Limelight that blinds Richo
By Barry Richardson
August 17 2003
He was big and powerful and, at times, could take pack marks as well as anyone I have seen. He also had days when he looked like he had the iron gloves on.
He was a long kick, and when he nailed a big torpedo, he could match distance with the likes of Ben Graham or Anthony Rocca, but on a bad day, he could miss from the goal square and often did.
When he first played for Richmond, the Tigers had not won a premiership for 15 years, the fans were frustrated, starved of success and were looking for a great white hope.
Even though he represented Victoria, topped the Tigers' goalkicking twice and finished second and third in the club best and fairest, he was often savagely maligned as a player until he finally became part of a premiership team in 1967.
The date might solve this little riddle for you, otherwise you might well be forgiven for thinking I was referring to Matthew Richardson. In fact, it is Patrick "Paddy" Guinane and the similarities between the two in the way they have played and the way they have been scrutinised are unbelievably similar.
Paddy was a good player and a good bloke, the face of Richmond in the 1960s, thrust unwillingly into the limelight by the Graeme Richmond publicity machine to give disgruntled supporters hope for the future.
He just was not quite good enough to carry the burden of dreams and impatience all by himself. Sound familiar? Like Matthew (and most of us), he had flaws in his game and they were deficiencies that were never overcome simply by just trying harder.
Paddy was a one-dimensional player with eyes only for the ball and he crashed into both friend and foe with equal abandon. Even at kick-to-kick before training, you would find Paddy at one end and about 40 of us down the other in self-preservation mode.
Unlike a player such as Wayne Carey, the deft knock-on, the quick handpass or the shepherd for a smaller opponent was not part of Paddy's armoury, but he was still a valuable contributor when finally, late in his career, he was surrounded by players who took over his burden of expectation.
In 1967, he was vice-captain, kicked only one goal out of 16 in the grand final, but was flanked by Royce Hart, John Ronaldson, Billy Brown and Kevin Bartlett (who all kicked three goals each) and with singles from Bill Barrott, myself and Alan Richardson (Matthew's dad).
Matthew is a good player and a nice bloke, too. He is not a champion, simply because he has flaws in his game that he has never managed to eradicate. He is a wonderful mark, but even that skill is subject to a fair degree of inconsistency.
Perhaps if he had managed to convert marks to goals like a Matthew Lloyd, he might have crept to champion status. The fact is, though, that great forwards find a way to kick THAT goal when it is their time, and teammates rely on them to do it consistently.
Champions are also clever footballers; they know when to handball, when to block, when to flick it on to a teammate in a better position. I have no doubt that Matthew would like to involve his teammates more; he just does not instinctively seem to know when and where to do it, so his response is always to try to win the game off his own boot.
When it does not work, he unfortunately shares that disappointment with the world and even more visibly to his teammates.
Like Paddy Guinane, he will find peace only away from continual scrutiny if the limelight is shared, and he is simply allowed to play a smaller part in a successful team. For his sake, I hope the Tigers can surround him with enough talent to finally give him that luxury, for it seems that only a premiership would lift him from the "talent unfulfilled" category.
By Barry Richardson
August 17 2003
He was big and powerful and, at times, could take pack marks as well as anyone I have seen. He also had days when he looked like he had the iron gloves on.
He was a long kick, and when he nailed a big torpedo, he could match distance with the likes of Ben Graham or Anthony Rocca, but on a bad day, he could miss from the goal square and often did.
When he first played for Richmond, the Tigers had not won a premiership for 15 years, the fans were frustrated, starved of success and were looking for a great white hope.
Even though he represented Victoria, topped the Tigers' goalkicking twice and finished second and third in the club best and fairest, he was often savagely maligned as a player until he finally became part of a premiership team in 1967.
The date might solve this little riddle for you, otherwise you might well be forgiven for thinking I was referring to Matthew Richardson. In fact, it is Patrick "Paddy" Guinane and the similarities between the two in the way they have played and the way they have been scrutinised are unbelievably similar.
Paddy was a good player and a good bloke, the face of Richmond in the 1960s, thrust unwillingly into the limelight by the Graeme Richmond publicity machine to give disgruntled supporters hope for the future.
He just was not quite good enough to carry the burden of dreams and impatience all by himself. Sound familiar? Like Matthew (and most of us), he had flaws in his game and they were deficiencies that were never overcome simply by just trying harder.
Paddy was a one-dimensional player with eyes only for the ball and he crashed into both friend and foe with equal abandon. Even at kick-to-kick before training, you would find Paddy at one end and about 40 of us down the other in self-preservation mode.
Unlike a player such as Wayne Carey, the deft knock-on, the quick handpass or the shepherd for a smaller opponent was not part of Paddy's armoury, but he was still a valuable contributor when finally, late in his career, he was surrounded by players who took over his burden of expectation.
In 1967, he was vice-captain, kicked only one goal out of 16 in the grand final, but was flanked by Royce Hart, John Ronaldson, Billy Brown and Kevin Bartlett (who all kicked three goals each) and with singles from Bill Barrott, myself and Alan Richardson (Matthew's dad).
Matthew is a good player and a nice bloke, too. He is not a champion, simply because he has flaws in his game that he has never managed to eradicate. He is a wonderful mark, but even that skill is subject to a fair degree of inconsistency.
Perhaps if he had managed to convert marks to goals like a Matthew Lloyd, he might have crept to champion status. The fact is, though, that great forwards find a way to kick THAT goal when it is their time, and teammates rely on them to do it consistently.
Champions are also clever footballers; they know when to handball, when to block, when to flick it on to a teammate in a better position. I have no doubt that Matthew would like to involve his teammates more; he just does not instinctively seem to know when and where to do it, so his response is always to try to win the game off his own boot.
When it does not work, he unfortunately shares that disappointment with the world and even more visibly to his teammates.
Like Paddy Guinane, he will find peace only away from continual scrutiny if the limelight is shared, and he is simply allowed to play a smaller part in a successful team. For his sake, I hope the Tigers can surround him with enough talent to finally give him that luxury, for it seems that only a premiership would lift him from the "talent unfulfilled" category.
