Thought these might be of interest:
BY NORM SMITH (from the Foreward to 'Captain Blood', published in the 1960's.)
A chilling sensation of fear, the hair prickled on the back of my neck. I couldn't see the danger, but I sensed it....
CRASH....
The shock of the impact was unlike anything I had experienced before. There was a floating sensation of unreality as I crashed face first into the turf. A yellow light flashed across my eyes. No human could hit that hard, but then I have often wondered if Jack Dyer was human.
The immortal Captain Blood is a legend in his own lifetime. His story is the story of Australian Rules football. He was six foot of iron-hard muscle and probably the toughest and most colourful player ever to pull on football boots.
I've had many clashes with Dyer, but the one that stands out most in my memory was in the 1940 semi-final when he slammed me to the turf with the hardest shirt-front I have ever received in football. There was nothing unfair. I was playing the ball and was careless. He hit me at full pace with his shoulder. I felt it was coming even though I didn't see him.
It seemed like hours before I could lift myself from the turf. I had no idea what was going on. I sagged as I was handed the ball for a penalty kick against Dyer. I shouldn't have got one, but the umpire must have felt sorry for me.
I didn't know where to kick, in fact I didn't know where I was. I collapsed at half-time with concussion. Richmond with a vastly inferior side went on to beat us that day, and I consider the 1940 Melbourne side the greatest in the history of the game and Richmond were just a team. That was the effect of Dyer. His strength and courage was a spur to his side, he lifted and inspired them to unbelievable heights.
I was only one of countless footballers to feel the crushing strength of Jack Dyer. But don't get me wrong, Dyer was not a cowardly football basher. He was one of the three greatest footballers the game has produced, probably the greatest. I feel he would undoubtedly have stamped himself as the most brilliant footballer in the game had he played as an individual rather than for his team. It has always been Richmond first, Dyer last, with Captain Blood.
He was a breath-taking footballer, a strong attacking player with amazing pace and stamina. His dedication made him one of the most accurate kicks in the game. His marking was as brilliant and consistent as any I have seen.
As a ruckman he was without peer, he put the ball to his rover with uncanny accuracy. For a big man his handling of the ball was a treat. If I were picking a side from the greatest players the game has produced, Jack Dyer would be the first picked.
Two of Australia's greatest sports writers have also paid homage to Jack Dyer. They are the late Hec de Lacy of the Sporting Globe and Alf Brown of the Melbourne Herald.
De Lacy in a tribute to Dyer had this to say:
'Jack Dyer, Richmond's giant, was the greatest big man in Australian football.
'He stands supreme, he's the greatest of the great.
'This is my conviction after seeing the best Australia has had to offer.
'Dyer stands out because he had fire in his make?up to a greater degree than any other player I have ever seen. He had the fire of destruction and the fire that makes and welds a side.
'He tore an attack to pieces, then in a trice belted the ball down the field for a fresh irresistible attack with his own team in full cry.
'There are some who quaked at this destructive force in Dyer. They saw in his lion?hearted resistance, physical force that made them quail.
'Football is not a game for the faint?hearted. I have watched him in action in many games and have never seen him do one thing outside the privilege of a big strong player.
'He might maul his way through a pack. He might fend off attackers with his forearm and not be gentle about it.
'I have seen him punched but never seen him punch. Make no mistake, opposing teams did not spare Dyer.
'In one game CarIton set a player to "take care of Dyer". They told me they had just the man who was good enough to put it over Richmond's champion. He would have been better occupied concentrating on the ball.
'He made two attempts to crush Dyer and failed. Dyer knew. Finally he gathered the ball and ran through his assailant, as he was entitled to do, and that ended the day for the CarIton man.
Afterwards there was wailing and gnashing of teeth about Dyer. Well, I ask you?
'It is from incidents such as this that a false impression was created about Dyer. He's the big, bad man of football, according to some.
'He is the greatest big man footballer I have ever seen.'
From Alf Brown (not sure of date):
Jack Dyer - Captain Blood - is a man who became a legend in his own lifetime. Wherever football is argued, Dyer's name will soon enter discussions.
Dyer rode to football fame on his great ability and cold-blooded, ruthless, relentless vigour in a football era of rough, tough strongmen.
In his 19 years of football Dyer was involved in more "incidents" – a euphemism employed by libel conscious sporting writers to cover a multitude of football sins - than any two dozen other players.
Dyer entered football in the depression years, he had to stay in the side to eat. That made competition very tough. Those were the days before speed won premierships. Every side carried a “confidence sapper” - a burly player who often lacked real football skill, but was adept at flattening and slowing up a more talented opponent.
