Well, good news for death and taxes. If a team that's won 42 matches out of 44 can't take the premiership, there are indeed only two certainties in life. By now, of course, the result of AFL Grand Final 2008 is universally known. The seemingly indestructible Pivotonian Empire has been defeated, its Death Star of indomitability blown to shreds by the Rebel Alliance of the Eastern Suburbs (with Chance Bateman playing the role of Chewbacca, or possibly one of the Ewoks). The guard has been changed, the torch has been passed, and the city of Melbourne is draped in brown and gold. Down the Avalon Highway, however, things are pretty grim. The ecstacy of the 2007 droughtbreaker must have seemed like an all-too distant memory to Cats fans on the Sunday morning following this year’s decider; the bitter déjà vu of all of those losses in the mid-90s would have been flooding back like an uncorked bottle of cheap Spumante.
But at the start of Grand Final week, all of that was still to come. The air was filled with the scents of spring and the glorious anticipation of an imminent battle royale. And nowhere was this more the case than the garden state of Victoria, whose populace was over the moon at the prospect of an all-Victorian Grand Final for the first time since the Almost Invincibles Bombers put the hapless Demons to the sword way back in 2000. In the years following, supporters of neutral Victorian clubs to whom an interstate side’s victory was anathema were faced with either getting behind Essendon in 2001 (unpalatable to many), or Collingwood in 2002-3 (unpalatable to all), or then picking the lesser of two evils in the three years following as both Grand Finalists hailed from the northern, southern, or western wastelands. Last year’s Grand Final at last gave neutral Victorians the opportunity to get behind a team that most were at worst ambivalent about, belting a widely despised interstate outfit in a most popular outcome. But it just hasn’t been the same without two local (or semi-local, in Geelong’s case) sides going up against each other.
And the prospect of these two sides doing battle whetted the appetite in a way that few other prospective match-ups could do. For Hawthorn and Geelong took part in one of the all-time Grand Final epics back in 1989, truly a match for the ages. Nostalgia for all-things 1989 (Tiananmen Square- bad; Seinfeld and the Simpsons begin- good; ACT Legislative Assembly established- indifferent) flooded back as memories of the great game hammered the airwaves. For those who somehow missed all the references to it, the 1989 Grand Final came after years of disappointing one-sided Grand Finals (although 1984 wasn’t too bad). It featured a Hawks side in its seventh consecutive Grand Final, up against a Cats side filled with exciting players. It featured violence from the outset, with Mark Yeates crunching Dermott Brereton who was somehow able to remain on the ground and kick a vital goal, despite vomiting profusely. Ironically, in years to come Brereton would go on to become a minor television celebrity whose contributions on a range of reality shows would cause a similar reaction from the viewing public. But no more so than his ex-Hawk team-mate Robert (Dipper) Dipierdomenico, who achieved fame post-footy career by becoming the face and voice of dodgy garment retailers Dimmeys of Richmond and Forges of Footscray. On the big day in 1989, Dipper achieved immortality for playing on despite a punctured lung which, if he had taken an hour or so longer to get medically treated, would have cost him his life (and all of those post-footy sponsorship endorsements). But the man who stood head and shoulders above all others on that fateful day way back in the ‘80s was the great man, Gary Ablett Sr, or “God” to his many followers. After the Hawks had bolted out to a seemingly insurmountable lead, it was Ablett’s sublime skill and sense of occasion that got the Cats back into it, piling on goal after goal in an unmatched individual performance. When the final siren rang with the Hawks clinging on by a single straight kick and with every player on both sides on the verge of exhaustion, few could have doubted that they had witnessed a modern day classic. Could we dare to dream that the 2008 encounter would provide a worthy sequel, a la the Godfather Part II or The Empire Strikes Back? Or were we fated to endure a Blues Brother 2000, a Ghostbusters 2, or even, god forbid, a ghastly unwanted latter day remake along the lines of Inspector Gadget, Get Smart, the Mod Squad or The Dukes of Hazzard, which would serve only to sully the memory of the original?
That question wouldn’t be answered until the Grand Final was played on the Saturday. With a whole week to fill until the big day, there was plenty of opportunity to hand out awards to the deserving. The naming of the All-Australian team always leads to a bit of controversy, selection is a highly difficult process with so many deserving the honour of gaining a gaudy jumper never to be worn on the field of battle. This year fourteen teams saw their players gain representation. The Cats not surprisingly contributed the most, although their seven players picked represented a loss of two from their astonishing nine the previous season. The two sides not represented were the hapless Demons, to no great surprise, and Essendon, which was outrageous. Surely the emergence of ruckman David Hille as a genuine star should have got him in ahead of one of the beanpole chancers from the west? Apparently not. Not quite as big an insult as that dealt to Collingwood back in 1996, when not a single Magpie was named in the AFL’s Team of the Century (don’t get Eddie McGuire started on that one), but still worthy of rancour among the Windy Hill faithful.
No time to dwell on such matters, as the eagerly awaited Brownlow Medal count needs addressing. As detailed in my last Wrap, which went up about a month or so ago, the Brownlow Medal has been severely criticised for its many structural faults. However, it remains the only opportunity for viewers at home to tune in and pick faults with the outfits worn by the players’ WAGs, and to enjoy the sight of those not in the running becoming progressively inebriated as the evening wears on. I myself many years back made the unwise decision to join in a drinking game based on the votes received by various players. Unfortunately I drew James Hird’s name out of the hat and can’t recall anything about the count beyond about Round 12. I believe he actually went on to win that year. This year Hird wasn’t going to feature, and the count wasn’t being broadcast in the ACT anyway, so I was in no personal danger. It was felt to be a fairly open field this year, plenty of players were strong possibilities but there was no outright runaway favourite. For the second year in a row the great Gary Ablett Sr’s son Gary Ablett Jr was widely fancied, as was diminutive Roo Brent Harvey. The long-suffering champion of the long-suffering supporters of a long-suffering team, Tiger Matthew Richardson, was the sentimental favourite. Some felt that Cat Jimmy Bartel was a show at going back to back, while others thought Bulldog Adam Cooney might become the first AFL Number 1 draft pick to win the coveted medal. But before we got to that point, there were 22 rounds to count through, as well as untold hours of red carpet footage of players arriving with WAGs in tow. Truth be told, many tune in just for this alone. There have been some absolute fashion disasters in the past. Who could forget Nathan Buckley’s partner’s diamond encrusted G-string? Or Andrew McLeod’s wife painting his number (23) on her back with glitter – she was lucky none of the Mad Monday-affected opposition players got confused and tackled her to the ground! I am reliably informed that there were no such catastrophes this year, at least among the female contingent. There haven’t been that many historical fashion faux pas’s among the men, mainly because it’s pretty difficult to get a tuxedo wrong unless the lengths are done wrong Mr Bean-style. The two that are probably most memorable were both worn by winners: Graham Teasdale’s luridly coloured velvet tuxedo in 1977; and psychotic dwarf Tony Liberatore’s appalling Nagee tie in 1990. Nagee (I have no idea about the spelling) was a poor man’s version of Dimmeys of Richmond and Forges of Footscray which is evidently no longer in business, it’s possible that the publicity generated by Libba’s tie was the final nail in their coffin. This year, for reasons known only to himself, Saints skipper Nick Riedwoldt paid tribute to Teasdale by wearing a velvet suit himself, but fortunately Riedwoldt’s version was at least black. The real fashion atrocities were committed by the barbers – how bad are Generation Y haircuts? Dermott Brereton’s 1989 permed mullet was a better look than some of the dog’s breakfasts going around these days!
