Deconstructing Craig Foster

When it comes to all things football in Australia, I would question whether there is a more controversial figure than the Chief Football Analyst for SBS, Craig Foster.

The man fondly known as ‘Fozzy’, or to those of us particularly close to him, ‘Foz’.

If you Google search that name, you might not get many hits if the content lock has been activated.

These are just a few words that spring to mind when I think of Foz: passionate, biased, intelligent, unintelligible, emotional, patriotic, brilliant, frustrated, hopeful, disrespectful – truth be told, the list goes on, but you get the idea.

What that list highlights is that Foz cannot be easily characterised nor pigeon holed. He is a football analysing, walking contradiction.

However, one thing he is, without any shadow of a doubt, is vitally important to the growth and development of football in Australia.

In order to properly understand and appreciate how important he is, one must go back in time, to that wonderful night on November 16, 2005. The night the Socceroos finally ended 32 years of heartbreak by qualifying for the 2006 World Cup.

People are quick to focus on the players and coach who got us there that night, perhaps rightly so. However, another moment of triumph that is too easily overlooked, is that that night was the moment when Foz inextricably and eternally entered Australian hearts, by giving the people some of the greatest sporting commentary ever known to man.

Sound a bit over the top? Well, according to the standards of Foz, I’m merely speaking moderately.

That penalty shootout, the most agonisingly tense seven minutes of my entire life, was perfectly captured, in terms of emotion, drama, and celebrating Uruguayan failure, by the man that is Foz.

Have a look at the below clip:

Foz ramps up the hyperbole early on, right from the moment he reminds us that: “you can’t think what’s riding on the penalty … these players are good enough to put it in the back of the net.”

It was Simon Hill’s job to commentate, but not according to Foz.

Quite early on in the shootout, and having spent the preceding two and a bit hours live on air with Foz, Hill must have realised that whatever stuff he learnt about commentary and journalism before that night was about to go out the window.

Well, he was right.

As Harry Kewell tucked away the first of four penalties Australia would score, Hill asked (rhetorically) whether it was ever in any doubt. To which Foz responded: “No”

You see, Foz does not believe in rhetorical questions. If there is a question mark, there’s going to be an answer.

Of course, Foz kept going: “Not with the kind of game he’s played tonight … you don’t have the career he’s had by being a shrinking violet. You step up and you get the job done.”

Quite simply, I cannot make that up. From where I’m sitting, that there is genius commentary. Being no shrinking violet himself, Foz can recognise his own.

Only one kick in, and things are already different.

Rodriguez stepped up. Mark Schwarzer saved it. Australia started to believe. And Foz really started to step up and get the job done.

Foz: “It’s massive … it’s huge … it is huge. Schwarzer stood his ground beautifully. I liked it when Rodriguez stunted his run, not once, but twice.”

There are two magnificent things about Foz in that excerpt of commentating brilliance. Firstly, his ability to make hyperbole even more over the top is certainly not something you do lightly. He informs us that it’s massive, thinks better of it, decides that it’s huge, and then confirms it by repeating that “it is huge”.

Then there is his critique of Rodriguez himself. Note that Foz likes it how he stunted his run, not once, but twice. Translation: I liked it when the Uruguayan was rubbish, not once, but twice.

It’s now apparent that impartiality and unbiased commentary are long, long gone. Foz is about to be massive, because he’s huge, he is huge.

Lucas Neill places his kick without a problem and Foz notably applauds him. Foz reminds everyone that the Socceroos are standing on the halfway line, arm in arm, team spirit for the jersey.

Gustavo Varella puts away Uruguay’s first, though Schwarzer almost saves it.

Foz then goes to the next level when Tony Vidmar, a former teammate of Foz’s, steps up and puts his kick away.

About Vidmar, Foz has this to say: “Well he’s done it all, he has done it all. He’s seen every situation … he hasn’t seen this.”

That sentence, in my mind, so beautifully sums up Foz. You’ve got the hyperbole, the passion, the repetition and the contradiction. Vidmar has not only done it all, but he’s seen every situation.

He just hasn’t seen this. Vidmar puts away his strike.

Foz: “Beautiful … (Simon Hill commentary) … Good on ya son … (Simon Hill commentary) … Outstanding … (Simon Hill commentary) … He’s the hero, Tony Vidmar’s the hero tonight. Bresciano finished the goal, Tony Vidmar’s been a colossus. In the tradition of Yankos and the rest. He’s been massive.”

