Axe Man
03-04-2019, 09:43 AM
Mark Robinson chats to Tom Liberatore about football, public perception and Luke Dahlhaus (https://www.heraldsun.com.au/sport/afl/expert-opinion/mark-robinson/mark-robinson-chats-to-tom-liberatore-about-football-public-perception-and-luke-dahlhaus/news-story/abbea0d07e44a5ef00afafeffd4defc6)
https://i.postimg.cc/zvCZkWGF/image.jpg (https://postimages.org/)
A photograph taken on Sunday, after Tom Liberatore kicked the “sealer’’ against Hawthorn at the MCG, is symbolic of what Libba means to his Bulldog teammates.
Sprawled on the ground, arms thrust in the air, he is set upon by teammates; Marcus Bontempelli’s eyes piercing with adulation.
It happens after most goals in a tight game, but this was different. This was Libba.
At 26, he’s back from a second knee reconstruction.
That alone is a story of resilience and a love of the game, and, he said, a love for the people he represented.
He won a flag in 2016, supposedly partied like it was 1999, and for a time was the poster boy for football from another time: free-spirited and carefree. But he said that perception, of his character and behaviour, was a problem for other people.
“I think the people who think I’m different don’t know me,’’ he said.
“It’s like anyone, really. It’s easy to speculate and it’s the easy way out to think things that are true or not true. I don’t really care. They’re the ones with an issue, not me.’’
He seemed to have avoided the media in his eight-year career, or the Bulldogs have shielded him from it, so it was a surprise he fronted several media outlets at Doggies headquarters on Tuesday.
Most of the chat was about his knee, his mentality and his form in the first two rounds.
The best chat was about Liberatore the person, a largely unknown entity to those outside the football club. Internally, an endearing tenderness is reserved for Libba.
“He’s the heart and soul of a football club, the glue who joins people together but who also inspires,’’ chief executive Ameet Bains said.
He described Libba as *!“engaging, thoughtful and charismatic’’.
Liberatore said footy and fun was not about having an ability to click one off and the other on when the occasion presented.
“I don’t think it’s ever been about serious and fun, it’s been about focusing on what’s good for me and what’s not,’’ he said.
“And I feel the most fun I’m having is right now. Now that I’m a bit older and I’m playing footy — that’s what I like doing the most. Just being healthy and happy mentally and footy is a byproduct of that. You know, happy in life, happy in footy.’’
Unlike his first knee op, the second knee op didn’t send him to dark places.
“Football is part of who I am, but it doesn’t define me,’’ he said. “I think it used to when I was younger, and I think having a year out last year helped me transition into outside life.’’
While his teammates laboured in a mediocre season, Libba laboured in rehab and prospered elsewhere.
With a mate, he’s set up an app called Busket which helps the buskers in the city, underpinning his desire to help the homeless of Melbourne.
“There’s around 110,000 to 115,000 who don’t have a home to go back to at night,” he said.
“We are trying to raise awareness, providing opportunities for people who wouldn’t get it, and tackling the stigma around the homeless, trying to create a positive platform for people who wouldn’t have it otherwise.’’
He also studied creative writing at RMIT.
“I’ve enjoyed poetry, I’ve enjoyed screenwriting, and I want to tie it in with social work,’’ he said.
“I want to write with a purpose and with a passion.’’
One of his favourites is Hunter S. Thompson. Near his recent Simpsons tattoos is a tattoo of a Thompson quote: “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.’’
Throughout was a desire to return to football, and when asked what football meant to him, he said: “I was actually thinking about this the other day, and my mates ask me from time to time.
“Football for me is … you know, everyone plays for themselves, it’s part of what they do. For me, it’s more getting the best out of myself for other people. I play for my mum, my dad, my brother.
“I was lucky enough that I had the talent, and you’ve got to get the best out of yourself, and pay respect to the game and to people who want to get the best out of you, and the people who couldn’t do this.’’
Have you grown to respect the game?
“I’ve never abused it, it’s just more about learning and growth. Being able to realise what it means to me,’’ he said.
He came back to a changed environment in 2019. The youngsters are older and bigger, there are new recruits, and, of course, departing mates such as Luke Dahlhaus.
“Initially it was sad, but that’s a selfish point of view, I guess, because he’s my mate,’’ Libba said.
“But I think it had a positive effect on both of us. He’s always been good, no matter what s--- he’s got going on, he always rocks up on time and is always working his arse off. I’m rapt to see him thriving and see his energy and smile on his face.”
And retiring teammates, such as Liam Picken?
“Initially you get sad, and you’re upset for him that he couldn’t go that one step further,” he said. “But from a reality point of view and positive way of things, you celebrate how good he was. His journey sums up his character in the club.”
What had not changed — and certainly was missed — was Liberatore’s game-day energy; from his talk and encouragement to harassing opposition players, by bump or rustling of their hair.
“I bring that energy and bring that enjoyment and bring that sense of positive energy towards us and negative energy towards them,’’ he said.
“I just do anything I can to make it easier for my teammates, that’s why I do it.
“It puts them on the back foot, and we have a better chance of winning.”
After two rounds, the enthusiastic and swarming Bulldogs are 2-0, and Liberatore is hunting and gathering in a midfield of plenty.
For a bloke back from a second knee, it can’t get better.
