In the latest extract from the compelling new book, ‘The Hafey Years’, author Elliot Cartledge looks at the power behind the throne in that golden Tiger era - the inimitable Graeme Richmond.

“If ever the times suited one man it was Graeme Richmond.  Just 29 when appointed club secretary, he represented a new breed of administrator.  Tough, uncompromising and utterly fearless, he came to power during an era known for its conservatism and quaint, amateur conventions.  It may have been rough and tumble out on the field, but Punt Road was well known for its bonhomie; the players would have golf days and dinner dances, the officials and board members discreet nips of scotch while mingling with whichever nob was around at the time. 

It was all rather pleasant.

But not for GR the stuffy old boy networks, despite being a product of Geelong Grammar.  Nor the affable hospitality for opposing teams and officials displayed by [Maurie] Fleming [Club secretary] and company at Punt Road after yet another loss.  GR crossed swords at regular intervals with rival club secretaries and off-field figures, often in extremely blunt terms, and came to delight in antagonising VFL House at every opportunity. 

He pursued the restoration of the Tigers with a zeal that left his contemporaries in awe; he was quite simply a man possessed, thinking of nothing to drive through the night after a fruitful or fruitless recruiting mission.  A man who would wade recklessly into boardroom battles yet project a united front to those who would have taken delight in a split in the Tigers’ camp.  And a man also who would have a quiet word to such-and-such a player about driving such-and-such a player into the pickets if the opportunity arose. . . . GR threw his energy into revitalising the senior playing stocks and shoring up the committee with ‘his’ people.  The position of secretary - the term was updated to ‘general manager’ in the 1970s and ‘CEO’ much later - was the only full-time role at a VFL club.  But GR took it further, working seven days a week in his efforts to turn the club around . . .

He showed early signs of the obsessions that would so consume him down the track, stopping at nothing to sign a certain recruit or becoming temporarily fixated by the way a rival club was operating.  It took its toll, particularly as the losses kept mounting up . . .

‘Many times in the first year after his appointment, I can tell you back at his house in Barkers Road, on a Saturday night, Graeme would just lie down or slump on his couch absolutely exhausted,” said GR’s close friend and 1967 Richmond premiership forward, Paddy Guinane.

‘He’d say to me, “How are we ever going to climb out of this?” and he’d have tears in his eyes.  You know, people never saw that soft side of him.  But he’d get over it, take a deep breath and say “Righto!” and off he’d go again.’

Former player [Les] Flintoff was next in GR’s sights.  Flintoff had enjoyed a modest football career (17 games between 1950-52), but had tremendous sales skills, an eye for talent and the gift of the gab.  When he asked Richmond why he was calling, GR replied, “Because it has been 20 years since we last won a bloody premiership!”

GR then made it abundantly clear how seriously he took the task at hand, telling Flintoff that nothing would stand in the way of a premiership, “Even if we have to die or bleed to death to get there . . .”

GR was relentless in the quest for success.  Up at dawn to drive hundreds of kilometres to sign a potential recruit, he would return to Melbourne to repeat the process the very next day.  He thought nothing of criss-crossing Victoria to sign, cajole or simply observe a promising player.

‘The club had a function one evening at the King’s Theatre in Russell Street and we were all there,’ said Guinane.  ‘It was a typical cabaret night, with a dance, after the game.  While we were there, one of Graeme’s recruiting blokes rang him.  This bloke had been to Ballarat to have a look at a kid, a rover.  He told Graeme the kid had played a terrific game, but there were a couple of blokes from Collingwood up there and they were talking to him after the game.

‘So, Graeme hangs up, comes over to me and says, “Can you drop my girlfriend back to Elwood for me?  I have to go.”  I tried to talk him out of it, suggesting he went up to Ballarat in the morning, or on Monday, and he said, “There is only the now.”  So he got in his car, went to Ballarat that night and chased the kid down.  As it turned out, we didn’t get the kid and he was just a good country player.  But it was the start of it - Graeme would leave no stone unturned.  He began to recruit like you’ve never seen.’

[Tony] Jewell would come to resent some of the instructions issued by GR before he took the field, but he is magnanimous in his admiration for Richmond the man’s talents.  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone who could lift you like Graeme could,’ he said.  ‘He was a fabulous orator.  He just had that sense of importance, he could create an anxiety . . .’

Neville Crowe agreed:  ‘He was the one who put it all together.  He was an interesting character; he hid away to a degree.  He didn’t want to be the president, for example.  I don’t think he could suffer being the manager or the CEO.  But he just knew what was on and how to go about it.’

‘The players used to love it when he came down to training on a Thursday, before a big game,’ recalled Dick Clay.  ‘Say, if we were playing Collingwood, he’d get up and say, “By crikey boys, you’ve never played well in League football until you’ve played well against Collingwood at Collingwood.”  The boys were just in awe, you could hear a pin drop.  He just had an aura about him.  If Graeme Richmond walked into a room to say something, you’d want to listen.  That’s the way it was’.”