SWANSBEST
16th September 2003, 06:26 AM
Just call him Kamikaze
September 16, 2003
As a boy, Leo Barry was a compulsive jumper. Thankfully he grew up to play Australian football, writes Jessica Halloran.
He sometimes lands on his head, and he once broke his nose with his own knee. Like a world class acrobat, there is not a skerrick of fear running through his body; that's how Leo Barry plays football.
And that sparkling energy has been running through his elastic limbs since he was a kid.
As a three-year-old, Barry would speed around the wooden verandah of the family's farmhouse, working his tiny legs as fast as he could, building up to a furious pace, and then fling himself and his tricycle off the edge.
"Just to see how far he could go, just for fun," says his mother, Judy. "He's got no fear, Leo."
His father, Leo snr, laughs heartily when recalling his son's boldness, how his cycling tricks and jumps would startle visitors to the family's rice farm outside Deniliquin.
"If he had an audience, everyone's heart would jump at the sight," Leo says.
Hearts are still jumping, but this time in the outer at Sydney Swans matches. Barry has become the quintessential kamikaze footballer. Even the doctor says so. Swans doctor Nathan Gibbs is sometimes scared to watch Barry attack the football.
"Anyone can injure anything during the game but when you play the kamikaze style that Leo does, you know you are going to hurt more things than the average player," Gibbs says.
"He ruptured his spleen and that was definitely a direct-impact, high-energy, high-impact injury. He gets lots of muscle strains - hamstrings, quadriceps - because of the explosive nature of him as an athlete. His style of football is great to watch, but it's scary as well."
Barry says his playing style had been fostered at the Swans. He describes his leaps simply as "going for my marks". But he hasn't always had a strong faith in his ability.
"It's over the last couple of seasons that I've developed the self-belief that I can just go out there and do it," he says. "It just comes with success, that self-belief."
Barry says this is his best season so far, the first he's played every game, a season during which he hasn't been crippled by a dislocated shoulder, dodgy knee or a brush with death (a ruptured spleen last year).
It's also the first season he has spent solely on the back line, not dabbling in the forward line.
Coach Paul Roos regards him as the best half-back in the league, so a lot of people were surprised when the All-Australian selectors failed to notice his courage and athleticism. Barry, however, has accepted being overlooked.
"It would have been a nice thing to get acknowledged," he says. "In saying that, it's only been my first full season playing on the half-back flank."
"It's a bit of a stepping stone and getting a bit of a name for yourself, reputation and that. Hopefully in the next couple of years I can build on that."
Judy says this year has been her son's year. She notes that he's completing his MBA and, importantly, in 10 weeks' time his wife, Sarah, is expected to give birth to their first child.
"Yes, it's been his year. He was married before Christmas last year, he's going to become a father. It's a great time, it's a great year."
So off the field as well as on, things have been going remarkably well for Barry. But it's taken an incredible amount of commitment and determination for him to make it as a footballer.
Leo snr says his son's determination shone through as a five-year-old. On the back lawn, on the buffalo grass, one afternoon he played a tough game of cricket with his brother Paul, then nine.
"Now, his brother decided to use a real cricket ball, not a tennis ball," Leo snr says.
"Paul was bowling bouncers, hitting Leo everywhere. He didn't have to face them. He could have retired, but he was prepared to wear the bouncer. Tears were running down his face but he just continued to bat."
And Barry's high energy meant he would never sit still during family meals.
"He had boundless energy," Judy says. "He was also an amazing high jumper. He held the local record up until a couple of years ago."
It's not surprising that when Barry attended tiny Mayrung primary school he excelled at high jump and long jump.
He even set up his own long jump pit in his backyard and would practise until the sun went down.
Ultimately, all this jumping around has led to thrills for Swans fans. Seeing how far "Leapin' Leo" can go has not only paid off for the fans but also for the team.
http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2003/09/15/1063624981478.html
September 16, 2003
As a boy, Leo Barry was a compulsive jumper. Thankfully he grew up to play Australian football, writes Jessica Halloran.
He sometimes lands on his head, and he once broke his nose with his own knee. Like a world class acrobat, there is not a skerrick of fear running through his body; that's how Leo Barry plays football.
And that sparkling energy has been running through his elastic limbs since he was a kid.
As a three-year-old, Barry would speed around the wooden verandah of the family's farmhouse, working his tiny legs as fast as he could, building up to a furious pace, and then fling himself and his tricycle off the edge.
"Just to see how far he could go, just for fun," says his mother, Judy. "He's got no fear, Leo."
His father, Leo snr, laughs heartily when recalling his son's boldness, how his cycling tricks and jumps would startle visitors to the family's rice farm outside Deniliquin.
"If he had an audience, everyone's heart would jump at the sight," Leo says.
Hearts are still jumping, but this time in the outer at Sydney Swans matches. Barry has become the quintessential kamikaze footballer. Even the doctor says so. Swans doctor Nathan Gibbs is sometimes scared to watch Barry attack the football.
"Anyone can injure anything during the game but when you play the kamikaze style that Leo does, you know you are going to hurt more things than the average player," Gibbs says.
"He ruptured his spleen and that was definitely a direct-impact, high-energy, high-impact injury. He gets lots of muscle strains - hamstrings, quadriceps - because of the explosive nature of him as an athlete. His style of football is great to watch, but it's scary as well."
Barry says his playing style had been fostered at the Swans. He describes his leaps simply as "going for my marks". But he hasn't always had a strong faith in his ability.
"It's over the last couple of seasons that I've developed the self-belief that I can just go out there and do it," he says. "It just comes with success, that self-belief."
Barry says this is his best season so far, the first he's played every game, a season during which he hasn't been crippled by a dislocated shoulder, dodgy knee or a brush with death (a ruptured spleen last year).
It's also the first season he has spent solely on the back line, not dabbling in the forward line.
Coach Paul Roos regards him as the best half-back in the league, so a lot of people were surprised when the All-Australian selectors failed to notice his courage and athleticism. Barry, however, has accepted being overlooked.
"It would have been a nice thing to get acknowledged," he says. "In saying that, it's only been my first full season playing on the half-back flank."
"It's a bit of a stepping stone and getting a bit of a name for yourself, reputation and that. Hopefully in the next couple of years I can build on that."
Judy says this year has been her son's year. She notes that he's completing his MBA and, importantly, in 10 weeks' time his wife, Sarah, is expected to give birth to their first child.
"Yes, it's been his year. He was married before Christmas last year, he's going to become a father. It's a great time, it's a great year."
So off the field as well as on, things have been going remarkably well for Barry. But it's taken an incredible amount of commitment and determination for him to make it as a footballer.
Leo snr says his son's determination shone through as a five-year-old. On the back lawn, on the buffalo grass, one afternoon he played a tough game of cricket with his brother Paul, then nine.
"Now, his brother decided to use a real cricket ball, not a tennis ball," Leo snr says.
"Paul was bowling bouncers, hitting Leo everywhere. He didn't have to face them. He could have retired, but he was prepared to wear the bouncer. Tears were running down his face but he just continued to bat."
And Barry's high energy meant he would never sit still during family meals.
"He had boundless energy," Judy says. "He was also an amazing high jumper. He held the local record up until a couple of years ago."
It's not surprising that when Barry attended tiny Mayrung primary school he excelled at high jump and long jump.
He even set up his own long jump pit in his backyard and would practise until the sun went down.
Ultimately, all this jumping around has led to thrills for Swans fans. Seeing how far "Leapin' Leo" can go has not only paid off for the fans but also for the team.
http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2003/09/15/1063624981478.html