Let me just declare straight off the bat that I am a massive fan of Collingwood small forward Jack Ginnivan.
In an era where the personality and individuality are largely drummed out of AFL players by their overcautious and image-conscious clubs, Ginnivan is a breath of fresh air.
He’s brash, he’s cocky, he’s flamboyant and he is a throwback to the likes of Dermott Brereton and Jason Akermanis.
Collingwood fans love him, and opposition fans love to hate him. He is the epitome of a pantomime villain.
He is the kind of character that footy has been crying out for, and the fact that he is only 19 years old means we are all set to enjoy at least another decade of his shenanigans.
And the thought of him stepping on centre stage next month for his first finals series is extremely exciting. Just what will he do and how will he perform in the hottest of footy furnaces? It’s going to be thrilling to find out.
The way he gets stuck into opposition fans during games is brilliant, too. Whether it be telling them to be quiet by putting his index finger over his lips after kicking a goal, or just general showboating, it’s all good for the sport.
And, of course, he now routinely gets booed by opposition fans as a result of his antics, as well as his penchant for drawing too-high free kicks. Not a bad achievement after just 25 senior games. He should wear it as a badge of honour.
One of the highlights of Collingwood’s dramatic one-point victory over arch-rival Carlton on Sunday was when Ginnivan slotted a set shot from the boundary late in the second quarter to put the Magpies up by 13 points.
After he split the big sticks, he turned around to some Carlton fans, who no doubt were offering some “free advice” from over the fence, and let them know all about it.
In front of the biggest ever home-and-away crowd between the two clubs, Ginnivan stood tall with a game-high three goals and played a key role in Carlton’s dramatic finals heartache.
A big part of the scrutiny that Ginnivan has found himself the subject of this season has been as a result of the high-tackle debate, and whether or not he plays for them by dropping his legs, shrugging his shoulder, or a bit of both.
But in a year where Ginnivan has positioned himself as one of the game’s great on-field smart arses (and I use that term lovingly), it was surprising to recently hear him talk about mental health issues which have arisen from all of this newfound attention, much of which he has wilfully sought after and attracted.
“It’s definitely a weird experience, this whole year,” Ginnivan said last month on the Ball Magnets podcast with Hawthorn’s Tom Mitchell.
“It’s been a little bit of a hard experience, I guess, like I don’t want to throw mental health around lightly because it definitely has had an effect on me.
“A couple of weeks ago, I went home and just sort of had a few days off because I was so emotionally and mentally drained from everything that’s happened. And footy was becoming sort of a chore, I guess,” he said in reference to the high-tackle issue.
“Every time I went on the field, I was just, I was already defeated for those two weeks against Adelaide and Essendon.”
And following Collingwood’s win over Port Adelaide in Round 20, he told Fox Footy: “It’s definitely taken a toll on my mental health.”
It was unfortunate to hear one of the genuine larrikins of footy feeling that way.
Granted, he hasn’t been completely to blame for all the attention he has received for his ability to draw too-high free kicks, but he has certainly played a major part in it, given how brazen some of his attempts have been.
And why have umpires rarely waved “play on” when Geelong captain Joel Selwood acted similarly throughout his 16-year career? That’s a good question, but it doesn’t mean the non-calls that Ginnivan has been on the receiving end of have been wrong this year (same goes for Bulldogs goalsneak Cody Weightman).
However, high-tackle controversy aside, Ginnivan can hardly be surprised by the fierce reaction he gets from opposition crowds whenever he goes near the ball, especially when he often proactively attempts to get a rise out of them.
Perhaps the booing he copped from the Sydney crowd in Round 22 when he left the ground injured was a little over-the-top, but even still, it was far from the worst thing ever heard at a footy game, and fans who pay their hard-earned to attend games can boo whoever they want.
It’s all part of the drama and theatre of our great game.
If Ginnivan is struggling with mental health, then he should probably avoid routinely provoking opposition fans. But if he wants to be a central figure to it all, then he can’t expect mild treatment coming back the other way from over the fence.
You live by the sword and die by the sword, and long may Ginnivan continue his ascent to the status as one of the AFL’s greatest showmen.
