AFL Grand Final 2009: Gone but not forgotten

Grand Final Wrap
Nearly three months have passed since the 2009 Grand Final, and my heart rate has only now gotten back to something approaching normal. And I was a neutral, disinterested observer! I can only imagine what it must have been like to have had a horse in that race, it’s a wonder that the nation’s coronary rate didn’t spike in the latter stages of the final quarter. It was an absolute belter of a Grand Final, a worthy finish to a season which offered more classic encounters than any season in living memory. It’s just a pity that there had to be a loser on the day, because neither team deserved to go away empty handed.

But to begin at the beginning, the eagerly anticipated Grand Final prematch show. This rarely fails to disappoint, if only because the AFL goes to so much trouble these days to ensure that there is something for everyone and that the premiership cup is delivered into the stadium in as novel a manner possible. In recent years we’ve seen the cup dangled from a high-wire trapeze by a team of acrobats, and launched on a flying fox from the top deck of the stadium, showering sparks on the fans far below. This time around the cup was abseiled down to the stadium attached to nervous 2003 co-Brownlow Medallist Mark Riccuito, who presumably drew the short straw backstage before the ceremony began. Given the wet and windy conditions, abseiling probably wasn’t something Roo would ideally have spent time doing on Grand Final day.

And the weather cast a bit of a pall over the entertainment itself, with the AFL unable to utilize its customary stage in the middle of the ground. Instead, enjoyment of the entertainment was largely confined to a small section of the crowd, with the stage erected way out on the Members wing. Presumably the theme of the entertainment this year was “Celebrating the best of fresh Australian talent”, which would explain why septuagenarians Jimmy Barnes and John Farnham were involved. It was as if the crew from Hey Hey had been put in charge of booking the acts, although mercifully the blackface antics of Jackson Jive were nowhere in evidence. The National Anthem this year was performed a cappella by the crew from the stage show Jersey Boys, and was probably the gayest (in a completely non-pejorative sense of the word) version we’ve heard since the year suspiciously well-groomed four piece Human Nature belted it out.

But all too soon, the groundskeepers were wheeling off various bits of stage and the odd stray Jersey Boy, and the two teams were running out on to the arena for the most eagerly awaited Grand Final since last year. Having met just once in 2009, for a game decided by a single kick, hopes were high that this wouldn’t end up being a blow-out of the kind experienced far too often on Grand Final day, frequently when Geelong were involved. And right from the beginning it was clear that neither St Kilda nor Geelong was going to be a race away winner on Grand Final day 2009. The intensity was extraordinary, and the inclement conditions played their part in keeping things tight. The Cats stuck the first blow, after a foolhardy attempt by a Saints player to run out of defence, but St Kilda were able to keep things tight and there was nothing in it at quarter time.

In so many Grand Finals in recent years, the second quarter has proven pivotal. It did in 1998, when North Melbourne dominated the Crows but kicked a lamentable 2.12, and it did again last year when Geelong played all over the Hawks but just couldn’t make it count on the scoreboard. This time it was the Cats who were on the receiving end, grimly soaking up wave after wave of red, white and black forays forward. But despite the Saints having the ball on a string for much of the quarter, converting six pointers was largely beyond them. Goalsneak Stephen Milne had one particularly lamentable attempt, running into an open goal but attempting to dribble it through from 40 metres, only to see it come to a complete stop. Two potentially game-changing umpiring decisions took place in the latter stages of the second stanza, both resulted in goals but fortunately they were at different ends of the field. The first occurred when a dismal clearance from the Saints back Zac Dawson went straight to lumbering Cats forward Tom “Tomahawk” Hawkins, who promptly belted it back over the despairing Dawson’s head for a goal…or was it? Although the goal umpire had no hesitation in waving his twin flags, replays clearly indicated that Hawkins’ snap had brushed the behind post, a fact that the Saints cheer squad sitting behind the goal no doubt pointed out to the umpire in no uncertain and most likely defamatory terms. It looked as though the Cats, despite being roundly outplayed for the bulk of the quarter, were going to go into the long break ahead. But with only minutes remaining their veteran defender Darren Milburn suffered a rush of blood to the head. A desperate Saints’ snap at goal bounced through, despite Milburn’s desperate lunge. An irate Milburn insisted to the umpire that he had gotten a finger to it (replays indicated that he had not). Unfortunately the finger that Darren chose to display to the umpire was the one customarily associated with saluting truck drivers, and the affronted field umpire had no hesitation in ordering a St Kilda free kick on the goal line- a twelve point play. Saints up at the half.

As the two teams disappeared up the race to the change rooms, Milburn no doubt on the phone to his proctologist to get a quote on the cost of having his coach’s shoe extracted from around the back, the Auskickers were delayed in their chance for a kick by the necessity of the Grand Final sprint. There had at one point been a whisper that Jamaican speedster Usain Bolt was going to make an appearance at the Grand Final, but unless he was the bloke in the Gold Coast Whatevers guernsey, Usain was a no-show. I think the Richmond guy got up, nice for Tiger fans to have some small glory on Grand Final day.

Around about this time, I took an unexpected phone call from an old Cairo buddy, the cockney chef. These days he’s plying his trade in Dubai, although no doubt with a bag sitting packed and ready to go as the economy goes south and Dubai’s ridiculous vanity projects, including the ludicrous indoor ski slope, melt away into the desert sand. As ever it was great to hear from him, although a touch surreal hearing his cheery apples-and-pears Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels accent employed in the discussion of Aussie Rules – “Ullo mate! What’s goin’ on wiv this fackin’ game, can’t understand a fackin’ thing! They’re righ’ indu it, but!” He’d evidently made it to an early opening pub which happened to be showing the game and had hooked up with some Australian companions who were failing in their duty to educate him as to the ins and outs of proceedings. I gave it my best shot in the three minutes I had, but I’m not sure I helped either. I just hope he kept watching until the end of the game, and didn't abandon it for Scunthorpe vs Sheffield Wednesday or some other dire fixture.

If the first two quarters had been tough footy, the third stanza took it to an all new level. Even spectators not actually present at the game found themselves covered in mysterious bruises in days following. Goals for both sides were at an absolute premium, and the scores were deadlocked for one particularly grueling ten minute period. Deep in the quarter ex-Cats ruckman Steven “The Frighteners” King got his fist to a throw-in and Leigh Montagna snapped a major to give the Saints a seven point lead at the final change for season 2009. As the near-delirious commentary team pointed out, the last time a side up at three quarter time had failed to bring home the cup was 1984 – a glorious day, incidentally – surely the Saints’ long wait for a second title was almost over?

Not if Geelong had anything to say about it. Paul Chapman, one third of the Cats’ balding triumvirate –the others being skipper Tom Harley and superstar Gary Ablett Jr – got the Cats fans out of their seats in just the second minute with a pass to young gun Tom Hawkins, which the latter duly converted. It then took an amazing 21 minutes for the next goal to be registered, and it was incredibly difficult to watch – not because the standard of footy was low, but because it was the intensity of effort was beyond belief. The umpires put their whistles away, resulting in much frustration in the stands as free kick after free kick went unrewarded. Five behinds were logged, making the scores dead-level. You could almost imagine the ghosts of Ted Whitten Sr and Mike Williamson (I’m presuming he’s dead?) hyperventilating in the commentary box and revisiting their classic call from 1966 – “We could be back here next week!” “I tipped this!” “I think I just had a heart attack!” “I’ve had three already!”

