Greystache
09-04-2011, 12:39 AM
http://images.theage.com.au/2011/04/08/2296521/art_svGRIFFEN-420x0.jpg
FOR much of his six seasons as an AFL footballer, people have expected Ryan Griffen to stand up. A Charles Sutton Medal and a breakout September drew satisfied nods, yet in the Western Bulldogs' great internal drama of 2010 he had already made a significant noise.
The details of what transpired when Jason Akermanis was called to front the playing group last July are closely guarded at Whitten Oval. The sacked player aired his version of events in a hastily produced, tell-all memoir, but Griffen this week declined to comment on Akermanis listing his name among those who had spoken out against the errant forward.
Within the "kennel", it is remembered as a pin-drop moment. With Akermanis maintaining that only a couple of players had a problem with him, the quiet boy from Goolwa added his voice of dissent, raising eyebrows and turning heads with his uncluttered take on Aka's wrongdoing, and why it mattered.
"I'm not a very outspoken kind of person, but I think as a group we really stood together in that situation," was all Griffen would say of the watershed moment, while admitting that speaking out in front of his peers has never come naturally to him. "We had to stand together and make a good decision, and we did that."
The 24-year-old is not part of the club's revamped and youthful leadership group, but the Bulldogs have made it clear to him they want him to take a lead regardless. "I think the club and the leadership guys want me to stand up a bit more and say my piece. It's something I haven't done . . . I guess I've just sat back.
"I actually went into the leadership meeting [after the round-one loss to Essendon] to see how it all works. It is pretty confronting — after a 60-point loss it is a bit uncomfortable sitting in there. I have so much respect for the leaders."
Simon Garlick's youth and playing background help bridge the historic boardroom-dressing room divide, but the Bulldog chief executive admits he only recently realised the depth masked by Griffen's natural shyness. He says the last 12 to 18 months have seen the emergence of his potential to become a genuine guide Dog.
"He does it in unobtrusive ways, but those personality types can have a significant impact in a group," Garlick says, reminded of his former Sydney captain Paul Kelly. "He wasn't the loudest bloke in the room, but his work ethic, his raw ability and commitment on the field were inspirational.
"Ryan is someone whose thoughts and insights you might not hear as regularly as others, but they really cut through when you do."
Respect for Griffen beyond Whitten Oval grew last year, for the consistency he added to his explosive game, and for his response to Adam Cooney going down on the eve of the finals. Managing a knee injury that required post-season surgery, Griffen moved from the wing into the middle, won clearances, averaged 28 possessions in the Dogs' three finals, and pressed home the stamp of the very good: a big-game player.
"When Coons got injured, Rocket [coach Rodney Eade] came to me and said, 'We need you to stand up'," Griffen recalls. "You do feel a bit of pressure, but you want to stand up. It was good to get into those games and perform on the day."
Griffen is no different to any high draft pick (No. 3 in 2004) in that, no matter how swiftly he has covered the ground, expectation's shadow has always been at his shoulder. Various attributes have perhaps left him open to hard marking — the smooth, powerful running, the booming kick, the shampoo-ad hair — yet he quickly admits criticism has been warranted for what was missing rather than obviously present.
"I've been known to not have really good consistency in my game — some weeks I'll come out and play really well, and other weeks I might not be seen," he says. "That was something I really focused on last year."
He remembers "starting to get really down on myself" a couple of years ago, when he was told to seek out Wayne Schwass. The former North Melbourne and Sydney runner preached the importance of staying in the game — even when the ball is elsewhere. Griffen took notes, and has enacted them well.
"Previous years I could come and do some good stuff, then the next quarter you wouldn't see me. I guess that's mental, [but] fading in and out of the game was something I needed to work on."
Schwass worked on "trigger points" — zeroing in on what to do when the ball leaves Griffen's area. Where he had previously ball watched, he learnt to switch on and spread to where it would be next. They still meet or speak weekly. "Schwatta's been fantastic for me," says Griffen.
