the thugs and urchins of 1920s Collingwood. Like the Colliers he looked old when he was a young man. Like he could win a gurning competition.
This oddly shaped athlete. Balding. Rounded shoulders. A big bum. Massive thighs. Who played with little facial expression, rarely showing emotion even when he had stunned the crowd with his brilliance (again). And kicked 100 goals a year, before his knee gave way. Ablett, considered one of the greats, sadly, faded away.
For me he will always be the greatest, partly because of what we saw, and partly because I suspect he had even more to give. As ridiculous as it sounds I reckon we never saw Gary Ablett at his absolute best.
He was an untamed colt; the rawest brumby. And the most talented.
GARY ABLETT
Born: October 1, 1961
Recruited from: Myrtleford/Drouin/Hawthorn
AFL/VFL debut: 1982, for Hawthorn
Games: 248 (Hawthorn, six games, 1982;Geelong 242 games, 1984-97)
Goals: 1030 (Hawthorn nine, Geelong 1021)
Farewell game: September 8, 1996
Career achievements
Honours: Carji Greeves Medallist 1984 (four-time runner-up); Coleman Medallist 1993, 1994, 1995; All-Australian 1984, 1989, 1990, 1992, 1993, 1994, and 1995 (captain); Norm Smith Medallist, 1989 grand final (with a finals record-equalling nine goals); Leigh Matthews Trophy as AFLPA MVP, 1993; Selection in the AFL Team of the Century; Selection in Geelong's Team of the Century; Australian Football Hall of Fame inductee; voted Geelong's Greatest Player Ever in 2006; 11 games for Victoria (captain in 1995). Captain of Geelong, 1995-1996. Club leading goal-kicker: 1985, 1986, 1988, 1989, 1990, 1993, 1994, 1995, and 1996. Awarded Mark of the Year in 1985 and 1994. 1994's mark declared Mark of the Century.
Fifth on all-time leading goal-kickers list.
All-time leading goalkicker for Geelong.
Oldest player to kick 100 goals (33 in 1995).
http://www.realfooty.com.au/news/news/legend-no7-gary-ablett/2008/06/29/1214677845426.html
By John Harms
IF YOU ever saw Gary Ablett play you will remember him. And you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. The mention of his name will have you shaking your head.
If you are too young to have seen him play, then I suggest you go to one of those internet sites such as Youtube. From time to time I logon myself, and just a few minutes of highlights make that familiar smile return to my face. That smile you get when you watch him. That Ablett smile.
I'm not sure words can convey what sort of footballer Gary Ablett was. He wasn't conventional. Not a classical player like Bob Skilton. Nor a thinking player like James Hird. Not a routine champion like Wayne Carey. Nor someone whoever sat down to work out how he could make the most of his ability. He just played.
Yet he could do all the conventional things, but in his own way. Even the way the ball came into his possession. Or the way he carried it. Or the way he collapsed his lower body when he realised he was a storey and a half high and had to return to terra firma without ruining his knees and ankles. It all had his own look. The Ablett look.
It is safest to say this: people - a lot of people - went to the footy to see Ablett play. They were drawn to him, beckoned by the promise of a dazzling performance. Even though there were many times when he disappointed them. Because Ablett's genius wasn't always set free. You could never be sure.
Part of his attraction was that he seemed to do everything on natural talent alone. People loved that he wasn't one for training; he just wanted to play footy. That he could be erratic. That he wasn't one for the business or the enterprise of footy. He was somehow outside the system, never on the conveyor belt of the industrial complex that football was becoming, during his time.
No-one doubted his ability. But after a short stint at Hawthorn in 1982 he decided VFL footy wasn't his go. He disappeared up north, before having a year in Myrtleford where his feats beggared belief. Geelong picked him up.
He was 22 during that first Geelong season. He had a mop of sandy hair. When he ran it trailed in the wind like Manikato's mane. He looked to be moving so fast. Because he was. When he set after the footy it seemed no-one could match him for pace.
Even though he played on a wing or a flank in those early days he was the lead character whenever he pulled on the boots. The game was about him and he drew the eye. He was big and strong and not afraid to use his physical power. There was an element of brutality in him. And he managed to strike fear in many of his opponents some of whom were injured when they got in his way.
By the late '80s he was the freak. His talent remained untrimmed by the demands of his club or the competition. He would start on a wing, have a stint in the centre, roam about, go up forward for a while, and kick 14. Especially against Richmond. And then he cemented his place with nine goals in the 1989 grand final against Hawthorn.
People were intrigued by him. He was restless. When he sat out of footy for half a season there was genuine disappointment across the entire footy community. We wanted Ablett.
We wanted to go to the footy or watch on TV with the prospect that he would be flying for marks, kicking 60-metre goals (post high), bursting through packs.
He leapt closer to the heavens than anyone of his era. A pack would form, and suddenly Ablett would appear above it. He could run and fly or he could get his knee on the shoulder of opponent (or teammate) from a standing start. And at the instant the players' jump launched him higher.
Yet he was very human. A man of some complexity. Seemingly lacking peace or serenity.
By the '90s he looked like the players of yore. Like he could have stood with the thugs and urchins of 1920s Collingwood. Like the Colliers he looked old when he was a young man. Like he could win a gurning competition.
This oddly shaped athlete. Balding. Rounded shoulders. A big bum. Massive thighs. Who played with little facial expression, rarely showing emotion even when he had stunned the crowd with his brilliance (again). And kicked 100 goals a year, before his knee gave way. Ablett, considered one of the greats, sadly, faded away.
For me he will always be the greatest, partly because of what we saw, and partly because I suspect he had even more to give. As ridiculous as it sounds I reckon we never saw Gary Ablett at his absolute best.
He was an untamed colt; the rawest brumby. And the most talented.
GARY ABLETT
Born: October 1, 1961
Recruited from: Myrtleford/Drouin/Hawthorn
AFL/VFL debut: 1982, for Hawthorn
Games: 248 (Hawthorn, six games, 1982;Geelong 242 games, 1984-97)
Goals: 1030 (Hawthorn nine, Geelong 1021)
Farewell game: September 8, 1996
Career achievements
Honours: Carji Greeves Medallist 1984 (four-time runner-up); Coleman Medallist 1993, 1994, 1995; All-Australian 1984, 1989, 1990, 1992, 1993, 1994, and 1995 (captain); Norm Smith Medallist, 1989 grand final (with a finals record-equalling nine goals); Leigh Matthews Trophy as AFLPA MVP, 1993; Selection in the AFL Team of the Century; Selection in Geelong's Team of the Century; Australian Football Hall of Fame inductee; voted Geelong's Greatest Player Ever in 2006; 11 games for Victoria (captain in 1995). Captain of Geelong, 1995-1996. Club leading goal-kicker: 1985, 1986, 1988, 1989, 1990, 1993, 1994, 1995, and 1996. Awarded Mark of the Year in 1985 and 1994. 1994's mark declared Mark of the Century.
Fifth on all-time leading goal-kickers list.
All-time leading goalkicker for Geelong.
Oldest player to kick 100 goals (33 in 1995).
