Well, I had a lovely holiday in Vietnam. Thank you for asking. Many, many highlights, as we wound our way up from the Delta to the north. I learned a great deal about the history and culture of the place and enjoyed it all very much, but Vietnam did let me down in one key regard- I was completely unable to access this website for the entire three weeks. Why my site was banned, I don't know. Perhaps I wrote something disparaging about Ho Chi Minh in an earlier post. In any case, apologies to those who have been on tenterhooks for weeks now waiting to find out who won the Grand Final (although I severely hope and pray that nobody is using this site as their only source of AFL-related information). I will now try and recreate the thrilling final three weeks of the 2007 AFL season.
Week two of the finals saw two very different encounters, fortunately I was still in Australia and able to witness both. Collingwood had perhaps the most difficult road trip of all to navigate, away to West Coast, but went over to the west chock full of confidence after their victory over Sydney the previous week. And what a belter of a game ensued. Both sides went at it hammer and tongs and when the final siren sounded scores were, for an incredible fourth time in 2007, dead level. These two sides played a finals draw in the 1990 season too, back then there was no extra time rule in finals and they had to come back the next week for a replay. This remains the source of much bitterness amongst Bombers supporters as it indirectly ended up costing Essendon the 1990 premiership. The Dons had finished atop the table and, under the old final five system, had the first week of the finals off. Canny Bombers coach Kevin Sheedy had sought to take full advantage of the break by resting several key but injury-carrying players for Round 22, thus giving them two weeks off to recover. Unfortunately having three weeks off due to the Collingwood-West Coast replay resulted in them being hopelessly out of condition and Essendon was duly smashed by the Magpies in the Second Semi Final, a result from which they never recovered. The Pies went on to take a long awaited flag, much to the disappointment of the rest of the competition who had been hoping with a due sense of schaudenfraude for the next chapter in the illustrious history of the Collywobbles. No such problems for the 2007 Magpies, they had all of the play in extra time and recorded a glorious away win to earn a spot in the Preliminary Final. President Eddie McGuire was thrilled but in control of his interview with Channel Seven after the game, managing to plug quite a few Channel Nine shows in the process ("Our odds of winning this one were 1oo to 1! And you can catch '100 to 1' the game show on Channel Nine at...") etc. etc. McGuire revealed that the triumphant Pies would be ferried back to Victoria on board a specially booked plane which would fly at low altitude all the way, allowing for recovery procedures to take place on board and with the added bonus of causing sonic booms over Adelaide. For the Eagles, though, the dream of back to back flags went very sour indeed in 2007. By all accounts coach John Worsfold lambasted his players in rare style, blasting them for the seemingly unending series of off-field activities and headlines that had distracted from the core business of winning footy matches. Ex-skipper Ben Cousins was one who reportedly copped it with both barrels from his own ex-captain. And in the weeks following it has gotten even worse for the Eagles- first, current skipper and arguably the best player in the competition Chris Judd decided he'd be happier back in Victoria and will line up next season in the navy blue of Carlton. Then, far more seriously, 1990s premiership hero and favourite son Chris Mainwaring died after what was by all accounts a drug-related binge. It will be a long tough off-season of soul-searching over in the West one would think.
The second match was the encounter between the Roos and the Hawks, and many thought that after the two sides' respective results the previous week a Hawthorn win was on the cards. It wasn't to be though, the Shinboners were able to make all the running while Lance Franklin was unable to repeat his heroics of seven days earlier. Hawthorn never really looked like it and bowed out of the finals in somewhat disappointing fashion. However they will look back with great pride on their 2007 season, the first time they've been in the finals since 2001. If Franklin can gain some consistency a la Jonathan Brown he could well be the next superstar of the competition. Plenty to look forward to in 2008 for Hawk fans.
