Australian Football

Dyer looks at North

×

Right ▼

+

NORTH MELBOURNE was the first League side I ever saw as a league player—and it was the worst. That was in 1931 and Richmond kicked a V.F.L. record score of 30.19 to win by 168 points. North kicked 4.7.

Doug Strang set the then record of 14 goals for the match. It was the easiest victory we ever had against the Shinboners. They didn‘t like being dubbed the Shinboners, but it was a name they won through many a bruised shin. They couldn’t play winning football but they could play tough football and it might be significant that they have not won a Brownlow, although, to be fair, there have been a few who should have. Mick Aylett in particular.

There has never been any great love between Richmond and North and this probably stems from the early days when the Tigers were frightened out of turning up for a match. It was Association days and a vital match for North. Somebody passed the message along that two loads of gravel and rocks had been dumped at the players’ race, ready ammunition for North supporters in the event of defeat. Richmond decided discretion was the better part of valour and forfeited the match.

×

Left ▼

Allen 'Mick' Ablett

×

I’ve always been a bit apprehensive about the Shinboners. No visiting club was ever happy there. The spectators were wild. They would do anything and they gave opposition players a torrid time as they ran down the race on to the field. The abuse, slush and mush thrown over players made it a good ground to stay away from, the worst being that you couldn’t wash away the filth until after the match and if you won you couldn’t wash because they turned the water off, stopping the showers from working.

Leeta Collier had a run-in with spectators at North and it cost him 12 weeks.

I almost met my Waterloo on the same ground. Allan Geddes, our star winger, always asked an opponent how he wanted to play, ‘fair or foul’. Wally Carter, a recent North coach, answered, ‘Fair,’ but as we were walking off the ground after the game Wally flattened Geddes with a beautiful punch. I took Carter by the guernsey and lifted him a foot off the ground. ‘Just wait till he gets up.’

×

Right ▼

Wally Carter

×

Geddes wasn’t getting up, he was out cold. Johnny Lewis, a tremendously powerful North ruckman, loomed over me, grabbed me by the neck and lifted me well off the ground. I was still hanging on to Carter and we looked like a string of sausages. Lewis snarled, ‘What do you think you are going to do.’ I squealed: ‘Nothing, just put me down. That’s all I want.’

They say can throwers are a menace, at least they are softer than bottles. You should have seen the bottles flying that day. It was a wonder somebody wasn‘t killed.

Geddes had to be carried off and snapped out of it later in the Richmond rooms. He tried to borrow the Richmond president's car to go looking for Carter. Carter had heard and went into hiding. Geddes hired a cab and went on the prowl. He couldn’t find Wally, but I reckon he would have been shot by Geddes if he had been located.

North taught me a few lessons and one was never to shoot off your mouth at umpires. A week before a North game I had played against Hawthorn and every time I touched an opponent umpire Murphy penalized me. After the match Murph wanted a beer and said, ‘Are you going to have one, Jack.’ I blew up.’ Get to the bush, you mug, that’s where you belong.’ I was hostile and had three big Richmond ruckmen with me and they were all glowering at him. He left like a stray dog.

The next week we played North. I forgot the incident, but Murph was umpiring again. He was seating on me. I had Jock Cordner in my sights, but we were friends and I simply rolled him with my shoulder. I fell and finished under a pack, rolled up in a ball. When you went down at North you protected yourself because anything could happen. They weren’t the Shinboners for their good table manners. I was pushing and curling, dodging the slippers, and up came Murphy and snapped, ‘You’re reported, 17, for rough play.’ I was the only 17. ‘Cut it out, Murph.’ He snarled, “Don’t talk back to me or you’ll cop another one.’

It was my turn to sneak away like a stray dog and with my tail between my legs. I was framed, so I went on my best behaviour to three-quarter time. I sidled up to him and whispered out of the side of my mouth: ‘Aw come of? it, Murph. You’re not serious.’ He said: ‘Listen, Dyer, you’ve got to learn to behave yourself off the field as well as on it. Particularly off. I didn’t appreciate what you did to me last week.’

I apologized and promised not to err again and he relented. ‘All right, I‘ll forget it this time.’ I overlooked the fact that umpires were human and, like players, settled their accounts. I didn’t blame him for being dirty, it wasn’t very courageous to pick on a little fellow like Murph, particularly when he’s one out and up against four hefty ruckmen. I hadn’t expected to get him two weeks running and I often wonder if he asked for the match. Still, I learned my lesson and we became good friends.

×

Left ▼

+

Johnny Lewis (left) was easily the best player North has produced. He played 256 games with them, 53 when they were in the V.F.A. competition, and he played 46 with Melbourne. He started Melbourne on the way to being a top side. He was big, strong, a high mark and had surprising pace for a big man. He was a lone man in the rucks, yet even with four top-class ruckmen you could never be sure Lewis wouldn’t beat the lot. He was always in there battling.

The one and only punch he ever threw at me was in the latter stages of his career. He was 37 and must have been getting old and irritable. Fortunately, age must have upset his timing and he missed. Melbourne had been called the Fuschias, a pansy-type flower. Lewis set them on the way to being the Demons.

North have never won a Premiership. Finance has been their greatest drawback and they’ve always been a poor relation of the V.F.L. Naturally when it came to allocating them a recruiting territory they got the wrong end of the stick. They didn’t have the money to buy good players, so they just had to battle with what they had and it wasn’t enough, although they did produce a crackerjack side in 1950, almost entirely made up of local boys. They made the finals and went on to the Grand Final, only to strike the brilliant Essendon side with Coleman firing and they went down with flying colours.

×

Right ▼

+

The spearhead for their rise was Wally Carter as coach and the inspiration came from the flashy Les Foote (right) as captain. Foote was a glorious footballer to watch in action. His quick thinking, handball and rhythm brought his entire team into the play. He was such a versatile player he could take any position and star. Another strength in that great North side was their back line. Jarrard and Reeves were strong flankers and they had a classy full-forward in Jock Spencer.

The success must have gone to their heads because when they should have gone on with the business they slipped down the ladder and have been struggling ever since. Carter lost some of his good players and he was unhappy with his lack of success so he decided to quit.

Fire-eating Allan Killigrew took his place. His fanaticism might be the lift North need. They’ve been going to town recruiting and their supporters are buying the players they have needed so desperately. With the new approach they are becoming a force. Yet an interesting test case is being conducted. So far brain washing players has only succeeded for a short period and I’m interested to see if Killigrew can keep them going in hard for a complete season and right through to the Grand Final. I think he will be struggling.¹