Once the spectacularly attired lads and lasses were finally off the red carpet and seated, the count at last got under way. And in a move that finally proved the Wrap’s theory that the AFL has been operating all year in a time-space continuum variant to that experienced by the rest of the human race, AFL CEO Andrew Demetriou kicked off by reading the votes for Round 2 ahead of Round 1. Once he’d sorted himself out and got into some sort of order it was a former winner, Simon Black of Brisbane who’d saluted in 2002, who got off to a flyer. Black polled four best on grounds in the opening eight rounds, but was closely shadowed by Cooney, Richo, and Hawk Brad Sewell. The AFL would have been stressing in the middle rounds that one three ineligible players – dual ex-winner Adam Goodes, or Hawks pair Buddy Franklin and Sam Mitchell – would cause embarrassment by “winning” the award, but fortunately they fell off the pace in later rounds. Young Ablett made his move in Rounds 10-13, picking up 11 from a possible 12 votes, but still trailed Black by a single vote going into Round 15. Popular favourite Richo was eliciting roars of approval with every vote received. Black moved to 23 votes after Round 16, but failed to receive another vote for the night. Richo and Ablett both got to 22 after Round 20, with Cooney one vote behind. The tension could have been cut with a knife as the counting for the final two rounds got under way. Richo was clearly loving the attention, mugging to the cameras like a ham actor playing a minor role in a Gilbert and Sullivan musical. Ablett, on the other hand, was grimacing with pain when votes didn’t go his way – he clearly wanted to be taking the medal home at the end of the evening.
Black, Richo and Ablett all failed to poll a vote in Round 21, but Cooney polled a perfect 3 to move into the lead for the first time all evening. When none of the leaders were able to trouble the scorer in Round 22 it was Adam Cooney of the Western Bulldogs, the No 1 pick of the 2003 draft, who had won the honour of the 2008 Brownlow Medal at the end of a thrilling count. It transpired during his post-award interview that: Cooney had spent the bulk of the day enjoying “Mad Monday” with his Bulldog teammates, many of whom turned up en masse to congratulate him dressed in an array of inappropriate costumes (although thankfully nobody took a leaf out of Fev’s book); he had been locked out of the venue during the counting of several votes after a door had locked behind him while taking a nervous but necessary pitstop; he had recently proposed to his girlfriend, utilising a Burger Ring as an impromptu engagement ring. Clearly a man with a future in post-footy entertainment, he could easily become the next face of Dimmeys of Richmond and Forges of Footscray.
More to follow.
27 September 2008
21 September 2008
Finals Weeks Two-Three: The Wrap Of Brotherly Love
While footy is a team game, the skill and brilliance of individual players goes a long way to ensuring that the stadiums are full (although not in Sydney), and that the AFL remains the number one footballing code in Australia. So it is only fair and right that the players have the opportunity to receive due recognition at the end of every season. There are varying methods through which this can be achieved. All of the newspapers and TV shows have their own awards, distributing cars, hampers and cruises for two to winners in a wide variety of categories. The AFL’s official award has since 1924 been the Brownlow Medal, named after a former Geelong administrator and awarded to the “fairest and best” player. This designation caused some red faces a decade or so ago, when in consecutive years the award was “won” by ineligible players – first in 1996 North’s Corey McKernan shared the winning number of votes with Michael Voss and James Hird to no avail, then in 1997 the Dogs’ Chris Grant won outright but had to watch from home as the medal went to Old Father Time Robert Harvey (then a sprightly young man). And the Brownlow Medal is a very arbitrary award. It can seemingly be won only by midfielders (and blond ones at that). While it is true that a number of truly great players have won Brownlow Medals, such as Dick Reynolds, Michael Voss, James Hird, Robert Harvey, Nathan Buckley and Chris Judd, a number of medals have gone to those who would otherwise have faded deservedly into obscurity (Brad Hardie, Graham Teasdale, Shane Woewodin), or to others who spent far more time pacing nervously in the corridor while the tribunal weighed up how long their latest suspension should be than would seem fitting for someone supposedly the “fairest” player in the competition (Tony Lockett, Robert Dipierdomenico, Tony Liberatore). It is also frequently pointed out by the footy commentariat that many of the genuine greats of the game never won a Brownlow (Ted Whitten, Ron Barassi, Leigh Matthews, Wayne Carey, Gary Ablett Sr etc. etc.).
For all of these reasons, moves have been made in recent years to promote an alternative award as the jewel in the crown: the Leigh Matthews Trophy, or Most Valuable Trophy as voted by the players. On the surface, this sounds great. Any award voted for by a player’s peers must surely have a resonance greater than one voted for by the little men in tangerine/aqua/cerise. However this year’s MVP award process has demonstrated that there is no perfect system; there will always be bugs in the ointment. The 2008 AFL MVP award went to Geelong’s Gary Ablett Jr, his second straight win. No problems there, Junior is undeniably a champion who can do things few others can, and can virtually win a game single-handedly. However the voting process revealed all kinds of anomalies. Unlike the Brownlow Medal, where the votes are cast by the umpires on a round by round basis, the MVP voting is done by the players in two stages; one where the players can vote for their team-mates, and one where they can’t. The list of players is also limited to three per side, therefore meaning that the hapless Demons get the same representation as the all-conquering Cats. It’s a bit like the Australian Senate in that regard, with Melbourne playing Tasmania to Geelong’s New South Wales. What this meant in practice this year was that Geelong couldn’t fit the reigning Brownlow Medallist Jimmy Bartel into its list of three, opting instead for Ablett, Joel Selwood and Cam Ling, the latter fresh from his Olympic pole-vaulting triumph. When it came to the second round of voting, all kinds of interesting statistics emerged. First, hardly any of the Collingwood players bothered to vote. Those who did snubbed Lance Franklin completely, despite (or possibly because) Buddy having carved them up on both occasions the two sides had met. Then there was the brotherly love factor. Sydney’s Jarryd (Jared? Jarred?) McVeigh has had an outstanding season, and lifted his game to a new level. But is he now among the game’s elite? Hell yes, according to the Essendon players, who gave him a ringing electoral seal of endorsement. Purely coincidental that his brother Mark is at Windy Hill, and evidently has a Tammany Hall/ Zimbabwe-style touch with his teammates when it comes to “suggesting” the correct way to vote. As does Brisbane’s Troy Selwood, whose Lions brethren voted en masse for Geelong’s Joel. Joel must be a little disappointed that his other two brothers Adam and Scott, both at West Coast, couldn’t between them manage an Eagles’ bloc to get him across the line. Frosty conversation around the Christmas dinner table at Chez Selwood this year, perhaps. So while the end result of the MVP was not unpopular, perhaps the off-season will provide opportunity for some tinkering of the voting system.
Four matches have been played in the finals series in the two weeks since I last got around to posting, let’s quickly run through them. The first encounter saw the battered Bulldogs regroup to take on the Swans at the MCG, in front of a thankfully larger (although still disappointing) crowd than that at the previous Swans’ final. The match started inauspiciously, if amusingly; with the players lined up and the crowd standing to attention for the national anthem, the distinctive strains of AC/DC’s “Long Way To The Top” blasted forward instead. Some would argue it would make a better anthem anyway. The game itself proved tight in the first half, but the Dogs ran away with it in the second, putting through ten goals to four for an easy 37 point win. A highly satisfying victory for Bulldogs’ coach Rodney Eade, who was previously at the helm of the Swans. Sydney will be pleased that they were able to carry their finals campaign into the second week, but will now have to think hard about how to stay competitive as their playing list ages – the fickle Sydney market will not take kindly to any “rebuilding years”.
