Hockey's Transformers: Barry Dancer
Olympian, Kookaburras’ Olympic gold-winning coach and champion of the spirit of the game.
From grassroots Ipswich to Mount Olympus, Barry Dancer’s story tracks the transformation of hockey itself – from playing the game on grass to representing his country on artificial turf at Montreal 1976 and then coaching Australia’s Kookaburras to a drought-breaking Olympic Gold at Athens 2004.
What first drew you into hockey?
I grew up about 50 metres from the local hockey field in Ipswich. I joined Hancock’s Hockey Club which had a very strong winning culture and a proud history of winning 17 A-grade premierships in a row. For a young person, the environment was very supportive – older players were welcoming, the club culture was strong, and the Ipswich Association was well administered by a very committed group of volunteers.
We’d train on Sunday mornings, so I got to skip Sunday school, while the older players often turned up after a big Saturday night. It was grassroots hockey, literally – grass fields with one floodlight to train under during the week, mixed with tremendous camaraderie.
How did you progress through to the national team?
I first represented Queensland at under-16 level, then under-21. The 1973 National Championships in Hobart were pivotal and in 1973 I was selected for Australia for the first time.
It was very different back then. There was no centralised program in Perth. You trained with your club and state, and if selected in the national team it assembled only a few days before a tournament. Sometimes we only came together when we arrived overseas, because that’s the Achilles heel for Australia – the geography. Players worked full-time and often had to take unpaid leave from their workplace and pay towards the costs of representing their country.
I was a teacher, so throughout the 1970s I juggled teaching mathematics with playing for Australia.
What was it like representing Australia in the 1970s?
My first tournament was in Malaysia in 1973. The playing and training conditions were oppressive – 90% humidity on lush grass cricket grounds. You’d wring the perspiration out your socks and shirts at the end of every session or match.
By 1975, we were gearing up for the World Cup in Kuala Lumpur. In preparation, we toured and played Pakistan in a series of internationals. The experience was an eye-opener and provided very valuable development for the team. Pakistan was the best team in the world in that era and playing on the rock-hard pitches in Pakistan, their team played a fast and skilful style of hockey that resembles the speed of the international game that is played on synthetic pitches today. The experience of those matches provided our team with the confidence we could beat them when it came to playing them in the semi-final at the Montreal Olympics in 1976.
We weren’t full-time athletes like the Indians and Pakistanis, who were supported by their companies and employers. However, the influence of hockey from the sub-continent had contributed to the development of hockey in Australia with the migration of Indians to Australia after the Partition. By the 1970s Australian hockey teams had developed a reputation for being very well prepared physically and having a hybrid playing style that combined the Asian and European styles.
How did the switch from grass to artificial turf impact the game?
Montreal 1976 was the first Olympic Games to be played on artificial turf. No one in Australia had any experience of playing on an artificial surface or any idea of what to expect. On the way to Montreal, the Olympic Team travelled to Europe to play matches against Germany, the Netherlands and Great Britain on three very different pitches.
One Dutch pitch had been laid in strips with the grain alternating. If you rolled the ball straight up field, it zigzagged the whole way. It had only recently been laid and was so slippery you felt like you were playing on ice. It wasn’t the ideal preparation for an Olympic tournament, but all of our opposition were in a similar position.
The synthetic pitch at the Olympic venue was of a reasonable quality. However, leather-cased balls were still being used and this presented a problem. The white leather-cased balls (essentially cricket balls painted white) were very unsuitable for use on a wet, abrasive surface. They disintegrated quickly and had to be replaced by half-time. Buckets of new balls were brought out for each match. I still have one, sitting on a shelf in our home, battered and scarred. Issues with the balls deteriorating aside, the synthetic experience at this tournament clearly highlighted that this was the direction our game had to go in the future.
Hockey has progressively become more appealing for players to play and spectators to watch since that first international tournament on a synthetic pitch five decades ago.
What were your proudest moments as a player?
The silver medal from Montreal 1976 could be expected to be my proudest moment as a player, but as I only played half a match in that tournament, I don’t consider it that.
For me, my performance at the 1978 World Cup in Argentina stands out. By that tournament I had established myself as an integral member of the team and in that tournament I felt I performed to my potential and made a strong contribution to the team. Representing your country is always an honour, but performing at a world tournament when it matters most, is something I feel you can be proud of most.
How did you make the move into coaching?
I began coaching when I was a student at high school when I was captain-coach of our school team.
I combined volunteer coaching roles with my teaching and international playing career during the 1970s. This involved coaching school and club teams. During this period, I had no strong ambition with my coaching and I was following my interest in developing players and teams.
