A chat with Bob Davis
Bob Davis was a showman on the football field long before he embarked on his successful media career. The fastest player of his era, he was nicknamed ‘The Geelong Flyer’ after the Melbourne-Geelong train, and fused blistering speed with deceptive upper-body strength, innate cunning and scintillating ball skills to devastating effect. A star in the Cats’ 1951-52 flags, Davis was named All-Australian captain in 1958, his final season, before coaching the club to a Grand Final victory over Hawthorn in 1963.
I played senior football for Clunes (north of Ballarat) when I was 13. They tried to crunch me, but you can’t crunch what you can’t catch! They caught up with me one time though. (South Melbourne’s) Jack ‘Basher’ Williams had a brother Charlie, who was a monster – about 6’2” (188cm) and beautifully built – and he loved knocking people over. He broke my collarbone. I realised then that I’d have to be a bit smarter to avoid serious injury.
I was very small as a boy. After I had my tonsils taken out at the age of 13 or 14, I went from about 5’2” (157.5cm) to about 5’8” (172.7cm) within a year. The tonsils must have been stunting my growth. Despite what you might think, I had a terrible year of football while I put on this growth spurt because I struggled to adjust to my new-found height.
I tried out at South Melbourne three times in 1946 when I was 17 or 18, and was sent home each time. The first time, (South Melbourne coach William) ‘Bull’ Adams asked: “What are you doing here?” I said: “I’ve come to save South Melbourne” – Bob Pratt and Laurie Nash were at the end of their careers. Bull said: “Piss off!” That happened twice more, and he sent me on my way in the same abrupt manner. I couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even seen me kick a ball.
I joined Golden Point (Ballarat League) the next year, 1947, and after I had a very good game, two smartly dressed men rushed over to me and said: “We’re the recruiting people from South Melbourne. We’d like you to try out at our club”. I said: “Piss off!”
TOP CAT: Legend Bob Davis gave Geelong tremendous service - both as a player and coach - before attracting a cult following in the media.
I joined Geelong when it was middle-of-the-road but building towards something. Bernie Smith, Bruce Morrison and I started at the same time. The club must have been struggling because we were the top three place-getters in the best and fairest. ‘Smithy’ won the Brownlow (in 1951), a couple of best and fairests, represented Victoria, was an All-Australian, and was named in a back pocket in the AFL’s Team of the Century; Morrison won a best and fairest in our first season, represented Victoria and was an All-Australian; and I did some of those things too. And we all played in the 1951-52 premiership sides under the great Reg Hickey.
“Don’t let your opponent know that you know where he is.” That was one of the greatest pieces of advice I ever received, and I learned it from Jack Cotter, who coached me at Golden Point (in the Ballarat League, and played for Richmond and South Melbourne). It probably saved me from a serious injury in the first semi-final against Melbourne at the MCG in 1950. I was chasing the ball on the wing, with Geoff Collins, Melbourne’s tough half-back flanker, hot on my heels and Shane McGrath, one of the toughest players of all time, coming the other way. They both must have been thinking: ‘This is it for this bloke now – he’s the meat in the sandwich’. That’s where Jack Cotter’s words came into play. I thought: ‘If I so much as take a sideways glance at McGrath, he’ll know that I know he’s there and he’ll slow up a little and trap me; but if I play dumb, he’ll build up a full head of steam and suddenly he’ll be the one in the firing line’. At the last possible moment, when they were 100 per cent committed to crunching me, I grabbed the ball and blind-turned out of trouble. McGrath and Collins collided heavily – Collins’ jaw was broken in three places, while McGrath broke his collarbone and dislocated a shoulder. I would have been in the middle of all that carnage, but I got away scot-free. I ran on and kicked the ball out of bounds – through sheer fright!
Never lend your jumper to a teammate because some people will still think it’s you. On a trip to Perth for a state match, a few players really lived it up. At a training session at Subiaco, (Richmond strongman Don) ‘Mopsy’ Fraser, who was a little worse for wear, grunted at me: “Let’s swap jumpers”. When Mopsy asked you to do something, you just did it. As a youngster, I was also proud to wear the jumper of the most feared man in the VFL. But after the side was selected, the chairman of selectors, (former Collingwood player) Alf ‘Rosie’ Dummet, told me: “You are very lucky to be playing”. I said: “Why?” He said: “You trained terribly. You should try to train like Mopsy Fraser – he trained like a demon”.
We had a team of champions and a champion team at Geelong in the early ’50s. Nearly all of our players down the spine were (players who’d won) best and fairests, the flankers were state players and even our 19th and 20th men would have been top players at other clubs. We virtually had the best players in the League in their respective positions. If three or four played badly, the other 14 or 15 would carry them. We hardly ever dropped anyone – they would have to be injured before they lost their spot in the team.