The Saturday night fixture of week two saw the Saints take on the Magpies, and my Collingwood brother-in-law and I decided that the Ainslie Football Club might be a venue offering an appropriate atmosphere. Ainslie was certainly not lacking in sporting atmosphere; screens left right and centre offered a smorgasbord selection of AFL, rugby league, rugby union and even English Premier League soccer (complete with a table of drunken English football hooligans). But our attention, and that of many others, was firmly fixed on the Pies and Saints. It’s fair to say that amongst supporters of other clubs, Collingwood does not rank highly as a “second team”. Indeed, they’re commonly known as “the filth” by many. Even I would normally be loathe to be associated with the black and white, but as my brother-in-law hails from the more socially acceptable “Sinn Fein” membership wing of the club, rather than the great unwashed and unreconstructed outer, I was able to put negative feelings aside (mainly dating from 1990) and come along. However the overwhelming majority of neutrals both at Ainslie and elsewhere were firmly hoping to see the Magpies get trounced. And everyone bar my brother-in-law went home happy as Collingwood put in a shocker to go down by 34 points, season over for the Carringbush. The final margin didn’t really reflect the skill gulf between the sides, but had St Kilda kicked less accurately (17 goals 4 behinds) or Collingwood more so (9 goals 18) it might have all panned out differently. It wasn’t to be, though, Saints skipper Nick Riewoldt was unstoppable up forward while the Magpies didn’t have any clear route to goal. Towards the end the cameras flashed up shots of the Collingwood cheer squad leader “Joffa” looking totally despondent, followed by Magpie El Supremo Eddie McGuire looking similarly glum. This was greeted with a huge roar of applause from the pro-Saint gallery at Ainslie, as were shots of banished Pies Alan Didak and Heath Shaw sitting in the crowd in their suits. But the most miserable looking Magpies of all were two kids aged about six who were sitting with Eddie McGuire – evidently they’d won a competition of some kind with a prize of attending a final with the Collingwood President. If only they’d won it the previous week! For Pies fans it was a case of what might have been, if only Shaw and Didak had stuck to lemonade back in July. They’ll dine out over summer on being the only team to beat Geelong during the home and away season, but what a frustrating way to end the year.
And so to the Preliminary Finals, just four teams left with everything to play for. This time last year Geelong very nearly slipped up against Collingwood, and their fans were once again biting their nails as the Western Bulldogs took it right up to them. The Dogs dominated large stretches of play but their inability to convert opportunities into goals ultimately cost it dearly. The Cats never really dominated the match, but their finals experience really showed as they were able to soak up relentless Bulldog pressure before sweeping the ball to the other end and inevitably scoring another major. The eventual margin of 29 points was probably about right. Geelong advance to the Grand Final to defend their title, all over though for 2008 for the Doggies. The Bulldogs will rue their inaccurate kicking, but perhaps their major problem was that 2008 was simply not a great year to be a contender – in any other season the Dogs would have been a genuine chance, but this year they were clearly not in the top two. The Bullies are now the unwanted holders of the title both for longest premiership drought (since 1954) and longest wait to appear in a Grand Final (since 1961, although it should be noted that the Fremantle Dockers are yet to appear in a Grand Final and almost certainly never will.) So 2008 will join 1998, 1997, 1992 and 1985 in the Bulldog pantheon of lost preliminary final years.
And so to the penultimate match of 2008, the preliminary final between Hawthorn and St Kilda. The last time these two sides met it was the Saints who prevailed, coming back after being well behind at half time. And they were once more well behind at half time in this match, but there were to be no repeats of their earlier heroics. Although Buddy Franklin had a rare shocker after his blitzkrieg performance in week one of the finals, the Hawks had an army of battlers willing to step up in his stead. The forgotten man of the Hawks’ forward line, “The Other” Mark Williams, booted five, while Franklin’s straight man Jarryd (Jared? Jarred?) Roughead got four. Spiritual leader Luke Hodge was inspirational, remaining on the ground after having his ribs crunched and spitting blood in a manner reminiscent of Hawks legends Dipper and Dermie in the ’89 Grand Final. And Chance Bateman’s wild beribboned locks may make him look like a hybrid of Boy George from Culture Club circa 1984 and the Paddlepop Lion, but he can play. Just as well.
With the final result not in doubt after half time, the Saints’ attention turned to the fact that game 383 was going to be it for Old Father Time Robert Harvey. With his departure an era has finally ended – Harvey was the last remaining VFL player and the last left from the 1980s. An amazing achievement of longevity, tarnished only by the lack of premiership success. At least Harvey did get to play in a Grand Final back in ’97, the year he won the first of his back to back Brownlow Medals. But in recent years the Saints’ record in Preliminary Finals has rivalled that of the Bulldogs, with this year’s loss going alongside those of 2004 and 2005. 1966 must seem a very long time ago to the red, white and black brigade.
And so, after 25 weeks and who knows how many games, the 2008 season has come down to one fixture, and it’s the one we wanted. The reigning champs, Geelong, versus the worthy challengers, Hawthorn. Last time these two sides met in a Grand Final it was a modern day classic. Can they do it again? Let’s hope so. See you back here after the Grand Final for a comprehensive Wrap of the big day, plus a bit on the Brownlow if I get around to it. My tip- Geelong by 6 points, Buddy for Norm Smith.
For all of these reasons, moves have been made in recent years to promote an alternative award as the jewel in the crown: the Leigh Matthews Trophy, or Most Valuable Trophy as voted by the players. On the surface, this sounds great. Any award voted for by a player’s peers must surely have a resonance greater than one voted for by the little men in tangerine/aqua/cerise. However this year’s MVP award process has demonstrated that there is no perfect system; there will always be bugs in the ointment. The 2008 AFL MVP award went to Geelong’s Gary Ablett Jr, his second straight win. No problems there, Junior is undeniably a champion who can do things few others can, and can virtually win a game single-handedly. However the voting process revealed all kinds of anomalies. Unlike the Brownlow Medal, where the votes are cast by the umpires on a round by round basis, the MVP voting is done by the players in two stages; one where the players can vote for their team-mates, and one where they can’t. The list of players is also limited to three per side, therefore meaning that the hapless Demons get the same representation as the all-conquering Cats. It’s a bit like the Australian Senate in that regard, with Melbourne playing Tasmania to Geelong’s New South Wales. What this meant in practice this year was that Geelong couldn’t fit the reigning Brownlow Medallist Jimmy Bartel into its list of three, opting instead for Ablett, Joel Selwood and Cam Ling, the latter fresh from his Olympic pole-vaulting triumph. When it came to the second round of voting, all kinds of interesting statistics emerged. First, hardly any of the Collingwood players bothered to vote. Those who did snubbed Lance Franklin completely, despite (or possibly because) Buddy having carved them up on both occasions the two sides had met. Then there was the brotherly love factor. Sydney’s Jarryd (Jared? Jarred?) McVeigh has had an outstanding season, and lifted his game to a new level. But is he now among the game’s elite? Hell yes, according to the Essendon players, who gave him a ringing electoral seal of endorsement. Purely coincidental that his brother Mark is at Windy Hill, and evidently has a Tammany Hall/ Zimbabwe-style touch with his teammates when it comes to “suggesting” the correct way to vote. As does Brisbane’s Troy Selwood, whose Lions brethren voted en masse for Geelong’s Joel. Joel must be a little disappointed that his other two brothers Adam and Scott, both at West Coast, couldn’t between them manage an Eagles’ bloc to get him across the line. Frosty conversation around the Christmas dinner table at Chez Selwood this year, perhaps. So while the end result of the MVP was not unpopular, perhaps the off-season will provide opportunity for some tinkering of the voting system.
Four matches have been played in the finals series in the two weeks since I last got around to posting, let’s quickly run through them. The first encounter saw the battered Bulldogs regroup to take on the Swans at the MCG, in front of a thankfully larger (although still disappointing) crowd than that at the previous Swans’ final. The match started inauspiciously, if amusingly; with the players lined up and the crowd standing to attention for the national anthem, the distinctive strains of AC/DC’s “Long Way To The Top” blasted forward instead. Some would argue it would make a better anthem anyway. The game itself proved tight in the first half, but the Dogs ran away with it in the second, putting through ten goals to four for an easy 37 point win. A highly satisfying victory for Bulldogs’ coach Rodney Eade, who was previously at the helm of the Swans. Sydney will be pleased that they were able to carry their finals campaign into the second week, but will now have to think hard about how to stay competitive as their playing list ages – the fickle Sydney market will not take kindly to any “rebuilding years”.