Then, in the 24th minute, came the moment that decided the match and the title for 2009. An errant pass from Saint Clinton Jones missed his skipper Nick Riedwoldt and Cats backman Harry Taylor was able to clear to Corey Enright. Enright duly passed to 2007 Norm Smith Medallist Steve Johnson, who up to this point had had a dirty day. It looked as though Johnson’s reverse Midas afternoon was continuing, as his attempted pass to Ablett floated just long enough to allow much maligned Saints defender Zac Dawson, who had made a villain of himself simply by being picked in the side ahead of beloved Saints icon Max Hudghton, to get a fist to it. Would this punch give Dawson a place in the pantheon of Sainthood, alongside Barry Breen’s wobbly punt back in ’66? Alas, no. Dawson’s punch went straight to the feet of gritty Cats fullback Matthew Scarlett, who instinctively stuck out his boot and punted the ball back to the now unmanned Ablett, Dawson having followed through after his punch. Ablett booted the ball into the goal square, where after a series of desperate handballs it wound up in the hands of Chapman, who snapped a goal to put the Cats up by a goal.

Two behinds followed, one to each side, keeping the margin at a single major score. With only seconds left on the clock, the Saints had the ball in their forward line as they made their last desperate roll of the dice. But cometh the hour, cometh the man, and like Swans hero Leo Barry in 2005, Cats backman Harry Taylor took a fantastically courageous grab with what was later revealed to be a broken hand. Even the most diehard of diehard St Kilda people must have surely known that the jig was up at that point. The Cats rushed the ball away from the danger zone and the final siren sounded with the ball in the hands of perennially disheveled Cats hard man Max “Don’t call me Jarred!” Rooke. As Saints players slumped to the ground in the numb realization that a season in which they’d lost only two home and away matches, both by less than a kick, had ended without the prize, Rooke dribbled the ball through the untended goal to bring the final margin to a most unrepresentative twelve points. Almost a shame, really.

Saints fan Molly Meldrum famously passed out in the final minutes of the Saints’ iconic 1966 flag, thus missing seeing his team’s only triumph. It hasn’t been recorded yet whether he managed to keep his wits about him this time around. Molly has probably been surpassed by Eric “Chopper/The Incredible Hulk/ That Bloke in Troy” Bana as St Kilda’s most famous fan, Eric was reportedly “too upset to talk” after the final siren blew this year. He wouldn’t have been the lone ranger there, it must have been gut-wrenching for Saints fans to come so close and just miss out, particularly after they dominated this year’s home and away season. The immediate reaction from Cats fans seemed to be one of abject relief, after blowing last year’s decider it would have been nothing short of catastrophic to have gone down again. There was little triumphalism from the winners, which was nice. It would be hard to begrudge the Cats their title, hardly anyone has gotten anywhere near them over the last three seasons and they play a great brand of footy. Deservedly, Paul Chapman got the Norm Smith, which made it a clean sweep for the balding triumvirate- premiership cup, Brownlow Medal and Norm Smith.
As I said earlier, it was a match worthy of the occasion. We’ve really been spoiled on Grand Final day in recent years, there’ve been some belters. Back when I was growing up, in the ‘80s and ‘90s, every Grand Final was decided by half time and the only interest was in seeing how big the final margin would be and who’d win the inevitable halftime brawl. Part of the reason the ’89 Grand Final classic is so fondly remembered is because it was sandwiched between two forgettable arsekickings.

So a classic match to end a classic year and, indeed, a classic decade. What will we see in 2010 and the years ahead? Will all the clubs survive? Can the Saints achieve the breakthrough? Will any Carlton players manage to survive the Crown Casino blacklist? We can but wait and see.
PS- my apologies for the ridiculous length of time this Wrap has taken. A great Grand Final deserved better. I’m not yet sure whether I’ll be in a position to continue the Wrap, I’d rather not if I can’t do it properly. If not, thanks for all who’ve enjoyed it and let me know, it’s been a fun thing to do. Enjoy your footy.

Preliminary Final 2: Cats vs Magpies/ Brownlow count

Well, one of the 2009 preliminary finals might have been a match for the ages, but the other was a massive anticlimax, at least in the second half. The Magpies have been one of the better sides going around this year, but they were made to look decidedly second rate after halftime by a Cats side with redemption on its mind. Indeed, after the Pies opened with the first two goals of the game, 17 of the next 21 went the way of Geelong, including 6 to nil in the final quarter. By this stage most Collingwood supporters had made a beeline for the exits, with only the hard core sticking it out to the bitter end. The big question was: was former wrestling champ Hulk Hogan among them? The Hulkster had appeared as if from nowhere at halftime, delighting the crowd with a few trademark moves and then delivering a fairly well executed handball into the stands. Perhaps Mick Malthouse should have whacked a Magpie jumper on him and kept him out on the ground for the second half, he couldn't have done any worse than those out there in black and white. A disappointing end to the season for the Magpie army, but the Cats faithful will have watched with a real sense of excitement as their side roared into its third straight Grand Final - it will take a good team to stop them reversing last year's disappointment.

And St Kilda, make no mistake, is a very good team indeed. Winning 20 home and away games is no small achievement, and it could easily have been 22- their two losses were by less than a kick, both against teams they were unbackable favourites to demolish. It's terrific that once again we've got a Grand Final between the two unquestionably best teams in the season thus far, and if the big match is half as good as the Round 14 match where the two sides slugged out a one goal result (Saints won) then we're in for a mighty treat.

Grand Final week kicked off in customary fashion, with a couple of drunken incidents at the Brownlow Medal count. This time, as in so many cases before, Carlton's Brendan Fevola was the main offender. Fev was, perhaps foolishly, handed the microphone for the fairly tired Footy Show's "Streettalk" segment, replacing the fairly tired Sam Newman who had himself managed to once more disgrace himself repeatedly. Too boring to explain exactly why, but Sam was on the nose with the footy community to the extent that he was persona non grata at the big night. As indeed was Fev afterwards, after putting in a performance that Mickey Rourke on a pub crawl at Schoolies would be proud of. Still, he did better than ex-Brownlow winner Jason Akermanis, Aka went slightly too hard at the Bulldogs' Mad Monday celebrations and didn't make it to the Brownlow at all. Which disappointed his wife somewhat, as she'd already bought the dress and gotten the fake tan done. Hell hath no fury like a woman terracotted for nothing.

Inside the actual event, though, things finally went according to plan for Gary Ablett Jr, who finally won after being favourite for three consecutive years. It was a deserved victory, the Little Maestro has done the seemingly impossible by putting his illustrious father into the shade, and there's no reason why he can't win at least another medal in the time he's got left. The count was decided by Round 20, which would have come as a huge relief to Ablett who'd been reeled in at the death in previous years. For a while it looked as though one of the Saints might spoil Gazza's night - and they'll certainly be aiming to spoil this weekend for him - but they ended up spoiling each other's chances by taking votes from each other. Former winner Chris Judd of the Blues came runner up with a highly respectable 22 votes, enough to win in many years, but this year he was well behind, Ablett scored a lazy 30.

But apart from the actual result, and the opportunity to drink like a lunatic, the Brownlow night is all about the wives and girlfriends of the players concerned. It's an opportunity to shine for the WAGs, and most of them get it right. There's always one or two who don't, however, and this year it was the hitherto unheard of Brynne Gordon, soon to be wife of disgraced ex-medico and one time owner of the Sydney Swans in their 1980s-Warwick-Capper-in-the-short-shorts-pink-helicopters-best-forgotten-all-round-era, Geoffrey Edelsten. Gordon turned up in an outfit Britney Spears would have balked at as "a tad raunchy", check it out here- http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/sport/afl/double-barrel-blast-for-brynne-gordon-over-that-dress/story-fn423fp2-1225778330577 But the real question surely went unanswered: who the hell invited Edelsten to attend the Brownlow in the first place? Was it an 80s theme this year? Was Capper sitting up the front somewhere in the gold lame shorts, perhaps escorted by Mark "Jacko" Jackson or Rene "The Incredible Hulk" Kink? A dumber call than whoever decided that Fev was a safe bet to handle a live microphone.

