The following is an edited version of a chapter that appeared in Ben Collins' book The Champions: Conversations with Great Players & Coaches of Australian Football, published by The Slattery Media Group in 2006.

Watch the media player to watch Brad Johnson's interview with Charlie Sutton on what the Club means to him.

Working in quarries did me a world of good. After three-and-a-half years in the army I thought I might become a bit soft, so I worked in the Newport quarries to toughen myself up. Back then, there weren’t any front-end loaders - it was all done by hand. It was bloody hard work but it was great for my conditioning for when I returned to Footscray (in 1946). It was a good warm-up for a football match.

“Shop early and avoid the rush.” I got that saying from (Frank) ‘Checker’ Hughes (the legendary Richmond and Melbourne coach) when he coached the Victorian team. It meant get the jump-start on the opposition and make them play catch-up football; and if there’s any rough stuff to take place, make sure you do it early on to upset them and get the upper hand. Just to make sure, get to the shop before it opens.

No premiership side is ever an overnight success. When I was appointed captain-coach after the 1950 season, I hadn’t even captained the club before. I was a bit nervous about how I was going to handle it and how the players would respond to me being in charge. I told the committee: “Don’t rush things, let me take care of business and we’ll have a shot at the premiership in four years.” It all ran perfectly to schedule.

A playing coach must be prepared to sacrifice his own game for the team. You must be prepared to put yourself in the toughest positions. There’s no point in a playing coach winning the best and fairest if the team isn’t going well. You need to get other players to play like you do so they can become on-field leaders and make your job easier.

I was careful not to overtrain players who had worked hard physically during the day. I wanted to know how their legs felt; if they felt strong, you knew you were giving them the right amount of heavy work. With blokes who had pen-pushing jobs, you could work them harder.

It’s second nature to help out a teammate during a game when you’re great mates off the field. We got the players and their wives and girlfriends together socially and showed them that it was all for one and one for all. That breeds a warm atmosphere where strong friendships are made. You’d do anything for each other.

We weren’t an overly physical team so we tried to open the game up and have as little of the play in the clinches as possible. We were still very hard at it; it’s just that we played on whenever we could and emphasised handball and long kicking.

In ’53, we won the first final in the Bulldogs’ history. We beat Essendon but then lost the preliminary final to Geelong. I didn’t think that we were quite ready to play in a Grand Final. But we were ready to go in ’54. I could sense it, and so could the players and the supporters.

It felt like I grew another leg for finals. I was only 5’7” (169cm), but I felt like I was 6’7” (201cm). Some blokes shied away from that type of atmosphere, but I loved it.

You only earn respect when you beat the best. Geelong finished on top of the ladder (for the fourth consecutive season) but we beat them in the second semi-final. It really topped up the belief among the players that we could win a flag.

We had the best training session I’ve been involved with during our week’s rest. We trained at Footscray on the Sunday before the Grand Final in front of more than 18,000 people. It had the atmosphere of a match, and the ball hardly hit the ground.

We instructed the players not to go mad (in the Grand Final) - I could look after that side of the business. Everyone was to keep their cool. Melbourne had a few tough nuts in their side but I told the players: “I’ll look after the heavy stuff, you just concentrate on playing football.” We were going to play run-on football at all costs and, of course, shop early and avoid the rush.

I made out I was injured and the plan worked. I’d missed the second semi-final with a (left) hamstring strain but I was 100 per cent fit for the Grand Final. But I thought that if I wore a huge bandage around my thigh the Melbourne boys would think I was still injured. It worked because they started a younger,
more inexperienced opponent on me - John Beckwith. I thought I’d try to upset them a bit so I started a dust-up with Beckwith and had another with (Ron) Barassi. We had them worried because they started shifting their backmen around. They put their captain, Geoff Collins, on me. I thought: ‘Hello, there’s the crack in the armour.' Geoff had a wonderful war record as a fighter pilot (in Korea). We had a few words and a bit of a niggle, but nothing serious. By then though, we were on our way.

It’s hard to get there; it’s even harder to stay there. After we won the premiership, we didn’t perform as well as we should have. I don’t think we had experienced people around the club to handle the success.

You’re in trouble when you start playing like millionaires. Round one in 1955 against Collingwood was a great exhibition of football. No matter what we did that day, we could do no wrong (in a 56-point win). The next week we played Richmond at Footscray and were terrific in the first half, but then our fellas started doing the flashy things. When players ignore the basics, it’s the hardest thing in the world to get them back on track. We missed the top four.

The supporters make you; you don’t make them. Respect them. They give you enormous support and players appreciate it and ride on it. Our theme in ’54 was: “Do it for the supporters. They’re the ones who have stuck with us the whole time, through thick and thin, and they’re the ones we need to reward.”

You can’t be a sook in a game of football. If you cop a whack, don’t make a big song and dance about it. Fight fire with fire. The next time the ball comes near you, go in harder and make it yours.

Ted Whitten was as good a player as I’ve seen. Teddy got a lot of injuries early in his career when we played him at full-forward and centre half-forward. Ted’s mum got a bit worried about him. I told her: “Mrs Whitten, I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll play Ted at centre half-back and I won’t move him. He won’t get knocked around as much there.” We left Ted there for five years and by then he was one of the best players in the League. It would have been great to see Teddy play on (Wayne) Carey. Teddy would have been quicker, but Carey might have been stronger.

People are often too quick to barrel a coach when they don’t know the full story. Usually the public, and sometimes even the club’s committee, don’t know the real reasons why a side or certain players aren’t performing. They’re not privy to everything that goes on behind the scenes - the conversations a coach has with certain players about problems they’re having in their personal lives that are affecting their approach to their football. When people are calling for your head, you have to turn a deaf ear to them.

It’s about what you can do for the club, not what the club can do for you. It’s like what (US president) John F. Kennedy said. What’s best for you individually isn’t always best for the club, so sometimes you have to swallow your pride. It might hurt at the time, but people will respect you for it.

A football club is like your mother. It’s your first and only one. You learn a lot from them and they influence the person you become. They gave us our opportunity, our start, and opened doors for us. They play a huge part in our lives. If it wasn’t for League football, a lot of us wouldn’t even be known. If you can’t help them, don’t hinder them. Respect them; don’t disrespect, bad-mouth or knock them about.