Farewell to Buddy, the greatest player of the 21st century and the game's most awe-inspiring entertainer

At a training session in the summer of 2005, Jason Dunstall was coaching the club’s forwards on the art of set shot kicking.

The key, Dunstall told Ben Dixon, Michael Osborne, Mark Williams, Jarryd Roughead, John Barker, and Lance Franklin, was to align your shoulders and hips with the target.

The first five players did as they were told. Why wouldn’t they? Dunstall’s 1254 goals and four premierships meant he knew a thing or two about the subject.

Up stepped Franklin, who tried the method prescribed, but failed. The more he attempted to run in and kick in a straight line, the worse he got.

The cones Dunstall had placed in a narrow, straight line, were flying everywhere.

After another shank, Franklin stormed off.

“You’re trying to stop me breaking your record!” he screamed back at Dunstall.

Franklin could never quite eclipse Dunstall’s record, but his 1066 goals in the modern game is a more remarkable feat than his predecessor’s 1254 goals a generation ago.

Lance Franklin of the Swans celebrates a goal this year. (Photo by Daniel Carson/AFL Photos via Getty Images)

And the ‘Buddy Arc’ – as it became known – was his signature throughout his extraordinary career.

He did things his way, right up until the end.

Sydney players had no inkling a retirement announcement was coming until late Monday morning. Coach John Longmire knew on Sunday night, when Franklin called him.

By mid Monday-afternoon it was official. There would be a press conference, but he wouldn’t be there. There was nothing more to say.

On any measure, Franklin is one of the greatest players of all time. This is indisputable. He’s in the conversation alongside Gary Ablett junior and senior, Wayne Carey, Leigh Matthews, and any other name you want to throw up.

In my view, he’s not just the greatest player of the 21st century, but the most awe-inspiring entertainer.

You would be hard-pressed to find a footballer who executed the near-impossible more often. And under pressure too. Time after time.

Like fellow number 23s Shane Warne and Michael Jordan, Franklin’s greatness is measured beyond pure achievements.

The eight All-Australian guernseys, two premierships and four Coleman Medals deserve recognition.

But Franklin was more than this. For 15 years, he was the game’s most recognisable face. A genuine superstar who simultaneously loved and shunned the spotlight.

On a field consisting of 36 players at any given moment, he was the main man. His strut, his chest, his raking left boot, his arc, his unyielding self-belief, his demand for the football.

Off the field, he kept a tight circle. An enigma, only a select few know Franklin the person on level below the surface. This was how he liked it.

Lance Franklin of the Swans celebrates kicking his 1000th AFL goal. (Photo by Cameron Spencer/Getty Images)

While he was comfortable with superstar athlete status, he was never at ease with the pressures that led to away from the game.

Here’s an idea: Every football fan should spend time searching “Buddy’s Best Moments” this week. Coincidentally, I did last week. It’s a smorgasbord. You will not be disappointed.

The elimination final against Adelaide in 2007 elevated his greatness. Then 2008’s 113 goals and 88 behinds skyrocketed him further.

He is the only player to reach the 100-goal milestone in a home and away season since 1998. As defensive structures and stifling coaching methods grew, Buddy always found a way to buck the trend.

His 1000th goal early last year will stand as the most appropriate. final, pure celebration of his greatness. That he did at the SCG was perfect.

Remember when he bullied North Melbourne in Tasmania? Or his jumping goal from 90 metres against Collingwood?

Poor Cale Hooker was just one of many to trail a barnstorming Franklin, but his exasperated facial expression one night is iconic. He, and many hundreds of others, simply could not stop Franklin when he was at his best.

Then in 2013, Hawthorn redeployed Franklin to the half-forward flank. And it worked. They won the flag. Days later, he was gone.

Jordan Lewis and Jarryd Roughead, who were drafted alongside Franklin in 2004, expected their good mate to move to GWS. But in one of the greatest covert list management operations, Sydney swooped.

So angered were the Giants, they broke the news themselves, sweeping a PR rug from underneath the Swans in the process.

The deal – $10 million over nine years – remains the most lucrative in the history of the game.

It took him away from the football bubble but firmly into the rock star cauldron.

And while he led Sydney’s goal-kicking seven times and won four of his eight All-Australian gongs at the Swans, he could never achieve the ultimate success.

(Quinn Rooney/Getty Images)

But if the absence of a premiership is the only minor blot on his frankly ridiculous record, it should not count for much.

In his stint at Sydney, Franklin played in three losing Grand Finals. In the first – against his former teammates – he kicked four goals. He could do no more.

The second was impacted by an injury, and the third the Swans were never in against a rampant Geelong.

While Franklin’s body failed and star faded, his aura remained in the same way Tiger Woods’ still does.

Just two weeks ago, he kicked three goals on Fremantle captain Alex Pearce in a stirring victory. There were suggestions of another contract, but the club was far from wedded to the idea.

They knew – and Franklin must have too – that his body was failing him.

It was fitting Franklin’s last full game was in Perth, where he spent the back end of his teenage years at boarding school.

It was in Western Australia where he first made a name for himself, kicking eight goals in a half in a representative game. The coach moved him to centre-half-back, but recruiters had seen enough.

Wiry, gangly, and dangerously athletic, there was little doubt Franklin would play AFL. But there were question marks around his strength, endurance, and ability to fit into a team-first structure.

Though his relationship with Alastair Clarkson eventually soured and played a part in his departure, Hawthorn’s master coach knew how to harness his greatness. The passage of time has healed some of these old wounds.

Luke Hodge convincing him to sign a four-year deal in 2009 remains an underrated moment in the recent history of the club, as does the fire that was lit after a shock 2012 Grand Final loss to Sydney.

Observers were immediately struck by how hard Franklin worked at training. He’d park his car next to Glenferrie Oval and shoot for goal from the street, often nailing it from obscure angles.

Franklin had a deep, innate love for the sport. Those who know him say his passion for football was unbreakable. Had his body not failed him, he may have played until he was 40.

What Franklin did was great, how he did it was special, for how long he did it was truly remarkable, and as far as physical specimens go, we may not see another one like him.

If there was only one Tony Lockett, well there sure as sugar will be just one Buddy Franklin.