So with just days to go until season 2009 disappears into the rear-vision mirror of memory, who should you be putting your hard earned on this weekend? Well, it's a tough call. On the one hand, St Kilda have been the best performed side in 2009. They beat Geelong in their only clash, have an unbelievably stingy defence, and will go into the big game with 99% of the neutral support given their long wait for a flag. On the other hand, Geelong have a massive motivation to prove that last year's defeat was a blip rather than an indication of some greater flaw, and have far more big game experience than their opponents. A lot will depend on how their forward line operates, if they kick like they did last year then you would have to think that they'll struggle to get a winning score. At the other end, the battle between Nick Riedwolt and whoever the Cats put on him, probably Matthew Scarlett, will be pivotal. Riedwolt has had a blinder in the finals so far, and if he gets a run on then he could just about get the Saints home. In the middle, it's a clash between the Rolls Royces and the Aston Martins, getting on top here will be vital. My call- Saints. No, Cats. Actually, I have no idea, it's going to be a belter.

Enjoy the big day, let's hope the entertainment both pre-game and during the big match is worthy of the event. If you're enjoying a drink or two remember the tragic experiences of Fev and Aka and keep it in moderation! See you back here for the Big Game Wrap.

Preliminary Final 1: Saints vs Bulldogs

No time to explain where the Wrap has been for the last few months, I probably couldn't give you a coherent or logical answer myself. Suffice it to say that work has played a role in ensuring that, while I've been in close proximity to a keyboard at all stages, getting to write about footy hasn't been on the cards. Still, let's leap ahead, ignoring the Dons' magnificent rise and fall, the Blues' similar rise from the depth, the Western Derby match that seemed intent on proving that they play by different rules out west, and last week's match between Adelaide and Collingwood that wasn't over until it was over...and even then, there were doubts. To the prelims!

Somehow, we ended up with a game between the AFL's most loveable losers, the Saints and Dogs. In a combined history of nearly 200 years (keeping in mind that the Dogs entered the comp a quarter century after the Saints), they have won a grand total of two flags between them. The Dogs, in fact, have appeared just twice on the final weekend in September, while the Saints have at least appeared five times (in 1997, 1971, 1966 (for the win), 1965 and 1913 (the one nobody remembers, they lost to Fitzroy of all teams). A game between the two teams could only result in a win for all of the neutrals, but also a sad sense of loss. Sad that a game between the two sides had to result in a loser, but at least the hardcore supporters of the two sides have decades of preparation for such an event.

To put the reader in the frame of mind that I was in when I rocked up at Eastlakes to take in the big game, I should let you in on the email that I received three hours before the game. Keeping in mind that I am one of the nation's great army of dedicated public servants, I'm sure that you will enjoy, as I did, an email from the Minister's office that began with the line: "The Minister is going to be doing Laurie Oakes on Sunday morning". There's a fantastic mental image to go into the weekend with! Is there a winner there, any more than in the Saints-Dogs game? Sure, politics is a tough game, but dear, oh dear! Can't imagine Paul Bongiorno going to the same extent for a story, somehow, I think that Jim Waley might have let it go through to the keeper too!

With my head still spinning, I showed up at Eastlakes for the big game, only to find that the only available seat was in the middle of the Ascot Vale over 35s side on their end of season trip. They kindly allowed me to sit with them, with only the odd "Hey poofter! What's with the tie!" comment to go on with. I suppose rocking up in the suit direct from work to a game between a working class side and a bohemian outfit pretty much ranked such a welcome. But keeping in mind that I've also been turned away from Eastlakes this season for sporting a pair of trackydacks, it's a tough ask to get the dress code exactly right. Must try harder.

To the game- you won't see a tougher, more hard fought encounter if you watch a million seasons. Not since the 1996 preliminary between the Dons and the Swans can there have been a game where every time the ball hit the ground the heart of every supporter would leap to their throat in quite the same manner. The Dogs leapt from their kennel in the manner of a particularly swift greyhound, but failed to capitalise in any effective manner in the opening half.
Everyone expected a Saints push in the third, and it duly followed, but they didn't manage to establish a winning break. The final quarter was agony for everyone watching, the Ascot Vale crew (who were pretty much all for the Dogs) were spewing profanities left, right and centre as the quarter went on. And nobody copped more invective than the umpire who decided that a 50 metre boot in the direction of the Dogs goal that wandered across the boundary line somehow warranted a Saints free that ultimately led to a goal for St Kilda that pretty much ensured the final margin- Saints into the granny, the Dogs yet again denied. Hard to argue that St Kilda, after a 20-2 home and away season, don't deserve to be on the last weekend, but gee, when will the Dogs' moment arrive?

One more prelim to go, and tomorrow we'll find out who the Saints will tackle next week. On Sunday morning we'll know the result of Geelong vs Collingwood, and also the result of the winner of the Minister vs Laurie Oakes encounter. I know which battle I'm going to enjoy watching more! Barring some sort of calamity, we'll have the Cats-Pies result up on Sunday, and be back for the GF the week after. Thanks for keeping the faith, see you back soon!

Round Six: The Wedding Wrap

In something of a rarity, the Wrap is going to beg the readers’ (I’m presuming that there is more than one, hence the placement of the apostrophe) indulgence while I pay a personal tribute to my dear friend Tom, who joined the ranks of the nation’s married men last Saturday. Tom and I have shared many a memorable moment over the years we’ve supported the Bombers, some good and some bad. Tom was at my side the day Essendon somehow blew the 1999 Preliminary Final against bloody Carlton, of all sides. He was there at the MCG with me the night the Bombers bade farewell to the great Sheedy and Hird by very inappropriately losing to the wooden-spooners in Richmond. But, more happily, we watched the 2000 Grand Final together at his place and enjoyed many a sweet tasting ale afterwards at the Dan O’Connell. And he was present at the MCG (on a lower deck as I recall) the day James Hird cut the West Coast defence to ribbons in the 1996 Qualifying Final- a virtuoso at work. We’ve enjoyed many a match together and there isn’t a better person to watch footy with in my view. I must admit to some misgivings when he announced that he was embarking on a “mixed marriage” – the bride’s family are hardcore Collingwood to the point that a young cousin rocked up at the actual wedding ceremony in a Magpies jumper. But if the relationship managed to survive the 2009 Anzac Day encounter, it is one clearly built on a rock solid foundation. So here’s to you Tom, and your lovely bride, and to many happy years together. And please keep in mind that football supporting is a patrilineal deal and your kids don’t get a say in it.

Certainly there were good omens for the bride’s clan the night before the wedding, with Collingwood bouncing back from its Anzac Day catastrophe to record a pretty easy win over Argentina. I mean North Melbourne, who looked and played like a shadow of themselves in a clash strip featuring sky blue stripes. The Kangaroos’ officialdom had kicked up a bit of a stink over the jumper, alleging that the AFL had required them to wear a change strip in a home game against their wishes. This was a bit difficult to reconcile with the front page of the footy record, which featured Roos players posing in the jumper asserting how much they “loved their stripes”. In any case, Collingwood took the points and Los are now teetering at 2-4.