The Saturday night fixture of week two saw the Saints take on the Magpies, and my Collingwood brother-in-law and I decided that the Ainslie Football Club might be a venue offering an appropriate atmosphere. Ainslie was certainly not lacking in sporting atmosphere; screens left right and centre offered a smorgasbord selection of AFL, rugby league, rugby union and even English Premier League soccer (complete with a table of drunken English football hooligans). But our attention, and that of many others, was firmly fixed on the Pies and Saints. It’s fair to say that amongst supporters of other clubs, Collingwood does not rank highly as a “second team”. Indeed, they’re commonly known as “the filth” by many. Even I would normally be loathe to be associated with the black and white, but as my brother-in-law hails from the more socially acceptable “Sinn Fein” membership wing of the club, rather than the great unwashed and unreconstructed outer, I was able to put negative feelings aside (mainly dating from 1990) and come along. However the overwhelming majority of neutrals both at Ainslie and elsewhere were firmly hoping to see the Magpies get trounced. And everyone bar my brother-in-law went home happy as Collingwood put in a shocker to go down by 34 points, season over for the Carringbush. The final margin didn’t really reflect the skill gulf between the sides, but had St Kilda kicked less accurately (17 goals 4 behinds) or Collingwood more so (9 goals 18) it might have all panned out differently. It wasn’t to be, though, Saints skipper Nick Riewoldt was unstoppable up forward while the Magpies didn’t have any clear route to goal. Towards the end the cameras flashed up shots of the Collingwood cheer squad leader “Joffa” looking totally despondent, followed by Magpie El Supremo Eddie McGuire looking similarly glum. This was greeted with a huge roar of applause from the pro-Saint gallery at Ainslie, as were shots of banished Pies Alan Didak and Heath Shaw sitting in the crowd in their suits. But the most miserable looking Magpies of all were two kids aged about six who were sitting with Eddie McGuire – evidently they’d won a competition of some kind with a prize of attending a final with the Collingwood President. If only they’d won it the previous week! For Pies fans it was a case of what might have been, if only Shaw and Didak had stuck to lemonade back in July. They’ll dine out over summer on being the only team to beat Geelong during the home and away season, but what a frustrating way to end the year.
And so to the Preliminary Finals, just four teams left with everything to play for. This time last year Geelong very nearly slipped up against Collingwood, and their fans were once again biting their nails as the Western Bulldogs took it right up to them. The Dogs dominated large stretches of play but their inability to convert opportunities into goals ultimately cost it dearly. The Cats never really dominated the match, but their finals experience really showed as they were able to soak up relentless Bulldog pressure before sweeping the ball to the other end and inevitably scoring another major. The eventual margin of 29 points was probably about right. Geelong advance to the Grand Final to defend their title, all over though for 2008 for the Doggies. The Bulldogs will rue their inaccurate kicking, but perhaps their major problem was that 2008 was simply not a great year to be a contender – in any other season the Dogs would have been a genuine chance, but this year they were clearly not in the top two. The Bullies are now the unwanted holders of the title both for longest premiership drought (since 1954) and longest wait to appear in a Grand Final (since 1961, although it should be noted that the Fremantle Dockers are yet to appear in a Grand Final and almost certainly never will.) So 2008 will join 1998, 1997, 1992 and 1985 in the Bulldog pantheon of lost preliminary final years.
And so to the penultimate match of 2008, the preliminary final between Hawthorn and St Kilda. The last time these two sides met it was the Saints who prevailed, coming back after being well behind at half time. And they were once more well behind at half time in this match, but there were to be no repeats of their earlier heroics. Although Buddy Franklin had a rare shocker after his blitzkrieg performance in week one of the finals, the Hawks had an army of battlers willing to step up in his stead. The forgotten man of the Hawks’ forward line, “The Other” Mark Williams, booted five, while Franklin’s straight man Jarryd (Jared? Jarred?) Roughead got four. Spiritual leader Luke Hodge was inspirational, remaining on the ground after having his ribs crunched and spitting blood in a manner reminiscent of Hawks legends Dipper and Dermie in the ’89 Grand Final. And Chance Bateman’s wild beribboned locks may make him look like a hybrid of Boy George from Culture Club circa 1984 and the Paddlepop Lion, but he can play. Just as well.
With the final result not in doubt after half time, the Saints’ attention turned to the fact that game 383 was going to be it for Old Father Time Robert Harvey. With his departure an era has finally ended – Harvey was the last remaining VFL player and the last left from the 1980s. An amazing achievement of longevity, tarnished only by the lack of premiership success. At least Harvey did get to play in a Grand Final back in ’97, the year he won the first of his back to back Brownlow Medals. But in recent years the Saints’ record in Preliminary Finals has rivalled that of the Bulldogs, with this year’s loss going alongside those of 2004 and 2005. 1966 must seem a very long time ago to the red, white and black brigade.
And so, after 25 weeks and who knows how many games, the 2008 season has come down to one fixture, and it’s the one we wanted. The reigning champs, Geelong, versus the worthy challengers, Hawthorn. Last time these two sides met in a Grand Final it was a modern day classic. Can they do it again? Let’s hope so. See you back here after the Grand Final for a comprehensive Wrap of the big day, plus a bit on the Brownlow if I get around to it. My tip- Geelong by 6 points, Buddy for Norm Smith.
12 September 2008
Finals Week One: The Inexplicably Naked Wrap
Finals time! And the excitement was palpable, right across the big brown land. Well, maybe not quite so much this year in Western Australia, given the lamentability of both of their representatives. And Queenslanders were a little bit iffy. But South Australians (barring those of the Port persuasion) were abuzz, Victorians were like kids on Christmas Eve awaiting Santa Claus' arrival with a bottle of beer and a glass of milk for Rudolph, and New South Welshmen...well, evidently somebody forgot to tell the citizens of New South Wales that the finals had begun, and, what's more, that they were actually hosting one. Perhaps their attention was diverted by the stunning implosion of their state government, although the resignation of their police minister two and a half days into his term for dancing in his underpants Mick Molloy-style didn't happen until later in the week. Who knows. Fortunately there was more than enough excitement in the remaining states and territories to make up for the apathy of the Premier State (with its brand-new ex-garbo Premier), and nowhere more so than in the nation's capital. Hollowmen, spooks, pencil-pushers and fireworks retailers one and all could talk of nothing else in the days leading up to the weekend, and yours truly was anything but immune. I could only have been more excited if Essendon had somehow contrived to be involved. Maybe next year. Probably not. At least I was able to relive the glorious days of yore through an encore screening of "Bomber Blitz", in which the Almost Invincibles of 2000 laid waste to the rest of the competition like the Roman Empire conquering the known world (apart from one small village of indomitable Bulldogs).
No team has been as successful as the Almost Invincibles until Geelong this year. But there are a couple of important differences between the two sides. First, Essendon in 2000 not only won the premiership but also took home the preseason Sponsor’s Product Cup. Geelong couldn’t manage that in 2008. Second, the Bombers’ sole loss was in a gritty nailbiter against a team which flooded for dear life. The Cats, on the other hand, got blown off the park by a team which tackled for dear life. Third, Essendon had no genuine rivals in 2000 – Carlton, which had played spoiler the previous year and posed during the 2000 season as a potential threat, fell over in week one of the finals and didn’t make it to the Grand Final. Geelong, on the other hand, has a genuine challenger in Hawthorn. A Cats flag this year may still be the most likely outcome, but it is anything but a certainty.
The Hawks were the first team out of the blocks in the 2008 finals series, with their long-awaited bout against the Western Bulldogs taking place at the MCG on the Friday night in front of a bumper crowd. After all of the attention Buddy Franklin had gotten after reaching his ton the previous week, many had wondered how exactly the Bulldogs would be able to stop him running amok. It proved, like the sound of one hand clapping as a tree falls in a forest, to be an unanswerable question. Buddy dominated this final like few before him; booting eight goals, giving away three fifty-metre penalties, and drawing a declaration from normally unimpressible ex-Lions coach Leigh Matthews that he “must be from another planet”. The Dogs never looked a chance and were duly defeated by 51 points. A fair bit of re-jigging to do for them before their next final, but all smiles at Glenferrie as the Hawks booked themselves a week off.