Life under the microscope is a burden he used to struggle with, but accepting that being analysed, poked and prodded from afar is a footballer's lot — and ensuring his own expectations are at least as high as anyone else's — has helped. "It's something I've got better at, I don't think about it as much."
Meeting demand only leads to a raising of the bar. Now that he is a consistent prime-mover, it is the Bulldog No. 16 whom those peering through football's peephole say must be a significant factor if the club is to do some stepping up of its own.
"I don't think you can hide from it," Griffen says of this latest layer of expectation. "But if you think about it too much your game can fall away."
He knows he can only work hard, and count on those around him to do likewise. "You can't put too much pressure on yourself to lift the team because there's a lot of guys out there who are helping you as well, and you them." This is the togetherness that was writ large in that meeting last July.
Raised in a South Australian port town at the mouth of the Murray River, Griffen says he will always be "a country boy through and through". He has adapted to city life and is settled in Port Melbourne with his girlfriend of two-and-a-half years, but says he'll be "dragging her out into country Victoria somewhere" when eventually he has to leave the game behind.
Teammates see him with a fishing line dangled in a stream, rod resting on an expanding middle. Griffen settles for an image of a rocking chair on the verandah, and knows whatever he does it will be outdoors. He is looking at taking a part-time job, is keen on landscaping, and disappointed that digging holes and shifting soil aren't compatible with the demands of modern AFL football.
One day, he will be able to house the vintage Valiant passed down by his late father in his own garage, and not have to worry about what could become of it on Melbourne's streets. "Dad kept her in good nick — he redid all of the motor, fixed her up, but he didn't get to enjoy her," Griffen says. "We wanted to keep her in the family."
Having driven the car to Melbourne, he feared waking up one morning to find it gone, so rang his brothers and asked them to take it home. "A week later they moved it from one garage to another, and the brakes gave way as they were pushing it in," he says, pondering the consequences of such a failure atop the Westgate Bridge during a Whitten Oval commute.
Brake issues notwithstanding, the Valiant is powerful, valuable, reliable and a joy to watch. Bulldog followers are excited by where its similarly rounded owner might lead them.
http://www.theage.com.au/afl/afl-news/making-a-stand-20110408-1d7zr.html
FOR much of his six seasons as an AFL footballer, people have expected Ryan Griffen to stand up. A Charles Sutton Medal and a breakout September drew satisfied nods, yet in the Western Bulldogs' great internal drama of 2010 he had already made a significant noise.
The details of what transpired when Jason Akermanis was called to front the playing group last July are closely guarded at Whitten Oval. The sacked player aired his version of events in a hastily produced, tell-all memoir, but Griffen this week declined to comment on Akermanis listing his name among those who had spoken out against the errant forward.
Within the "kennel", it is remembered as a pin-drop moment. With Akermanis maintaining that only a couple of players had a problem with him, the quiet boy from Goolwa added his voice of dissent, raising eyebrows and turning heads with his uncluttered take on Aka's wrongdoing, and why it mattered.
"I'm not a very outspoken kind of person, but I think as a group we really stood together in that situation," was all Griffen would say of the watershed moment, while admitting that speaking out in front of his peers has never come naturally to him. "We had to stand together and make a good decision, and we did that."
The 24-year-old is not part of the club's revamped and youthful leadership group, but the Bulldogs have made it clear to him they want him to take a lead regardless. "I think the club and the leadership guys want me to stand up a bit more and say my piece. It's something I haven't done . . . I guess I've just sat back.
"I actually went into the leadership meeting [after the round-one loss to Essendon] to see how it all works. It is pretty confronting — after a 60-point loss it is a bit uncomfortable sitting in there. I have so much respect for the leaders."
Simon Garlick's youth and playing background help bridge the historic boardroom-dressing room divide, but the Bulldog chief executive admits he only recently realised the depth masked by Griffen's natural shyness. He says the last 12 to 18 months have seen the emergence of his potential to become a genuine guide Dog.
"He does it in unobtrusive ways, but those personality types can have a significant impact in a group," Garlick says, reminded of his former Sydney captain Paul Kelly. "He wasn't the loudest bloke in the room, but his work ethic, his raw ability and commitment on the field were inspirational.