For the second weekend In a row Melbourne Cricket Club members were treated to a classic encounter in the Saturday afternoon MCG match. This time it was defending champs Hawthorn taking on the rising power Carlton, and what a match it turned out to be. An old-style battle of the spearheads, with Roughead at one end and Fevola at the other shooting it out. When the ball wound up in the hands of the Blues man 15 metres out with seconds on the clock and Carlton less than a goal down, Hawk heads went collectively into their hands. Fev had, after all, already kicked eight and from far more difficult situations. But he inexplicably managed to clip the goalpost with his kick, thus presenting Hawthorn with the luckiest of wins by just 4 points. After a shaky start the Hawks are now gathering some momentum, while Carlton could easily be a lot further up the ladder than they are, they’ll be ruing this defeat on top of their earlier 4 point defeat to Essendon.

After years of playing interstate fixtures at any possible timeslot but the traditional Saturday afternoon slot, the AFL has this year reversed its policy. And so it was that the Western Derby number whatever it is took place on a Saturday arvo for the first time ever. Perhaps the Eagles were a bit thrown by such a radical change, because they kicked like Fevola and duly cost themselves the points against the Dockers. All of a sudden Freo are off the bottom and at 2-4 still an outside chance of finals action. A long way to go, however.

While Tom, his new wife, myself and a bunch of friends, relatives, a small band and assorted waiting staff were toasting the happy occasion, the Bombers were in action up in Brisbane against the Lions. And with evergreen defender Dustin Fletcher’s 300th game to commemorate, the Dons would have hoped for a far better showing than the one they put on. Essendon were never in the hunt against Brisbane, and a collective agreement was taken amongst those of us getting surreptitious text updates throughout the speeches that it would be better not to advise the groom of events up north. Fletcher managed to injure himself and will be out for a month or so, not a great milestone game for him. The one bright spot for Essendon was that skipper Matthew Lloyd finally managed to put through his 900th goal, after shooting blanks for a number of weeks. His longtime partner in crime Scott Lucas, however, has been painfully out of sorts this year and looks to be rapidly approaching the end of his stellar career.
A big night in Adelaide - Showdown number something a rather between the stuttering Crows and the schizophrenic Power. Port fans must be going mad wondering which side is going to turn up on the day, will it be the side that convincingly beat the defending champs away from home, or the hapless outfit that failed to lay a glove on St Kilda at home the following week? As it turned out it was the angels of Port’s nature who prevailed this week, the Power returning to the winner’s list over their bitter cross-town rivals.

The Sydney Swans may have lost an Irishman in Taigh Kennelly at the start of the season, but they nonchalantly rolled out a Canadian this week –ex-rugby international Mike Pyke, who I think has the only rhyming name in the AFL. Pyke enjoyed a terrific debut against the Tigers, with Sydney prevailing in a tight affair. The Tiges came close though, a desperate lunge tackle by Marty Mattner on Tiger forward Jack Riewoldt as the latter was streaming into an open goal stymied Richmond’s last quarter charge. The Tigers remain in the lower reaches of the ladder despite their improved recent form, and they’re going to have to play most of the rest of the season without key forward and universally beloved icon Matthew Richardson. Richo, the oldest player in the comp at 34, will be out for several months with some injury or another – gout possibly, considering his advanced age – and it remains to be seen whether he’ll grace the field again. Let’s hope so, he’s closing in on 300 games and the competition would be a far poorer place without him.

Any gamblers out there must have found it terribly difficult to resist the odds of 15 to 1 which were being offered in some circles if Melbourne could somehow defeat Geelong. The Cats, on the other hand, were at the paltry odds of $1.05. Most gamblers recognized that sometimes in life there is such a thing as a sure bet and placed vast sums of money on Geelong in order to win back a comparative pittance. One bloke with far more money than sense – hopefully not the executor of Richard Pratt’s cardboard estate - placed half a million dollars on the Cats in order to win back 25 grand. Brave man in a two horse race. But realistically, the Demons were never a chance to win this match and this was brought home to them after nine seconds when rampaging superstar Gary Ablett Jr grabbed the ball from the opening centre bounce, raced to the 50 and booted it through. Tragically, although I was present at this match, I hadn’t made it into the ground at this point and so missed one of the two highlights of an otherwise largely forgettable game. The other highlight was a crazy-brave mark by Joel Selwood, running backwards with the flight of the ball as Demon Brad Miller came charging forward. The last Cats player who took Miller on in similar circumstances, Tom Lonergan, wound up losing a kidney so Geelong fans’ collective hearts would have been in their mouths. However Selwood carried off the mark with aplomb, evading Miller and getting a quick disposal off too, the whole thing was reminiscent of a particularly skillful matador in action. Other than that the Cats were a bit down on previous weeks, the Dees were a bit better and 40 odd points was probably about the right final margin.
One last game to complete Round 6, and it was the match of the round between the tabletopping Saints and their fellow 2008 preliminary finalists the Western Bulldogs. The Saints have kicked off 2009 in rare form, shooting out to first place with a percentage unmatched by any team after six rounds since the days when the players used to arrive at the ground via dray. The Dogs had also started the season well, but had lost their last couple. Most thought that this was going to be a testing affair for St Kilda, but it proved once again to be a walk in the park for the Sainters. Particularly galling for Bulldogs fans would have been the performance of their ex-number 4 draft pick Farren Ray, who never hit his straps as a Dog but who is turning into a star in the red, black and white of St Kilda. The Saints are belying their reputation of previous years as one of the most unattractive exponents of the game, this year they are entertainers par excellence. Perhaps this is the year they break their run of outs and add another flag to the iconic 1966 model.

So with six rounds gone we still have two undefeated teams out on their own – St Kilda and Geelong lead the way, and as they’re not due to play each other until Round 14, there’s every chance that they’ll remain undefeated up to that point. They’re two games clear of Jekyll and Hyders Port Adelaide on 4 wins, then there’s the mother of all logjams on 3 wins and 3 losses. In no particular order we have the Bulldogs, Swans, Lions, Blues, Magpies, Crows and Bombers. A further game back are the Roos and the Dockers, while Richmond and Melbourne languish at the bottom with just a solitary win so far In 2009. It could, of course, be very different. Essendon are probably lucky not to be at 1 and 5; Carlton and Collingwood could just as easily be at 5 and 1. Indeed, better kicking against the Cats and the Pies could be undefeated at this point. But that’s footy. Gotta kick the easy ones. Just ask Fev. See you back here for Round 7.

Round Five: Battle of the Basketcases Part Two

Well, clearly Freo and Richmond took severe umbrage at my insinuation last week that they were basketcases beyond repair, as both came out in Round 5 as teams transformed and recorded their opening wins for 2009 in very convincing fashion. Almost grounds enough to abort part two of the basketcase report - almost, but not quite. I still don't think either team is going to play finals this year, or next, most likely, which will mean that Terry Wallace and Mark Harvey will be joining the long, long list of coaches to have been shown the Punt Road and Subiaco Oval doors. And after dodgy recruiting, most pundits tend to agree that dodgy coach selection has played a significant role in the continual lack of improvement from the Dockers and Tigers. So in part two of Battle of the Basketcases, let's look at where they've gone wrong.

