Saying Goodbye

By Kiwi Kali

It’s over. Never again will I scream, in concert with tens of thousands of others at the most magnificent of AFL grounds, the glorious MCG, “DUSTYYYYYY!!”, as one of the most mercurial and talented AFL footballers of a generation grabbed the ball, fended off one or two opposition players with his trademark “Don’t Argue”, tore down the field and fluidly kicked a seemingly impossible goal for Richmond. 

 

Dustin Martin has retired from football, having played 302 games and kicked 338 goals for the Richmond Tigers. A one club player, a rarity in the modern AFL landscape with trade deals and free agency. A Tiger For Life. Which is what the Richmond faithful were promised when he signed a seven year contract in 2017 for reportedly less than other clubs offered him. A man for whom loyalty to his teammates and the Tiger Army meant more than anything. 

 

I’ve written previously about my admiration for Dusty. Shane “Kiwi” Martin, Dustin’s father died in late 2021. He was essentially living in exile in New Zealand, unable to see his son. Shane wasn’t there for any of Richmond’s three premierships, games in which his son was adjudged best on ground, winning the Norm Smith Medal, which he tucked away inside his guernsey, wanting to share the Premiership medal with his teammates. 

 

It would be too simplistic to blame events such as his father’s death, the pandemic, the move of his Premiership coach to the Gold Coast, or the retirements of his close friends and teammates, Trent Cotchin and Jack Riewoldt in 2023. An occasion when Dusty, rarely one to speak publicly, narrated a farewell message to two Richmond and AFL greats.

 

Elite sport appears punishing, particularly in the glare of a public ravenous for information and armed with mobile phones, and media searching for a new, or the same, beaten angle. But add in restrictions on travel, the inability to connect with loved ones, to not be able to escape somewhere for some privacy and downtime, and it must take its toll. He approached the celebration of his 300th game recently in typical fashion – no media, no fanfare, and a token interview with Fox Footy’s Jack Riewoldt after the game, in which he merely repeated the same phrases over and over: how surreal it was, and how grateful he was to his club and its fans. 

 

It’s hard to explain to a non-sports fan how much of an impact a complete stranger can have on one’s life. I can only describe the feeling of watching Dusty in full flight as pure joy. Even if I was sitting by myself in front of the TV, when Dusty scored a goal, I grinned, punched the air and yelled his name. And then I tweeted, usually just one word “DUSTY!”. The exclamation mark was probably unnecessary, because that is what has defined his career – the ability to do things other players just cannot do. There is a goal in the 2020 AFL Grand Final which typifies this. Richmond were down against the Geelong Cats, and the game was slipping away. Seemingly out of nowhere, Martin chased the ball, fended off tackles and kicked a goal. Richmond went to the halftime break within touching distance of their opponents. In the third quarter, known as the Premiership quarter, he dribble kicked the ball through to put the Tigers in the lead. But the goal we all remember from that Grand Final is when the game was as good as won with only minutes to go, and Dusty fended off the excellent Patrick Dangerfield, who could only grab onto a handful of Dusty’s yellow and black jumper, pivoted and then kicked a goal, essentially unsighted. And of course it sailed through. No one would remember that moment if Dangerfield, himself a prodigious talent, had successfully stopped him. 

 

I returned to the ‘G after a long absence on Anzac Eve in 2023. It was painful to see Dusty visibly slower than the player in his prime. Richmond lost, an all too familiar sight in recent years. They will end this season 18th out of 18 teams. 

 

I still cannot believe that I will never see Dusty in his (and my) beloved yellow and black, scoring a goal in front of the Tiger Army at the Punt Road end of the MCG, the spiritual home of Richmond fans. I find it hard to think of him in the past tense. Oh to have had one more chance to jump to my feet, scarf around my neck, and yell, with tens of thousands: DUSTYYYYYY! 

 

Go well, Dustin Martin. May you grieve the loss of Shane in the way he and you deserve, and may you find comfort in the joy that you brought so many. Thank you seems inadequate, but it’s all your fans have. 

 

Mehemea he raruraru kei a koe, me wewete e koe

If you have troubles, free yourself.

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