Shaky Richo not short on ticker
07 April 2003 Herald Sun
By TREVOR GRANT
SO WHAT on earth do you think when your gun goalkicker prefers to handball rather than kick the ball from a set shot within spitting distance of goal?
It's a clear sign that the communication channel between brain and body is clogged with fear and uncertainty.
Matthew Richardson could have hurled his mouthguard further than he was required to kick the Tigers' 11th goal after one of his eight marks at Telstra Dome yesterday.
It was no more than 20m but after going back to prepare for his shot, directly in front, he flipped a handball to Leon Cameron, who managed to evade a clutch of grasping defenders to slot the goal.
If you want to believe the glass is always half-empty in the emotion-charged debate on Matthew Richardson's worth, you would say the guy's lost his nerve.
But let us, for a moment, believe the glass is half-full, that he was being the ultimate team man making an amazing act of self-sacrifice.
To tell the truth, I haven't got a clue which view is right. But what I found yet again yesterday is that Richardson, for all his enigmatic ways, has an amazing ability to keep on sticking out his jaw and taking on a sceptical world. He did it more than figuratively, too, yesterday, copping a nasty cut to the face in a clash of heads with Bulldog Scott West.
Yet, it did nothing to deter him from his unwavering attack on the ball. He was back into the fray soon after and immersed himself - in body and spirit - in the critical phases of the last term.
Indeed, his stunning handball to Cameron five minutes into the last quarter set off a run of five successive goals that saw the Tigers charge from three points behind to overwhelming victors.
As for his productivity, he did nothing to end the debate that raged again last week after he made splitting the atom appear easier than splitting the big sticks from 20m.
His return in statistical terms was poor again. One goal, two behinds from your main man is paltry. But Richardson - again to borrow from the half-full glass theory - is much more than a goal-kicker to the Tigers.
He is a giant who causes anxiety before he gets a sniff of the leather. Perhaps he is often more potential than producer but the distress he can cause an under-manned defence, such as the Bulldogs, is palpable.
To his credit, he worked the failings he showed against Collingwood in the first round and came up with another strategy.
It's not exactly new to see a forward scratching out a mark on the ground and then counting backwards to get some repetitive reliability into his pre-kick routine.
St Kilda's Stewart Loewe used it years ago, courtesy of a lesson from the unflappable Hawthorn champion goal-kicker of the late 1960s and early 1970s, Peter Hudson.
Now that Loewe has joined his friend and ex-team-mate Danny Frawley on the coaching staff at Richmond, it seems a method Richardson has tried before without success, has been revived.
He unveiled the latest scratch-and-win method early in the game with a kick from the boundary. It didn't work but it looked promising. Finally, well into the third quarter, he hit the jackpot.
After Bulldog Steve Kretiuk was judged to have unfairly manhandled him, Richardson put the ball under his arm, and started the long walk backwards.
From the spot he dug on the mark, he went back 11 paces and stopped. Then he kept on going, another 25 paces.
Without wanting to misrepresent him, it seemed he got a little confused with the counting. But it mattered not a bit. He slotted the 30m goal to make his mark on the scoreboard as well as the turf.
Over the years Richardson has conveyed the impression that there has not been much adherence to process or order in his approach.
He is a player who relies on his instincts. Sometimes these can be as scattered as a grass hut in a tornado.
He's all over the shop at times, arms and legs whirling away in a frightening jumble of disorder.
But there are also times when it all clicks into place and suddenly he's a genius.
Through all these stomach-churning highs and lows, Richardson, apart from a brief, notable instance last year, retains one consistent feature in his game.
He doesn't give up. He keeps hurling his mind and body into every contest that comes his way.
He did it again yesterday and even though he may not cause mayhem on the scoreboard, he is still able to do so among opposition defences.
Statistically, he may have come up empty again but as the Tigers celebrated a commanding victory, his glass was very much half-full.
07 April 2003 Herald Sun
By TREVOR GRANT
SO WHAT on earth do you think when your gun goalkicker prefers to handball rather than kick the ball from a set shot within spitting distance of goal?
It's a clear sign that the communication channel between brain and body is clogged with fear and uncertainty.
Matthew Richardson could have hurled his mouthguard further than he was required to kick the Tigers' 11th goal after one of his eight marks at Telstra Dome yesterday.
It was no more than 20m but after going back to prepare for his shot, directly in front, he flipped a handball to Leon Cameron, who managed to evade a clutch of grasping defenders to slot the goal.
If you want to believe the glass is always half-empty in the emotion-charged debate on Matthew Richardson's worth, you would say the guy's lost his nerve.
But let us, for a moment, believe the glass is half-full, that he was being the ultimate team man making an amazing act of self-sacrifice.
To tell the truth, I haven't got a clue which view is right. But what I found yet again yesterday is that Richardson, for all his enigmatic ways, has an amazing ability to keep on sticking out his jaw and taking on a sceptical world. He did it more than figuratively, too, yesterday, copping a nasty cut to the face in a clash of heads with Bulldog Scott West.
Yet, it did nothing to deter him from his unwavering attack on the ball. He was back into the fray soon after and immersed himself - in body and spirit - in the critical phases of the last term.
Indeed, his stunning handball to Cameron five minutes into the last quarter set off a run of five successive goals that saw the Tigers charge from three points behind to overwhelming victors.
As for his productivity, he did nothing to end the debate that raged again last week after he made splitting the atom appear easier than splitting the big sticks from 20m.
His return in statistical terms was poor again. One goal, two behinds from your main man is paltry. But Richardson - again to borrow from the half-full glass theory - is much more than a goal-kicker to the Tigers.
He is a giant who causes anxiety before he gets a sniff of the leather. Perhaps he is often more potential than producer but the distress he can cause an under-manned defence, such as the Bulldogs, is palpable.
To his credit, he worked the failings he showed against Collingwood in the first round and came up with another strategy.
It's not exactly new to see a forward scratching out a mark on the ground and then counting backwards to get some repetitive reliability into his pre-kick routine.
St Kilda's Stewart Loewe used it years ago, courtesy of a lesson from the unflappable Hawthorn champion goal-kicker of the late 1960s and early 1970s, Peter Hudson.
Now that Loewe has joined his friend and ex-team-mate Danny Frawley on the coaching staff at Richmond, it seems a method Richardson has tried before without success, has been revived.
He unveiled the latest scratch-and-win method early in the game with a kick from the boundary. It didn't work but it looked promising. Finally, well into the third quarter, he hit the jackpot.
After Bulldog Steve Kretiuk was judged to have unfairly manhandled him, Richardson put the ball under his arm, and started the long walk backwards.
From the spot he dug on the mark, he went back 11 paces and stopped. Then he kept on going, another 25 paces.
Without wanting to misrepresent him, it seemed he got a little confused with the counting. But it mattered not a bit. He slotted the 30m goal to make his mark on the scoreboard as well as the turf.
Over the years Richardson has conveyed the impression that there has not been much adherence to process or order in his approach.
He is a player who relies on his instincts. Sometimes these can be as scattered as a grass hut in a tornado.
He's all over the shop at times, arms and legs whirling away in a frightening jumble of disorder.
But there are also times when it all clicks into place and suddenly he's a genius.
Through all these stomach-churning highs and lows, Richardson, apart from a brief, notable instance last year, retains one consistent feature in his game.
He doesn't give up. He keeps hurling his mind and body into every contest that comes his way.
He did it again yesterday and even though he may not cause mayhem on the scoreboard, he is still able to do so among opposition defences.
Statistically, he may have come up empty again but as the Tigers celebrated a commanding victory, his glass was very much half-full.