Dyer was not just a rugged he-man. He was amazingly fast for for a six-footer - he roved for Richmond in his first year - he was a fine mark, a good kick and he had the football brain of the champion that made him instinctively do the correct thing.
He could play in any position and could lift his side and win with sheer brilliance. In addition to his great football attributes he had what some champions have lacked - a single-minded determination to do the best for his side.
He was a wonderful team man. He began with Richmond and 19 years later played his last game with them. Then he coached them. He never played with another team, he never coached another side. And it was not through lack of opportunity.
Dyer had two distinct personalities. On the field he was a calculating, ruthless machine. His creed, “Anything goes as long as you can get away with it.” Off the field he is a quietly spoken likeable personality.
Captain Blood – a title conferred on him after one particularly hectic game – never won a Brownlow Medal. Lesser Players have won the coveted award but Dyer was never an umpire-pleaser.
His style of play unsettled tempers, made games hard to control, and while umpires admitted he was best on the ground they could rarely be persuaded he was the fairest.
But in 19 years Dyer was reported only five times and disqualified once.
Dyer's immunity from disqualification was helped by his tactics of grabbing the umpire, when that official arrived at the scene of a football crime, and talking, talking, talking.
By the time Dyer had finished, tempers had cooled, players had wandered back to position and the umpire was no longer certain his first impression of the "incident" was right.
It was breath?taking to see Dyer measure up an opponent, crash into him with his iron shoulder. Few could withstand this powerful broadside from Captain Blood. His timing was perfect and remained so to the last.
Strangely, I have never met an opponent who resented Dyer's vigour.
Naturally Dyer suffered reprisals. He often played under difficulties, but only those close to him knew of them. To his side Dyer was always the iron-man, the indestructible. He couldn't afford to admit an injury.
Sheer willpower and guts often kept Dyer on his feet. Twice Richmond trainers held him up when he "passed out". He wouldn't have Richmond players seeing him down.
He went down a few times but never took the full count.
Dyer and his brand of football were always storm centres. If you barracked for the Tigers you loved to see Captain Blood under a full sheet of canvas, keeling them over. If you didn't it wasn't so good.
Dyer always preached the football gospel of vigour. As a playing coach he was a success because his full-blooded, wind destroying bumps could infuse new life and purpose into his side and knock some of the enthusiasm and appetite for football out of the opposition.'
BY NORM SMITH (from the Foreward to 'Captain Blood', published in the 1960's.)
A chilling sensation of fear, the hair prickled on the back of my neck. I couldn't see the danger, but I sensed it....
CRASH....
The shock of the impact was unlike anything I had experienced before. There was a floating sensation of unreality as I crashed face first into the turf. A yellow light flashed across my eyes. No human could hit that hard, but then I have often wondered if Jack Dyer was human.
The immortal Captain Blood is a legend in his own lifetime. His story is the story of Australian Rules football. He was six foot of iron-hard muscle and probably the toughest and most colourful player ever to pull on football boots.
I've had many clashes with Dyer, but the one that stands out most in my memory was in the 1940 semi-final when he slammed me to the turf with the hardest shirt-front I have ever received in football. There was nothing unfair. I was playing the ball and was careless. He hit me at full pace with his shoulder. I felt it was coming even though I didn't see him.
It seemed like hours before I could lift myself from the turf. I had no idea what was going on. I sagged as I was handed the ball for a penalty kick against Dyer. I shouldn't have got one, but the umpire must have felt sorry for me.
I didn't know where to kick, in fact I didn't know where I was. I collapsed at half-time with concussion. Richmond with a vastly inferior side went on to beat us that day, and I consider the 1940 Melbourne side the greatest in the history of the game and Richmond were just a team. That was the effect of Dyer. His strength and courage was a spur to his side, he lifted and inspired them to unbelievable heights.
I was only one of countless footballers to feel the crushing strength of Jack Dyer. But don't get me wrong, Dyer was not a cowardly football basher. He was one of the three greatest footballers the game has produced, probably the greatest. I feel he would undoubtedly have stamped himself as the most brilliant footballer in the game had he played as an individual rather than for his team. It has always been Richmond first, Dyer last, with Captain Blood.
He was a breath-taking footballer, a strong attacking player with amazing pace and stamina. His dedication made him one of the most accurate kicks in the game. His marking was as brilliant and consistent as any I have seen.
As a ruckman he was without peer, he put the ball to his rover with uncanny accuracy. For a big man his handling of the ball was a treat. If I were picking a side from the greatest players the game has produced, Jack Dyer would be the first picked.
