Basil Zempilas: Dennis Cometti embodied the ultimate Australian with hard work, dedication, heart of gold

I had the privilege of calling Dennis Cometti a mentor, a colleague and a friend for more than 35 years. Dennis was the very best at his craft — an extraordinary talent whose voice and words became part of the soundtrack of Australian sport. That brilliance earned him the admiration of his profession and the deep affection of the public. West Australians, in particular, felt a special pride in Dennis. He was ours. Born in Geraldton, he played and coached at his beloved West Perth and, even as his broadcasting career soared nationally, he never felt the need to move east. We celebrated his success because he remained our commentator. His career rose alongside the emergence of the West Coast Eagles and their dominance in the 1990s. Dennis called the ‘92 and ‘94 premierships — moments of enormous significance for Western Australia. Those historic victories will forever carry the golden voice of Western Australia: Dennis Cometti. The man. The voice. The legend. Don’t miss our 16-page Dennis Cometti lift-out in today’s The West Australian. The essence of Dennis’s greatness as a broadcaster was his rare combination of natural talent and relentless work ethic. He had the magnificent voice, the knowledge of the game and the instinct for the moment. But what truly set him apart was how hard he worked. He prepared like no one else I’ve seen in broadcasting. Dennis never relied purely on his gifts — he honed them. Bruce McAvaney once said no one had ever called Australian football as well, or in quite the same way, as Dennis Cometti. There’s no greater compliment than that — especially coming from Bruce. I first met Dennis when I was playing at West Perth and dreaming of a career in broadcasting. Dennis had walked that same path — a West Perth footballer who had become a commentator — and I think he took an interest in me because of that connection. When I joined Channel 7 in 1994, watching Dennis walk into the newsroom each afternoon felt like one of the Beatles had arrived. Funnily enough, he even had a haircut that resembled them — something he loved to laugh about. Away from the microphone, Dennis was warm, generous and endlessly patient with people. In airports, hotel foyers or outside stadiums around Australia, fans would stop him for photos, autographs or to repeat one of his famous lines. Dennis always made them feel like they were the most important person in the room. He understood the privilege of the role he played in people’s lives. On a Friday night or Sunday afternoon, Australians would tune in and hang on his words. Dennis took that responsibility seriously and never turned away the people who admired him so much. Everyone who worked with Dennis loved him. He was incredibly generous with his time, particularly with young broadcasters. He’d invite them for a coffee, listen to their tapes and offer thoughtful, constructive advice. He certainly did that for me. The first big game I called with Dennis was a Friday night clash between Geelong and Hawthorn in 2012. I was a little nervous. Dennis simply said: “Let the game come to you.” In other words, don’t try to make yourself the story — the game is the story. It was classic Dennis advice. Of course, people always ask about his famous lines. There were so many. Tony Liberatore who “went into that last pack optimistically and came out misty optically”. Heath Shaw chasing down Nick Riewoldt in a grand final — “he came up behind him like a librarian; he never heard him”. Those are two of his greats. But some of my favourites were what I’d call the “off-Broadway” lines. During a multicultural round, the numbers on the 50-metre arc were written in Chinese characters. As a player ran in for goal and crossed the arc, Dennis quietly observed: “Careful — don’t slip on the Mandarin.” And when Richmond’s Darren Gaspar once hit the post, Dennis deadpanned: “Ah… Gaspar — the unfriendly post.” People often ask whether those lines were spontaneous or prepared. The answer is both. Dennis watched endless tape — not just football, but sports broadcasting from around the world. He would think of lines that might work one day if the right moment arrived. Then, when that moment appeared, he delivered them perfectly. While football made him famous, the Olympic Games and Commonwealth Games made him a truly national voice. Dennis sometimes joked that the Olympics arrived at a very inconvenient time — right in the middle of the football season. But some of his greatest calls came in those Olympic swimming finals. Suzie O’Neill in Atlanta: “the heart of the lion in the heart of Dixie”. Kieren Perkins winning from lane eight: “this is rare gold, the best kind of gold.” And the emergence of a 17-year-old Ian Thorpe in Sydney — with Dennis’s voice the soundtrack. Those Olympic calls elevated him even further. In those years, the Olympics were some of the biggest moments in Australia — and Dennis Cometti was the voice calling the action. He had the voice, the timing and an instinctive feel for the moment. Importantly, he never shouted or tried to overwhelm the occasion. He let the moment breathe and always judged it perfectly. To his wife Velia, his son Mark and daughter Ricki — thank you for sharing Dennis with all of us. We are all richer for it.