The All Australian Sadist Team

Every year before the AFL Brownlow Medal count the football media wax lyrical about the leagues silkiest players, the players with dash and élan.  The Brownlow Medal reflects not just the best players, but the fairest as well. Well, what a pile of horse shit.

We all know that this game is built on an arsenal of outright and subtle thuggery. From David King head punches to Dermott Brereton groin splitters to Craig Kelly pinches, the sadistic acts provide as much enjoyment to fans as ostentatious running goals along the wing. The explosive goals are soon forgotten, but brutality is etched in glory forever.

Hey, stop me if I’m wrong.

In that vein I’ve constructed an All-Australian Sadist Team from which a Thuglow Medalist can be chosen. I’ll walk you through the team.

Hayden Ballantyne: seemingly an unlikely contender given his physical proportions, this homunculus has perfected the art of mental torture, sucking many a seasoned footballer into an errant blow to the face or bors. Also dual position, able to play the masochist.

Campbell Brown: a smiling assassin, Brown will nut you, steal your bird and give you a wink and buy you a beer in the space of 24 hours.

Paul Chapman: Something akin to a short, bald Rasputin, Chappy is almost religious in his doggedness, although he is known to let the mask slip on occasion for which someone will pay penance.  You.

Ryan Crowley: By guile this man will be glib on the field, asking what you are bidding for on Ebay, an unnerving approach. Then wham, he’ll be all over you like herpes.

Chris Judd: Been quiet this season but boy oh boy wowee, you never know what he’ll pull out of the fire: a chicken wing, turning a players head into a bowling ball, a reverse clothesline? Absolute X factor.

James Kelly: Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. But his knees and feet have an uncanny way of connecting with vital tissues. Scamp of the very highest order.

Daniel Kerr: A fading star but gee, you can’t go past Kerry for cultural reasons. If you want to set the tone off-field, you can’t go past him. Pre-season nightlife chaperone.

Jake King: No one clarifies a complex issue quite like the ex-plumber. Whether by a led pipe, redesigning opposition players’ jumpers’ on-field or with a little help from his two wheeling friends, Push-Up gets right to the point.

Nick Kommer: Word has it the beach boy was discovered travelling the Frankston train with his mates and a broken bottle on the 11:45 on Saturday night.  Voluminous hair and testosterone to spare, this young man is a rising star.

Tom Liberatore: Hard, hard man. Most contested possessions and the apple rarely falls far from the tree.  What’s he up to?  I don’t know but one segment of the Megawall needs to be devoted to him channel 7.

Jordie McKenzie: As Alexei Sayle once said “Sir, if you must kick a face in, better that you kick in your own, where the damage will not be noticed.”  Jordie Mckenzie’s whole approach to football is underwritten by this principle.  He’ll eat a boot or bite your gooch to extract an advantage. Tenaciously cavalier.

Jarrad McVeigh: He’s a solid citizen, we know that, but you can’t trust a bald man that waxes his bonce.  That is the sadist’s code.  Shave it with a razor then shine it right up. See: Martin Pike, Paul Chapman, Chris Judd, Walter White.

Daniel Merrett: More of your old school thug. Punches to the back of the scone, mouthy, only demands car park type humiliation and acquiescence in front of your girlfriend before he lets you go. Disappointed by life’s cruel follicle allotment, but expressing it with passion.

Brent Moloney: Ruled the nightclub scene for a period, the odd errant urination outside the allotted area. Hard on and off the field he’s the natural successor for culture behind the ageing Daniel Kerr.

Steven Morris: Looks like the Replicant from Blade Runner and is just as dogged. Has a short shelf-life but intends to chase his quarry until he is discontinued and recalled. Will take heads off.

Mitch Robinson: Mad as a cut snake, Robbo will run through a crowded area of the ground like Pacman at a cherry. Cameo cock fights at youth events a highlight.

Jarryd Roughead: The son of Jaws from the James Bond movie The Spy Who Loved Me. A jaw suited to eating through one inch rope and with crazy eyes and an ugly jumper he is pure malevolence.

Aaron Sandilands: If Sandi is after a post-football career, it is surely as a dungeon master. No type of appeal for clemency could pierce that iron heart.  It would take ten months for the screams to travel from the ears to the cerebral cortex.

Scott Thompson: A study of stoicism, Thompson with an air of disinterest just chips away at his opponent like Michelangelo crafting up some marble. Stepping on your heels, pulling your shirt, pushing you here and there, it’s death by a thousand chips. You start as a David but end up a gargoyle.

Taylor Walker: Like a character in a David Lynch movie wondering into deep Texas, before you know it you’re in Taylor Walker country boy. This mullet is not ironic, I repeat, not ironic. He’s going to gimp you up and no- one is going to be in a position to say what happened in those hills.

Marley Williams: Like a rabid child you view at a party, when Williams attacks someone on the field, everyone just looks at each other about without sound, knowing Williams is going to grow. An enfant terrible, you make sure you put him on your Christmas card list.

Will Minson: Who can say anything bad about the jazz-man, the engineer, the esoteric cultural beatnik? Minson’s witty asides and puckish plays on words have devastated, devastated, many a player.

I’d like to thank my inspirations for this article which are predominantly bald men: Martin Pike, Leigh Matthews and Davros.

Complete All Australian Thug Team

FB Marley Williams, Scott Thompson, Steven Morris

HB Jarrad McVeigh, Daniel Merrett, James Kelly

C Ryan Crowley, Jordie McKenzie, Nick Kommer

HF Paul Chapman, Taylor Walker, Campbell Brown

FF Jake King, Jarryd Roughead, Mitch Robinson

F Aaron Sandilands, Tom Liberatore, Daniel Kerr

Int Will Minson, Brent Moloney, Chris Judd, Hayden Ballantyne

David Latham is an historian, pending author and freelance sports journalist.

Follow him on Twitter: @The_IronSock

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