Round Seventeen: The Black and White Cycle of Life

An amazing week just gone- not a single coach was shown the door! Following the absolute carnage in the fortnight preceding, this was a remarkable achievement. In the absence of any further bloodletting, the media's focus was firmly on the possible coaching permutations for season 2008. There was general consensus that Michael Voss would end up at Carlton (if he didn't go to Essendon), Chris Connolly was a shoe-in at Melbourne (provided the Dees didn't go with Kevin Sheedy), Fremantle would definitely go with an ex-Bomber in the form of Kevin Sheedy, Neale Daniher or Mark Harvey (as long as Dean Laidley couldn't be lured from the Carrararoos), and Essendon would be coached by a favourite son in Mark "Bomber" Thompson (if he was willing to leave the Cats, if not then by Neale Daniher. Or Mark Harvey, Dean Bailey, Damien Hardwick or maybe Derek Kickett). Then Voss decided he wasn't ready to coach just yet and Thompson refused to negotiate with anyone until season's end, thus throwing the carefully prepared coaching matrix into chaos. God knows who's going to end up where now. There's still a possibility that the rebel army of disaffected Bombers will seize control of the board and reinstate Sheedy with the view to grooming retiring skipper and possibly best-ever Bomber James Hird for the job. Will keep a close eye on further developments in the area of coaching appointments as they continue to unfold.

I wrote with nostalgia last week about my great childhood memory of seeing my team redeem themselves by avenging a Grand Final defeat. I'm well aware that I'm very fortunate in this regard, there are a lot of supporters out there my age who wouldn't have seen their team play in a Grand Final at all (Bulldogs), or who are waiting in vain for their side to atone for disappointment on the last day in September (Saints, Tigers, Demons, and especially Cats). The Cats were a tad unfortunate in their hapless Buffalo Bills-style Grand Final appearances of the early 1990s in that they kept on coming up against sides who had their own defeat-based motivations for winning. Geelong's attempt in 1992 to redeem their 1989 defeat was stymied by West Coast, seeking salvation for their own defeat the year before. The Cats of 1994 had the responsibility for gaining revenge for the '92 defeat, as well as '89, but got flogged. Fronting up the next year carrying the combined weight of the '89, '92 and '94 losses, the Pivotonians were never a chance against a Blues team wanting to make amends for their '93 defeat against Essendon (who'd gone down in '90). The Cats were soundly thumped again and slunk off into a corner to lick their wounds for the next decade. Until this season, when they're back at the right end of the ladder again and seemingly heading inexorably towards the Big Match. The way it's looking, though, their opponents could well be their old '90s bugbear the West Coast Eagles...I'm sure there'd be more than a few nervous Geelong people if that does end up being the Grand Final match-up.

But if Geelong folk have had their fair share of Grand Final disappointment spare a thought for those in the Black and White army. Contrary to popular opinion, there are some quite ordinary and decent citizens who happen to follow the Collingwood Football Club. My brother-in-law is one, my ex-boss in Cairo another (despite his unfortunate penchant for sporting the kind of garish ties that even flamboyant former Minister for Immigration Al Grassby would have rejected on sight as being "a bit lairy"). But the stereotypical image of Magpies fans- bitter, twisted, one-eyed, arrogant when winning, churlish when losing, insufferable in either case- is largely accurate from my experience. My late unlamented co-habitor Surly the Slightly Unsociable Housemate was one such case; the kind of character, as Rowan Atkinson once archly observed, one emigrates to avoid. But, like snarling malcontents on dismal English council estates, Collingwood people cannot be held completely responsible for their objectionable personalities. Consider, if you will, the childhood of a hypothetical Magpie supporter conceived at half-time of the 1970 Grand Final (I'm sure there were at least a couple!) by parents who had suffered through the narrow defeats of '64 and '66 and who were sure that a 44 point buffer at the long break would surely be enough to declare the premiership drought over. Two quarters later, the post-coital glow had well and truly faded as a handball-inspired revolution had swept Carlton past their shell-shocked opponents and onto the premiership dais in one of the most famous matches in history. Deep inside the womb the barely fertilised fetus was overwhelmed by a sense of sour disappointment, a feeling that would become all too familiar over the years to come. Growing up, the young 'Pie would have endured the club's first ever wooden spoon ('76); the dizziness of bouncing back the following season and making the Grand Final, only to draw it and then lose the replay; the heartbreak of losing to Carlton again in '79 by five points; the thrill of making the Grand Final from fifth place in '80 only to cop an 81 point hiding; and then the shattering experience of losing to Carlton again in '81. That's a lot to cop for an 11 year old. By the time the Magpies made the breakthrough in '90 and finally won a flag, our hypothetical fan was already 20 and his regulation issue Collingwood personality set in stone.