Saturday afternoon bloomed beautifully in Canberra, so it was with some regrets that I spent it indoors watching Adelaide play Collingwood in the first elimination final. In the good company of my Magpie brother-in-law and my one and only Crows buddy, the salubrious surrounds of Eastlakes Footy Club proved a fine venue for probably the best of the weekend’s finals encounters. The crowd at Footy Park was a tad disappointing, given that this was guaranteed to be the only final played in Adelaide in 2008 the AFL would probably have hoped for more than the 37, 685 who showed up. Perhaps Crows supporters were still in shock after the Saints had committed daylight robbery the previous week and taken fourth place from them. Certainly the Crows players looked shell-shocked in the first quarter as the Pies leapt from the blocks and opened up a convincing early lead. However the second quarter proved a reverse mirror image of the first, as the Crows lifted their intensity and piled on seven goals for the quarter to go in at half-time 12 points up.
At this stage it became apparent to the three of us that an advertisement for a certain Canberra carpet emporium that had played repeatedly during the first half could no longer be ignored. It should be noted that the background noise of patrons and pokies prevented us from clearly hearing the dialogue. The ad featured an animated couple speaking with a fairly harried-looking salesman, requesting a carpet impervious to the rigours of two preteen boys (who promptly appeared, one pouring a bottle of tomato sauce over the other). We’d all seen this ad before, so far nothing out of the ordinary. However, at this point in the ad the salesman’s eyes swung abruptly to the right as if he was on parade, and a naked gentleman swung into view (mercifully from the back), with hands nowhere to be seen and his whole body shaking as though he was operating a jackhammer. What in God’s name was this? Was it a poorly conceived attempt by the advertisers to provide a practical indication of the robust stain-proof quality of the carpets? Or was this the work of a disgruntled ex-employee, who’d stayed up many nights plotting his revenge through the medium of manga? Whatever the case, it didn’t look like something that should have been going to air on a Saturday afternoon. We had visions of the Channel Ten Canberra switchboard melting as hordes of infuriated bureaucrats registered their umbrage, and the ad subsequently failed to appear for the remainder of the match. Later that weekend I managed to see the ad complete with sound, and it emerged that the man was in fact shivering with cold, and wanting to buy a warm carpet. Fair enough, Canberra does experience pretty cold winters. But three fairly obvious questions remain unanswered: 1) why was the guy naked in the first place? 2) why, once he found himself devoid of clothing, was his first retail destination a carpet shop rather than, say, somewhere selling pants?! And 3) how was he proposing to pay for the carpet? He didn’t appear to be carrying a wallet, and if he was in possession of a credit card I for one don’t want to know where he was planning on swiping it. Valid questions all, along with the small matter of who in their right mind approved the ad to go to air. I will follow up this matter, and advise in due course.
While players from both sides were unaware of the scandalous product going to air in the nation’s capital, they were aware that they had one half of football left in which to ensure that their 2008 season remained alive. With only one team able to progress, a massive effort was required. And it was Collingwood who were able to prevail, first putting through seven third quarter goals to reclaim the lead, and then holding the Crows at bay with a further five in the last. A fantastic interstate win for the Magpies, and a great recovery from their bitterly disappointing Round 22 loss to Fremantle. But a shattering exit for Adelaide, who had fourth place and the double chance all sewn up last week until the Saints came along and nicked it.
To Saturday night, and the real talking point of Week One of the finals – the absolutely abysmal turn-up at the Sydney-North Melbourne elimination final. If the AFL were a tad disappointed at the attendance in Adelaide, they would have been guttered to see just 19,127 people bothering to show up at Homebush in Sydney’s west for a sudden death final between two fairly decent teams. There were a couple of mollifying factors, however. First, it was raining and Sydney folk don’t like going out when it’s wet. Second, Homebush is miles from anywhere, particularly nice bars and restaurants to go to after the Swanees play. Third, North Melbourne couldn’t draw a crowd if they were equipped with a full painter’s easel and the talent of Da Vinci. And fourth, while promotion for the game was completely non-existent in the lead-up, curiously ads for it ran in both Sydney and Canberra for a day or so after it had been played. The old time-space continuum strikes again! All of this contributed to the lowest finals crowd since 1902, when spats and hats were the go for the stylish supporter and most spectators arrived at the ground by dray. The ragged handful of fans who did make it to the game were treated to a hard fought encounter. Kangaroos burst out of the blocks early, with the first four goals of the match. However the Swans were able to peg them back and hit the front early in the third quarter, before running away with the game with thirteen goals to five after halftime. Supporters of North, who just a fortnight earlier had been pegged as a genuine premiership threat, must have been left spinning by their side’s blistering quick exit from the finals race. Certainly that Round 22 loss to Port Adelaide will go down as one of the most expensive home and away defeats in history. But all good for Sydney, who managed to defy the doubters for another week.
One game left to complete the first week of the finals, and it was the Qualifying Final between reigning champs Geelong and the last team left standing in fourth spot St Kilda. Nobody really gave the Saints much chance of beating the Cats, and it wasn’t any great surprise that Geelong were able to clinch a 58 point win without needing to get out of third gear. The game was competitive early in each of the first three quarters, but Geelong was able to dominate the later stages and only bad kicking kept them from establishing an unassailable lead by halftime. However they blew St Kilda away in the third quarter with nine goals to two – one of the goals being a gift from feisty Saint Steven Milne who ill-advisedly whacked a celebrating Cat right in front the umpire after a goal had gone through, thereby giving away a free kick directly in front. Too easy for Geelong after that, with only two sour notes coming from the match. The first was the loss of youngster Brent Prismall with a serious knee injury which will keep him off the field well into 2009, unfortunate as he had only just established himself in a super competitive side. The second was a bit of unpleasant after the siren conversation between Old Father Time Robert Harvey and Geelong’s Craig Lowndes-lookalike Matthew Scarlett, although nobody would elaborate on what the topic of discussion actually was. Quite possibly just how much Matthew Scarlett looks like Craig Lowndes with a bad wig. So a week off for the Cats, the Saints back into the pack to fight another day.
I’m aware that the Wrap is off on its own time-space continuum, with this week’s results going in after next week’s matches have already been played. So do please exercise some willing suspension of disbelief while reading, and imagine that the weekend just gone hasn’t actually happened yet. It will be a far more enjoyable read I’m sure. Until next week, please keep in mind if you're going out shopping that most stores and businesses do prefer their clientele to be fully dressed (although apparently not in Canberra) and see you back here for Week Two.
No team has been as successful as the Almost Invincibles until Geelong this year. But there are a couple of important differences between the two sides. First, Essendon in 2000 not only won the premiership but also took home the preseason Sponsor’s Product Cup. Geelong couldn’t manage that in 2008. Second, the Bombers’ sole loss was in a gritty nailbiter against a team which flooded for dear life. The Cats, on the other hand, got blown off the park by a team which tackled for dear life. Third, Essendon had no genuine rivals in 2000 – Carlton, which had played spoiler the previous year and posed during the 2000 season as a potential threat, fell over in week one of the finals and didn’t make it to the Grand Final. Geelong, on the other hand, has a genuine challenger in Hawthorn. A Cats flag this year may still be the most likely outcome, but it is anything but a certainty.
The Hawks were the first team out of the blocks in the 2008 finals series, with their long-awaited bout against the Western Bulldogs taking place at the MCG on the Friday night in front of a bumper crowd. After all of the attention Buddy Franklin had gotten after reaching his ton the previous week, many had wondered how exactly the Bulldogs would be able to stop him running amok. It proved, like the sound of one hand clapping as a tree falls in a forest, to be an unanswerable question. Buddy dominated this final like few before him; booting eight goals, giving away three fifty-metre penalties, and drawing a declaration from normally unimpressible ex-Lions coach Leigh Matthews that he “must be from another planet”. The Dogs never looked a chance and were duly defeated by 51 points. A fair bit of re-jigging to do for them before their next final, but all smiles at Glenferrie as the Hawks booked themselves a week off.
