Latest news with #Auskick
Sydney Morning Herald
4 days ago
- Sport
- Sydney Morning Herald
Greg swans into AFL job with a radical plan to exercise common sense
The Swann era has started, and it sounds more Ian Collins than Adrian Anderson, Steve Hocking or Laura Kane. That is not to say it will be better, worse or otherwise. But it will be more entertaining. Loading For each topic raised, he had an answer, and the answers were reasonable. Most would hold broad appeal on talkback radio. Why do we wait for ruckmen? And why do they have to nominate for the ruck like it's an Auskick game? And what is it with quarters going 35 minutes and longer? Possibly because he had not yet had time to be briefed by his new staff on the myriad reasons why things are the way they are, his answers were pleasingly frank and not hysterical. The AFL wanted challenging views from someone who was a game insider but an outsider at league headquarters, so they hired Swann. They wanted a sop to clubs and to return to speaking openly in the football vernacular to fans. Swann was getting in early to deliver on their request. The AFL wanted someone from 'clubland' as though it is some amorphous beast where Swann speaks the groupthink. Being from clubland and knowing the interests and preferences of all clubs are two different things, but at the very least, Swann has the connections to temperature-check if his views accord with others. Even CEO Andrew Dillon standing next to him at a press conference on Swann's first day laughed at the club man idea, saying 'give it six months'. Amusingly, Swann chuckled up to the press conference and laid out some plans for change, then praised the good work of everyone whose work he had just been saying he wants to change. Some of his preferred changes he reckons he could get in quickly. There is no real integrity problem in refusing to wait for ruckmen, but it could be his first introduction to unhappy coaches when the ball is thrown up before that club's ruckman is there. Simplifying rules like holding the ball and the stand rule, to make umpiring easier, might take more time. Ditto throwing the ball up instead of bouncing. That might need to wait until next year. Resistance might come in surprising places when he presses the issue. He told critics to suck it up about a rare 50-metre penalty for dissent that was paid at the MCG on Sunday when Fremantle's Karl Worner pointed to the scoreboard replay. 'I think everyone knows you're not allowed to do that, so don't do it,' he said, admitting others will complain of similar instances that were not penalised. Oh well, that'll happen. His style was ironically more Peter V'Landys than Andrew Dillon. The AFL ordinarily ignores the belligerent V'Landys, Swann was more unafraid to dare utter the three letters N. R. L. Swann took the lead of Andrew Dillon to remind all that his suggestions were all minor tweaks and that the overall game was in rude health. Best game in the world. He then went where the AFL seldom does and name-checked the other codes. 'From my point of view (AFL) is a fantastic game. It's the best game in the world,' he said. 'I mean, I've moved up to Queensland, obviously, and you get rugby league and everything else, the British Lions were there on the weekend. And our game leaves them in the shade. 'The things (changes) I'm talking about, hopefully are tweaks, there's nothing radical needs to happen.' Loading
The Age
4 days ago
- Sport
- The Age
Greg swans into AFL job with a radical plan to exercise common sense