“I think we’re playing with a bit more freedom now, just naturally because of our form … and because we started well, you get that extra boost of freedom,’’ he said.
“We’ve got blokes playing VFL that could be playing AFL … it’s exciting stuff.’’
https://i.postimg.cc/zvCZkWGF/image.jpg (https://postimages.org/)
A photograph taken on Sunday, after Tom Liberatore kicked the “sealer’’ against Hawthorn at the MCG, is symbolic of what Libba means to his Bulldog teammates.
Sprawled on the ground, arms thrust in the air, he is set upon by teammates; Marcus Bontempelli’s eyes piercing with adulation.
It happens after most goals in a tight game, but this was different. This was Libba.
At 26, he’s back from a second knee reconstruction.
That alone is a story of resilience and a love of the game, and, he said, a love for the people he represented.
He won a flag in 2016, supposedly partied like it was 1999, and for a time was the poster boy for football from another time: free-spirited and carefree. But he said that perception, of his character and behaviour, was a problem for other people.
“I think the people who think I’m different don’t know me,’’ he said.
“It’s like anyone, really. It’s easy to speculate and it’s the easy way out to think things that are true or not true. I don’t really care. They’re the ones with an issue, not me.’’
He seemed to have avoided the media in his eight-year career, or the Bulldogs have shielded him from it, so it was a surprise he fronted several media outlets at Doggies headquarters on Tuesday.
Most of the chat was about his knee, his mentality and his form in the first two rounds.
The best chat was about Liberatore the person, a largely unknown entity to those outside the football club. Internally, an endearing tenderness is reserved for Libba.
“He’s the heart and soul of a football club, the glue who joins people together but who also inspires,’’ chief executive Ameet Bains said.
He described Libba as *!“engaging, thoughtful and charismatic’’.
Liberatore said footy and fun was not about having an ability to click one off and the other on when the occasion presented.
“I don’t think it’s ever been about serious and fun, it’s been about focusing on what’s good for me and what’s not,’’ he said.
“And I feel the most fun I’m having is right now. Now that I’m a bit older and I’m playing footy — that’s what I like doing the most. Just being healthy and happy mentally and footy is a byproduct of that. You know, happy in life, happy in footy.’’
Unlike his first knee op, the second knee op didn’t send him to dark places.
“Football is part of who I am, but it doesn’t define me,’’ he said. “I think it used to when I was younger, and I think having a year out last year helped me transition into outside life.’’
While his teammates laboured in a mediocre season, Libba laboured in rehab and prospered elsewhere.
With a mate, he’s set up an app called Busket which helps the buskers in the city, underpinning his desire to help the homeless of Melbourne.
“There’s around 110,000 to 115,000 who don’t have a home to go back to at night,” he said.
“We are trying to raise awareness, providing opportunities for people who wouldn’t get it, and tackling the stigma around the homeless, trying to create a positive platform for people who wouldn’t have it otherwise.’’
He also studied creative writing at RMIT.
“I’ve enjoyed poetry, I’ve enjoyed screenwriting, and I want to tie it in with social work,’’ he said.
“I want to write with a purpose and with a passion.’’
One of his favourites is Hunter S. Thompson. Near his recent Simpsons tattoos is a tattoo of a Thompson quote: “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.’’
Throughout was a desire to return to football, and when asked what football meant to him, he said: “I was actually thinking about this the other day, and my mates ask me from time to time.
“Football for me is … you know, everyone plays for themselves, it’s part of what they do. For me, it’s more getting the best out of myself for other people. I play for my mum, my dad, my brother.
“I was lucky enough that I had the talent, and you’ve got to get the best out of yourself, and pay respect to the game and to people who want to get the best out of you, and the people who couldn’t do this.’’
Have you grown to respect the game?
“I’ve never abused it, it’s just more about learning and growth. Being able to realise what it means to me,’’ he said.
He came back to a changed environment in 2019. The youngsters are older and bigger, there are new recruits, and, of course, departing mates such as Luke Dahlhaus.
“Initially it was sad, but that’s a selfish point of view, I guess, because he’s my mate,’’ Libba said.
“But I think it had a positive effect on both of us. He’s always been good, no matter what s--- he’s got going on, he always rocks up on time and is always working his arse off. I’m rapt to see him thriving and see his energy and smile on his face.”
And retiring teammates, such as Liam Picken?
“Initially you get sad, and you’re upset for him that he couldn’t go that one step further,” he said. “But from a reality point of view and positive way of things, you celebrate how good he was. His journey sums up his character in the club.”
What had not changed — and certainly was missed — was Liberatore’s game-day energy; from his talk and encouragement to harassing opposition players, by bump or rustling of their hair.
“I bring that energy and bring that enjoyment and bring that sense of positive energy towards us and negative energy towards them,’’ he said.
“I just do anything I can to make it easier for my teammates, that’s why I do it.
“It puts them on the back foot, and we have a better chance of winning.”
After two rounds, the enthusiastic and swarming Bulldogs are 2-0, and Liberatore is hunting and gathering in a midfield of plenty.
For a bloke back from a second knee, it can’t get better.
“I think we’re playing with a bit more freedom now, just naturally because of our form … and because we started well, you get that extra boost of freedom,’’ he said.
“We’ve got blokes playing VFL that could be playing AFL … it’s exciting stuff.’’