OVER the course of my 11-year career I played with hundreds of AFL players; some who left a small mark and others who made much more of an impact on both myself and the wider football community.

I call the latter ‘generational players’, those select few who will be spoken about for decades after the dust has settled on their careers. In today’s terms they are players like Nat Fyfe, Josh Kennedy, Lance ‘Buddy’ Franklin, Luke Hodge, Gary Ablett or Sam Mitchell.

They are the players who still make me feel giddy, regardless of how strong my current relationship is with them. They are the players who made teammates feel like fans – I’m not ashamed to admit that when playing with them I could often be found staring up at the big screen from the middle of the ground, admiring the same replays as the punters in the crowd.

Most of all, generational players have the ability to throw an entire team on their back and carry the other 21 to the finish line. In simple terms – these players are the freaks of the game.

A significant portion of my career was spent at Hawthorn, playing through a purple patch alongside some of these players.

Today, one of them hung up the boots.

Camera Icon Rioli retires with four premierships to his name. Credit: Getty Images

I first met the little master from the Tiwi Islands, Cyril ‘Junior’ Rioli, in 2004. He was a boarder at Scotch College, and I was a boarder at Melbourne Grammar.

The history and rivalry between these two schools is as rich as any across the country, stemming from what was the first official game of Australian Rules in 1858.

I hated both Cyril and Scotch, and Cyril returned the venom with equal passion.

Our initial meeting, off the field at least, came the night after our first grudge match, both of us underage and determined to find a pub that wouldn’t ask us for identification. A group from both schools found an establishment in Richmond and piled in accordingly.

Unfortunately, Cyril and I found ourselves at the back of the excited scrum, and the two of us were pulled aside for a ‘random’ ID check. At this stage, I was 65kgs and deathly pale, and Cyril (not looking a day over 15) was sporting a moustache with about six hairs, which looked horrible at best. The bouncer wasted no time denying us both entry, so off we wandered into the freezing Melbourne winter, having met mere minutes earlier.

The two of us sneaked into a pub a little further down the road, enjoying a couple of bourbons and chatting a bit before taking off in separate directions to find where our mates had ended up, not knowing when or if our paths would cross again.

But a few short years (and a Melbourne Grammar thrashing at the hands of Cyril) later, we both found ourselves at the Hawthorn Football Club. Initially I was annoyed that we drafted Junior, as Scott Selwood was still on the board and I was close friends with his brother Joel.

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This sentiment didn’t last long, and equally, it didn’t take Junior long to settle into the hustle and bustle of the AFL. Partly because he had spent years in Melbourne for high school, and partly because he was just really bloody good.

It is extremely rare for a player to do what Cyril did in his first year; he played the entire season, all 25 games. I don’t want to downplay others who play full seasons in their first year, but not many of these players play in a premiership year where everything is earned, and nothing is given.

Not only did Cyril play each match, but he was an extremely strong, consistent contributor. This culminated in a stellar performance on grand final day, including a memorable three-on-one victory on the wing which turned the game in our favour.

Like many in the AFL, Junior was blessed with natural ability. But where I think many commentators get it wrong is wholly attributing his brilliance to his natural talent and gifts - to do so is to discredit and devalue the time and effort he has put into his craft and mastering his skills. The hours I saw him in the gym turning his body into a machine, or kicking footballs over and over until he pinpointed a target, should not be overlooked. Cyril’s commitment, dedication and work ethic was second to none.

Off the field, the affable kid from the Tiwi Islands and I built a pretty strong friendship. Some of my fondest memories of 2008 involve waking on many a Sunday morning at my apartment in East Melbourne to find a small indigenous lad curled up on my couch.

It didn’t take Junior long to settle into the hustle and bustle of the AFL. Partly because he had spent years in Melbourne for high school, and partly because he was just really bloody good.

Of course I was always happy for my little mate to let himself into my place whenever he wanted, but what was strange about these occasions was that my apartment was on the second level of the apartment block. In the dead of the night, Junior would somehow scale up a wall, onto my veranda, through my window and onto the couch like Spiderman. All to save himself the taxi fare out to Glen Waverley.

But while there was always a fair amount of fun to be had with Cyril as youngsters, these good times were nothing to the fun he provided on field. His amazing ability to have us all marvelling at his skill, speed, evasiveness, pressure and competitive nature was unparalleled.

Like others watching him play, there were the rare occasions that I’d find myself thinking “gee, Junior has been quiet today”. But no sooner would these thoughts enter my mind, then Junior would flip a game on its head, kicking goal of the year or mowing someone down from behind.

Cyril will always have his detractors due to low possession averages and occasional quiet patches, but he is like Nic Nat – a completely unique player. Possessions are meaningless for certain players - it’s the uncertainty they place in the minds of their opposition that does the greatest damage. It is immeasurable and hard to define - unless you have experienced being stalked by a lion or chased by a cheetah. The helpless feeling you’d have when you realised it was too late is very hard to articulate!

Camera Icon Delicious. Credit: Getty Images

Champions recognise moments and seize them, whereas others (like myself) sit back and wait for champions to lead the way. Cyril recognised moments, and attacked. For WA footy fans, there can be no more pertinent an example of Cyril’s brilliance than that of the 2015 grand final; he wounded us, and had West Coast on the ropes from the first bounce. No question about it, on that day Junior did not stop attacking; his Norm Smith Medal and fourth premiership were just reward for a champion performance.

I am very fortunate to have been able to call Junior Rioli a teammate and friend. He heads home with four premierships, a Norm Smith and a highlights package which could stretch for days. He was a champion in every sense of the word, and brought joy to everyone lucky enough to have witnessed his brilliance.

Junior was a freak, and the game is worse off for his hanging up the boots. I know I speak for many when I say that his presence in the AFL will be deeply missed.