Since Fremantle's entry into the AFL in 1995, they have resisted the temptation to go with a recycled or "proven" coach and have commendably pursued a policy of giving young blood a go. So far this policy has unearthed one semi-decent coach out of the four and a half they've tried, that man being Chris Connolly who got the Dockers to their only two finals series to date. Freo's inaugural coach, Gerard Neesham, had what can fairly be described as a less than celebrity profile east of the Nullabor when he and the Dockers kicked off in 1995. Four years later Neesham's time was up without any substantial result, but to be honest not too many would have been expecting any higher. After all, West Coast's first coach was Ron Alexander who few would remember now, but the Eagles eventually got off the ground, why not the Dockers? Freo's coach number two was Damien Drum who came very highly recommended from his time as assistant coach at Sydney, in fact Collingwood made a huge play for Drum's services and were deeply wounded when he elected to coach Freo instead. However Drum proved to be anything but a success for the Dockers, who plummeted to the bottom of the ladder under his stewardship. The two parted company in mid-2001 after arguably the single ugliest and low standard game of AFL ever between Freo and the Swans (although this year's Round 4 match between North and Essendon is probably also a contender). In the post-match interview Drum, whose Dockers had lost, gave the immortal quote- "Look, skill is only one element of the game! I thought it was a fantastic struggle between two really desperate sides!". Drum was replaced briefly by ex-skipper Ben Allan, before Connolly got the side to the 2003 and 2006 finals series. It looked for a while as though the Dockers were belatedly on the road to reward, but alas, success proved fleeting and Connolly jumped ship midway through 2007 when it became clear that 2006's promise had been an illusion. His assistant Mark Harvey, a hugely experienced assistant coach who had previously served at Essendon under the great Kevin Sheedy, took over but up to this point the purple curse would seem to have descended upon him as deeply as it has upon all who have dared take on the Fremantle coaching mantle.

Like Fremantle, in their quest for their first premiership since 1980 Richmond have been prepared to give young coaching blood a go (Jeff Gieschen, Danny Frawley). They've also, however, gone with favourite sons (Francis Bourke, Kevin Bartlett), ex-premiership coaches from other clubs (Allan Jeans, Robert Walls), ex-premiership coaches from their own club (Tony Jewell), recycled coaches with strong records at lowly sides (John Northey, Terry Wallace), and single-season wonders lost in the distant memory that is the 1980s (Mike Patterson, Paul Sproule). Thus far, only Northey and Frawley have gotten the Tigers into a finals series. It would take too long to detail the records of the others, suffice it to say that finishing ninth at Tigerland has been about as good as it has gotten. They're still an outside chance of doing that this year, but it probably won't be enough to save Wallace.

But as I said at the start, it was a rare good weekend for both Freo and Richmond in Round 5. With the Anzac Day bugles still ringing in the air, the Dockers stunned the Swans by leaping out to a first quarter lead that Sydney proved unable to chase down. A bitterly disappointing result for the Swans to mark their courageous skipper Brett Kirk's 200th, but a deeply welcome win for Fremantle. No less welcome was Richmond's maiden win for 09 over the increasingly hapless North Melbourne, the Tigers held out the Roo's pressure for a half before jumping away in the second half.

Notable in Round 5 were a number of pitifully low scores, with three teams failing to get over 40 points. Two sides, Port Adelaide and Brisbane, failed even to reach their opponent's quarter time score. St Kilda and Geelong were the respective opposition, and both provided strong evidence to suggest that it is going to be a Saints-Cats playoff come September. St Kilda launched a first half blitzkrieg against the Power, putting on ten goals to one and effectively burying the teal mob. Port are proving to be the most schizophrenic side in the comp this year, following up a brilliant away win over the reigning premiers with a white flag effort the following week. Down at Kardinia Park, Geelong's Gary Ablett Jr backed up his amazing 46 possession effort of the previous week with a comparatively disappointing 42 touches against the Lions as Geelong leapt away to an effortless 93 point victory. Testing times for the rookie Brisbane coach Michael Voss.

The other pitifully low score was by Melbourne against Adelaide, with the Dees able to kick only a single goal in the first three quarters and just four for the game. This match was also memorable for the spectacle of the MCG containing less than 15,000 people, the day after 85,000 had crammed in. A 4.40pm starting time on a freezing Sunday afternoon can't have helped- who would have thought that people might be a bit reluctant to venture out that late for a game between two pretty ordinary sides? Adelaide proved the less worse of the two sides on the day, all attendees should have been awarded some kind of bravery medal for sitting through what can't have been an enjoyable experience.

In other matches, Carlton and Hawthorn leapt back to winning form with wins over the Western Bulldogs and West Coast respectively. The Blues dedicated their win, and their entire 2009 season, to their ailing ex-President (now in all ways ex) Richard Pratt, credited with saving the club through his massive influx of (possibly dodgy) cardboard-related funds. The Blues fans were filled with joy by the performances of their parade of number one draft picks, all of whom performed beautifully on the day. The Dogs are back with the pack though after a brilliant start to 09, and they face the rampant Saints in Round 6. For the Hawks, Tasmania has proved a happy hunting ground in recent years and it proved so once again as they were able to run over the Eagles in the last quarter for a much-needed win.

But in all honesty, Round 5 2009 will be forever remembered for just one game- the Anzac Day match between Collingwood and Essendon. Amazingly we're up to the 15th incarnation of this particular fixture - where has that time gone? The first of these encounters, in 1995, produced a heartstopping draw in front of 95,000 heartstopped supporters. Since that auspicious opening, it's fair to say that the quality of subsequent encounters has been a mixed bag. I should know, I've sat through four of them and Essendon have lost the lot! But this year's battle lived up to all of the pre-match hype. Without wanting to descend into over the top hyperbole, I will simply say that this match was by far the best of 2009 so far, if not of all time. It was won on the absolute last kick of the game by a kid in his fourth match ever, after all had seemed lost just minutes before. It featured a herculean performance by another youngster thrust into the spotlight after a disastrous injury felled a champion in the opening moments. And it made Collingwood cheersquad president "Joffa" look like an absolute dill for donning his gold "Game Over" jacket prematurely - yes, the Bombers won. Can't really describe all that happened in the 2009 Anzac Day match, would recommend purchasing the DVD to savour in years to come. The winning goal was kicked by young Zaharakis, featured in the Wrap in Round 2; best on ground was Paddy Ryder, who proved once and for all that he is not an Irish jockey, but a very fine footballer. The tragic injury was to Bombers ruckman and 2008 best and fairest winner David Hille, who is going to be sorely missed. Indeed, Essendon may not win another game for the year. But at least we won this one!

So a very memorable Round 5 in a great many ways, let's hope Round 6 can prove equally rewarding. See you back here for next week's Wrap.

Round Four: Battle of the Basketcases: Part One

Well as Boris the chicken can no doubt attest, one week you're the rooster, next week you're the feather duster. There were to be no Whoppers for me this week, I went from the perfect 8 to a miserable 2 correct selections in Round 4 as the favourites tumbled like dominos. A great week for Hungry Jacks, they won't have lost too much money giving away hamburgers, that's for sure.

By the end of round 4 it became excitingly clear that one of the longest running questions going around, one that has been pondered by football fans old and young, rich and poor, from the north, the west, the south and the east since 1995 seems set to be finally answered at the end of this season: that question being, of course, is Richmond or Fremantle the biggest basketcase in the AFL? I don't want to imply that other clubs haven't had their moments. St Kilda has a cutlery drawer overflowing with wooden spoons; Carlton in recent years has been a bit diabolical; Fitzroy in their dying days were a barely competitive figure of pity; and the less said about the Brisbane Bears the better- at one point they recruited Warwick Capper in order to give themselves more credibility as a football club! It's true, I swear. Nor do I mean to imply that it has always been so: Richmond in the depression and war years was a team not to be messed with, while in the 1960s and 70s they were an absolute powerhouse. I'm sure any Western Australians in the house will be able to confirm my understanding that South and East Fremantle were equally credible outfits back in the day. But boy, oh boy, the Tigers and Dockers should really come equipped with a canned laughter track these days, it just seems to be one sitcom moment after another, off-field and on.

