Dale Morris is an iconic player to the Western Bulldogs.
He’s always been a man of few words, but like all champions, he knows how good he is.
I once described football as ‘an industry of criticism’. No matter how good you are, everyone is judged.
That bedrock of confidence is sculptured by a thousand critics. Chip, chip, chip goes the chisel. Only the truly resilient endure.
Moz hasn’t just survived, but thrived in the unrelenting cut and thrust of professional football.
It’s difficult to write about Moz, because what is left to say?
Famously, he was overlooked by the traditional pathways to a league career. The keen eye of former Bulldog and Doutta Stars coach Simon Minton-Connell was pivotal in giving the young defender a foot in the door at VFL club the Werribee Tigers.
After building an impressive CV at the VFL powerhouse, Moz was thrown a lifeline via the rookie draft to the Western Bulldogs in 2005. He was elevated that year onto the senior list and made his debut against the Crows in Round 5.
He was one of our best players in that win over the Crows, but more importantly, he played what would now be described as ‘a Dale Morris kind of game’.
To his teammates, Moz is often referred to as ‘the glove’, because he wears his opponents so closely. I’ve heard opposition forwards describe the feeling of deflation when Dale stands next to them at the opening bounce. That’s high praise, and it’s reserved for very few.
None of what I have told you is very original thinking. This is the conundrum when describing Moz.
The less he talks, the more we want to talk about him. He has played a staggeringly consistent 249 games for this club. He’s a premiership hero. He played the Grand Final with a broken back.
We laud him as one of the greats, a true son of the west. Like all defenders, he’s lowered his colours on occasion, but amazingly, no one gets beaten better than Moz. I know how crazy that sounds, but it’s true.
I admired Dale when I played on his team. I’d watch from close range his heart and will. He fought for the jumper, made his teammates better and won his position more than any other teammate I can think of.
On those rare nights when a taller opponent marked the ball on him I admired him even more because he was always there. Right next to his man, straining, fighting for that inch.
That’s more than just a football player.
