Cornes: The day I found myself in Granger danger
LONG before David Granger landed himself in court by throwing water over a politician, he was landing far more on the football field. Graham Cornes recalls his encounters with the Port Adelaide hardman.
DAVID Granger was in the news this week again - for the wrong reason. He threw a bucket of water over a politician. The politician pressed charges and the case went to court.
Fortunately, the magistrate displayed common sense and compassion and Granger was convicted without penalty.
It’s not that politicians should be fair game for verbal or physical abuse; it’s just that it seemed such a trivial matter for a hard-nosed, thick-skinned politician to insist on prosecuting.
People forget just how good a footballer Granger was. We stood each other regularly when Port played Glenelg.
It saddens me, as I’m sure it saddens his old teammates to see his predicament of recent years. He is still big and imposing but his grasp of reality seems at odds with the rest of us.
Granger was almost the perfect size and physique for a footballer. He played the key positions like centre-half-forward and full forward with ease.
He would have been a sensation as a modern day “big-bodied mid-fielder”. Think Nat Fyfe with Barry Hall’s intimidating presence.
He won games off his own boot, and perhaps lost a few when the umpires recognized his vigor had transgressed the rules.
Despite his reputation, he wasn’t the toughest or most intimidating player of that era.
Norwood centre half-back, the late Jim Thiel, so tragically lost in a work-related accident, was genuinely tough ... and played within the rules.
Ray Hayes, who played centre half-back for Port and West Adelaide was dangerous but at least you saw it coming.
But Granger could be nasty on a football field. There were too many broken jaws and too many concussions for it to be a coincidence.
His club tolerated it until his suspensions meant he missed too many games. So it issued him an official warning – a letter that was later to be the contentious point in his ultimate sacking.
Much is made of the 1982 preliminary final which would be his last game. Granger started on the bench on an ominous, wintry day.
Glenelg started well, too well for Port coach John Cahill, and half way through the second quarter, he replaced Ross Agius with Granger, who charged straight towards centre half-forward. Unfortunately I was playing centre half-back and there was nowhere to hide.
Granger insists that I hit him first with an elbow to the throat. I was aiming for his jaw but it wasn’t much of a hit anyway.
We then settled down to watch the play which was at the other end of the ground.
Somehow I fell over, face down and sliding across the slippery Football Park surface.
The only way anyone really knew what had happened was from the footage of a television news camera. (They were allowed into the ground in those days before television exclusivity.)
It was from this vision that Granger became the first SANFL footballer reported from a video replay.
After half-time Port was a different side. There are conflicting reports about what was said in the Port dressing-rooms at half-time, but Granger was at his fearsome worst and almost single-handedly won the game for Port. He probably would have had he been paid the free kick for a push in the back late in the game.
He was subsequently suspended for eight games and never played for Port again. He felt abandoned and deceived and the psychological impact still reverberates.
He communicates these days in a series of missives – unusual paisley patterned letters with snatches of prose that give some insight to the sad or controversial moments that have brought him to this stage of his life.
The last time I saw him was last year in the foyer of the Advertiser building.
When I tried to engage him as you would an old team-mate or an old opponent from those glory days he growled menacingly. “Go away”. “Go away”, he growled again.
So I left. At least I was dry.