Adrian Barich: Vale to John Todd, a giant of the game whose legacy will be felt in WA footy forever

There was a State memorial service this week for a man who made an enormous contribution to football in this country. In fact, many people believe John Todd was to WA what Ron Barassi was to Victorians.

In the best possible way, he was the godfather of footy in this State: a giant of the game, whose departure will echo forever in the hallways and rooms of Optus Stadium . . . and at Bassendean Oval, Fremantle Oval and Shark Park.

It was indeed wonderful to learn from the Premier that our stadium will now have the John Todd Coaches Room.

And to be honest, I reckon if the great man was here today he’d be cracking a joke that the honour was well and truly overdue.

John Todd was one of those people who had an aura about him.

In life, there is always that special person who shapes who you are, and who helps to determine the person you become.

Yes, he was a footy colossus in this country. You could even call him one of the fathers of football, as undoubtedly the game would not be what it is today without his efforts, dedication and just the pure spirit of the man. His legacy is vast.

Those who saw him play say he was one of the greatest to pull on a boot. At the Perth Football Club, the old timers recall his first WAFL match — the reserves grand final of 1954 against the Demons — when Toddy booted a lazy seven goals at the tender age of 16.

It was no surprise then, that the very next season he won WA football’s highest individual honour, the Sandover Medal, as a 17-year-old. He finished four votes ahead of arguably the greatest of them all, Polly Farmer.

Shortly after John suffered a serious knee injury, which today would be easily fixed. Still, despite wearing a cumbersome guard roughly the size of your average mattress, he played on, finishing with 132 senior games for South Fremantle and 13 games for WA.

He then took to coaching, winning six WAFL premierships at South Fremantle, East Fremantle and Swan Districts.

It’s history, of course, that Todd was appointed the coach of West Coast in 1988 and guided the Eagles for two seasons.

Future generations will ask, what was the great Todd like?

When State Parliament suspended standing orders to pass a motion of congratulation for Toddy’s 700th game, one MP described him as poetry in motion — the Nureyev, the Pavarotti, the Sir Stanley Matthews of football.

As a coach, John was a brilliant tactician. Remarkably, in just the Eagles’ second season, he had us almost knocking on the door of a VFL grand final.

He was also the first to ever pick two almost completely different teams each week — one to play at home and one to play away.

He trialled all sorts of things to beat the Eagles’ problems with travel, including staying on Perth time while in Melbourne and wearing wristbands laced with eucalyptus to sniff on cold days while also wearing a singlet. He wasn’t afraid to experiment, that’s for sure.

A couple of times we trained on the mud flats at the back of Guildford Grammar and at the less well-known Arthur Pexton Memorial Field which, respectfully, could only be described as a cow paddock — all in an attempt to toughen us up.

On one occasion, after losing badly in Melbourne, he had the team run a hundred 100m sprints despite having a match the next weekend; something that would never happen nowadays.

Before another game, when he thought we looked a bit sluggish, he had us train very late at night across the road from our Melbourne hotel.

It was too dark to really do ball work . . . so we simply got rid of the ball. We pretended to handball and kick an imaginary footy.

That was until Chris Lewis pretended to boot the imaginary ball across a six-lane highway. Seeing the humour in the situation, Toddy reacted by saying, “Lewi, go and get it”.

In one of his most unconventional displays of lateral thinking, he introduced a drink called grappa to the group during half-time in a match, as he’d noticed we really became a tight unit after a few drinks.

Let’s just say Toddy understood player psychology, and it’s hard to argue with six premierships at three clubs, as a testament to his methods. These included boldly benching two of his best players in the 1974 WAFL grand final and ordering a player to shave off his beard before the Swans 1982 flag.

Toddy had the courage to believe that his ideas could work and while yes, he could polarise people, when you boiled it down, it was about encouraging good performances.

Be somebody that nobody thought you could be — that could have been his motto. I think some of it was also along the lines of, “hang on, I had a stellar playing career cruelled by injury, but but here you are, fully fit, and you’re not giving 100 per cent”.

It’s little wonder he tested your character and demanded excellence. His best trick was to motivate you to prove him wrong.

Todd was a hero of his time and sport needs heroes: they show us how to overcome our limitations.

They don’t represent “the way things are”. They challenge the status quo. We need people to remind us of what we can be if we really strive to be great.

John Herbert Todd will be missed. He made a difference, reigning over WA footy for half a century.

He cast an enormous shadow, perhaps the greatest. His record requires that he be considered one of football’s immortals.

Vale Toddy.