Saturday afternoon bloomed beautifully in Canberra, so it was with some regrets that I spent it indoors watching Adelaide play Collingwood in the first elimination final. In the good company of my Magpie brother-in-law and my one and only Crows buddy, the salubrious surrounds of Eastlakes Footy Club proved a fine venue for probably the best of the weekend’s finals encounters. The crowd at Footy Park was a tad disappointing, given that this was guaranteed to be the only final played in Adelaide in 2008 the AFL would probably have hoped for more than the 37, 685 who showed up. Perhaps Crows supporters were still in shock after the Saints had committed daylight robbery the previous week and taken fourth place from them. Certainly the Crows players looked shell-shocked in the first quarter as the Pies leapt from the blocks and opened up a convincing early lead. However the second quarter proved a reverse mirror image of the first, as the Crows lifted their intensity and piled on seven goals for the quarter to go in at half-time 12 points up.
At this stage it became apparent to the three of us that an advertisement for a certain Canberra carpet emporium that had played repeatedly during the first half could no longer be ignored. It should be noted that the background noise of patrons and pokies prevented us from clearly hearing the dialogue. The ad featured an animated couple speaking with a fairly harried-looking salesman, requesting a carpet impervious to the rigours of two preteen boys (who promptly appeared, one pouring a bottle of tomato sauce over the other). We’d all seen this ad before, so far nothing out of the ordinary. However, at this point in the ad the salesman’s eyes swung abruptly to the right as if he was on parade, and a naked gentleman swung into view (mercifully from the back), with hands nowhere to be seen and his whole body shaking as though he was operating a jackhammer. What in God’s name was this? Was it a poorly conceived attempt by the advertisers to provide a practical indication of the robust stain-proof quality of the carpets? Or was this the work of a disgruntled ex-employee, who’d stayed up many nights plotting his revenge through the medium of manga? Whatever the case, it didn’t look like something that should have been going to air on a Saturday afternoon. We had visions of the Channel Ten Canberra switchboard melting as hordes of infuriated bureaucrats registered their umbrage, and the ad subsequently failed to appear for the remainder of the match. Later that weekend I managed to see the ad complete with sound, and it emerged that the man was in fact shivering with cold, and wanting to buy a warm carpet. Fair enough, Canberra does experience pretty cold winters. But three fairly obvious questions remain unanswered: 1) why was the guy naked in the first place? 2) why, once he found himself devoid of clothing, was his first retail destination a carpet shop rather than, say, somewhere selling pants?! And 3) how was he proposing to pay for the carpet? He didn’t appear to be carrying a wallet, and if he was in possession of a credit card I for one don’t want to know where he was planning on swiping it. Valid questions all, along with the small matter of who in their right mind approved the ad to go to air. I will follow up this matter, and advise in due course.
While players from both sides were unaware of the scandalous product going to air in the nation’s capital, they were aware that they had one half of football left in which to ensure that their 2008 season remained alive. With only one team able to progress, a massive effort was required. And it was Collingwood who were able to prevail, first putting through seven third quarter goals to reclaim the lead, and then holding the Crows at bay with a further five in the last. A fantastic interstate win for the Magpies, and a great recovery from their bitterly disappointing Round 22 loss to Fremantle. But a shattering exit for Adelaide, who had fourth place and the double chance all sewn up last week until the Saints came along and nicked it.
To Saturday night, and the real talking point of Week One of the finals – the absolutely abysmal turn-up at the Sydney-North Melbourne elimination final. If the AFL were a tad disappointed at the attendance in Adelaide, they would have been guttered to see just 19,127 people bothering to show up at Homebush in Sydney’s west for a sudden death final between two fairly decent teams. There were a couple of mollifying factors, however. First, it was raining and Sydney folk don’t like going out when it’s wet. Second, Homebush is miles from anywhere, particularly nice bars and restaurants to go to after the Swanees play. Third, North Melbourne couldn’t draw a crowd if they were equipped with a full painter’s easel and the talent of Da Vinci. And fourth, while promotion for the game was completely non-existent in the lead-up, curiously ads for it ran in both Sydney and Canberra for a day or so after it had been played. The old time-space continuum strikes again! All of this contributed to the lowest finals crowd since 1902, when spats and hats were the go for the stylish supporter and most spectators arrived at the ground by dray. The ragged handful of fans who did make it to the game were treated to a hard fought encounter. Kangaroos burst out of the blocks early, with the first four goals of the match. However the Swans were able to peg them back and hit the front early in the third quarter, before running away with the game with thirteen goals to five after halftime. Supporters of North, who just a fortnight earlier had been pegged as a genuine premiership threat, must have been left spinning by their side’s blistering quick exit from the finals race. Certainly that Round 22 loss to Port Adelaide will go down as one of the most expensive home and away defeats in history. But all good for Sydney, who managed to defy the doubters for another week.
One game left to complete the first week of the finals, and it was the Qualifying Final between reigning champs Geelong and the last team left standing in fourth spot St Kilda. Nobody really gave the Saints much chance of beating the Cats, and it wasn’t any great surprise that Geelong were able to clinch a 58 point win without needing to get out of third gear. The game was competitive early in each of the first three quarters, but Geelong was able to dominate the later stages and only bad kicking kept them from establishing an unassailable lead by halftime. However they blew St Kilda away in the third quarter with nine goals to two – one of the goals being a gift from feisty Saint Steven Milne who ill-advisedly whacked a celebrating Cat right in front the umpire after a goal had gone through, thereby giving away a free kick directly in front. Too easy for Geelong after that, with only two sour notes coming from the match. The first was the loss of youngster Brent Prismall with a serious knee injury which will keep him off the field well into 2009, unfortunate as he had only just established himself in a super competitive side. The second was a bit of unpleasant after the siren conversation between Old Father Time Robert Harvey and Geelong’s Craig Lowndes-lookalike Matthew Scarlett, although nobody would elaborate on what the topic of discussion actually was. Quite possibly just how much Matthew Scarlett looks like Craig Lowndes with a bad wig. So a week off for the Cats, the Saints back into the pack to fight another day.
I’m aware that the Wrap is off on its own time-space continuum, with this week’s results going in after next week’s matches have already been played. So do please exercise some willing suspension of disbelief while reading, and imagine that the weekend just gone hasn’t actually happened yet. It will be a far more enjoyable read I’m sure. Until next week, please keep in mind if you're going out shopping that most stores and businesses do prefer their clientele to be fully dressed (although apparently not in Canberra) and see you back here for Week Two.
05 September 2008
Round Twenty-Two: The Final Stanza
The demeanours of AFL fans arriving for work on the Monday following the unbelievably tumultuous Round 22 were somewhat disparate, depending on the fortunes of the club to which their emotions were tied. Cats supporters wore a now familiar expression of smugness blended with expectation, with only a small side serving of trepidation. Hawks supporters too were overwhelmingly positive, although perhaps just mildly more trepidatious than their Sleepy Hollow cousins. Bulldogs fans had an air of righteously aggrieved disgruntlement; the Crows faithful looked like they’d purchased a winning lottery ticket but seen it blow out of their hands and out of sight around a corner; Saints supporters looked like they’d wandered innocently onto said winning lottery ticket; and the barrackers of the Kangaroos and Magpies looked like they’d spotted the winning lottery ticket from across the street, but had been run down by a cement truck whilst crossing the street to pick it up.
Swans fans wore a new found air of confidence; supporters of the Tigers, Power and Dockers looked like survivors at the end of a zombie movie, emerging blinking into the sunlight after a very long night; Bombers, Blues and Lions' supporters looked as though they too had survived a long night, only to emerge blinking into a solar eclipse; and the few remaining unfortunates still waving a tattered flag for the Eagles and Demons just looked relieved that the whole miserable affair was at long last over.