"Ryan is someone whose thoughts and insights you might not hear as regularly as others, but they really cut through when you do."
Respect for Griffen beyond Whitten Oval grew last year, for the consistency he added to his explosive game, and for his response to Adam Cooney going down on the eve of the finals. Managing a knee injury that required post-season surgery, Griffen moved from the wing into the middle, won clearances, averaged 28 possessions in the Dogs' three finals, and pressed home the stamp of the very good: a big-game player.
"When Coons got injured, Rocket [coach Rodney Eade] came to me and said, 'We need you to stand up'," Griffen recalls. "You do feel a bit of pressure, but you want to stand up. It was good to get into those games and perform on the day."
Griffen is no different to any high draft pick (No. 3 in 2004) in that, no matter how swiftly he has covered the ground, expectation's shadow has always been at his shoulder. Various attributes have perhaps left him open to hard marking — the smooth, powerful running, the booming kick, the shampoo-ad hair — yet he quickly admits criticism has been warranted for what was missing rather than obviously present.
"I've been known to not have really good consistency in my game — some weeks I'll come out and play really well, and other weeks I might not be seen," he says. "That was something I really focused on last year."
He remembers "starting to get really down on myself" a couple of years ago, when he was told to seek out Wayne Schwass. The former North Melbourne and Sydney runner preached the importance of staying in the game — even when the ball is elsewhere. Griffen took notes, and has enacted them well.
"Previous years I could come and do some good stuff, then the next quarter you wouldn't see me. I guess that's mental, [but] fading in and out of the game was something I needed to work on."
Schwass worked on "trigger points" — zeroing in on what to do when the ball leaves Griffen's area. Where he had previously ball watched, he learnt to switch on and spread to where it would be next. They still meet or speak weekly. "Schwatta's been fantastic for me," says Griffen.
Life under the microscope is a burden he used to struggle with, but accepting that being analysed, poked and prodded from afar is a footballer's lot — and ensuring his own expectations are at least as high as anyone else's — has helped. "It's something I've got better at, I don't think about it as much."
Meeting demand only leads to a raising of the bar. Now that he is a consistent prime-mover, it is the Bulldog No. 16 whom those peering through football's peephole say must be a significant factor if the club is to do some stepping up of its own.
"I don't think you can hide from it," Griffen says of this latest layer of expectation. "But if you think about it too much your game can fall away."
He knows he can only work hard, and count on those around him to do likewise. "You can't put too much pressure on yourself to lift the team because there's a lot of guys out there who are helping you as well, and you them." This is the togetherness that was writ large in that meeting last July.
Raised in a South Australian port town at the mouth of the Murray River, Griffen says he will always be "a country boy through and through". He has adapted to city life and is settled in Port Melbourne with his girlfriend of two-and-a-half years, but says he'll be "dragging her out into country Victoria somewhere" when eventually he has to leave the game behind.
Teammates see him with a fishing line dangled in a stream, rod resting on an expanding middle. Griffen settles for an image of a rocking chair on the verandah, and knows whatever he does it will be outdoors. He is looking at taking a part-time job, is keen on landscaping, and disappointed that digging holes and shifting soil aren't compatible with the demands of modern AFL football.
One day, he will be able to house the vintage Valiant passed down by his late father in his own garage, and not have to worry about what could become of it on Melbourne's streets. "Dad kept her in good nick — he redid all of the motor, fixed her up, but he didn't get to enjoy her," Griffen says. "We wanted to keep her in the family."
Having driven the car to Melbourne, he feared waking up one morning to find it gone, so rang his brothers and asked them to take it home. "A week later they moved it from one garage to another, and the brakes gave way as they were pushing it in," he says, pondering the consequences of such a failure atop the Westgate Bridge during a Whitten Oval commute.
Brake issues notwithstanding, the Valiant is powerful, valuable, reliable and a joy to watch. Bulldog followers are excited by where its similarly rounded owner might lead them.
http://www.theage.com.au/afl/afl-news/making-a-stand-20110408-1d7zr.html