JUSTIN LANGER: Chris Fagan worked hard to win AFL grand final with Brisbane Lions after Hawks apprenticeship

Chris Fagan.

Hang on, hang on, give me a second.

I know you’ve read about Chris — or heard that name — about 6000 times since last Saturday, but humbly, let me make it about 6001 times because there are things about the man dubbed the AFL’s Ted Lasso that I believe can benefit all of us.

By all of us, I mean coaches, executives, parents, friends and leaders.

I first met Chris at the Hawthorn Football Club early in my coaching career. I’d actually gone there to meet the legendary AFL mentor Alastair Clarkson, who had just won his third flag a decade ago.

Chris Fagan wasn’t on my radar that day, but my first interaction with him changed that.

As players walked by and introduced themselves, Fagan — the then general manager of football operations — slowly entered Clarkson’s office, head down, hands in pockets, body language suggesting he was shy about interrupting the meeting. When we were introduced, his smile beamed like someone had turned on a light in the room.

I later learned that he loved cricket, and his smile told me that he was happy to chat.

Seeing his smile after the AFL grand final took me back to our first interaction.

There is magic in a smile, and for those who flash them with as much authenticity as “Fages” does, they are unforgettable. It is no wonder he is so well-liked by those who know him, and even by those who don’t.

Undoubtedly, he has a hard edge when it’s required, but when he smiles, his players and supporters know his sentiment is coming from the right place.

When the smiling father figure left the office that day, I asked Clarkson about Fagan.

His response was glowing. I can’t remember whether he used the words “right-hand man,” but it was clear that he was.

They say behind every great man is a great woman, or behind every great woman, there’s a great man, but I have learned that no great leader succeeds without support. Strong partnerships are paramount, and Clarkson and Fagan’s combined successes pay homage to this theory.

Clarkson’s presence in the victorious Brisbane Lions changing room on Saturday night was notable. In the past, Clarkson, as head coach, would have received most of the premiership accolades, his confidante and trusted advisor, sitting back in the shadows, quietly enjoying the moment.

On Saturday, the roles were reversed. Clarkson, now North Melbourne’s coach, sat back, smiled and revelled in the tributes paid to his long-standing friend.

Respect is earned, and in this example, the reverence of one of the game’s greatest coaches was obvious.

The Brisbane Lions appointed Fagan as their senior coach in 2017. He was tasked with rebuilding a team that had finished near the bottom of the ladder for several years.

I was appointed as the coach of the Australian men’s team the following year in 2018.

On the surface, Fagan’s impact was almost immediate. In his third season (2019), he led the Lions to second place on the ladder, earning him the AFL Coaches Association Coach of the Year award.

Yet interestingly, I learned much about Saturday’s newly-minted premiership coach in his first two seasons at the helm, when successes were minimal.

Sitting in Brisbane cafes, Fagan would open his laptop and be at pains to show me the areas his team was improving in. He would point to this area and that, convincing not only me but himself that his team was moving in the right direction.

On the one hand, I could feel the pain of limited win/loss success, but his enthusiasm for where his team was heading was infectious.

Ask any world-class athlete or coach about the secret to their success, and after using the words “hard work”, they will say, “process, process, process, process”.

In Fagan, I saw the practice of process over outcome as clearly as I had seen it in any coach. This was a great lesson for me as a coach.

As a player, I knew that if I stuck to the process, the outcome would always look after itself. My pre-ball routine was my performance bible, and although I haven’t batted for years, I can recite it as if I were batting in a test match tomorrow.

From the moment I padded up, took guard, and faced the opposition bowler, I trusted my process and routine like the brakes in my car.

“This ball”, I would say — because that ball was the only thing that mattered to me then. “Loose right forearm” was next — because Kenny Meuleman told me when I was very young that if my forearm was loose, my shoulder would be free, and this freedom in my muscles would permeate my entire body. A loose body and my feet would dance.

“Feet lined up to mid-on” — the perfect alignment for my game. My “nose pointing to the bowler” — ensured my balance was right in my stance.

Finally, and critically in my profession: “See the ball coming out of the bowler’s fingers” . Do that, and they can never get me out — process, process, process, process.

I wasn’t sure this approach was as simple or relevant in coaching until I met Fagan.

Not only did he teach me this — without probably knowing he was — but in doing so, he reinforced “process over outcome” in his every word.

He showed me how he measured progress and why you must believe that developing, polishing and perfecting the method is the key and the art form of any successful team or person in any field.

As part of his methodology, Fagan taught me about the “what if?” scenarios he would undertake before every game (sorry if I’m giving away one of your secrets Fages).

By going through the “what if?” situations before the game, you are prepared to answer them if they occur when the pressure is on. I still use this in my coaching and business approach today.

Under Fagan’s leadership, the Lions have experienced a remarkable renaissance.

Once the powerhouse of the competition under Leigh Matthews, this humble mentor has helped transform a struggling team, into a consistent premiership contender, then onto this year’s premiers.

Known for his calm demeanour and ability to build strong relationships with his players, he wears his heart on his sleeve and hates losing — revealing he goes into a cave after every loss.

“There’s no point trying to talk to me after we lose, I am too lost in working out how we can do it better next time,” he says.

Often used as a criticism, his age and experience are his greatest assets. He is the oldest AFL Premiership coach in history; his wisdom and longevity inspire anyone, in any industry.

There have been times when Fagan’s passion and love for the game have almost been extinguished. This can be a part of the gig. When the blowtorch of public scrutiny burnt holes in the heart and soul of one of life’s great blokes, it is unsurprising that his spirits may have waned.

Lesser men would have folded under the pressure. Fagan’s foundation of integrity ensured he endured, even though he would have loved to have responded to his critics. The man with the heart of a lion has grown a hide like a hippo. This is not uncommon for most leaders.

A couple of years ago, Adam Simpson told me a funny story about some advice Gill McLachlan, the then-CEO of the AFL, had given him after he presented to the AFL Commission.

The West Coast Eagles had just won the 2018 flag and — as was tradition — the premiership coach talked to the commission about his thoughts on the game.

A little later, McLachlan ensured that Simpson and the club remained grounded by warning him that AFL premiership coaches and their clubs could become nobs for the next 12 months because they thought they suddenly knew it all.

“It’s just a part of the cycle Simmo,” he said. “All coaches are the same, but remember you haven’t reinvented the wheel or invented the light bulb; you have just won a premiership.”

With everything I know about Fagan, he is far too humble, experienced and wise to think he knows it all.

But my goodness, he is the sort of coach I would have run through a brick wall for — just as the Brisbane Lions players did for him last Saturday at the MCG.