Let's take as a starting point 1995, the season Fremantle entered the competition. They were welcomed with open arms, as their entry meant that the AFL now had an even number of teams and we were thus spared from the bye. Some would argue that that is still Freo's greatest contribution to the AFL. Somewhat less welcome was the Dockers' introduction of the totally unnecessary "home and away" jumper concept- Freo is completely to blame for the collective loss of sanity that resulted in such monstrosities as the Port Adelaide Phallus, the West Coast Gay Pride Flag, the Collingwood Magic Eye Magpie On A Bar Code, and the Hawthorn Number Seven in the Ninth at Flemington, amongst others. Check them all out at http://www.footyjumpers.com/, hours of fun for the whole family. The Dockers also introduced to the AFL an appalling dirge of a club song based on the Volga Boat song, of all things. I'm still staggered to this day that Port Adelaide somehow managed to come up with a worse one.

While Freo were distracting everybody in 1995 with their terrible song and array of sartorial atrocities, Richmond were on a rare high, making the finals for the first time since 1982. They also made the finals in 2001. Freo, for their part, has played finals in 2003 and 2006. That's it. Two finals series each for the two sides in 14 seasons (2 in 27 years for Richmond), with a preliminary final being the best result for both (2 in Richmond's case). By comparison Port Adelaide, which entered the comp two years later than Freo, have played in 7 finals series, finished top three times, played in two Grand Finals and won a premiership. The draft system and salary cap were supposed to even out the competition in order to avoid an English Premier League scenario where only a handful of clubs can ever hope to win. This had been the case in the old VFL, where only five different clubs won premierships between 1967 and 1989. The system has largely worked, every club has made it as far as a preliminary final since 1990 and only Freo, Richmond and the Bulldogs haven't played in a Grand Final. Every other team has played finals regularly, and worked out how to rebuild a team in the down years in order to get back in quickly. So why have the Dockers and Tigers been so consistently bad?

Answer one- recruitment. Freo and Richmond have made an artform out of abysmal work at the draft table and in picking up other clubs' rejects. You wouldn't have thought it possible to make a worse selection at number one than Richmond's 1987 choice of Richard Lounder, who played four games in total. But you would be reckoning without Freo's decision in 2001 to trade draft picks 1, 20 and 36 for Trent Croad (the Dockers also got Luke McPharlin). Croad played 38 games for the Dockers and then returned to Hawthorn. Pick one ended up being Luke Hodge, who was last year's Norm Smith Medallist; pick 36 ended up being Sam Mitchell, who held the premiership cup aloft as the Hawks captain. And Croad got a medal too (pick 20 didn't work out, but it's fair to say it was a better outcome for Hawthorn than it was for Freo). Both the Tigers and Dockers have let players go who have gone on to star at other clubs- ex-Tiger Ben Ottens won a premiership at Geelong, ex-Docker Adam McPhee won a best and fairest at Essendon- and have picked up good players from other clubs who have promptly become a shadow of their former selves once at Punt Road or Subiaco- Kent Kingsley, Mark Graham, Dean Solomon, Jeff Farmer, Chris Tarrant, the list goes on.

This is clearly not a discussion that is going to be able to be concluded in one Wrap. We haven't even gotten onto coaches yet. That might have to be the subject of next week's outing.

So, Round 4. It kicked off under lights up at Brisbane with the Magpies being the visitors, in desperate need of a win to get their season back on track. It looked pretty ordinary for them at quarter time down six goals to two. But a stunning fightback saw them pour on 11 goals to 4 in the next three quarters to record a stirring fighting win to level their 2009 record at 2 and 2, the same as Brisbane. The same 2-2 record is also that of Sydney and Carlton, after the Swans recorded a somewhat surprisingly easy win over the Blues in a game most expected Carlton to romp home in. Bad goalkicking from Carlton was a major factor in the result, with Brendan Fevola the main culprit with 1 goal 4. At the MCG it was a huge upset with Port Adelaide running away from the reigning premiers Hawthorn in the second half to record a 30 point win. Hawthorn's premiership defence is looking decidedly shaky at 1 and 3, while the Power are shaping up as a very hard team to tip.

The Saturday night fixtures saw the season's frontrunners both record very good wins (these, incidentally, were the two matches I actually managed to tip correctly). St Kilda handed out a fearful hiding to the hapless Dockers, keeping Freo goalless in 2 quarters and restricting them overall to a paltry 4.4.28 while chalking up 111 points of their own. At the end of the match the Saints' percentage was up to a whopping 200%, while the Dockers was down to a woeful 56%. And Freo's week got even worse when their assistant coach Steve Malaxos made an astonishing gaffe on live radio, telling stunned listeners that morale at the club was quite good because players were playing pranks on each other "dressed in Ku Klux Klan outfits". It subsequently emerged that the outfits in question were more Blues Brothers than KKK, but surely Malaxos will never be allowed near a live microphone again without an alert club official standing by armed with an electric cattleprod. Over in Adelaide, Geelong toyed with the Crows for three quarters before running away with seven goals to 2 in the last quarter to rack up an impressive 48 point win. Best afield by a country mile for the Cats was the magnificent Gary Ablett Jr, who recorded a lazy 46 possessions in his 150th game. Amazing to think that when his father retired, we wondered if there would ever be a player as naturally skilled ever again. Now the next great debate- once the Richmond vs Fremantle dispute is resolved- will be which of the Gary Abletts is/was the better player.

Sunday afternoon saw not one, but two affronts to the good name of AFL football. Two incredibly shoddy encounters in which skill went completely out the window. One took place at Docklands, where North Melbourne prevailed narrowly over Essendon in a very poor game indeed. At a rough guess 50% of kicks missed their targets, 75% of decisions made were the wrong ones and 100% of Essendon fans there wished they hadn't bothered turning up. The game will probably be best remembered for the first ever freekick awarded for a deliberate rushed behind, against North Melbourne's Daniel Pratt, one of the villains of the previous week's Chookgate. Not having a great season, young Pratt. The other shocker was across town at the MCG, where one of Richmond or Melbourne had to open their accounts for 2009 (barring a goalless draw). In the event it was Melbourne's young brigade who prevailed, putting the final nail in the coffin of Richmond's 2009 finals chances and Terry Wallace's Punt Road coaching career. Wallace may yet last out the season but in terms of a longer future at Tigerland he's a dead man walking.

One game left to complete Round 4, and over in the west the Eagles recorded a super impressive victory over the previously unbeaten Western Bulldogs. A great comeback for West Coast after their shellacking at St Kilda's hands one week earlier. With two impressive home wins the Eagles look to be re-establishing the Fortress Subiaco of old, but will need to discover some away form as well if they're to be a finals contender in 2009.

So after four rounds there are two teams who look certain to play finals (St Kilda and Geelong) and two who look to be gone (our friends the Tigers and the Dockers). Everyone else is still very much in it, and there's everything to play for going into the Anzac Day round. So be sure to join us here for the Wrap of that, and for Part Two of Why Freo and Richmond Are Perpetually Awful. Perhaps it's because the Dockers and Tigers don't think about the game enough, this should take care of that! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nK45rcLk27k&feature=related

Round Three: A Rubber Chicken, A Frozen Chicken and a Whopper

Clucking hell! Did the feathers fly down at Arden St in the lead-up to Round 3 - several Kangaroos wound up with egg on their face as an attempted yolk went down very poorly and fowl tempers resulted. Rather than feeling cock-ahoop, the Roos were walking on eggshells as poultry-related puns filled the air like a bunch of happy chicks at a hen's night. So, what was it all about? I'm not even sure that I know. A rubber chicken named Boris? A poorly-conceived in-house video involving a frozen chicken and a slightly misogynist rap track that somehow ended up in the public domain? A mass team apology to the women of the nation? A very, very strange event indeed.