A turning point came at the end of 1977. I spent the majority of that year based in Perth in an endeavour to improve myself as a player by playing in a higher quality competition on a weekly basis and training with a core of national players who were based there at the time.
And then I made the decision that changed everything. I returned to Queensland and married my incredible wife, Donna. On my return I became far more committed to coaching than developing myself as a player. In the 1980s I became heavily committed to coaching school, club, city and state teams as a volunteer whilst continuing my teaching career.
In 1990, I was recruited to join the AIS Hockey Program in Perth as an assistant coach in the men’s program. It was a huge change to become a fulltime coach – relocating with my wife and two young kids to Perth, leaving behind teaching. The AIS program provided a very fertile learning environment for a young coach working with and observing some world-class coaches, support staff and athletes. This period provided a very strong stepping stone and a foundation for a successful international coaching career.
What was your philosophy as coach of the Kookaburras?
When I became head coach in 2001, the target was crystal clear: gold in Athens. Bronze or silver wasn’t going to be good enough.
We built a program focused on the growth of individuals and the collective by providing excellent support for the players. Players needed pathways that provided opportunity to develop, but they needed to value the privilege of being a Kookaburra and the responsibilities that came with that. The playing group was talented, selfless and humble. They were fully committed – they simply didn’t want to let each other down because of the camaraderie that existed in the group.
“We were young and hungry as a team and needed a father figure. Barry was that for us. He set the rules, created the culture, and that culture is what won us Olympic gold.”
When it comes to performing under the greatest pressure it is crucial to maintain players’ confidence and minimise static that may distract players from the task at hand. It is very easy for a coach to derail a group’s confidence or create distractions that can derail a team’s performance. I learned that the hard way when I once criticized the team in a press conference during the Olympic competition in Athens. It went viral – even before Facebook – and it rattled the group, rocked the boat. Jamie Dwyer pulled me aside before the next match, and I apologised to the group immediately after that match. The truth was, the strength of that exceptional team was their unity. They were mates and they didn’t want to let their mates down.
How do you reflect on Athens 2004 and the gold medal?
At the 2000 Olympics the Kookaburras lost to the Netherlands in the semi-final by a whisker on penalties, at a home Olympics where the Hockeyroos won gold. A public perception of the Kookaburras had developed in Australia over a number of decades that the Kookaburras were chokers – a team that had come so close often, but never achieved Olympic Gold during their 48 years of Olympic Competition.
Our preparation in the years leading to that Olympic competition was going to be crucial to ensure the group had genuine belief by the time we arrived in Athens. We arrived in Athens before all the other teams to ensure we had adequate time to adjust to the competition pitch that had some slightly different playing qualities. Our first training session when we got to Greece was well below par – our skill level was well down – but every day we improved. We beat Spain 6–2 in in a warm-up game before heading to Crete for a couple of days away from hockey to freshen up the group. This match and another against Korea provided the team with the necessary confidence to embrace the challenges of the Olympic tournament. The players also made some tough decisions like deciding not to march at the Opening Ceremony. For many players it might have been their only Olympics, but the team decided it was too big a risk with an early match two days later. That was their level of commitment.
By the time we got to Athens, we’d done everything possible – the work, the support, the planning – so there were no excuses. That doesn’t take away nerves, but it can shield you from self-doubt and gives you the confidence to play without fear.
Providing a ‘no excuses’ environment was one of my goals and it summed up the campaign. In the final against the Netherlands, despite what happened in the past, the group believed it could be done. When Jamie Dwyer scored that golden goal in extra time, it was a very special moment for everyone involved in the campaign and hockey in Australia more broadly.
There was a mixture of exhilaration, relief and deep satisfaction in the time that followed. The celebrations were unforgettable – hours in the dressing room, phone calls from home, former greats on the pitch just sharing that joy.
Looking back, how do you see hockey’s transformation?
I’ve been fortunate to experience hockey’s transformation over the last 60 years. There have been many changes during that period that have resulted in the game becoming far more appealing to watch and more enjoyable to play. The positive changes are many, but the most significant has been the transition from grass to synthetic turf playing surfaces. There have also been many positive rule changes, improvements in playing equipment and balls, the technical and physical abilities of the players and tactical innovation brought by coaches. The game is a very different game now compared to when I joined the sport at school, but what hasn’t changed is the spirit of the sport and the reasons for playing. As a youngster playing hockey in Ipswich, it was about enjoying the challenge of competing, improving my skill and ability to contribute to the team. There was also a sense of belonging and a community spirit built on a strong foundation provided by selfless volunteers.
The game itself has been transformed significantly and is better today than it has ever been, but the qualities of the hockey environment I grew up in remain the same. The strong community spirit that existed then remains Hockey’s greatest strength today.