STEVIE J: HOW I ALMOST BLEW IT
‘‘We don’t want to run into you in a pub in Wangaratta in 20 years’ time and hear you talking about how good you could have been. That would be a waste.” The Cats were primed for 2007 after a disappointing season the year before saw a full review of the club and the introduction of the Leading Teams program. In this edited extract from his new book released Monday, STEVE JOHNSON describes how a drunken night in Wangaratta almost cost him his football career on the eve of the Cats’ greatest success
Tom Harley wasn’t even in the room, but that didn’t stop him from delivering a line I will never forget. “We haven’t decided what we’re going to do with you yet,” he said over the phone, the anger clear in his voice. “But this could be the end of your career at Geelong.”
Harls’ words were like a right hook from Mike Tyson. They shook me like I had never been shaken before. I was already on the ropes but, for good measure, Harls reloaded and sent another barrage my way, just to make sure I was in no doubt about how he felt.
“You know how much I like you,” he said. “But I don’t know if I can trust you any more.”
My hands started shaking; the colour drained from my face. Playing AFL footy for Geelong meant the world to me. After playing 65 games at the highest level across six seasons, I felt like I was on the verge of really making it as a player. But now my love of a good time off the field was threatening to destroy everything I had worked so hard for, and I was the only one to blame. Again.
It was January 3, 2007, and I was being grilled by some of the most powerful figures in Geelong’s football department. Every member of the player leadership group was in the room, except for Tom Harley, who had been unable to make it back from Felicity’s (his then-girlfriend, now wife) parents’ home at Lake Conjola on the New South Wales south coast. Harls was taking part in the meeting by phone. Supporting the leadership group in the meeting was our newlyappointed football manager, Neil Balme, and Gerard Murphy from Leading Teams was there as well.
I was being grilled for two reasons. On Christmas Eve I had been locked up by the police after having too many beers back home in Wangaratta; and I had not reported the incident to the club. Harls was filthy that I had tried to get away with it. He was probably darker on that aspect of the situation than the fact I consumed way too much alcohol for a bloke who was supposed to be doing everything in his power to get his injury-prone body right for the 2007 season.
My timing could not have been worse. The club was making a real effort to turn around our culture of mediocrity – a culture that was centred around having a good time but not winning premierships. I had become the leadership group’s first crisis to deal with and their first chance to make a stand.
As the meeting unfolded, it wasn’t only Harls who landed a few blows on me. A lot of the other players said things to me. A couple of my really close mates backed up Harls by reiterating that they had had enough of my lack of discipline and weren’t sure if they wanted me at the club any more. To hear it from them really hit home.
As the leaders continued to lay down the law, Cameron Mooney, who was something of a reformed bad boy himself, pointed at me and said, “We don’t want to run into you in a pub in Wangaratta in 20 years’ time and hear you talking about how good you could have been. That would be a waste. We know how much talent you’ve got. But something’s got to click with you if you’re going to reach your potential in the AFL and earn back our trust.”
At the time I felt a little bit hard done by. My recollections of the night in Wangaratta were a bit hazy, plus I was only just starting to recover from the bruises that had covered my body after the police had arrested me in an overly aggressive manner. It’s not that I didn’t think I had done anything wrong in terms of the rules that elite footballers live by. Sure, I’d had a fair few beers – too many for a bloke who believed he was getting close to his last chance, it’s fair to say – but out of our list of 40 blokes, I’m guessing 38 of them would have had too many beers at least once over the Christmas/New Year break. This was the old culture of our club and what I was used to. If you weren’t having a good time and going out all the time you were an outlier. If you didn’t turn up at Lamby’s on a Sunday night after a win you could be questioned at training the next day.
As the meeting went on, however, it became clear that not owning up about what happened was the thing everyone was most sh---y about. I had to cop that. I had made a big mistake in thinking it would all just blow over.
At the end of the meeting, I was told that no punishment would be handed down there and then. Nothing was to be determined until Harls returned to the club. The leaders told me that they cared about me and that they knew my footy ability had the potential to really help the team. But they said they could no longer ignore my behavioural problems. They left me in no doubt that my career was hanging in the balance.
I’m led to believe that the leadership group talked about sacking me to make a really strong point to the rest of the group. But when they contemplated pulling the trigger on me, I think I was probably lucky that I had a few good mates in the group. I guess I was also lucky that I had a really good relationship with Harls. I had roomed with him on my first footy trip. He had looked after me when I jumped off the roof of the Torquay pub. We had always got along really well, even though we were probably polar opposites in terms of our personalities.
On Monday, January 8 – the day that all the players returned from their Christmas/New Year break – my punishment was revealed at a press conference attended by Geelong president, Frank Costa, Brian Cook, Neil Balme and the entire playing list. I was sh---ing myself and pale as a ghost as I walked into the room where the press conference was to be held. What was I going to do if they sacked me? There was no way to get onto another AFL list at that time of the year. If I had a year out of the game, would it be possible to make it back at another club? What if this was it?
Neil Balme took to the microphone and revealed that I was not going to be sacked. That was a massive relief. But it was clear that everyone at the club was furious with my actions. In a methodical manner, Neil ran through my penalties: I was indefinitely banned from training or playing with the AFL squad; I would have to train and play with the VFL squad until my ban was lifted; and, regardless of my behaviour in the coming couple of months, I would not be eligible for AFL selection until round 6 at the earliest.
“Steve has been given numerous chances and it is fair to say that he is now down to his last opportunity to prove that he wants to stay with the club,” Neil said. “We understand that young people make mistakes in all walks of life. This includes AFL players. We do believe in allowing people to grow, learn from their mistakes and mature. We have provided ample opportunity for Steve to display the behaviour that we expect from all of our players. The ball is now firmly in his court to prove that he is worthy of a return to the senior group.”
The message was clear. If you muck up again, you’re out. Stevie J - The Cat with the Giant Story, by Steve Johnson with Adam McNicol, will be available in bookshops from Monday, RRP $39.99. Johnson will speak about his book and football career at the Geelong Library and Heritage Centre on November 10 at 7pm. Bookings: grlc.vic.gov.au
‘STEVE HAS BEEN GIVEN NUMEROUS CHANCES AND IT IS FAIR TO SAY THAT HE IS NOW DOWN TO HIS LAST OPPORTUNITY TO PROVE THAT HE WANTS TO STAY WITH THE CLUB’ NEIL BALME