Hollywood producer Darryl Zanuck famously predicted in 1946 that television would prove a passing fad because "people will soon get tired of staring at a plywood box every night".

Tech company executive Ken Olsen in 1977 proclaimed: "There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home."

My favourite football bad call came from a media colleague, whom I'll spare considerable embarrassment by not naming here, but whom my thoughts turned to again on Monday, when Jason Dunstall was named an official Australian football "Legend of the Game".

Back in 1985, when the native Queenslander was in his first season of senior football with Hawthorn, my colleague, a passionate but demanding Hawk fan, was still to be convinced of Dunstall's bona fides, despite the youngster, who'd just turned 21, having played 16 games and kicking nine goals in two of Hawthorn's previous three finals.

Unfortunately, Dunstall, like many of his teammates, had an ordinary afternoon on grand final day, as Hawthorn was belted by 78 points against Essendon, universally acclaimed as one of the very best teams the game had seen.

He finished goalless, with just three disposals to his name. And when my workmate and I met again in the office the following Monday, his scorn had reached epic proportions. "I will never go to another Hawthorn game as long as that bum Dunstall is in the side," he vowed.

Did my colleague prove to be a man of conviction? Of course not. It took only a few games into the next season for him to renege on his promise.

By grand final week 1986, when Dunstall had tallied more than 70 goals for the season, he was sheepish indeed.

And when Dunstall kicked six goals on Carlton champion and VFL Team of the Century member Bruce Doull in the Hawks' emphatic premiership win, the humiliation was complete.

"OK, I was an idiot," he finally admitted, whilst gulping from a celebratory glass of champagne.

Indeed, Dunstall had a lot to do with a lot of Hawk fans getting to quaff more than their share of celebratory drinks over the next decade or so, as Hawthorn's golden era, over nine incredible seasons from 1983-91, would end up producing five premierships and eight grand final appearances.

The Hawks produced so many champions of the game over those years sometimes one or two slip your mind. Perhaps it's also one reason I've always felt Dunstall often hasn't received the sort of kudos he deserved.

His record really does speak for itself. In 269 games from 1985-98, Dunstall booted an incredible 1254 goals, the third-highest tally in history behind Tony Lockett and Gordon Coventry, at an average 4.7 per game.

He won three Coleman Medals, was a four-time All-Australian, won four Hawthorn best and fairests, and was the Hawks' leading goalkicker on no fewer than 12 occasions.

Dunstall kicked double-figure goal tallies on 16 occasions, and his 17-goal haul against Richmond at Waverley in 1992 is the equal second-highest tally ever kicked in a VFL/AFL game.

He was also the fastest of the six players in VFL/AFL history to kick 1000 goals, reaching the milestone in nine years and 142 days, nearly three years quicker than Lockett, the next-quickest.

Lockett, the goals record-holder, has only 106 more than Dunstall from 12 more games. But "Plugger", the goalkicking colossus with St Kilda then Sydney, was elevated to Legend status nine years ago in 2015.

Lockett's huge frame and more outwardly aggressive and physical approach made him at times the more spectacular player to watch. But Dunstall had assets even "Plugger" couldn't match.

His defensive pressure was elite at a time when even small forwards, let alone spearheads, weren't expected to tackle and harass as much as they kicked goals. And his selflessness near goal also became the stuff of legend, Dunstall regularly giving away several goals per game as well as kicking them.

You feel that the same characteristics that defined him as a player have also shaped his post-playing career as a commentator, too. As a special comments man, Dunstall is efficient, economical and team-orientated, his talent not only in reading the play but communicating it simply.

That was Dunstall the Hawthorn full-forward. Nothing grandiose, not necessarily flashy, but incredibly effective.

Effective enough for "that bum Dunstall" to become, officially, the stuff of legend.

And for my former colleague's choice words to look even sillier than they already did originally nearly 40 years down the track.