Grand Final Pre-Match: Attack Of The Bagpipes

With the Brownlow out of the way, attention was free to turn to the big day itself. The major question in the lead-up for the players and supporters of the competing teams was, as always, who was going to be the hard luck story this time? There’s always one bloke who has been in the team pretty much all season but, through injury, suspension or the dreaded “team balance”, doesn’t get to run through the banner on Grand Final day. Probably the most notable omission in recent memory was that of Derek Kickett from the Essendon premiership side of 1993, after he’d played every game in the season up to that point. Kickett took his dropping very badly, walking out on the club and bearing a grudge against coach Kevin Sheedy that by all accounts has lasted to the present day. There was redemption of a kind for Kickett, who went on to play on Grand Final day a few years later with Sydney (they lost). For most players, however, the opportunity to play in a Grand Final knocks but once throughout a career, if at all. Getting dropped is a truly shattering experience. Last year it was Cats ruckman Mark “Blakey” Blake who felt the sharp edge of the axe, with former skipper Steven “The Shining” King given the opportunity to play in two premierships in consecutive weeks (VFL and AFL) before skipping off to St Kilda. This year Blakey’s position was not in danger, but one Cat still had to miss out and it was speedster David Wojcinski who was the unlucky player. At least Wojcinski had the consolation of having taken part in the previous year’s Grand Final demolition of Port. Over at Hawthorn, nobody was dropped from the winning preliminary final side but ruckman Simon Taylor must have been feeling a bit stiff – he’d played the bulk of the home and away season only to be “rested” for the finals. He’ll be feeling well and truly rested by next season as he hasn’t been given a run since. Melbourne turned on a beautiful spring day for the Grand Final parade, a bigger than usual crowd out resplendent in the contrasting colours of brown and gold/ navy blue and white. To their credit, both Wojcinski and Taylor were able to resist the temptation to push one of their team-mates in front of a tram to boost their own chances of a late recall.

The big day itself finally dawned, excitement nationwide was rapidly approaching fever pitch. But before any on-field action could take place, one more big question remained to be answered – what would the pre-game entertainment provide? Would it be another cause for national shame, like Angry Anderson and the Batmobile in 1991, or the squadron of crotch-grabbing Michael Jackson impersonators in 1993? Would it be a corporate travesty, like the 1986 unveiling of a giant Elders IXL flag? Would it be overly ambitious and thus doomed to failure, like the giant inflatable Wayne Carey of 1996 that buckled at the knees, which inadvertently provided a metaphorical glimpse into Carey’s off-field future? And what about the singers? Would they be utterly predictable, like Mike Brady doing Up There Cazaly or Mark Seymour doing Holy Grail for the billionth time? Would they be a tediously mainstream “artist” given the gig due to a cross-promotion with the televising station, like Guy Sebastian in 2004 or Natalie Bassingthwaighte last year? Or a one-hit wonder like Bachelor Girl in 1998 (indeed, so forgotten that they don’t even make it into Wikipedia’s list of Grand Final artists, but I know they were there, I’ve got the footage)? Or a totally left-field selection that somehow worked, like the Seekers in 1995 or Dame Edna in 2005? And regardless of who they got, would they be crucified by the sound system, like Maroochy Barambah in 1993?

In the event, the entertainment in 2008 fell somewhere in the middle of the poles. It kicked off fairly unpromisingly, with a handful of drummers scattered around the stadium evidently seeking to evoke fond memories of the Beijing Olympic opening ceremony. The only problem there was that the Chinese were able to muster hundreds of drummers beating in perfect synch, whereas the AFL version was on a massively smaller scale and therefore much less impressive. I saw one poor embarrassed looking bloke standing in the aisle somewhere high in the Southern Stand, trying to carry on drumming while being upbraided by a disgruntled patron standing behind him carrying a cardboard tray of half strength beer! It would never have happened in China. Once the drummers had been moved sideways, attention shifted to high above the MCG where a team of female singers were perched precariously on the top of the scoreboard. I can’t tell you what they were singing as I was overcome with a massive case of vicarious vertigo, and had my head between my knees as I gripped firmly onto the nearest piece of heavy furniture. Once we had mercifully returned to solid ground, it became apparent that a ring of acrobats had appeared, balancing on long flexible poles. From a distance (ie. from the top of the scoreboard) it must have appeared as though Vlad the Impaler had been put in charge of the pre-game entertainment this year. While the acrobats bounced around on their poles, the stadium speakers erupted with a blast of noise from the main feature act, Powderfinger, which fortunately didn’t have the effect of startling the lady singers off the scoreboard roof. Powderfinger performed “Baby, I’ve Got You On My Mind” before teaming up with ex-Cold Chisel Ian Moss and, in a probable Grand Final first, a bagpipe ensemble. The assembled supergroup performed the AC/DC classic “Long Way To The Top” which, astute Wrap readers will recall, briefly filled in for the National Anthem some weeks back.

Bagpipe-enhanced versions of the two club songs came next, and how much better does The Toreador Song sound with a bit of skirl and a wailing under-drone? The way it should always have been! Then, with the huge crowd present and uncountable extras watching at home at the very limit of their entertainment capacity, the 2008 premiership cup came into view! For the second year running the cup was treated as a form of short range airborne missile; last year it was subjected to a motion-sickness inducing acrobatic routine; this year saw it attached to a flying fox type device which launched from the top of the grandstand down to the centre of the oval, emitting a worrying amount of sparks over the tightly packed patrons below. Upon reaching ground zero in the centre circle viewers were treated to a huge explosion as fireworks exploded (and don’t they work well in the daytime?), and plumes of smoke billowed forth, presumably suffocating the poor acrobats still balancing on their poles. Truly spectacular stuff. One can only imagine how the AFL will be able to top this next season. They're going to have to tie the cup to a giant arrow and get that bloke from the Barcelona Olympics to fire it into the stadium Robin Hood-style.

Finally, once the smoke had cleared and the surviving shell-shocked acrobats had dragged their wounded brethren to safety, the players were free to run onto the ground for the first time.
Massive banners were raised to the heavens, exhorting the players to feats of unparalleled endeavour. I think I must have been in the bathroom at the time, as I don’t recall the exact wording of the messages. Or who sang the National Anthem, for that matter, possibly it was done instrumentally through the medium of bagpipe this year. I, like everyone else, was far too keen to see the ball finally bounced on Grand Final Day 2008, and at long last it was time for the big game to commence…
More to follow.