AndrewP6
05-09-2016, 08:28 PM
Great article by Coons in the Hun. Sometimes we fans are guilty of judging a player without being privy to the details of the injuries they sustain, and the efforts they go to, just to get up each weekend.
Text below, for those who don't subscribe:
IT’S 10:15am. I’ve just rolled out of bed, had a sausage roll and half a block of chocolate for breakfast.
I haven’t done any form of training for two weeks. I feel bloated, hung-over (although I haven’t had a beer for four days), my brain feels like it’s working in slow motion, I have nothing to do today and no direction for the near future.
How good is retirement!
After living a strict and professional lifestyle for over a decade, I must admit these past couple of weeks have been oddly satisfying.
No longer do I have to worry about going to sleep early to be fresh for training, organising training gear and morning meals the night before, lining up the eight tablets I used to have to take every morning (anti inflams, Glucosamine, multi vitamins, Panadol, Advil to name a few).
No more worrying if what I have just eaten has put on 0.5mm onto my skinfold total — my biggest stress apart from my body breaking down was putting on weight during the season as my metabolism is slower than Jimmy Gwilt’s 2km time-trial. I can even have a beer on a Tuesday if I please.
Although all these things are good, the biggest weight that has been lifted from my shoulders has been the freedom to be finally honest about how I was feeling throughout my career.
I’ve had to lie to fans, friends and even family over the years.
I’ve done a few radio and TV interviews recently and it’s unbelievably relieving to be able to open up and speak honestly about the pain I’ve been playing through for the last eight years.
I fractured my patella and sheared away all the articular cartilage under my kneecap in 2008. Most people knew about my injury, but very few knew how bad it was and how much it affected my training day to day.
One of the most frustrating things for me was trying to deal with the criticism from fans and media who were questioning my output and work rate, saying I was lazy without ever really knowing how much I was battling just to run.
Unfortunately for players, AFL football is a ruthless, brutal industry and clubs can’t afford for players to come out and speak honestly about injuries, as opposition will try their best to exploit them as much as possible.
Adam Cooney trains with the Bulldogs in 2011 with his knee heavily strapped. Picture: Michael Klein
At times it’s hard to keep a poker face knowing you are telling fibs. I’ve had to lie to fans, friends and even family over the years.
The first thing you are taught by the media team when you arrive at the club is how to avoid unwanted headlines. Players are briefed before an interview allowing them to switch to robot cliche mode when the time comes.
Here are some phrases you may have heard and what they really mean.
“One week at a time”
Translation: We are flying, absolute certainties this week and already have one eye on the finals.
“Me and the coach have a great relationship”
Translation: We never talk and I avoid him in the hallway, our relationship is non- existent and I want out of this joint.
Responding to criticism from a journo by saying “he/she is well respected in the industry but I didn’t read the article”
Translation: I spent last night on the couch crying and applying lipstick and adding them to my hit list (Billy Madison style)
“He’s got a couple of niggles but so do most players at this time of year”
Translation: He’s battling to run, can’t train during the week and plays with plenty of painkillers.
“He’s 50-50 this week, we will see how he trains” (on a player out of form)
Translation: He’s 90 per cent chance of playing VFL this week unless he injures the bloke playing in his position at training.
“He’s 50-50 this week, we will see how he trains” (on a player under an injury cloud)
Translation: As long as he steps foot on the track, does a few run-throughs and survives, we will jab him up and get him out there.
“He’s put contract talks on hold, just wants to concentrate on his footy”
Translation: Hasn’t been offered enough money or isn’t happy with the length of the deal being proposed, so will finish off the year and wait for the big money offers to start rolling in.
Side note: No player wants to be out of contract during a season, it’s an uncomfortable position to be in and it’s bloody hard to just concentrate on your footy when you don’t know where you will be the next year.
So remember, not everything is as it seems in footy speak.