The round kicked off over in the west, where the Dockers hosted the Magpies in a rare Collingwood foray away from the MCG. The late season Magpie resurgence had put them in the position of being a contender for the last final four spot and accompanying double chance, provided they could beat the Dockers and other results went their way. But it wasn't to be. The Pies chose the worst time possible to produce their feeblest showing for 2008, never in the match and duly beaten by a far more committed Dockers side. Freo fans must have been wondering what might have been if their team hadn't blown so many close games earlier in the season. With a massive outflux of senior players- joined by ex-Don Mark Johnson, ex-Port premiership player Josh Carr and troubled genius the Wiz Jeff Farmer- and with Rising Star winner Ryan Crowley on board, perhaps youth is the way forward for Fremantle. Surely after fourteen pretty abysmal years they'll get their act together sooner or later.
Collingwood's Friday night capitulation opened the door for North Melbourne to sew up fourth spot on the Saturday afternoon, provided they could account at home for a Port side which had massively underachieved in 2008. But, in another massive upset ,the Kangaroos folded like a cheap Taiwanese umbrella and got absolutely belted. Any unread observer wandering into the MCG would have leapt to the conclusion that the gentlemen in teal had everything to play for, while those in the blue and white stripes had one eye already on their Mad Monday festivities. A hugely disappointing way for Roos stalwart Shannon Grant to bring up his 300th, and coach Dean Laidley duly offered an apology to the Grant clan and North supporters in general. Port fans will hope that their 2009 follows on from their last performance in 2008, after their 2008 never recovered from their last performance in 2007.
Anyone with a spare $10,000 was given the opportunity to turn it into $10,100, easy as pie. All they had to do was put the lot on Geelong to beat West Coast at Kardinia Park. Given that the Cats had given the Eagles the mother of all shellackings over at Subiaco earlier in the season, this was as close to a sure bet as is possible in a two horse race. And so it duly proved, with the Cats ultimately triumphant by 99 points to equal Essendon's 2000 record of 21 wins out of 22 home and away matches. There were a few nervous moments for the big punters early, with the Eagles matching the Cats in the first quarter, but 20 goals to six after quarter time soon quelled nerves. The Eagles have shocked many by their plummet from 2006 premiers to 2008 godawful rabble, but with a priority pick coming and most of their off-field troubles seemingly behind them they're sure to bounce back next year.
A twilight game in the mud of Adelaide followed. While the Western Bulldogs were keen to go into the finals with consecutive wins, the failures of Collingwood and North gave Adelaide the opportunity to leapfrog them into fourth spot. And after a hard-fought struggle the Crows emerged triumphant by nine points, to the joy of their loyal supporters. The game's major talking point came in the third quarter, when a soccered goal was awarded to Crow Jason Porplyzia after a scramble in the goalsquare. The decision was greeted with apoplexy by colourful Bulldog Jason Akermanis, who performed an impromptu haka on the spot in an attempt to have the call overturned. The replay showed the reason for Aka's fury- he had clearly punched the ball through by hand. But the decision stood, and the Crows hung on to take the points and, seemingly, the double chance.
A huge crowd packed Telstra Dome on the Saturday night, not in expectation of a classic contest between the high-flying Hawks and the already also-run Blues, but in hopeful anticipation that one or both of Lance "Buddy" Franklin or Brendan "The Urinator" Fevola would bring up the first century of goals in a home and away season since the glory days of the 1990s (although Matthew Lloyd did twice manage the feat during the finals). A stern warning was issued in the days leading up to the match that any spectator daring to run onto the ground once the ton was reached would be heavily fined, banned from Telstra Dome for the term of their natural lives, and possibly forced to listen to Aka complain about his unrecognised punch. So it was no surprise to anyone that, within seconds of Buddy slotting through his ton late in the first quarter, the Telstra Dome pitch resembled Glastonbury at Festival time. Hordes of Hawks and bevvies of Blues flooded the ground, eager to pat Buddy on the back for a job well done. It took about a month or so to clear the ground, after which the Hawks were untroubled in racking up a comfortable 13 goal win. And the bloke at the other end? Well, he went goalless in the first half but then caught fire in the second, booting seven goals to bring him up to 99. But sadly that was as far as he got, with the Hawks' defence able to keep the ball from him in the final stages. At least Fev was able to drown his sorrows on the Mad Monday following. With his usual class Fev caused talkback consternation by appearing in Federation Square three sheets to the wind, clad in a pink nightie and with a sizeble "marital aid" emerging from his pants. All things considered, it probably would have been more appropriate if big Fev had worn said item on his head. But kudos to him for going so close to the ton, next year maybe.
One more game to complete a full Saturday program, and the league's northern outpost sides did battle at the SCG. While the previous weekend's results had rendered the result of this match immaterial, the Swans were keen to go into the finals on a winning note and duly did so, recording a ten goal win. The Lions looked tired and dispirited at the end of a season which had promised a great deal but wound up delivering very little. One Lion who had had enough was coach Leigh Matthews, who wound up his glorious reign in Brisbane ten years, four Grand Finals and three premierships later. At the same press conference the Lions main gun Jonathan Brown announced that he would be staying on at the club, after earlier seeming inclined to depart. Within 48 hours football's own Runaway Bride, former Lions skipper Michael Voss, had added the West Coast Eagles to Carlton, Essendon and the Gold Coast as clubs he'd stood up, instead accepting the Lions coaching spot. So a changing of the guard up north, we'll see how they get on without the great Lethal at the helm.
Two games on Sunday to complete Round 22, and the first had a bit of a wake atmosphere about it as the confirmed also rans of Richmond and Melbourne did battle. And although both sides have gotten September off, the on-field future for the Tiges looks a hell of a lot better than does that of the Dees after Richmond handed out an 80 point mauling. Still, the number one draft pick beckons for Melbourne, let's hope they use it wisely because they need all of the talent they can get.
And so to the final stanza of a round of pure poetry, Essendon versus St Kilda. Going into the match the Saints were reasonably sure of securing a home final, but required a most unlikely 95 point victory to steal fourth spot. Crows fans still maintaining a warm inner glow from the previous night's heroics would have felt only a trifle nervous at three quarter time with the Saints up by 61 points. But as the St Kilda goals started to rain down in the final term the Adelaide faithful would have joining their red and black brethren in exhorting the Bombers to pull their fingers out and show some resistance. But to no avail. Essendon was absolutely pathetic and unable to stem the tide as the Saints raced past the required 95 point mark and instead posted a record victory against Essendon of 108 points. A magnificent achievement by St Kilda, a massively disappointing end for a very mixed season for Essendon. Let's hope that in the off-season the Bombers brains trust turns its attentions to figuring out how to keep players fit, healthy and out on the field after 2008 broke all records for injuries.
Eight teams now eliminated, eight still in the race for the title. But can anyone stop Geelong or, to a lesser extent, Hawthorn? September 2008 will provide all of the answers and it promises to be an absolute belter. While the AFL's slogan for the finals, "History Is Coming", may break rules of grammar and possibly cause yet another tear in the time/space continuum, the sentiment it conveys is undoubtedly an exciting one for AFL fans of all loyalties. We shall watch with great interest.
Just time for news of our seventeenth team, the soon to appear Gold Coast outfit. And, after months of feverish speculation as to what nickname the side would adopt, it was announced that they would be known as the Gold Coast......Football Club. Yes, no nickname. Evidently the Gold Coast folks recognised that the list of suggested monikers they had provided really were quite abysmal. Although I will still be thinking of them as the Brandos. They did unveil their mascot however, one Gary Clifford Irons. As seen here, the jumper's not too bad but I for one hope that the actual shorts worn by the players will be slightly less Warwick Capperesque than those worn by Mr Irons- http://gc17.com.au/index.php?id=12&tx_ttnews[tt_news]=65&tx_ttnews[backPid]=11&cHash=0da7247434
Swans fans wore a new found air of confidence; supporters of the Tigers, Power and Dockers looked like survivors at the end of a zombie movie, emerging blinking into the sunlight after a very long night; Bombers, Blues and Lions' supporters looked as though they too had survived a long night, only to emerge blinking into a solar eclipse; and the few remaining unfortunates still waving a tattered flag for the Eagles and Demons just looked relieved that the whole miserable affair was at long last over.