SPEED DEMON: Davis wasn't just the fastest Geelong player; he was probably the quickest in the League. His blistering bursts of speed soon earned him the nickname 'The Geelong Flyer'.
Reg Hickey didn’t use any real tactics. There wasn’t any rocket science about it. It was a simple game under Hickey: get the ball and kick it to the full-forward. I didn’t improve on that philosophy when I coached after him. I used to say: “There are only two things in football: one is to get it”, which sometimes is very difficult, “and the second is to give it to a teammate in a better position”. Despite all the new terms they use these days, if you take it down to its most basic level, that’s what the game is all about.
I became a very proficient drop-kick. In the 1952 Grand Final, I kicked one through for a goal from about 65 yards (59 metres) out – that was a proud moment. The drop-kick was pretty much the first thing we were taught as youngsters – drop-kicks and torpedoes. No one knew anything about drop-punts. They’d say: “What’s that bastard doing kicking a mongrel punt like that?” But nowadays, drop-punts have become a beautiful art form.
You need some level of courage. It’s one of the essentials of football. You have to be prepared to put your body in to get the ball and sometimes it’s just your turn and you can’t back out – unless you want to cop a tongue-lashing from the coach and have your teammates think you’re a wimp. You can’t always get the ball out in the open. You have to be prepared for collisions.
You need something that sets you apart. Whether it’s a physical – strength, speed or a skill – or mental. The ball seems to follow certain players. Or, more to the point, they know where the ball is and where it’s going and where they have to be to get it. (Dual Brownlow Medallist) Greg Williams could have been sitting on the toilet and the ball would have landed in his lap! I wasn’t as advanced as he was at reading the play – I had reasonable anticipation – but I could run and I exploited that at every opportunity.
I was the favourite for the Stawell Gift two or three times. But I never ran in it. I was born with the ability to run fast, and I was quicker than most players. In one stride I was going full bore. It gave me enormous confidence, and a great advantage, because there weren’t many who could match me over 15 or 20 metres, and I usually got to the ball first. I wasn’t perhaps fast in terms of professional athletics, but I was fast for a footballer. In about 1950, a reporter for The Sporting Globe wrote that if the world’s sprint championship was held in football boots over 50 yards, I’d win. They also called me ‘The Geelong Flyer’. They were great exaggerations.
I wasn’t the greatest trainer. I enjoyed training and I trained well, but I didn’t over-exert myself, especially on a Thursday night. I wanted to stay fresh. If I didn’t have to train, I don’t think I would have chosen to do it. I only did it because I had to. It’s not the greatest example for youngsters, but I don’t think it would have mattered if I’d worked harder. In fact, it might have ruined me a bit. I did what I wanted to do with all the natural talents I had and Reg Hickey allowed me to do it.
I became more aggressive later in my career. I was nearly 15 stone (95.25kg) when I finished and I was still pretty quick. I threw my weight around a bit more when I went to the half-back line. People said that if I’d played at half-back from the start, I would have played better – because I would have been able to sprint up and down the ground more – and I would have played longer. But I didn’t want to play at half-back – I was one of the lairy players who wanted to kick goals and turn somersaults. But I had to go where I was needed.
I retired when I was at my peak as a player. At the end of 1958, I was Geelong captain and for some inexplicable reason was made Victorian captain when Teddy Whitten should have got the job. I was also named All-Australian captain. Then I accepted the job as the first special comments man at Channel Seven. It was a decision made in the best interests of my family. It’s better to be missed than dismissed.
I wasn’t about to oppose Reg Hickey for the coaching job. During my playing days, the club approached me a few times about coaching, but I said: “No. While Reg Hickey wants to do it, don’t ever ask me”. That’s how much I respected ‘Hick’. But then he quit and they asked me again (in 1960). I agreed to do it.
We needed to build a new team, so I put a notice in The Geelong Advertiser saying something like: “The gates are wide open at Kardinia Park for anyone who fancies themselves to try out”. About 120 turned up on the first night – about 100 couldn’t play at all, but we had the beginnings of a team.
Recruiting (Graham) ‘Polly’ Farmer was like all our Christmases had come at once. In my first year, 1960, we rose a couple of places, and we won the night premiership the next year. The night Grand Final was played on the Monday after the day Grand Final and we had to put our team in the newspaper on the Friday. O’Brien and I looked at the two teams that were about to play the day Grand Final and I said: “We should be playing in the day Grand Final, not the night Grand Final”. O’Brien said: “Why aren’t we?” I said: “We don’t have a ruckman”. He said: “Do you know any?” I said: “Yeah, Polly Farmer and Neil Kerley”. I first played against Polly in a state game in the mid-1950s when he treated our top ruckmen like humps. I was friendly with Polly, so we took him on our end-of-season trip to Surfers Paradise and signed him after that. With due respect to our players, Polly was the team. The whole team improved around him. We wouldn’t have won the ’63 flag without him.