Two of Australia's greatest sports writers have also paid homage to Jack Dyer. They are the late Hec de Lacy of the Sporting Globe and Alf Brown of the Melbourne Herald.
De Lacy in a tribute to Dyer had this to say:
'Jack Dyer, Richmond's giant, was the greatest big man in Australian football.
'He stands supreme, he's the greatest of the great.
'This is my conviction after seeing the best Australia has had to offer.
'Dyer stands out because he had fire in his make?up to a greater degree than any other player I have ever seen. He had the fire of destruction and the fire that makes and welds a side.
'He tore an attack to pieces, then in a trice belted the ball down the field for a fresh irresistible attack with his own team in full cry.
'There are some who quaked at this destructive force in Dyer. They saw in his lion?hearted resistance, physical force that made them quail.
'Football is not a game for the faint?hearted. I have watched him in action in many games and have never seen him do one thing outside the privilege of a big strong player.
'He might maul his way through a pack. He might fend off attackers with his forearm and not be gentle about it.
'I have seen him punched but never seen him punch. Make no mistake, opposing teams did not spare Dyer.
'In one game CarIton set a player to "take care of Dyer". They told me they had just the man who was good enough to put it over Richmond's champion. He would have been better occupied concentrating on the ball.
'He made two attempts to crush Dyer and failed. Dyer knew. Finally he gathered the ball and ran through his assailant, as he was entitled to do, and that ended the day for the CarIton man.
Afterwards there was wailing and gnashing of teeth about Dyer. Well, I ask you?
'It is from incidents such as this that a false impression was created about Dyer. He's the big, bad man of football, according to some.
'He is the greatest big man footballer I have ever seen.'
From Alf Brown (not sure of date):
Jack Dyer - Captain Blood - is a man who became a legend in his own lifetime. Wherever football is argued, Dyer's name will soon enter discussions.
Dyer rode to football fame on his great ability and cold-blooded, ruthless, relentless vigour in a football era of rough, tough strongmen.
In his 19 years of football Dyer was involved in more "incidents" – a euphemism employed by libel conscious sporting writers to cover a multitude of football sins - than any two dozen other players.
Dyer entered football in the depression years, he had to stay in the side to eat. That made competition very tough. Those were the days before speed won premierships. Every side carried a “confidence sapper” - a burly player who often lacked real football skill, but was adept at flattening and slowing up a more talented opponent.
Dyer was not just a rugged he-man. He was amazingly fast for for a six-footer - he roved for Richmond in his first year - he was a fine mark, a good kick and he had the football brain of the champion that made him instinctively do the correct thing.
He could play in any position and could lift his side and win with sheer brilliance. In addition to his great football attributes he had what some champions have lacked - a single-minded determination to do the best for his side.
He was a wonderful team man. He began with Richmond and 19 years later played his last game with them. Then he coached them. He never played with another team, he never coached another side. And it was not through lack of opportunity.
Dyer had two distinct personalities. On the field he was a calculating, ruthless machine. His creed, “Anything goes as long as you can get away with it.” Off the field he is a quietly spoken likeable personality.
Captain Blood – a title conferred on him after one particularly hectic game – never won a Brownlow Medal. Lesser Players have won the coveted award but Dyer was never an umpire-pleaser.
His style of play unsettled tempers, made games hard to control, and while umpires admitted he was best on the ground they could rarely be persuaded he was the fairest.
But in 19 years Dyer was reported only five times and disqualified once.
Dyer's immunity from disqualification was helped by his tactics of grabbing the umpire, when that official arrived at the scene of a football crime, and talking, talking, talking.
By the time Dyer had finished, tempers had cooled, players had wandered back to position and the umpire was no longer certain his first impression of the "incident" was right.
It was breath?taking to see Dyer measure up an opponent, crash into him with his iron shoulder. Few could withstand this powerful broadside from Captain Blood. His timing was perfect and remained so to the last.
Strangely, I have never met an opponent who resented Dyer's vigour.
Naturally Dyer suffered reprisals. He often played under difficulties, but only those close to him knew of them. To his side Dyer was always the iron-man, the indestructible. He couldn't afford to admit an injury.
Sheer willpower and guts often kept Dyer on his feet. Twice Richmond trainers held him up when he "passed out". He wouldn't have Richmond players seeing him down.
He went down a few times but never took the full count.
Dyer and his brand of football were always storm centres. If you barracked for the Tigers you loved to see Captain Blood under a full sheet of canvas, keeling them over. If you didn't it wasn't so good.
Dyer always preached the football gospel of vigour. As a playing coach he was a success because his full-blooded, wind destroying bumps could infuse new life and purpose into his side and knock some of the enthusiasm and appetite for football out of the opposition.'
