Cornes: Is it OK to speak ill of the dead? Because with this man it seems impossible not to
The saying goes we shouldn’t speak ill of those who have left us – but with this footy villain that is impossible, writes Graham Cornes.
Opinion
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In history’s great sagas there have always been villains and victims. So too in Aussie rules football have there been villains and victims.
Think Maynard and Brayshaw; Hall and Staker; Lockett and Caven; Gaff and Brayshaw; and just this week, Webster and Simpkin.
David Granger was always the villain. There were too many victims to recount.
He could have been one of the greats. He had the size, the presence, the will and most importantly the skill. I was stopped on the beach at Glenelg by an old West Augusta footballer after news of his passing had broken: “I played on him twice in the Spencer Gulf League,” he said. “He was only 28. I couldn’t believe how good he looked and how good he was.”
He did have the movie star looks as well. Movies need villains, too.
He shouldn’t have been playing in the Spencer Gulf League but patience had run out at Port Adelaide. There had been too many reports and too much controversy.
The 1982 preliminary final was the end. It’s a game famous for its infamy.
Ironically, he nearly won that game for Port Adelaide. Coming off the interchange bench when Port was six goals down halfway through the second quarter, he completely changed the tenor of the whole game, and with it the momentum.
There have been other SANFL games notorious for their violence – the 1991 grand final between North Adelaide and West Adelaide was a bad as any. The pre-match melee between Norwood and Central at Norwood when a young Gilbert McAdam was king-hit was reprehensible. And the halftime brawl in the 1954 grand final when angry Port supporters who felt a young Davey Boyd had been unfairly dealt with attacked the West Adelaide players was ugly.
However, none matched the foreboding tension of that day in September, 1982. The television footage tells the story. On an eerie, gloomy day there were king hits, misguided roundhouse attempts to spoil that hit heads rather than ball, a backhanded whack that broke Peter Maynard’s eardrum and a misguided kick that broke Stephen Barratt’s leg.
Never has one man created such mayhem in the one game. Legendary Advertiser sports journalist Alan Shiell wrote: “And Glenelg had to contend with David Granger, whose characteristic methods constituted probably the most undisciplined performance seen from a player in an SA final.”
But if there is such a thing as the football God, he (or she) was watching on that day. Glenelg won by a point, Granger was reported, suspended for eight weeks and never played for Port again.
He never forgave the club and felt that it had abandoned him. He had played prominent roles in two previous Port Adelaide premierships. In 1981 Russell Ebert won the Jack Oatey Medal as the best player on the ground but Granger set the tone.
His brutal punch – a swinging left hook – knocked Glenelg’s “Twiggy” Caldwell out in the first quarter. The Glenelg utility player was still unconscious when they carried him from the field on a Jordan frame and still suffers the effects of the blow 42 years later.
In the same game when ruckman Bob Paech, a devout Lutheran minister, fell over in front of him, Granger didn’t try to jump over him. He simply kicked him the head.
In the 1976 grand final, Sturt fans remember the brutal way Granger dealt with fan favourite Michael Graham, although the speedster recovered to kick three goals in one of the Double Blues’ greatest triumphs.
There had been too many moments like that. Too many young players injured and a couple hospitalised, for them simply to have been collateral damage of a football contest.
And yet, when it was all over for him, when his transgressions had been consigned to football folklore, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; couldn’t help but like him.
He had had a wretched childhood growing up in rural Victoria. He looked up to his older brother, another man with a vigorous persona, and had learned to grow up quickly. The mental scars and the trauma of those times began to manifest when the stability of football was taken from him.
After football, his mental health deteriorated as his perceived injustices fomented. Old friends and supportive teammates were discarded. Brushes with the law and abuse of illicit drugs contributed to what could be described as paranoia.
He was a persistent letter writer of unusual missives. These strange sentences in envelopes decorated with unique paisley style drawings, if analysed, gave some indication of his mental anguish.
The saddest one was about arriving too late after his father had died. But there were others which were threatening and accusatory of those who he felt had let him down and contributed to his circumstances.
He would show up at unlikely places such as the foyer of the Channel 7 studios, or at footy training at Alberton. He would ring the producer of the FIVEaa sports show with abuse if any reference of his football indiscretions were mentioned.
Later in life it appeared he had developed a persecution complex as he accused and blamed others for his actions. It was something from which he would never recover. He felt he was the victim.
We had played on each other many times and until that last fateful day in 1982, I always felt a mutual respect. That’s where it ended.
The last time I saw him was in the foyer of The Advertiser building in Waymouth Street. I was aware of a looming presence behind me when he leant in and shouted: “BOO”.
I didn’t recognise him at first – he seemed bigger than I remembered – but as recognition dawned and I went to say “hello”, he growled ominously – twice: “Go away. Go away”.
So, I left. In a most unusual twist I was later told that he was placing a classified ad for – wait for it – “New or Used Male G-strings.”
Football will remember David Granger for the way he played the game and not for the talent that he had.
There is an old saying that one should not speak ill of those who have left us but with Granger that is impossible. If it were not for the number of times he transgressed the laws and spirit of the game he would have been remembered as a great player.
He was big for the day, an imposing player who used his size and vigour to intimidate opposition players. He was skilful and mobile, marked strongly and kicked beautifully.
He played in two premierships for Port Adelaide and was influential in both of them which gave him great status among the Alberton faithful.
But then the club lost patience with him. He always felt betrayed, but others within the inner sanctum will say he had plenty of chances. Similarly at Solomontown, he was sacked after two years and an eight-week suspension.
Ultimately, for good reason, he will be seen as one of football’s villains. I wish it was different. Sad!
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