I watched the Roos-Hawks match from the salubrious surrounds of the somewhat Stalinist looking Formule 1 hotel at Sydney Airport, and the next day jetted off to the City Formerly Known As Saigon. There I met my tour group, which included not only a lady named Di married to a man named Charles but a couple hilariously going by the names of Glen and Glenda. Fans of the so-bad-they're-good movies of legendary '50s director Ed Wood will know why I found that so funny, if not find out here- http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0045826/. After a lengthy day of sightseeing in the former South Vietnamese capital I wandered into a bar named the Blue Gecko, which was proudly advertising a Grand Final brunch affair blessed with the presence of ex-Eagles premiership hero Peter "Like A Cork In The Ocean!" Wilson. Sounded good, but unfortunately our tour was headed north to the beaches of Nha Trang. Here I was very confident of being able to see the eagerly awaited Geelong-Collingwood Preliminary Final, given the high number of Aussie dive instructors present and the existence, according to my bootleg Lonely Planet, of a sports bar called the Kangaroo. However I wandered the streets for some time searching in vain for said bar before a friendly local drove me at high speed on the back of his bike to a bar which was indeed called the Kangaroo- but which had a distinctly Russian theme, judging by all the Cyrillic script and vodka bottles. So I didn't get to see the game. However I was in good company there, as neither did hundreds of MCC members back in Melbourne. With a massive crowd of 98,000 plus turning up many found themselves turned away, including some who had made the cardinal error of getting a passout in order to have a quick ciggy. There's a good strategy for the Quit people to follow! Those Cats fans who did make it in would have had their hearts in their mouths for most of the match as Geelong looked distinctly nervous after their week off. Any Cats fan who happened to read the most recent Wrap dealing with the 1999 Preliminary Final would have been reaching for their hip flasks when Collingwood hit the front in the final quarter. But thankfully for the sake of the long-suffering denizens of Catland Geelong were able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat by a mere five points. Sub-editors who had already lined up the headline "Cat-astrophe!" were left disappointed, as were the Magpie army who had come so close to a most unexpected Grand Final appearance. But like Hawthorn, the Pies can be very happy indeed with a season in which they exceeded most people's expectations. The challenge for next season is to go one match better. They will have to do it without the veteran triumvirate of Nathan Buckley, James Clement and Paul Licuria, all of whom hung up the boots at the close of 2007. But the young brigade at Collingwood is the equal of any other side in the competition and will be tough to beat next year.
The other match was a case of deja vu all over again once more for the Carrararoos, who copped their second finals hiding in three weeks, this time at the hands of Port Adelaide. An 87 point whipping was a sad way for Glenn Archer's career to conclude, but his last season has been one in which the Roos have exceeded every expectations. For a team widely tipped to finish in the bottom four if not dead last to come third is a mighty achievement, even if they still do look to be Gold Coast bound due to a chronic lack of supporters. Let's hope that the Northerners are able to bite the bullet and move if they have to rather than taking the Fitzroy route of long term oblivion in Melbourne. For their part the Power were very impressive indeed in their victory, and their fans were rightly thrilled at their speedy return to the big stage after only three seasons away.
So nationwide excitement kicked off as Grand Final week commenced, particularly in Victoria and South Australia. Over in Vietnam, however, our tour had proceeded to the Central Highlands where we were undertaking a 20km trek rather optimistically described on the brochure as "difficult in parts". In reality, with large sections of the track under water, lengthy stretches of ankle deep leech-infested mud to trudge through, the occasional necessity to give way to the local bullock traffic, the potential danger presented by snakes/scorpions/left over punji traps and frequent torrential downpours of monsoonal rain, the trip was a bit of a challenge even for someone in absolute peak physical condition such as myself(!), let alone older folk like Glen or Glenda. Our trip, incidentally, was rated "Explorer", the middle of the three categories. Presumably on the "Comfort" trip you get carried along the track by native bearers; on the "Basix" category they quite possibly employ superannuated Viet Cong guerrillas to pop up and shoot at you occasionally. However despite the trials and tribulations of the trek we all survived and limped into the fairly nondescript town of Ban Me Thout (which sounds like a very strange and possibly disturbing request) eager to check on news of the outside world. Alas, Ban Me Thout is the home of the world's slowest internet- it took me ten minutes to successfully open one web page, which informed me that in an upset result Geelong's Jimmy Bartel had taken the Brownlow from his more fancied teammate Gary Ablett. I was unable to discover if any of the wives or girlfriends had been able to match the fashion atrocities of earlier seasons, grateful if anyone could let me know if they did.