The round kicked off over in the west, where the Dockers hosted the Magpies in a rare Collingwood foray away from the MCG. The late season Magpie resurgence had put them in the position of being a contender for the last final four spot and accompanying double chance, provided they could beat the Dockers and other results went their way. But it wasn't to be. The Pies chose the worst time possible to produce their feeblest showing for 2008, never in the match and duly beaten by a far more committed Dockers side. Freo fans must have been wondering what might have been if their team hadn't blown so many close games earlier in the season. With a massive outflux of senior players- joined by ex-Don Mark Johnson, ex-Port premiership player Josh Carr and troubled genius the Wiz Jeff Farmer- and with Rising Star winner Ryan Crowley on board, perhaps youth is the way forward for Fremantle. Surely after fourteen pretty abysmal years they'll get their act together sooner or later.
Collingwood's Friday night capitulation opened the door for North Melbourne to sew up fourth spot on the Saturday afternoon, provided they could account at home for a Port side which had massively underachieved in 2008. But, in another massive upset ,the Kangaroos folded like a cheap Taiwanese umbrella and got absolutely belted. Any unread observer wandering into the MCG would have leapt to the conclusion that the gentlemen in teal had everything to play for, while those in the blue and white stripes had one eye already on their Mad Monday festivities. A hugely disappointing way for Roos stalwart Shannon Grant to bring up his 300th, and coach Dean Laidley duly offered an apology to the Grant clan and North supporters in general. Port fans will hope that their 2009 follows on from their last performance in 2008, after their 2008 never recovered from their last performance in 2007.
Anyone with a spare $10,000 was given the opportunity to turn it into $10,100, easy as pie. All they had to do was put the lot on Geelong to beat West Coast at Kardinia Park. Given that the Cats had given the Eagles the mother of all shellackings over at Subiaco earlier in the season, this was as close to a sure bet as is possible in a two horse race. And so it duly proved, with the Cats ultimately triumphant by 99 points to equal Essendon's 2000 record of 21 wins out of 22 home and away matches. There were a few nervous moments for the big punters early, with the Eagles matching the Cats in the first quarter, but 20 goals to six after quarter time soon quelled nerves. The Eagles have shocked many by their plummet from 2006 premiers to 2008 godawful rabble, but with a priority pick coming and most of their off-field troubles seemingly behind them they're sure to bounce back next year.
A twilight game in the mud of Adelaide followed. While the Western Bulldogs were keen to go into the finals with consecutive wins, the failures of Collingwood and North gave Adelaide the opportunity to leapfrog them into fourth spot. And after a hard-fought struggle the Crows emerged triumphant by nine points, to the joy of their loyal supporters. The game's major talking point came in the third quarter, when a soccered goal was awarded to Crow Jason Porplyzia after a scramble in the goalsquare. The decision was greeted with apoplexy by colourful Bulldog Jason Akermanis, who performed an impromptu haka on the spot in an attempt to have the call overturned. The replay showed the reason for Aka's fury- he had clearly punched the ball through by hand. But the decision stood, and the Crows hung on to take the points and, seemingly, the double chance.
A huge crowd packed Telstra Dome on the Saturday night, not in expectation of a classic contest between the high-flying Hawks and the already also-run Blues, but in hopeful anticipation that one or both of Lance "Buddy" Franklin or Brendan "The Urinator" Fevola would bring up the first century of goals in a home and away season since the glory days of the 1990s (although Matthew Lloyd did twice manage the feat during the finals). A stern warning was issued in the days leading up to the match that any spectator daring to run onto the ground once the ton was reached would be heavily fined, banned from Telstra Dome for the term of their natural lives, and possibly forced to listen to Aka complain about his unrecognised punch. So it was no surprise to anyone that, within seconds of Buddy slotting through his ton late in the first quarter, the Telstra Dome pitch resembled Glastonbury at Festival time. Hordes of Hawks and bevvies of Blues flooded the ground, eager to pat Buddy on the back for a job well done. It took about a month or so to clear the ground, after which the Hawks were untroubled in racking up a comfortable 13 goal win. And the bloke at the other end? Well, he went goalless in the first half but then caught fire in the second, booting seven goals to bring him up to 99. But sadly that was as far as he got, with the Hawks' defence able to keep the ball from him in the final stages. At least Fev was able to drown his sorrows on the Mad Monday following. With his usual class Fev caused talkback consternation by appearing in Federation Square three sheets to the wind, clad in a pink nightie and with a sizeble "marital aid" emerging from his pants. All things considered, it probably would have been more appropriate if big Fev had worn said item on his head. But kudos to him for going so close to the ton, next year maybe.
One more game to complete a full Saturday program, and the league's northern outpost sides did battle at the SCG. While the previous weekend's results had rendered the result of this match immaterial, the Swans were keen to go into the finals on a winning note and duly did so, recording a ten goal win. The Lions looked tired and dispirited at the end of a season which had promised a great deal but wound up delivering very little. One Lion who had had enough was coach Leigh Matthews, who wound up his glorious reign in Brisbane ten years, four Grand Finals and three premierships later. At the same press conference the Lions main gun Jonathan Brown announced that he would be staying on at the club, after earlier seeming inclined to depart. Within 48 hours football's own Runaway Bride, former Lions skipper Michael Voss, had added the West Coast Eagles to Carlton, Essendon and the Gold Coast as clubs he'd stood up, instead accepting the Lions coaching spot. So a changing of the guard up north, we'll see how they get on without the great Lethal at the helm.
Two games on Sunday to complete Round 22, and the first had a bit of a wake atmosphere about it as the confirmed also rans of Richmond and Melbourne did battle. And although both sides have gotten September off, the on-field future for the Tiges looks a hell of a lot better than does that of the Dees after Richmond handed out an 80 point mauling. Still, the number one draft pick beckons for Melbourne, let's hope they use it wisely because they need all of the talent they can get.
And so to the final stanza of a round of pure poetry, Essendon versus St Kilda. Going into the match the Saints were reasonably sure of securing a home final, but required a most unlikely 95 point victory to steal fourth spot. Crows fans still maintaining a warm inner glow from the previous night's heroics would have felt only a trifle nervous at three quarter time with the Saints up by 61 points. But as the St Kilda goals started to rain down in the final term the Adelaide faithful would have joining their red and black brethren in exhorting the Bombers to pull their fingers out and show some resistance. But to no avail. Essendon was absolutely pathetic and unable to stem the tide as the Saints raced past the required 95 point mark and instead posted a record victory against Essendon of 108 points. A magnificent achievement by St Kilda, a massively disappointing end for a very mixed season for Essendon. Let's hope that in the off-season the Bombers brains trust turns its attentions to figuring out how to keep players fit, healthy and out on the field after 2008 broke all records for injuries.
Eight teams now eliminated, eight still in the race for the title. But can anyone stop Geelong or, to a lesser extent, Hawthorn? September 2008 will provide all of the answers and it promises to be an absolute belter. While the AFL's slogan for the finals, "History Is Coming", may break rules of grammar and possibly cause yet another tear in the time/space continuum, the sentiment it conveys is undoubtedly an exciting one for AFL fans of all loyalties. We shall watch with great interest.
Just time for news of our seventeenth team, the soon to appear Gold Coast outfit. And, after months of feverish speculation as to what nickname the side would adopt, it was announced that they would be known as the Gold Coast......Football Club. Yes, no nickname. Evidently the Gold Coast folks recognised that the list of suggested monikers they had provided really were quite abysmal. Although I will still be thinking of them as the Brandos. They did unveil their mascot however, one Gary Clifford Irons. As seen here, the jumper's not too bad but I for one hope that the actual shorts worn by the players will be slightly less Warwick Capperesque than those worn by Mr Irons- http://gc17.com.au/index.php?id=12&tx_ttnews[tt_news]=65&tx_ttnews[backPid]=11&cHash=0da7247434
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