I was the last of the non-thinking coaches. I coached at the end of the era where all a player had to do was get the ball and kick it long. I know I wasn’t a great coach, but I’d watched football since 1933 and I knew if kids could play or not, just by seeing how they moved and what they did when they got the ball. I’ve got no idea about teaching someone how to play if they haven’t got some natural ability to start with.
I could tell when my players were cherry ripe – and they were before the 1963 Grand Final. They trained superbly in our last training run on the Thursday night. It’s funny the instincts you develop after being in the game so long. I knew when the players were ready because they moved so gracefully and easily they almost glided across the ground, and the ball hardly hit the deck. Even their skin looked different – it had a real sheen to it.
I knew we’d be premiers in ’63 as soon as I arrived at the MCG on Grand Final day. It was a dry, sunny day and I knew we couldn’t be beaten. I would never have told any of the players that, though. We were the best team in the competition and were primed to play our best football. The only chance Hawthorn had was if it was wet and windy. On a big occasion like a Grand Final, confidence – not to be confused with cockiness – is a marvellous thing because it allows you to enjoy the game for great occasion that it is, rather than getting all riled up and concerned about the end result.
I got (TV personality) ‘Happy’ Hammond to play his piano accordion in the changerooms before the Grand Final. I didn’t want the players to be too tense or overawed; I wanted them to relax, soak up the atmosphere, enjoy the day and play their best football. I also let them have their family and friends in there. They thought it was terrific. Happy Hammond and the Cat mascot ran down the race and onto the ground with the team. You couldn’t imagine anything like that happening today, but that’s the type of coach I was. I didn’t let any of the so-called ‘big-game pressure’ get to me too much. That’s probably the way I live my life too.
Never say a team hasn’t got guts, unless you want them to prove you wrong. One Sunday during that season, I was on World of Sport when a joker called us ‘a handbag team’. What a shocking thing to say. He wouldn’t have had the guts to say it in Geelong! Something you never do in football is question someone’s courage. I was so furious I stormed out of the studio.
At three-quarter time of the Grand Final (with the Cats in front by just 10 points), I reminded the players about being called fairies and that now was the time to put all that baloney to rest and show the public just how good they were. We ran over Hawthorn with six goals to nothing in the last quarter and it gave us all great satisfaction.
There is no such thing as a certainty in football. I coached the Victorian side in 1963 and we were red-hot favourites to beat South Australia at the MCG (after the Vics had won four of their previous eight matches there by more than 100 points). In his column in Truth, Jack Dyer wrote something along the lines of: ‘Bob Davis only has to send the players out on the ground for the start of the match, then disappear to the races for a few hours and return to the MCG for the victory celebrations’. But it was a disaster. We had players of the ilk of Ron Barassi, Darrel Baldock, Polly Farmer, John Nicholls and Bob Skilton, yet SA beat us (by seven points). I became the first Victorian coach to lose a state game at the MCG in 37 years. I’ve had to live with the shame ever since.
Never lose your sense of humour, no matter what the situation. It’s important to laugh and keep morale high. Even if the team had a shocking day, I could always find a few positives.
PROUD: Davis continued to be one of Geelong's most vocal supporters until his death in 2011. He often reminded people he was the Cats' only surviving premiership coach - until Geelong ended its 44-year premiership drought in 2007.
My reign as coach ended, but my media career really kicked on. At the end of my coaching career, I had reason to be crook on Geelong if ever I was going to be. We jumped three places on the ladder in 1960, won the night premiership in 1961, made the preliminary final in 1962, won the flag in 1963, then finished third and fourth, but then they told me: “We’re going to advertise for a new coach”. I was a bit upset. But being half-smart, and with an eye to the future, I lined up two media jobs – as a columnist with The Sun, and with Channel Seven on World of Sport, where I got on the coat-tails of Jack (Dyer) and Lou (Richards), and ended up making twice as much money as I did coaching.
CAREER
Born: June 12, 1928. Died: May 16, 2011.
THE PLAYER
Geelong 1948-58: 189 games, 149 goals.
Honours: Member, Australian Football Hall of Fame; best and fairest 1957; Geelong Team of the Century (half-forward flank); All-Australian 1950, 1951, 1958 (captain); premiership sides 1951, 1952; captain 1955-58.
THE COACH
Geelong 1956, 1960-65: 116 games,
72 wins, 39 losses, 5 draws, 65% winning percentage, premiership 1963;
night premiership 1961.
Footnotes
This article was first published in "Champions - Conversations with Great Players & Coaches of Australian Football". © The Slattery Media Group, 2008
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