So the Grand Final opponents were decided- for the first time since 2004 it would be 1 versus 2, for the first time since 1997 it would be two sides who had missed the finals the previous year, and for the first time since 2003 a Victorian team would take part. The general consensus amongst pundits was that this was going to be the third consecutive nailbiter of a Grand Final, after all Port had taken the points over the Cats in their last encounter and Geelong did have a fairly tragic recent history in Grand Finals (not to be confused with Port's fairly tragic history in finals in general, see 2001-3). Power coach Mark Williams engaged on a week of mindgames, referring repeatedly to the Cats' failures in the '89, '92, '94 and '95 Grand Finals and suggesting that history might be about to repeat itself. There was also much handwringing down the highway over who should take on the ruck duties against the Power duo of Lade and Brogan- should it be Mark "Blakey" Blake, who had rucked virtually all year but had looked progressively shaky, or should ex-skipper Steven "Salem's Lot" King, who had been in the twos all season but had a lot more experience. In the end coach Bomber Thompson opted for King, causing much Derek Kickett-style disappointment to Blakey who quite possibly expressed his feelings to his coach in the manner of his "On The Buses" namesake- "Oooh, I 'ate you Bomber!". I'm aware that that reference is probably mystifying to absolutely everyone, here's a quick explanation- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_The_Buses.
With the scent of an upset in the air, the Teutonic hordes from our nation's most Germanic state swept across the border for the big day in fleets of Volkswagons, Mercedes-Benzes and Panzer tanks, their lederhosen concealed under copious layers of black, white and teal. The MCG was a picture for the big match with a virtually full house turning up for the big game. The pre-match entertainment was up to its usual standard, this year we had the Ghost of Nicky Webster turning aerobatic circles with the premiership cap while attached to a hot air balloon. Bizarre stuff. But soon enough it was on with the main event as the two teams ran out, a fairly ordinary rendition of the National Anthem was bleated, and the ball was held aloft for the opening siren of Grand Final 2007.
While all this was going on my tour group was en route from the pleasant coastal city of Hoi An to the former imperial capital of Hue. We stopped en route at Danang to see China Beach, former R and R venue for off-duty US armed forces, and also saw the fabulous Marble Mountains, well worth a look if you're ever up that way. Some of us were looking at our watches and doing urgent timezone calculations in our heads as our bus hurtled northwards...
How to describe the demolition that was unfolding back in Melbourne? Well the first five minutes or so were close, and Port even led by a point for a couple of minutes. If they had been able to kick slightly straighter into the forward line, they might have even gotten a goal or two up. All too soon, however, Geelong clicked into gear and a couple of swift goals in succession would have elicited a worried "Ach der Lieben!" from the Port multitude. That would have mutated rapidly into an anguished "Gott in Himmel!!" as the Cats ran amok in the second quarter to go in at half time an almost insurmountable 52 points up. Former disgraced exile Steve Johnson was having a day out in the forward line, defensive general Matthew Scarlett was giving nothing away at the back, "Salem's Lot" was fully justifying his inclusion in the ruck, while the Cats midfield was having a day out. I have it on good authority, however, that the vast majority of Cats supporters maintained a poker face at the long break, determined to "keep a lid on it" lest the massive halftime lead dissolve into the greatest collapse in history. With the AFL making the very sensible decision some years back to abandon the halftime entertainment show, lest we cop a parade of surfboards NRL-style- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voCsJr4fpHc. These days the entertainment consists of the little league kids and the halftime sprint, just like it did in the old days (ie. the 1970s). This year the Richmond bloke won, giving beleaguered Tiges fans something to celebrate after a year in which they finished last yet again but somehow missed out on the consolation of the No. 1 draft pick courtesy of Carlton's tanking.