You tend to feel for poor Tony that Foz only considers him ‘massive’, whereas Schwarzer’s save was ‘huge’. Of course, Tony is a colossus, so he can lay claim to that.

And keep in mind, the wonder of Foz is that he reminds you of things you did not previously know existed. For instance, apparently Vidmar has been a colossus in the tradition of Yankos and the rest. I like it that there’s a tradition, and that it’s been led by Charlie Yankos. Apparently every other Socceroo to pull on a jersey is now categorised as “the rest”.

So Australia are now 3-1 up. If Fabian Estoyanoff misses and Mark Viduka can put his away then Australia are home.

Of course, the exact opposite happened. But when you watch it in the framework of Foz, you would not have it any other way.

Estoyanoff nicely tucks away his kick, to which Foz replies, simply and dismissively: “Yeaap.”

Some would thumb their noses at the dismissive nature with which Foz brushes away Uruguay staying in the game, against the odds and with 80,000 people baying for their blood.

Not me. I marvel in Foz’s ability to perfectly capture a cacophony of emotion with a simple ‘yeaap’.

As captain Viduka steps up, Foz now reminds us that you must go 4-2 up, you can’t open the door to go 3-3.

Viduka obligingly misses.

Now, at this point, you’d expect Foz to have a meltdown, but calm Foz comes to the fore. As Hill shows his shock, considering how enormous Viduka had been in the first leg, Foz allays any fears

Foz: “Well he’s been enormous tonight as well. People miss penalty kicks. Roberto Baggio missed. Michel Platini missed, in a World Cup.”

See, I like it how out of a low (missing a penalty) Foz can find a high (that means you’re as good as some of the greatest footballers to ever pull on a football boot). Also, and make no mistake, I have no doubt Baggio and Platini consider it personal highlights that they’ve even been mentioned by Foz.

Foz moves on quickly from the Viduka miss (who has been enormous, rather than huge, massive, or a colossus), pointing out that the next penalty would be a great one to save, because apparently the previous two just weren’t worth it.

And, famously, Schwarzer obliges. Magnificently. He sets Foz up for his crowning moment.

Foz: “It’s a huge save … (Simon Hill commentary) … it’s as big as we’ve ever seen in Australia, I’m sorry. I’m sorry it is. It’s as big as we’ve ever seen under pressure. It’s the kind of heart you need to make World Cups. Mark Schwarzer, you are a champion.”

Did you hear that? Go back and listen again. It’s as big as we’ve ever seen in Australia. Now, we’ve seen a lot of big things in Australia: the first fleet landing, Federation, the 1967 referendum, Justin Beiber’s tour.

Yeaap? Well Schwarzer’s save is as big as any of them.

In fact, it’s as big as we’ve ever seen under pressure. Foz has upped the ante now. That’s not restricted to Australia

The Western Front in WWII, the Cold War, the moon landing, all of them are pressure situations. Well, they are up there with Schwarzer’s second save.

John Aloisi puts his away, as Foz repeats ‘4-2′ over and over, and Australia went ballistic. But none more so than Foz.

As shirtless players ran rampant around the field of Stadium Australia, Foz just started saying whatever came to mind, with a consistency only Foz could understand.

Foz: “Yeeeeeeeeah … John … Come on … John my son … Golden Boys … Come on Australia … Johnny Warren.”

Of course, the only question left at this stage is to try and figure out which team Foz was supporting.

The rest, as they say, is history. Australia performed magnificently in 2006, during which Foz absolutely poleaxed the refereeing of Graham Poll, wondering “what does it take for us to get some decent refereeing when it matters for Australia”. He wept on camera after Fabio Grosso took a dive off a ten foot platform.

2010 was just as memorable. You can only marvel as Foz completely and utterly assassinates the character of Pim Verbeek after Durban, leaving Craig Johnston to, in absolute shock, simply reply: “Well first of all, wow. What Craig’s just said there are very, very strong words. Clearly, you know, there’s a lot of passion and tension going on there.”

Damn straight there’s passion and tension: it’s Foz! Only Foz could say that he has zero respect for someone, but it’s not personal. You can also watch his 13-minute expose with Ange Postecoglou when he was coaching the young Socceroos to know that.

But, for all the words that describe Foz, you keep coming back to that passion. Passion for the game. Passion for Australia.

It is tangible passion that, though inarticulate it may be at times, has served Australian football well, both on and off the field.

And I would wager that were every Australian football fan, player and administrator as passionate about football as Foz is, then football would be massive. It would be huge.

Football would in fact be as big as we’ve ever seen in Australia.