In Shakespeare’s ‘Henry V’ a young king has the responsibility of resolving the mistakes of a once great kingdom and leading his people back to their deserved place of power. It’s a story of a promising son installing hope in his counterparts, and ensuring that the people he rules over look back fondly on his reign.
In many ways, Dustin Martin was the Richmond Football Club's King Henry. Dusty was a promising young footballer, with a ‘bad boy’ personality, that quickly became the figure that Tiger fans hoped would take them back to their years of dominance of the 70’s and 80’s, after decades of pain and misery.
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Some of my most vivid memories of growing up a Tigers supporter were walking from Jolimont Station down to the MCG, holding my mum’s hand, with a poorly ironed number 4 on my back, hopeful that this might be the weekend my beloved ‘tiges’ wouldn’t break my heart.
Anyone who grew up a Richmond supporter knows just how embarrassing it was turning up to school on Monday to face the taunts of Hawthorn, Geelong, or Collingwood supporters. For too many years, Richmond had pushed grown men and women into depression, their kids' yellow and black face paint ruined by the tears running down their cheeks.
This is the bizarre passion that comes with loving a football team.
By 2010, Martin's first year in the AFL, Richmond had a new and inexperienced coach and captain. They had not made the finals in eight years. They had not made the grand final in 28 years. They had not won the premiership in over three decades.
They started that season 0-9 and were in the discussion as one of the worst teams in the history of the sport.
It was a horror movie at Tigerland.
Despite this, the debut season of a young, tattooless Dustin Martin had tens of thousands of starved tiger supporters in raptures. His strength, versatility, and trademark fend-off were enough to keep Richmond memberships out of the microwave, and there was finally some light at the end of the tunnel.
In 2013, just three seasons later, Richmond would have their best season in over a decade, finishing fifth and securing a finals berth for the first time since 2001.
Martin was now the face of this young and exciting Richmond side.
Progress at Richmond was clear, but after three elimination finals exit (2013, 2014 and 2015), 2016 had us all bracing for another year of heartbreak.
To the Tiger's credit, they let us down rather gently, playing such dismally bad football that every Richmond supporter forgot what hope and expectation felt like.
Richmond finished 13th.
Despite all this, Martin had turned from a prospect to a genuine star of the competition, earning his first all-Australian blazer and a top-3 finish in the Brownlow. He had opposition clubs, including North Melbourne and GWS, breathing down his neck with whispers of million-dollar contracts.
When that season ended, the club was visibly going backwards and in the midst of a borderline coup.
Except Martin was playing career-best football and had interest from a plethora of other teams. He was surely going to leave Richmond, make millions, and achieve the success he deserved.
Richmond would go into the dark yet again.
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At the top of Act 3 in ‘Henry V’, Henry’s army is on their knees. He is quickly losing hope of rallying his troops against the French, and the fall of the English kingdom is on the horizon.
If Shakespeare penned Henry to be England's hero, the football gods placed Martin to be Richmond’s. A tale of Shakespearean proportions needs a hero in the same vein.
It’s probably not unfair (given his history with the media and his hatred for talking) that Dustin Martin did not come up with words as beautiful and inspiring as;
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.”
Who knows, maybe Dusty loves Shakespeare.
Regardless, like King Henry, a now mature Dustin Martin was tasked with delivering a miracle in getting Richmond back into competitive shape.
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When Richmond won the premiership in 2017, I was 13 years old.
My idea of a party was still ice cream cake, Fanta and Macklemore sing-a-longs.
I will never forget the scenes on Swan St. that Saturday night. Fans halted trams, turned bottle-o’s into bars, and turned the suburb on its head. I had never seen anything like it, and now realise as I've matured that it was the only deserved celebration.
It was the celebration of 37 years of frustration dissolving and the relief that we finally had respect back, and a superstar in yellow and black.
Martin hadn’t just won Richmond a premiership, he had won the club respect.
Martin had the most accoladed and acclaimed individual season the game has ever seen.
AFL legend Leigh Matthews described it as the greatest-ever individual season in AFL/VFL history.
In 2017, he won just about every individual award that a kid dreams of winning.
Brownlow Medal? Check. Norm Smith Medal? Check. 3AW’s VicSuper Player Of The Year award? Check.
Barbers across Melbourne were shaving the sides of more heads than ever, and tattoo artists were dishing out more neck tattoos than ever.
Dustin Martin was no longer the face of Richmond, he was the face of the sport.
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The following year, Richmond was under pressure to ensure they maintained their place at the top of the competition.
The Tigers took out the minor premiership and were unanimous favourites to go back-to-back.
Martin also continued his fine form, gaining his 3rd All-Australian honour and finishing equal sixth in the Brownlow Medal.
In the qualifying final, Martin played his 200th game and kicked one of the greatest goals in finals history. Fetching the ball in heavy rain and guiding it home, tucked against the boundary line. Along with the opening verse of Nick Cave’s ‘Into My Arms’ and Albert Namatjira’s ghost gum paintings, it became one of the most beautiful things an Australian has ever produced.
But premiership hopes would be tarnished just a fortnight later, as Collingwood supporters filled the MCG and my nightmares with “USA!” chants. A heavily injured Dustin Martin hobbled around the field and delivered his worst finals performance.
All was redeemed in 2019, however, when Martin and the Tigers cruised to their twelfth premiership in the club's history. Martin kicked 12 goals across three games in the Finals, including a career-best six against Brisbane.
He won a second Gary Ayres award for the best finals performer and a second Norm Smith medal, becoming just the 4th player in history to win the latter twice.
When the pandemic hit in 2020, human lives became so interrupted that it was impossible to carry on like we normally would.
Our motivation, our health, and our happiness suffered.
Thankfully for Richmond supporters, Dustin Martin is not human.
That year Martin was again All-Australian, carrying Richmond to their third premiership in four years. He became the only player in history to win a 3rd Norm Smith Medal. For me at least, his Grand Final performance was the best individual performance I have ever seen.
The dynasty was complete; Martin had fulfilled the Punt Rd prophecy. There was no need for him and his teammates to keep chasing hero status. Supporters were all still recovering from hangovers anyway; we all needed a break.
He would, of course, continue to dazzle fans for a few seasons to come.
But injuries and the death of his father prevented him from returning to the heights of his late 2010's form.
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When Henry V returns to London after conquering Northern France, he remains humble amongst his thousands of followers. He is aware that he has fulfilled his promises and solidified his great legacy, but through it all forbids any mass celebration.
For Martin, his shock retirement a fortnight ago simply is a reflection of his humbleness and his shy nature. There were no parades and little mourning, just a simple statement thanking everyone who joined the ride with him.
Dustin Martin never wanted to be the figure that he was—the figure that was more than just a great footballer. But it was impossible for it to play out any other way.
William Shakespeare didn’t write about many AFL footballers, but Martin is surely the closest we have to a footballer who fits the Shakespearean mould.
A young boy from Castlemaine, with a troubled past, who became the hero of a desperate population.
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Over the last fortnight, I’ve been reflecting on whether I would be the same person without Dustin Martin. It’s a bizarre (and rather pathetic) thought, but maybe without him I would have been starved of happiness in my teens.
When you’re an avid supporter of any sporting team, you gamble with your emotions and, more often than not, lose them all.
But when you get to grow up watching players like Dusty, maybe it’s all worth it.
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