The Swann era has started, and it sounds more Ian Collins than Adrian Anderson, Steve Hocking or Laura Kane. That is not to say it will be better, worse or otherwise. But it will be more entertaining. Loading For each topic raised, he had an answer, and the answers were reasonable. Most would hold broad appeal on talkback radio. Why do we wait for ruckmen? And why do they have to nominate for the ruck like it's an Auskick game? And what is it with quarters going 35 minutes and longer? Possibly because he had not yet had time to be briefed by his new staff on the myriad reasons why things are the way they are, his answers were pleasingly frank and not hysterical. The AFL wanted challenging views from someone who was a game insider but an outsider at league headquarters, so they hired Swann. They wanted a sop to clubs and to return to speaking openly in the football vernacular to fans. Swann was getting in early to deliver on their request. The AFL wanted someone from 'clubland' as though it is some amorphous beast where Swann speaks the groupthink. Being from clubland and knowing the interests and preferences of all clubs are two different things, but at the very least, Swann has the connections to temperature-check if his views accord with others. Even CEO Andrew Dillon standing next to him at a press conference on Swann's first day laughed at the club man idea, saying 'give it six months'. Amusingly, Swann chuckled up to the press conference and laid out some plans for change, then praised the good work of everyone whose work he had just been saying he wants to change. Some of his preferred changes he reckons he could get in quickly. There is no real integrity problem in refusing to wait for ruckmen, but it could be his first introduction to unhappy coaches when the ball is thrown up before that club's ruckman is there. Simplifying rules like holding the ball and the stand rule, to make umpiring easier, might take more time. Ditto throwing the ball up instead of bouncing. That might need to wait until next year. Resistance might come in surprising places when he presses the issue. He told critics to suck it up about a rare 50-metre penalty for dissent that was paid at the MCG on Sunday when Fremantle's Karl Worner pointed to the scoreboard replay. 'I think everyone knows you're not allowed to do that, so don't do it,' he said, admitting others will complain of similar instances that were not penalised. Oh well, that'll happen. His style was ironically more Peter V'Landys than Andrew Dillon. The AFL ordinarily ignores the belligerent V'Landys, Swann was more unafraid to dare utter the three letters N. R. L. Swann took the lead of Andrew Dillon to remind all that his suggestions were all minor tweaks and that the overall game was in rude health. Best game in the world. He then went where the AFL seldom does and name-checked the other codes. 'From my point of view (AFL) is a fantastic game. It's the best game in the world,' he said. 'I mean, I've moved up to Queensland, obviously, and you get rugby league and everything else, the British Lions were there on the weekend. And our game leaves them in the shade. 'The things (changes) I'm talking about, hopefully are tweaks, there's nothing radical needs to happen.' Loading
Perth Now
25-06-2025
- Sport
- Perth Now
AFLW coaches involved in first all girls Auskick gala day
It will be a historic occasion for female football in WA on Sunday with the first All Girls Auskick Gala Day. Des Penman Reserve in Nollamara will host the first event of its kind in any state in what's a milestone moment for female participation. More than 40 clubs and 430 players aged 5 to 12 from across the metropolitan area are taking part, bringing together hundreds of budding girls footballers for a fun, inclusive footy experience. All WAFL zones will have community football club representation from their district attending. Your local paper, whenever you want it. The event is a reflection of the growing demand for girls-only football options at the Auskick level and showcases the AFL's commitment to growing the women and girls' pathway, starting from grassroots. Both Fremantle and West Coast's AFLW sides will have players attending as well as head coaches Lisa Webb and Daisy Pearce, a recently announced Australian Football Hall of Fame inductee and pioneer of women's football. The event is happening from 9am to noon.
