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Telling tall tales over injuries
By Jake Niall
On Thursday
April 22, 2004
A few years ago, Kevin Sheedy was fending off questions about a player whom he claimed to be suffering from what has become known in media circles as the "Windy Hill flu". The player, as it happened, was troubled by a sore hamstring. When this was put to Sheeds, he was quick to correct the assembled media, re-diagnosing the ailment as a "flu-related hamstring".
Essendon, while one of the market leaders in misinformation, is by no means the only club that lies about injuries. At one stage or another, all clubs have been, shall we say, less than frank about the physical condition and selection of their players.
Only last week, Collingwood, another club with a gift for covert operations, selected Nathan Buckley in its 22. When football department officials were first quizzed about Buckley's fitness - he was thought to be suffering from a hamstring or a back-related hamstring complaint - they claimed he'd been picked and should be all right.
But later that evening, on The Footy Show, it became apparent that, as some of us had suspected, Buckley was unlikely to play. Eddie McGuire, wearing his club and Channel Nine hats in unison, let the cat out of the bag. The following day, Mick Malthouse confirmed Buckley was hurt, and replaced him with Andrew Williams. By now, the Pies had straightened their bent story.
The previous weekend, Brisbane had insisted that it would go into its game against Collingwood with only one ruckman, Jamie Charman. No one believed this, because the Lions hadn't played with a solo ruckman for nearly four years and, sure enough, when the teams ran out, reserve ruck Dylan McLaren was in the 22. Did Brisbane gain any advantage from this apparent subterfuge? No. The Pies would have anticipated the late change and planned accordingly.
Lying about injuries has been going on since the game's invention. It is a tradition, however, that seems increasingly out of date and unnecessary.
"Everyone's into it," admitted one senior coach. But where is the edge in gilding the lily? If the purpose of lying is to gain an advantage over the opposition, the tactic has limited value.
First of all, clubs are completely interconnected these days. Players have friendships with opposition players, as do officials. Assistant coaches move back and forth between clubs. Players have the same managers, accountants and surgeons. The grapevine now moves at the speed of sound.
Given these incestuous relationships, it is increasingly difficult to keep sensitive injury information from getting into the opposition's hands. If they really want to know and have operatives devoted to intelligence gathering, they'll find out.
Lying clubs might hoodwink the media and, by association, the fans and some irate gamblers, but they won't consistently trick the audience that counts - their opponents.
Even if a club succeeds in pulling the wool over the opposition's eyes with a surprise late change, the advantage is negated once the team sheets land, half an hour before the game.
There are, admittedly, circumstances when teams can clearly benefit from telling a porkie, such as when one of your players carries a rib-cage injury. Ribs can be targeted, within or outside the rules and, thus, there is some justification for covering up the bullseye.
By and large, however, I can't see much gain in claiming someone has a virus when they've got a hammy or groin. One club official said a player can be exploited if the opposition learns that their running capacity is restricted. I would have thought the player's struggles would be apparent shortly after the ball is bounced.
Another parting thought: it's a bit rich to talk about honesty, integrity and character when you're misleading supporters, sponsors and the media every second week.
By Jake Niall
On Thursday
April 22, 2004
A few years ago, Kevin Sheedy was fending off questions about a player whom he claimed to be suffering from what has become known in media circles as the "Windy Hill flu". The player, as it happened, was troubled by a sore hamstring. When this was put to Sheeds, he was quick to correct the assembled media, re-diagnosing the ailment as a "flu-related hamstring".
Essendon, while one of the market leaders in misinformation, is by no means the only club that lies about injuries. At one stage or another, all clubs have been, shall we say, less than frank about the physical condition and selection of their players.
Only last week, Collingwood, another club with a gift for covert operations, selected Nathan Buckley in its 22. When football department officials were first quizzed about Buckley's fitness - he was thought to be suffering from a hamstring or a back-related hamstring complaint - they claimed he'd been picked and should be all right.
But later that evening, on The Footy Show, it became apparent that, as some of us had suspected, Buckley was unlikely to play. Eddie McGuire, wearing his club and Channel Nine hats in unison, let the cat out of the bag. The following day, Mick Malthouse confirmed Buckley was hurt, and replaced him with Andrew Williams. By now, the Pies had straightened their bent story.
The previous weekend, Brisbane had insisted that it would go into its game against Collingwood with only one ruckman, Jamie Charman. No one believed this, because the Lions hadn't played with a solo ruckman for nearly four years and, sure enough, when the teams ran out, reserve ruck Dylan McLaren was in the 22. Did Brisbane gain any advantage from this apparent subterfuge? No. The Pies would have anticipated the late change and planned accordingly.
Lying about injuries has been going on since the game's invention. It is a tradition, however, that seems increasingly out of date and unnecessary.
"Everyone's into it," admitted one senior coach. But where is the edge in gilding the lily? If the purpose of lying is to gain an advantage over the opposition, the tactic has limited value.
First of all, clubs are completely interconnected these days. Players have friendships with opposition players, as do officials. Assistant coaches move back and forth between clubs. Players have the same managers, accountants and surgeons. The grapevine now moves at the speed of sound.
Given these incestuous relationships, it is increasingly difficult to keep sensitive injury information from getting into the opposition's hands. If they really want to know and have operatives devoted to intelligence gathering, they'll find out.
Lying clubs might hoodwink the media and, by association, the fans and some irate gamblers, but they won't consistently trick the audience that counts - their opponents.
Even if a club succeeds in pulling the wool over the opposition's eyes with a surprise late change, the advantage is negated once the team sheets land, half an hour before the game.
There are, admittedly, circumstances when teams can clearly benefit from telling a porkie, such as when one of your players carries a rib-cage injury. Ribs can be targeted, within or outside the rules and, thus, there is some justification for covering up the bullseye.
By and large, however, I can't see much gain in claiming someone has a virus when they've got a hammy or groin. One club official said a player can be exploited if the opposition learns that their running capacity is restricted. I would have thought the player's struggles would be apparent shortly after the ball is bounced.
Another parting thought: it's a bit rich to talk about honesty, integrity and character when you're misleading supporters, sponsors and the media every second week.
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