At this point our tour bus was screaming into Hue, tyres smoking, as the AFL supporters on board urged haste to the nearest restaurant or bar with Australia TV available. And to the credit of our tour leader Thinh, within minutes of arrival we were sitting in Hue's finest pizzaria watching as the teams came out for the second half. And if the Port fans thought things were bad at the long break, they must have been choking on their beer steins in the third quarter as the Cats ran completely amok. Mark Williams' halftime address to the troops obviously failed to hit the right notes as the Power's horrendous error rate continued, with Cat players gleefully swooping on every dropped mark or misdirected handball to bang through yet another major. When the siren sounded for three quarter time the result was in no doubt whatsoever, the sound of the lid coming off could be heard in a 100 mile radius in respective arcs centred around the MCG and Kardinia Park, the margin was the greatest ever at three quarter time in a Grand Final, and the stunned Power fans watching the slaughter with suitably aghast expressions could only hope for a few late consolation goals in the last quarter to make the final margin a little more respectable. But they would have been regurgitating their pie floaters (not that any non-South Australian could possibly tell the difference between the pre- and post-digested forms of that particular culinary abortion) as Geelong refused to show any mercy and instead took their revenge for the decades of frustration, missed opportunity and underachievement by unleashing an Old Testament-style onslaught upon the broken and demoralised opposition. When the dust finally cleared and the siren sounded, the old Grand Final record margin of 96 points had been completely obliterated (much to the joy of the 1988 Melbourne Demons, who would have been cheering every goal) as the Cats were on the right side of an unbelievable 119 point annihilation. Delirium promptly descended on the MCG as tearful ex-players, jubilant supporters and the ecstatic playing and coaching staff of Geelong joined as one to celebrate the breaking of the 44 year premiership drought in the most emphatic manner possible. The Norm Smith Medal deservedly went to Steve Johnson, whose season would make for a very inspirational TV movie of the week if only he was American. Perhaps the Yanks could buy up the rights to his story and adapt it so that he becomes a star quarterback who falls from grace through a drunk and disorderly arrest in, say, Topeka (rather than Wangaratta) and is banished from his team but fights his way back to lead his team to victory in the big game. Nah, nobody would buy that, it's far too corny and unbelievable.
The Cats did themselves proud on the premiership dais too. Perhaps remembering how churlish the Eagles had looked the previous season when many of the players had snubbed the kids presenting them with medals, the Geelong players made a point of giving each of the kids their sponsor's cap (much to the joy of the sponsors no doubt). But only the odd abandoned little hat with feather and half eaten saerkraut was left in the Power section of the ground, while the shellshocked Port players limped off the ground looking like the shattered remnants of the Wehrmacht following the Battle of Stalingrad.
There is no question that Geelong's victory was a very popular one amongst AFL fans of all persuasions. Crows fans had the satisfaction of seeing their hated rival get absolutely creamed and will have no shortage of verbal ammunition for the summer ahead. Demons fans can celebrate their side's removal from the record books of the unwanted title of most uncompetitive Grand Final side ever, while along with fans of the Bulldogs and Saints can take heart in the fact that if Geelong can break their drought perhaps hope is in sight for them too. Magpies supporters will be both proud that they ran the premiers to within a kick after the Cats won their other two finals by over 100 points, and will be thrilled that their 2003 Grand Final performance is no longer the most embarrassing in recent memory. Dons fans can enjoy the achievement of a famous son in Bomber Thompson even if he won't be succeeding the master Kevin Sheedy (Matthew Knights?! What happened to the criteria that the new coach had to have come from a culture of success? He played his whole career with Richmond!) And of course everyone can enjoy the absolute humiliation experienced by the most obnoxious fans in the AFL, even worse than Collingwood, who have been rabbiting on since their admission about being "the most successful club in Australia" courtesy of their 35 premierships in Die Bundesliga across the border- hopefully a 20 goal pounding witnessed worldwide will shut them up for a bit.
So, there we have it. At the end of one of the most eventful seasons on record, both on and off the field, Geelong have won everything not nailed down. We've seen coaching carnage, the ends of eras, a galaxy of great stars retire from the game and some new ones emerge. And big questions remain to be answered in the leadup to 2008. Will the Carrararoos bite the bullet and head north? Can West Coast keep their players out of the magistrates court? How will Melbourne, Fremantle, Carlton and Essendon go with brand new coaches? All those questions and more will no doubt be answered, but you'll have to wait for 2008- season 2007 is officially a wrap.
Thanks to those who've enjoyed the Wrap this season and let me know through comments or email. It's been fun doing it and has given me something to do on Friday afternoons. Cheers especially to the No. 1 Cats supporter Tim for setting up the site which didn't really leave me any option but to do the Wrap (any questions as to why the dog on the tuckerbox is misunderstood should be directed to him, not me). I promise next year that I will not go on holidays while the finals are in progress! See you back here in 2008.
08 October 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)