No doubt the unthinkable pleasures unleashed by seeing his team actually perform on Grand Final led to a repeat performance of siring a son and heir, although given the entertainment provided by the half-time brawl romantic interaction was probably delayed until after the fulltime siren had actually sounded. This latest addition to the Carringbush Clan would have grown up with the Magpies at the wrong end of the ladder, taking their second wooden spoon in '99. However by the time junior reached high school in '02 the Pies were back in the Grand Final action against Brisbane- they lost, but gallantly. When the two sides met again 12 months later the Collingwood army was salivating in anticipation of sweet revenge...but it all went horribly wrong. I've mentioned the '03 Grand Final before in the Wrap as it is one of the most remarkable matches you'll ever see- Collingwood looked like the Washington Generals playing the Harlem Globetrotters. It wouldn't have surprised at all if Brisbane skipper Michael Voss had pulled out a stepladder and taken a speccie over some hapless defender before spinning the ball on his finger and doing an overhead kick through the sticks. The most iconic moment of the game came when Pies defender Rhys Shaw attempted to run the ball out of defence but inexplicably dropped the ball at the feet of Lion Alistair Lynch, who nonchalantly picked it up and booted it through. Game over. Another Grand Final lost, another shattering experience for Magpies fans of all ages. And the most amazing thing about the match was the fact that the same two sides had met two weeks previously and Collingwood had won easily. It must have been deja vu all over again for Pies fans on the weekend because they again went in to play Brisbane at the MCG as firm favourites and got absolutely belted by 90-odd points. After looking good for a top two finish only a month ago Collingwood are now staring down the barrel of missing the finals altogether. Still, sooner or later Collingwood will be in the Grand Final again and either win it or look as though they might, and a whole new generation of Magpies will be conceived to endure their own September disappointments. That's how the black and white cycle of life goes.

It was a weekend of shellackings all round, the Bulldogs copped their second straight Friday night hiding and tumbled out of the eight courtesy of their mangled percentage. This time the frighteningly resurgent Eagles were the instigators in a match marred by the ridiculous decision to allow West Coast to wear their royal blue away jumpers against a team with a royal blue home jumper. Which colour-blind idiot approved that one? How hard is it to make sure that the two teams are wearing distinguishable uniforms? Port Adelaide likewise beat up on the hapless Demons, putting a dent in caretaker Mark Riley's chances of retaining his position at Melbourne. His fellow caretaker Mark Harvey (at Fremantle) also suffered a big loss at the hands of rampant Geelong, Cats fans were no doubt relieved that the resignation of Number 1 fan Steve Bracks as Premier of Victoria did not jinx the side. Bracks' resignation, incidentally, got about a quarter of the press of Kevin Sheedy's sacking, Victorians have their priorities right! Sydney took the points without breaking a sweat against the continually dismal Richmond.

There were a few close ones too- the Bombers won for Kevin Sheedy, as we had all hoped they would. Adelaide, wearing red jumpers for some unapparent reason, were the fall guys and are now a game behind the pace although they do have a very good percentage. Carlton were much improved under caretaker Brett Ratten but the Saints had enough in reserve to take the four points. And Hawthorn's Fortress Launceston was breached by the massively surprising Carrararoos, who are responsible for widespread indigestion amongst many a tipster forced to eat his or her hat.

God that's a long post! Hope some of that made sense. Another weekend looms, and it is fair to say that the 2007 finals series is well under way already with a number of games being absolute must-wins. The battle to take part in the September action is one of the closest in years and August promises to be a belter of a month. Hope your team's a winner (unless you're a Magpie fan, for whom suffering is good for the soul), see you back here for Round 18.