But an event that had a catastrophic effect on the morale down at North Melbourne. For a club that managed to survive ex-skipper Wayne Carey's massively publicised affair with his vice captain's wife in a toilet cubicle, North Melbourne came awfully close to being torn asunder by Chookgate. The players involved were said to be on the verge of retirement, the sponsors were said to be on the verge of whisking their money away, and Germaine Greer was said to be on the verge of flying in to compulsorarily enrol the entire squad in Womens Studies 101: The Feminine Mystique, Boris the Chicken and You. Perhaps no wonder then that the Roos never looked in contention against Hawthorn, the Hawks able to chalk up a much needed first win for 2009 to belatedly launch their premiership defence.

The team they defeated in last year's decider, Geelong, is starting to get their own campaign off and running and they were able to take the points over Collingwood. The Cats certainly didn't have it their own way, however, at quarter time the Magpies were well up and had they been able to kick a bit straighter could have had the game in the bag. It wasn't to be, though, an eight goal to nil second quarter from Geelong put a whole new complexion on the match and when the final siren sounded it was the Cats' Easter eggs who were going to taste sweeter.

The shellacking of the round took place on Saturday at the MCG when St Kilda demonstrated that they are going to be a genuine contender in 2009 by destroying the West Coast Eagles to the tune of 97 points. Another sizeable margin over in Adelaide, where the Power belted the Demons. Port looking ominous, Melbourne still winless in 09. And up north in the wet the Lions were able to end a five year winless streak against Sydney, taking the game by 33 points.

The best game of the round (and not just in my opinion) was the clash between the Bombers and the highly fancied Blues. After eight years in the wilderness, most pundits have Carlton firmly pencilled in as a finalist this year, if not a top four contender. Essendon, on the other hand, is generally regarded to be in yet another rebuilding year. And a few minutes into the second quarter, that conclusion looked to be accurate as Carlton skipped out to a 27 point lead. But then came the Bomber comeback. Led by skipper Matthew Lloyd, whose poor early season form had led many to writte him off, the Dons rattled on seven goals for the quarter to go in two points up at halftime. The second half was a blinder, goal for goal right up until the final stages. With the seconds ticking down, the Blues had one last roll of the dice as Marc Murphy ran the ball into their attacking zone. But a brilliant tackle from Paddy Ryder allowed the Dons to sweep the ball away and the siren sounded on a magnificent Bomber victory. The red and black army across the nation launched into celebrations, but despair for the Bluebaggers. I can only assume that the response of the Canberra Carlton supporters group was reminiscent of the aftermath of the Battle of Isengaard which, for those not following, was the big battle in the Return of the King. From Lord of the Rings. Because they're like orcs. Refer to the Round One report.

Just two games left to conclude the superlong Easter round. Over in the west Fremantle were desperately hoping that the Adelaide Crows would be terminally weakened by Bock-inalia but it wasn't to be, Adelaide holding on for a gutsy win to keep the Dockers rooted to the bottom reaches of the ladder. With this result I was getting quite excited - I'd tipped seven winners out of seven for the first time in years! If the Dogs could get across the line against Richmond I'd be not only showered in glory, but the proud recipient of a Hungry Jacks Whopper! So I was cursing the Dogs in the first quarter as they sprayed shots to the right and the left as the Tiges skipped out to a 16 point lead. But if there's one certainty in the AFL in 2009, it's that Richmond will find a way to blow a winning situation. As the game went on the skill gap between the two sides became evident, much to the frustration of Richmond supporters whose early season optimism must have just about evaporated by now. The Tigers players mentally disintegrated as one, with handballs universally finding the opposition and kicks universally finding the bloke in the second row. It was a mercy for Tigers' fans when the final siren finally sounded with their team 57 points in arrears. And of course it was all good for me - one Whopper coming my way!

So that was Round 3- it started with a frozen chicken and wound up with a tasty burger. Who knows what Round 4 will bring? (Well, OK, everyone does because Round 4 has already been played, but let's suspend disbelief and pretend that it hasn't). See you back here soon for the Round 4 Wrap.

Round Two: Krusty, Ringo, Capper and Diamond John Brumby

Talk about coincidence- in Round One's wrap I wrote about Poochie the ill-conceived cartoon dog, then lo and behold there he was stinking up the joint in the following night's Simpsons episode! Having seen the episode again, I stand by my comparison of Krusty's promotion of Poochie and the build-up to the Cousins-Judd rematch. But then again I am a hardcore Krusty the Clown fan, and after two decades of the Simpsons almost everything can be referenced to him or one of the other characters. Take the Beatles semi-reunion (Paul and Ringo) that took place in the lead-up to Round Two, a great event for those there but what charity were the Fab Two benefitting? Meditation for Kids! All I could think of was Krusty out the front of the Motion Sickness Benefit telethon, overcome with emotion, "Waugh...you should see the bus they came to the studio in!" Speaking of Ringo, that name is also one familiar to viewers of longrunning soapie Neighbours, who after thirty odd years are clearly running out of convincing names (Ringo's offsider is named Zeke, and Toadfish Rebecchi is still living on Ramsey Street too). Ringo and Zeke, as it turns out, are right into their footy and I was lucky enough some months ago to switch on the telly to see the boys lining up for Erinsborough for the Grand Final with none other than legendary four-time Richmond premiership coach Tom Hafey on the sidelines as the guest coach! Pretty tough on Erinsborough's actual coach, who had evidently got the team to the grand final and then been shunted aside for the big game. But super entertaining viewing watching Tommy nod sagely on the sidelines at every Ringo mark or Zeke drop punt. The best AFL guest spot on Neighbours since ex-Swans pretty boy Warwick Capper turned up circa-1987 in order to try and recruit Kylie Minogue as a Swanette.

And it's fair to say that Richmond fans wouldn't mind getting Tom Hafey back in the coaches' box, even in a guest capacity. After their abysmal Round One appearance, many feared that their trip down the highway to Geelong would be yet another chapter in the longrunning series that is Cat Goes Medieval On Tiger. But surprisingly this time around the Tiges were very competitive and gave Geelong a genuine scare before the Cats got home. The game started conventionally enough, with the Cats well up at halftime and seemingly home and hosed. But an eight goal Richmond third term had them up by a point at the final change. The Cats were able to pull away in the last to record their 44th victory from 47 outings (a pity one of the other three was a Grand Final). But it's far from clear this year whether the Cats have the aura of invincibility that they've carried over the last two seasons.

One team that does seem to be growing such an aura though is St Kilda, who pulled off a hard fought win interstate against the Crows. Adelaide stuck like a limpus to the Saints for three quarters, but the visitors were able to run away with it in the last for a rare win in South Australia. And there was an unhappy postscript for the Crows, with their 2008 best and fairest Nathan Bock arrested the next night for (allegedly) drunkenly striking his girlfriend. All in all Round Two not one the Crows will remember fondly. Nor too will the Jones family of Melbourne; first son Nathan was part of the Dees' defeat at the hands of Collingwood, then his father was bashed in front of his other son after the game by a trio of cowardly louts. Happily violence among spectators is a far less common occurrence that it is in other codes ie. European soccer. But Victorian Premier John Brumby, much like his Springfield counterpart "Diamond" Joe Quimby, knows a populist issue when he sees one. Whereas Diamond Joe might declare a bear patrol tax, Diamond John promptly declared a summit on AFL spectator violence, much to the mystification of AFL CEO Andrew Demetriou who wasn't informed. Hopefully this misguided bit of nonsense will fade away by midseason.

