To me, when Dennis Cometti passed away, it felt a bit like that song lyric: “the day the music died”.
Dennis loved Don McLean and, truth be told, he probably wouldn’t have minded being mentioned in the same breath as Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper either.
When we lost Dennis, we lost part of the rhythm of our lives, didn’t we?
And as often happens, you find yourself wishing you’d spent more time talking to the great man. Asking silly questions like, how the hell did he come up with “misty optically”? Or to try to find out how he developed such wonderful timing. Remind him, “Remember when, in your final footy call for Seven in 2016, you described Tom Boyd’s match-winning grand final goal like this: ‘How will it bounce? The stadium holds its breath. It’s a goal. And the western suburbs erupt.’ It was delivered absolutely perfectly. How??”
When Dennis got excited, so did we. His call of the Aussie men’s 4x100m freestyle relay at the 2000 Olympics, the famous “smash them like guitars” showdown, still gives me goosebumps.
It was a moment of pure, raw excitement, his voice full-throated, quivering. I must have listened to it 40 times. And yes, I still resent the “special comments bloke” for jumping in mid-call to announce, “It’s a new world record!” C’mon mate . . .
Sadly, I also fell into that trap when working alongside him in football. Talk about Bach meeting the scrap yard.
Yes, it’s true when someone like Dennis dies, the silence hits differently.
His passing delivered a farewell that makes you stop and take stock. Not just of the life being honoured, but your own. It forces uncomfortable questions, like: “what really matters?” And “what does this all mean?”
At his State memorial service this week, there was a shared sense that we weren’t just saying goodbye to a broadcaster, but to a way of calling sport. When someone who has been part of the soundtrack of your life is suddenly gone, it cuts through the noise.
Den, as we called him (Cometts on cheekier days), was the man with the golden voice. He was super protective of his hair and always had hairspray in his briefcase, but it’s his voice that thrilled us.
Cometti had a rare gift: the ability to find the perfect line at the biggest moment, without ever sounding like he was trying. Peter Wilson bobbing up for a crucial West Coast goal? “A cork in the ocean.” Heath Shaw smothering Nick Riewoldt? “He came up behind him like a librarian.” Tony Liberatore charging into a pack? He went in “optimistically and came out misty optically”. And young Adem Yze? “Remember the name: Y-Z-E. Terrific young player. Bad Scrabble hand.”
Those lines have become part of the fabric of the game itself . . . and Cometti-isms will be quoted where all footy lovers gather. But here’s the truth: his genius ran far deeper than the one-liners.
Dennis Cometti’s real craft was timing. Restraint. Knowing when to speak, and when to let the beautiful voice carry the moment. Even he had a favourite line, one that blended his love of football and music. During a heated moment involving Andrew McLeod, as umpires moved in, Cometti couldn’t resist: “Hey, you . . . get off McLeod.”
A perfect nod to The Rolling Stones.
And then there’s the story, which may or may not be true, that captured his humour perfectly. When he took over as coach of West Perth, he reckons his predecessor handed him three envelopes: one to open when things went badly, another when things got really bad, and a third for when all hell broke loose.
Midway through a rough patch, Cometti opened the first. Inside: “Blame your predecessor.” Simple, wry, self-aware.
Things didn’t improve. He opened the second envelope. Inside: “Blame the players.”
And when the club hit crisis point, he finally opened the third. Inside: “Prepare three envelopes.”
Classic Cometti. And he saved his best for the biggest stage. The 1989 VFL grand final is regarded as one of the greatest games ever played. He called it with a balance of drama and control and as the match ended he said: “And there’s the siren . . . Hawthorn have won it by six points. Ladies and gentlemen, you have just seen a classic.”
He could have been talking about his own career.
Special praise belongs to his family. Behind every man who rises to the top, there is a wife who holds the ladder steady, and children who learn to share their father with his dream. Their sacrifices are the foundation upon which his greatness was built.
Dennis Cometti was the GOAT: The Greatest Of All Time. And the soundtrack of our lives will never be the same
Get the latest news from thewest.com.au in your inbox.
Sign up for our emails