Excellent article by the Champ...
Posted: Thu Mar 29, 2007 9:25 amI've never seen a drug
By Glenn Archer
Kangaroos player
I ENTER my last year, my 16th in the AFL, and it's something I don't want to talk about.
We seem to talk about everything else.
Back in 1992, there was hardly any talk over the pre-season - at the club or in the newspapers. It simply was blood, sweat and swearing as hard-nosed coaches ran you into the ground and media blokes did what media blokes do in the off-season.
We'd sometimes go for a few beers after training as well, more than likely at the Eldorado in North Melbourne, which is now the Leveson. And shock, horror some of us would even get drunk.
How the world has changed.
This, my final pre-season, has been dominated by drugs, gambling, board challenges, the Gold Coast and Nathan Thompson's knee injury.
And do we talk. Our day revolves around opposition meetings, midfield meetings, defensive meetings, forward meetings, leadership meetings, nutritional meetings, how-to-be-a-good-person meetings.
Bloody meetings. I'd play for another five years if we didn't have so many meetings.
The drugs saga surrounding Ben Cousins has shown me that I've lived in another generation.
Call me old, even naive, but I've never seen a drug. And now I read that Cousins is a drug addict in a system that supposedly has the best drugs-testing process in the world.
I, and I expect many people, am concerned that football has got to such a point.
I've been hearing for the past five years about the amount of drugs consumed in society and no one should ever forget that football is a part of society.
For West Coast, and other clubs with similar reputations, the problems are immediate but also ahead of them.
If the Eagles told me today they planned to draft my son, Jackson, I would say: "Hang on, boys, you'll be picking someone else because I'll be doing everything in my power to stop him going west."
That's the reality and I'm sure I'm not alone.
It's a sad story, isn't it? For Ben. For the club. For football itself. It is such a magnificent sport, but even its magnificence cannot halt the evils of this world. Football has changed so much in my time.
Today, it consumes all your 24 hours. You live it, breathe it and sleep it. I come home from footy and play with my kids, but there always something beeping in the back of my head: about training, about eating, about rehydration, about team meetings, about our next session, what time and where.
In 1992 it was simple. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday. 5pm. Two laps of Indian file if you're late. Those were the days.
It's strange but even now, two days from the new season, I sometimes think it's too much, that I should have given it away.
But what drags you back is football itself. When you're out on the track, kicking the footy, bumping mates, getting dirty, there's hardly a greater feeling.
I've probably walked down the race at Arden St, under the tunnel, between the wire, about 2000 times.
And every time I get a buzz. It's a cliche word, but I can't think of another one.
I'm not an expert in many fields, but footy was my go. The football ground itself was my life outside my family, my comfort zone, the domain where I felt comfortable and confident.
I will miss that dearly.
The other stuff is neither here nor there.
I feel sorry for the kids today. From the moment they walk into a footy club they are under the pump. Do this, do that, don't do that, be wary of them, trust him.
We forget they are just babies - some just 17 - and they will make mistakes. They are not only learning to be footballers, but people as well.
The disciplines they face are extreme for teenagers. How many well-paid professionals, who are one minute late for a meeting, are penalised, and their colleagues, with a 6am swim at Port Melbourne in the middle of winter?
What do they call it? Character-building?
Football has taught me many things and they are too numerous too count, but it's strange how often I refer to Denis Pagan.
"People who make no mistakes generally make nothing at all," he used to say.
I didn't know what they meant when I was young lad, fresh out of Noble Park, cheeky, bullet-proof, but I certainly do now.
Everyone makes mistakes. All I ask is that players of today are not crucified for making theirs. Including Ben.
Fingers crossed, if he can turn his life around, I can imagine him doing the AFL drugs talk each year. That's a talk even I'd listen to.
By Glenn Archer
Kangaroos player
I ENTER my last year, my 16th in the AFL, and it's something I don't want to talk about.
We seem to talk about everything else.
Back in 1992, there was hardly any talk over the pre-season - at the club or in the newspapers. It simply was blood, sweat and swearing as hard-nosed coaches ran you into the ground and media blokes did what media blokes do in the off-season.
We'd sometimes go for a few beers after training as well, more than likely at the Eldorado in North Melbourne, which is now the Leveson. And shock, horror some of us would even get drunk.
How the world has changed.
This, my final pre-season, has been dominated by drugs, gambling, board challenges, the Gold Coast and Nathan Thompson's knee injury.
And do we talk. Our day revolves around opposition meetings, midfield meetings, defensive meetings, forward meetings, leadership meetings, nutritional meetings, how-to-be-a-good-person meetings.
Bloody meetings. I'd play for another five years if we didn't have so many meetings.
The drugs saga surrounding Ben Cousins has shown me that I've lived in another generation.
Call me old, even naive, but I've never seen a drug. And now I read that Cousins is a drug addict in a system that supposedly has the best drugs-testing process in the world.
I, and I expect many people, am concerned that football has got to such a point.
I've been hearing for the past five years about the amount of drugs consumed in society and no one should ever forget that football is a part of society.
For West Coast, and other clubs with similar reputations, the problems are immediate but also ahead of them.
If the Eagles told me today they planned to draft my son, Jackson, I would say: "Hang on, boys, you'll be picking someone else because I'll be doing everything in my power to stop him going west."
That's the reality and I'm sure I'm not alone.
It's a sad story, isn't it? For Ben. For the club. For football itself. It is such a magnificent sport, but even its magnificence cannot halt the evils of this world. Football has changed so much in my time.
Today, it consumes all your 24 hours. You live it, breathe it and sleep it. I come home from footy and play with my kids, but there always something beeping in the back of my head: about training, about eating, about rehydration, about team meetings, about our next session, what time and where.
In 1992 it was simple. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday. 5pm. Two laps of Indian file if you're late. Those were the days.
It's strange but even now, two days from the new season, I sometimes think it's too much, that I should have given it away.
But what drags you back is football itself. When you're out on the track, kicking the footy, bumping mates, getting dirty, there's hardly a greater feeling.
I've probably walked down the race at Arden St, under the tunnel, between the wire, about 2000 times.
And every time I get a buzz. It's a cliche word, but I can't think of another one.
I'm not an expert in many fields, but footy was my go. The football ground itself was my life outside my family, my comfort zone, the domain where I felt comfortable and confident.
I will miss that dearly.
The other stuff is neither here nor there.
I feel sorry for the kids today. From the moment they walk into a footy club they are under the pump. Do this, do that, don't do that, be wary of them, trust him.
We forget they are just babies - some just 17 - and they will make mistakes. They are not only learning to be footballers, but people as well.
The disciplines they face are extreme for teenagers. How many well-paid professionals, who are one minute late for a meeting, are penalised, and their colleagues, with a 6am swim at Port Melbourne in the middle of winter?
What do they call it? Character-building?
Football has taught me many things and they are too numerous too count, but it's strange how often I refer to Denis Pagan.
"People who make no mistakes generally make nothing at all," he used to say.
I didn't know what they meant when I was young lad, fresh out of Noble Park, cheeky, bullet-proof, but I certainly do now.
Everyone makes mistakes. All I ask is that players of today are not crucified for making theirs. Including Ben.
Fingers crossed, if he can turn his life around, I can imagine him doing the AFL drugs talk each year. That's a talk even I'd listen to.
