Dermott Brereton says Luke Hodge’s toughness would have made him dominant in any football era
DERMOTT Brereton was one of Hawthorn’s toughest players, but he says retiring Hawk legend Luke Hodge is as courageous as anyone who has pulled on the brown and gold jumper.
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WE OFTEN hear statements about who could or couldn’t play in a different era and still be just as good.
Luke Hodge looks like he is from another era — he could be from the 1970s or the 80s.
He has proved that he is tough enough to have played on a back-flank in the 1970s with, on the other flank, Ian Bremner, regarded by nearly all at Hawthorn as the toughest and most uncompromising player in living memory.
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Hodge would have Bremner covered for skill and maybe only 300-game fullback great Kelvin Moore was his equal in kicking.
Allan Jeans would tell me just how brutal the 70s were — in particular the St Kilda and Hawthorn matches.
In his mind that is when football was played at its most gruesome.
Everyone can remember “Cowboy” Neale’s treatment of Peter Hudson, Neil Balme’s full-blooded assault on the Carlton backline, Big Carl Ditterich’s attack on every opponent and Leigh Matthews’ high shepherd against Barry Cable.
The era was one where if you were any good, you got hunted — literally hunted.
My friend and colleague, three-time premiership star Cameron Mooney recalls how in the 2008 Grand Final he hunted Hodge.
Hodgey was playing loose man in front of him in Geelong’s forward line. The entire crowd inside the MCG knew that Hodge came into the game with what was believed to be broken ribs.
Moons says that he yelled at Hodgey that if he got in front of him he would plough his knee through him. He reckons Hodgey smiled at him.
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Several times throughout the game Moons stayed true to his pledge. He reckons that Hodgey had to be hurting, but he got up each time and ruffled Moons’ hair with an accompanying comment of encouragement.
He could have come from the 1980s, where he would have been like the great Gary Ayres, alternating between the backline setting up forward challenges with precision kicking and spending time in the middle, turning games with his nous and influence.
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Ayres’ pure fitness and tank didn’t allow him to be a full-time midfielder — I wish he could have been because apart from being a brilliant ballwinner, his field kicking was incredibly good.
One would suspect that Hodge might have been a little like Ayresy, brilliant on a Saturday and therefore able to reward himself with a beer or two on the old “Pleasant Sunday Morning” get-together with the trainers.
The parallels between Ayres and Hodge are numerous. Besides both men own two Norm Smith Medals, both were rugged, tough and when the occasion demanded, a touch nasty.
Both men demanded high on and off-field standards from their teammates. We all witnessed Hodge caution Ryan Burton after the win over the Crows for crudely telling a cameraman to get out of the circle.
I once saw big Gary tell a young teammate to go and wipe up his spit from the gym floor.
A young Tim Hargreaves saw others walking through the old Glenferrie gym in their muddy boots. He assumed that one little clearance of spit was nothing compared to the clods of mud on the carpet.
Ayres wouldn’t accept that you spit in your home and this was our home. It may be muddied, because that is part of what we do. But spitting in your home was not.
Both set standards among their peers that demanded they respect their club. Burton in turn will one day pass it on when he gains a position of authority.
But both Hodge and Ayres never lost their rogue edge either. Still capable of being lads and both having a devilish side as well.
Hodge would have breezed it through the 90s. Considering that football in that decade was much the same as when he started in the early 2000s.
I have often told the story of when I knew Luke Hodge was cut from a different cloth.
In his first few games when I was a board member, I introduced myself to his dad Bryson in the rooms after a game.
I asked him how was his son Luke enjoying his first few games of AFL.
I was expecting the usual answer along the lines of “play him in the middle, that’s where he plays best”, or “he needs more opportunity”, or even “try to look after him and bring him on gently”.
But the reply from Bryson was in stark contrast. He said, “Grab that slack little bastard by the back of the neck, kick him up the arse and get him into gear”.
It was clearly obvious that this 18-year-old was far from being mollycoddled and pandered to just because he could play football.
Luke Hodge would have been a champion in any era.
Tomorrow night he will shake hands with Bob Murphy and then try to knock his head off in-between setting up his teammates and playing football.
At the end he will put his arm around him in what will be a glorious moment that stands to become etched in the collective footy memory.
As a former Hawthorn player I would like to say to Luke Hodge, thank you for the memories, it was a pleasure to watch your career.
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