If your favourite player hasn’t been in the best form for a few weeks, chances are he’s gritting his teeth and playing through injury to try his best to help out the team — so cut him some slack (it’s hard I know, but try!).
Text below, for those who don't subscribe:
IT’S 10:15am. I’ve just rolled out of bed, had a sausage roll and half a block of chocolate for breakfast.
I haven’t done any form of training for two weeks. I feel bloated, hung-over (although I haven’t had a beer for four days), my brain feels like it’s working in slow motion, I have nothing to do today and no direction for the near future.
How good is retirement!
After living a strict and professional lifestyle for over a decade, I must admit these past couple of weeks have been oddly satisfying.
No longer do I have to worry about going to sleep early to be fresh for training, organising training gear and morning meals the night before, lining up the eight tablets I used to have to take every morning (anti inflams, Glucosamine, multi vitamins, Panadol, Advil to name a few).
No more worrying if what I have just eaten has put on 0.5mm onto my skinfold total — my biggest stress apart from my body breaking down was putting on weight during the season as my metabolism is slower than Jimmy Gwilt’s 2km time-trial. I can even have a beer on a Tuesday if I please.
Although all these things are good, the biggest weight that has been lifted from my shoulders has been the freedom to be finally honest about how I was feeling throughout my career.
I’ve had to lie to fans, friends and even family over the years.
I’ve done a few radio and TV interviews recently and it’s unbelievably relieving to be able to open up and speak honestly about the pain I’ve been playing through for the last eight years.
I fractured my patella and sheared away all the articular cartilage under my kneecap in 2008. Most people knew about my injury, but very few knew how bad it was and how much it affected my training day to day.
One of the most frustrating things for me was trying to deal with the criticism from fans and media who were questioning my output and work rate, saying I was lazy without ever really knowing how much I was battling just to run.
Unfortunately for players, AFL football is a ruthless, brutal industry and clubs can’t afford for players to come out and speak honestly about injuries, as opposition will try their best to exploit them as much as possible.
Adam Cooney trains with the Bulldogs in 2011 with his knee heavily strapped. Picture: Michael Klein
At times it’s hard to keep a poker face knowing you are telling fibs. I’ve had to lie to fans, friends and even family over the years.
The first thing you are taught by the media team when you arrive at the club is how to avoid unwanted headlines. Players are briefed before an interview allowing them to switch to robot cliche mode when the time comes.
Here are some phrases you may have heard and what they really mean.
“One week at a time”
Translation: We are flying, absolute certainties this week and already have one eye on the finals.
“Me and the coach have a great relationship”
Translation: We never talk and I avoid him in the hallway, our relationship is non- existent and I want out of this joint.
Responding to criticism from a journo by saying “he/she is well respected in the industry but I didn’t read the article”
Translation: I spent last night on the couch crying and applying lipstick and adding them to my hit list (Billy Madison style)
“He’s got a couple of niggles but so do most players at this time of year”
Translation: He’s battling to run, can’t train during the week and plays with plenty of painkillers.
“He’s 50-50 this week, we will see how he trains” (on a player out of form)
Translation: He’s 90 per cent chance of playing VFL this week unless he injures the bloke playing in his position at training.
“He’s 50-50 this week, we will see how he trains” (on a player under an injury cloud)
Translation: As long as he steps foot on the track, does a few run-throughs and survives, we will jab him up and get him out there.
“He’s put contract talks on hold, just wants to concentrate on his footy”
Translation: Hasn’t been offered enough money or isn’t happy with the length of the deal being proposed, so will finish off the year and wait for the big money offers to start rolling in.
Side note: No player wants to be out of contract during a season, it’s an uncomfortable position to be in and it’s bloody hard to just concentrate on your footy when you don’t know where you will be the next year.
So remember, not everything is as it seems in footy speak.
If your favourite player hasn’t been in the best form for a few weeks, chances are he’s gritting his teeth and playing through injury to try his best to help out the team — so cut him some slack (it’s hard I know, but try!).