Sydney Morning Herald
06-06-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
Crooks who zigged when they should have zagged
2) Carl's three boo-boos For a drug boss and killer, Carl Williams made many dumb decisions. Here are three. Williams commissioned one of his hit teams (he had five) to kill hot dog vendor Michael Marshall, and the paid killer known as 'The Runner' sourced a clean car for the job. Police had got there first, bugging the car and hiding a tracking device in the rebuilt sedan. But the brake light stayed on, leading The Runner to find the device. He sought advice from Williams, who told him to carry on, using The Runner's own car, which was already bugged. After he killed Marshall, he was recorded ringing the 'Big Fella' with the message: 'You know that horse you and George [Carl's father] tipped me? It got scratched.' The Runner and the driver were arrested that night. The next mistake Carl made was not to pay his hitmen. He had promised The Runner $100,000 to kill rival Jason Moran – which he did, during an Auskick morning in Essendon North. But by June 2003, Williams had paid him only $2500. The Marshall contract was worth $300,000. The Runner was paid a $50,000 deposit, but once jailed, Williams sent the hitman's mother a paltry $1500. You shortchange hitmen at your peril. The Runner became a prosecution witness and was one reason Williams eventually had to plead guilty to several murders. The third mistake was when Williams wanted to do a deal, and he believed informing on an allegedly corrupt cop would not be seen by the underworld as being a snitch. But one gangster thought Williams needed to take certain secrets to the grave. In 2010, he was beaten to death inside prison by fellow inmate Matt Johnson. 3) Why they invented voicemail On December 22, 2003, Carl Williams and hitman Andrew 'Benji' Veniamin met Melbourne identity Mick Gatto at Crown casino for peace talks. Gatto said he wanted to remain neutral but made it clear he could fight gunfire with gunfire. 'If anything comes my way then I'll send somebody to you. I'll be careful with you, be careful with me,' Gatto said. 'I believe you, you believe me; now we're even. That's a warning. It's not my war.' When Williams considered a truce, Veniamin urged, 'Kill him'. The second dumb decision was when Benji answered his phone on March 23, 2004. It was Gatto inviting him to a Carlton restaurant, where Veniamin was shot dead. Gatto was charged, then acquitted on the grounds of self-defence. If only Benji had let the call go to voicemail. 4) The dumb cop and the public phone William Stephen 'Dingy' Harris was not much of a cop, but he was an excellent conman. In the police force, he was a sergeant stationed at Hawthorn, but to the underworld he was known as 'The Captain' and had impressive contacts that could protect massive hashish importations of more than 300 kilos a time. The syndicate would pay him $300,000 a pop. Dingy's identity was known by few, and to protect himself he would never use the Hawthorn police station phone to talk business, preferring to use the public one across the road, believing it couldn't be bugged. By the time he knew he was wrong, the jig was well and truly up. In the secret investigation code-named Rock, police recorded 14,000 phone calls and in October 1987, Dingy was sentenced to 14 years' jail, where he was allowed a couple of phone calls a week. 5) Know when to walk away, know when to run Loading The six-man burglary team was to pull off the crime of the century. Break into the Sigma pharmaceutical company and steal amphetamines with a street value of $166 million. They broke into the plant 25 times – perfecting their methods based on the movie Heat, in which the message was: at the first sign of risk, walk away. When they were setting up CCTV monitors in the ceiling, they found a system that had been set up by police to watch them. Rather than walk away, they convinced themselves it was the management that was using the system to monitor staff. One was recorded saying: 'Flash a brown eye at them. It was our idea to put a camera in, anyway.' In September 1996, they were arrested at the scene by the special operations group as they broke into Sigma. 6) The clock was ticking, but not in a good way As a terrorist, Hagob Levonian should have spent less time studying international politics and more time swatting up on chemistry. In 1986, he came to Melbourne to blow up the Turkish consulate. However, he ignored the fundamentals of OH&S. He was supposed to set the timer for a few hours. Sadly, he stuffed up and was blown to pieces. Forensic experts found a piece of skin the size of a 5¢ piece at the blast site that matched a fingerprint on an invoice book from Levonian. The only other remains found were a pair of feet in the bomber's shoes. 