Spin, Ricky, Spin
Ive finally figured out something about Ricky Nixon and why this arrogant, lying, sleazebag, behaved the way he did yesterday. Like the scorpion: its in his nature.
In response to increasing and damning evidence of his sexual involvement with a troubled 17-year-old he was purporting to counsel and support, Tricky Nicky did what he always does. He called in the spin doctor. Himself. Hes been doing it for money for decades. Its made him a fortune. Im surprised somebody hasnt changed the name of his company from Flying Start to Lying Fart.
Whenever theres been a drug or alcohol or sex scandal involving one of his clients Ricky has ridden to the rescue. Gary Ablett Snr., Wayne Carey, Ben Cousins, Nick Riewoldt, Sam Gilbert. Dont worry. Rickyll fix it.
[When a reporter had the audacity to ask Ben Cousins where he got his drugs at that welcome back Richmond press conference Nixon intervened and said to Peter Morris the reporter what sort of knob are you?
[And nobody had the guts to say I wasnt asking you.]
So when Nixon became the centre of a scandal this week he again launched the attack dog. The PR mans creed: Attack is the best form of defence. The second rule: deny, deny, deny. He popped up on radio stations all over Melbourne, AM and FM, smearing the girl he was supposedly trying to mentor. Denying everything. But really not answering any questions.
Im told Eddie McGuire even said Mate, you dont have to answer anything if you cant.
Nixon cleverly tried to roll all his visits to the teenagers hotel room into one brief moment of stupidity.
He said: It was very, very silly but weve all made silly mistakes. You have and I have and if I had my time again, I certainly wouldnt have pointed my car in the direction of that hotel room. With his driving record he should be pointing it anywhere.
At one stage, explaining how he stood in the lobby for twenty minutes and berated her, it sounded like he had never even been into her hotel room.
Then he had been there. Couldnt or wouldnt answer what he was doing in his underpants diving into her bed and switching off the light though.
I guess this is Nixon-style new age counselling. A 47-year-old married man strips to his undies when saving a 17-year-olds soul.
The cocaine-like powder she videoed in the room? On 3AW Nixon said I did not use drugs in her presence.
The video didnt show me using cocaine with her. Didnt show me having sex with her.
He even had an explanation for the damning video footage of the girl taking a wallet out of a pair of crumpled jeans on the floor and filming the contents to prove Nixon was there in her room without his pants on. A shower can be heard in the background.
He says that was filmed in his office last year. Strange. When I met with him last month and he was busy showing me photos he took of the scantily-clad and drunk teenager during that visit in that office he didnt mention he had his pants off or that he left her alone in the room.
That meeting with me last month was the one where he repeatedly, and piously, expressed his concerns for the girls wellbeing. Where he handed me an editorial he had drafted for me to read on 3AW saying the media should cease covering this story in her interests. And where he said Any man would want to eff her. And ten days later, she says, he did.
What comes through all of yesterdays radio and television bravado is the sheer arrogance of the man. That he thought, despite the damning videos and the recorded conversations he could hit the airwaves and bluster and filibuster his way out of it.
Did he try his story out on his wife first? And did she believe him?
If it were all so innocent why was Nixon so keen for him and the girl to get their stories straight? She claims, and I believe her, that he said We must deny all this stuff. Do it for me. If it comes out well both be dead.
The Herald Sun today runs the transcript of a call Nixon made to the girl to vouch for him over an article that Caroline Wilson was doing for The Age.
The man who boasts he tapes everybodys conversations got hoist by his own petard.
He says: ... I dont want you to go overboard, but just say look, Rickys been helping me get myself back together a bit, and I dont want to talk about it too much. Just sort of say something like that.
Theres much more.
And now, the latest report is that Nixon has left the building. Not staying to face the music. Reportedly gone to Ireland. Maybe his blarney will work there. It wont work here anymore.
And the AFL must take control of this grubby mess, not hide behind the Players Association, and ban him from any involvement in any manner or form.
Footnote: All of this takes me back to another February, eleven years ago. Another sordid and tragic story of sex and drugs and alcohol and a high-flying footballer. Gary Ablett Snr.
On that February night Ablett gave 20-year-old Alisha Horan ecstasy tablets, booze and eventually heroin, in a city hotel room.
She collapsed. Ablett panicked. While the young Ablett fan lay in a drug induced coma in hospital Ablett went into hiding. Police couldnt find him. A lawyer said the usual rubbish about how he couldnt wait for his day in court. Couldnt wait to put the real story out there.
Then when an inquest came along Ablett refused to testify on the grounds it could incriminate him.
But back to the hours after Ablett woke up in a city hotel room with the comatose young fan on his bed.
Did he tell the paramedics trying to save her that he had given the unconscious girl six ecstasy tablets? No. Did he tell them he had given her heroin and told her it was cocaine? No.
Did he go to the hospital and tell the doctors what they had been up to. No.
Did he visit her family or phone them and tell them what had happened to their daughter. No.
In fact, and I had this confirmed in anguished letters from members of her family, that girl was a Jane Doe as they say. An unknown patient in the hospital. A comatose female known only by a number.
While Alisha Horan was dying, an anonymous Jane Doe, where was Ablett? With the spin doctor: Ricky Nixon. His manager.
I still remember the Sunday newspaper picture of Nixon flanking Ablett as he finally deigned to appear at a police station for questioning.
Ricky to the rescue. Save the star.
This time hes is trying desperately, through a veil of lies, to save himself. This time it wont work.
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