7) Drugs are bad, OK? Allan Williams was a drug dealer who used his own product and was too big for his boots. Why else would he agree to the crazy scheme to kill an interstate undercover cop to stop him testifying in a case so weak it was doomed to fail? He wanted to bribe the undercover, Mick Drury, but when he refused the offer, Williams, NSW rogue cop Roger Rogerson and hitman Christopher Dale Flannery conspired to kill him. On June 6, 1984, Drury was shot in his Chatswood home, but survived. The backlash was immediate. Although never convicted, Rogerson was finished, and he died in prison serving time for another murder. Flannery was considered too hot to handle and killed in cold blood, while Williams pleaded guilty to trying to bribe and then kill Drury. He later told me: 'I was a giant in the trade; I thought I was invincible and unpinchable. But I stepped over the line with the Drury thing. It is something I will regret for the rest of my life.' 8) Milking a snake without gloves Barrister-turned-snitch Nicola Gobbo didn't play by the rules. She was too close to her clients, then she turned on them, becoming a police informer while still feeding crooks titbits of information. She burnt both sides, which has become a stain on the criminal justice system costing north of $300 million, and with criminal appeals and civil action, shows no signs of reaching resolution. Loading 9) The smiling assassins In a world full of dangerous men, Nik Radev was a man to be feared. He had ambitions to be a drug boss and wanted to 'borrow' a drug cook who worked for Carl Williams and Tony Mokbel. The fear was that he wouldn't give him back. In April 2003, he was lured to a meeting at a coffee shop in Brighton and then given directions to travel across town to get the cook. He was ambushed in his car in Coburg. Earlier, he paid $55,000 in cash for dental surgery to have teeth as pearly white as his idol Tony Montana from Scarface, money that would have been better spent on armour-plating his car. He remembered to floss but forgot to duck. 10) Mafia's own goal In the 1970s, the Griffith mafia had a winning hand. Corrupt cops, bent politicians, an Australian-wide transport network and a near-monopoly on massive cannabis crops. They were rich and getting richer. Trouble was, there was a whistleblower and that son of a bitch was brave and getting braver. Local furniture shop owner Donald Mackay had reported on a couple of crops. Instead of seeing it as a minor hiccup, the mafia took out a $10,000 contract on his life.
The Age
06-06-2025
- The Age
Crooks who zigged when they should have zagged
2) Carl's three boo-boos For a drug boss and killer, Carl Williams made many dumb decisions. Here are three. Williams commissioned one of his hit teams (he had five) to kill hot dog vendor Michael Marshall, and the paid killer known as 'The Runner' sourced a clean car for the job. Police had got there first, bugging the car and hiding a tracking device in the rebuilt sedan. But the brake light stayed on, leading The Runner to find the device. He sought advice from Williams, who told him to carry on, using The Runner's own car, which was already bugged. After he killed Marshall, he was recorded ringing the 'Big Fella' with the message: 'You know that horse you and George [Carl's father] tipped me? It got scratched.' The Runner and the driver were arrested that night. The next mistake Carl made was not to pay his hitmen. He had promised The Runner $100,000 to kill rival Jason Moran – which he did, during an Auskick morning in Essendon North. But by June 2003, Williams had paid him only $2500. The Marshall contract was worth $300,000. The Runner was paid a $50,000 deposit, but once jailed, Williams sent the hitman's mother a paltry $1500. You shortchange hitmen at your peril. The Runner became a prosecution witness and was one reason Williams eventually had to plead guilty to several murders. The third mistake was when Williams wanted to do a deal, and he believed informing on an allegedly corrupt cop would not be seen by the underworld as being a snitch. But one gangster thought Williams needed to take certain secrets to the grave. In 2010, he was beaten to death inside prison by fellow inmate Matt Johnson. 3) Why they invented voicemail On December 22, 2003, Carl Williams and hitman Andrew 'Benji' Veniamin met Melbourne identity Mick Gatto at Crown casino for peace talks. Gatto said he wanted to remain neutral but made it clear he could fight gunfire with gunfire. 'If anything comes my way then I'll send somebody to you. I'll be careful with you, be careful with me,' Gatto said. 'I believe you, you believe me; now we're even. That's a warning. It's not my war.' When Williams considered a truce, Veniamin urged, 'Kill him'. The second dumb decision was when Benji answered his phone on March 23, 2004. It was Gatto inviting him to a Carlton restaurant, where Veniamin was shot dead. Gatto was charged, then acquitted on the grounds of self-defence. If only Benji had let the call go to voicemail. 4) The dumb cop and the public phone William Stephen 'Dingy' Harris was not much of a cop, but he was an excellent conman. In the police force, he was a sergeant stationed at Hawthorn, but to the underworld he was known as 'The Captain' and had impressive contacts that could protect massive hashish importations of more than 300 kilos a time. The syndicate would pay him $300,000 a pop. Dingy's identity was known by few, and to protect himself he would never use the Hawthorn police station phone to talk business, preferring to use the public one across the road, believing it couldn't be bugged. By the time he knew he was wrong, the jig was well and truly up. In the secret investigation code-named Rock, police recorded 14,000 phone calls and in October 1987, Dingy was sentenced to 14 years' jail, where he was allowed a couple of phone calls a week. 5) Know when to walk away, know when to run Loading The six-man burglary team was to pull off the crime of the century. Break into the Sigma pharmaceutical company and steal amphetamines with a street value of $166 million. They broke into the plant 25 times – perfecting their methods based on the movie Heat, in which the message was: at the first sign of risk, walk away. When they were setting up CCTV monitors in the ceiling, they found a system that had been set up by police to watch them. Rather than walk away, they convinced themselves it was the management that was using the system to monitor staff. One was recorded saying: 'Flash a brown eye at them. It was our idea to put a camera in, anyway.' In September 1996, they were arrested at the scene by the special operations group as they broke into Sigma. 6) The clock was ticking, but not in a good way As a terrorist, Hagob Levonian should have spent less time studying international politics and more time swatting up on chemistry. In 1986, he came to Melbourne to blow up the Turkish consulate. However, he ignored the fundamentals of OH&S. He was supposed to set the timer for a few hours. Sadly, he stuffed up and was blown to pieces. Forensic experts found a piece of skin the size of a 5¢ piece at the blast site that matched a fingerprint on an invoice book from Levonian. The only other remains found were a pair of feet in the bomber's shoes. 7) Drugs are bad, OK? Allan Williams was a drug dealer who used his own product and was too big for his boots. Why else would he agree to the crazy scheme to kill an interstate undercover cop to stop him testifying in a case so weak it was doomed to fail? He wanted to bribe the undercover, Mick Drury, but when he refused the offer, Williams, NSW rogue cop Roger Rogerson and hitman Christopher Dale Flannery conspired to kill him. On June 6, 1984, Drury was shot in his Chatswood home, but survived. The backlash was immediate. Although never convicted, Rogerson was finished, and he died in prison serving time for another murder. Flannery was considered too hot to handle and killed in cold blood, while Williams pleaded guilty to trying to bribe and then kill Drury. He later told me: 'I was a giant in the trade; I thought I was invincible and unpinchable. But I stepped over the line with the Drury thing. It is something I will regret for the rest of my life.' 8) Milking a snake without gloves Barrister-turned-snitch Nicola Gobbo didn't play by the rules. She was too close to her clients, then she turned on them, becoming a police informer while still feeding crooks titbits of information. She burnt both sides, which has become a stain on the criminal justice system costing north of $300 million, and with criminal appeals and civil action, shows no signs of reaching resolution. Loading 9) The smiling assassins In a world full of dangerous men, Nik Radev was a man to be feared. He had ambitions to be a drug boss and wanted to 'borrow' a drug cook who worked for Carl Williams and Tony Mokbel. The fear was that he wouldn't give him back. In April 2003, he was lured to a meeting at a coffee shop in Brighton and then given directions to travel across town to get the cook. He was ambushed in his car in Coburg. Earlier, he paid $55,000 in cash for dental surgery to have teeth as pearly white as his idol Tony Montana from Scarface, money that would have been better spent on armour-plating his car. He remembered to floss but forgot to duck. 10) Mafia's own goal In the 1970s, the Griffith mafia had a winning hand. Corrupt cops, bent politicians, an Australian-wide transport network and a near-monopoly on massive cannabis crops. They were rich and getting richer. Trouble was, there was a whistleblower and that son of a bitch was brave and getting braver. Local furniture shop owner Donald Mackay had reported on a couple of crops. Instead of seeing it as a minor hiccup, the mafia took out a $10,000 contract on his life.