Two Saturday night fixtures in Round Two. In Melbourne the Blues sparked even more excitement in their already over-excited supporters (and hello to everybody at the Canberra Carlton Supporters Club, who I maligned in last week's Wrap) by defeating Brisbane in a thrilling encounter. The Blues are starting to believe that their long decade out in the cold is about to come to an end. Up in Sydney there was a shock result, with defending premiers Hawthorn going down for the second time in 2009 at the hands of the Swans, in a result few outside the red and white faithful would have picked.

Another shock result over in the west on Sunday, with unfancied West Coast giving the Power a right bath. Perhaps Port's latest abysmal clash jumper was to blame for their poor showing, we all know the Power have a troubled history in this regard. Check it out here- http://www.portadelaidefc.com.au/tabid/6038/default.aspx?newsid=70982. And where exactly is the clash between the existing Eagles and Power jumpers, anyway! Won't somebody stop the change jumper madness, there's a challenge for you Brumby!

Two very different matches back in Melbourne to complete Round Two, at the MCG the Bulldogs prevailed over the Roos in a lowscoring armwrestle encounter to keep their unbeaten start to the season alive. The Dogs had to really fight for it after North pulled their way back to just two points down after being nearly five goals down. Across town a small Docklands crowd was treated to a fine display by a young Bombers side which, despite nil returns from veterans Matthew Lloyd and Scott Lucas and many a skill error, convincingly defeated the massively disappointing Freo Dockers. It looks like being another long season for the Purple Haze, two rounds in and they're already all but gone. But many encouraging signs this week for Essendon supporters after their insipid Round One performance. Perhaps best of all was the performance of two Bomber debutants: David Zaharakis looked great and is the first Z I can recall in the AFL since Bulldog Zeno Tzatzaris way back in the '80s (please drop a comment if there's been one in the meantime); and Essendon has finally got on the Irish bandwagon with young Michael Quinn who's been in the country all of about twenty minutes but looks to be a player. Quinn looks about twelve and sounded in interview like a Gaelic version of the Pimply Faced Kid, but by all accounts he's far less temperamental than his compatriot Setanta O'hAilpin over at Carlton which can't be a bad thing. Good signs for the future of Windy Hill.

And so concludes the Worst. Wrap. Ever. Hope you enjoyed, hopefully Round Three will appear very shortly also.

Round One: Like Poochie The Ill-Conceived Cartoon Dog

There's a great moment in the Simpsons from a few years ago starring the legendary Krusty the Clown. Unusually attired in a dinner suit, he stands before a microphone and solemnly intones, "Once in a great while, we are privileged to experience a television event so extraordinary, it becomes part of our shared heritage. 1969: Man walks on the moon. 1971: Man walks on the moon...again. Then for a long time nothing happened. Until tonight". Krusty was talking about the introduction of poorly conceived cartoon dog character Poochie onto the longrunning psychotic children's cartoon Itchie and Scratchie. But the general overblown sentiment fitted perfectly with the buildup in Melbourne to the season opener between Carlton and Richmond and, more specifically, the rematch between ex-Eagles premiership teammates and Brownlow Medallists Ben Cousins and Chris Judd. Nobody reading a Victorian newspaper or watching Channel Ten's prematch leadup could possibly doubt that this match was indeed the biggest television event in human history. And the sense of anticipation among fans of the two clubs involved, cellar-dwellers both in recent years, was at fever pitch. Richmond fans in particular were at last daring to dream that finally, finally, their three decades of mediocrity were about to come to an end. Surely this was to be the beginning of something wonderful.

Of course, much like Poochie the dog's ill-fated venture onto the small screen, it all ended in tears for the Tiger faithful. What a horrendous night it turned out to be for the Richmond Football Club, basically everything that could have gone wrong went right ahead and did so. It really wouldn't have surprised at all if at the end of the game one of the MCG light towers had slowly toppled over and hammered Richo into the ground like a tent peg, Wile E. Coyote style. Of all the nights for the Tiger playing group to lose their collective minds and nerve, the season opener in front of a full MCG and massive television audience just wasn't the night to do it. With Canberra receiving its customary excellent free to air television service (an 11.15PM delayed telecast), myself and some others gathered at our local venue, Eastlakes Football Club, along with a throng including, to our horror, the Canberra Carlton Supporters Club. Without wanting to be needlessly cruel about their appearance or mannerisms, I would suggest that if Peter Jackson is short of a few blokes to play orcs in the upcoming movie version of The Hobbit, he might want to give the CCSC a call. The expatriate bluebaggers took up location right in front of the main screen, then proceeded to hurl seven shades of abuse at every Tiger player from the moment they set foot on the arena. The Tigers weren't doing anything much to provoke their anger though, they opened with a Richo poster from a kickable distance, then dropped an easy mark in the back line (which led to a goal), then disintegrated completely. Their skills were absolutely deplorable. Carlton by contrast looked like a Lambourghini competing in a street race against a Lada-like vehicle from a country which no longer exists ("Put it in 'H'"!). Cousins was doing his best but his ex-teammate Judd was winning the duel (such as it was) on points easily. The points margin grew wider and wider the longer the game went off, and the screen started to show Richmond supporters trickling out of the stadium (sent on their way with many a bronx cheer from the CCSC mob). Then, as if things hadn't gone quite badly enough for the Tiges, who had been completely humiliated on the field, it all got a lot worse. With the game long since lost, Cousins embarked on one final stretching effort which resulted in his dodgy hamstring giving up the ghost. As he limped off the field the heads of Richmond fans nationwide collapsed into their collective hands, another forgettable season looks to be on the cards. But there was much whooping and hollering from the CCSC boys and their brethren across the planet, Carlton do indeed appear to be coming back after a very dark decade or so.

After such a massive promotional buildup for the Carlton/ Richmond game, the Grand Final rematch the next night between Hawthorn and Geelong came as almost an anti-climax. The Cats have had a long dark summer to reflect on their 2008 Grand Final disaster, and one gets the impression that they are a team on a mission this year. They certainly swept all before them in the Preseason Let's Give The Kids A Run Cup which, for the first time in years, I actually got to see some of on television. It should be noted I was in a bar on Kuta Beach in Bali at the time, probably in direct contravention of the government's travel warnings (which are surely best treated as a serving suggestion). I was not at all surprised that there was better AFL coverage available in a foreign country than in the national capital. The Hawthorn-Geelong rematch was won narrowly by the Cats, small revenge for last year's defeat. Both teams look to remain at a standard well above that of the chasing pack.

One team who do fancy themselves as a potential challenger to the Cats and Hawks is Collingwood, who surprised everybody by declaring at the start of the year that they were aiming for a premiership in 2009. This was a most unusual statement for a club to make. Normally clubs stick to the "one game at a time" line right up until actual Grand Final Day, when they might admit that they do indeed hope to be premiers come 5PM or so. The Pies' quest for glory got off to a sticky start though, with a narrow defeat at the hands of the visiting Adelaide Crows. President Eddie McGuire reacted furiously to the defeat, pointing to the free kick count which showed Adelaide four ahead of Collingwood. Presumably all of the four frees resulted in Crow behinds, as four points was indeed the final margin.

Two Saturday night fixtures in Round One: oop north it was the coaching debut of Michael Voss, the man who stood up Essendon, Carlton, Gold Coast and West Coast to take over his old team. And he got off to a winning start against the Eagles, who would have been watching the Carlton-Richmond game and drooling over their two lost champions. Down south it was the Saints against the Swans, a fixture that in years past has guaranteed an absolute stinkfest of low scoring and dismal football. This year it was by all accounts a bit better than that (I didn't bother tuning in), the Saints prevailed fairly comfortably. It looks like the Swans might finally be on the slide after umpteen years up around the top, but they've shown before that it's a mistake to write them off prematurely.

Last year the Melbourne Demons had a fairly abysmal season to mark their 150th anniversary, it started with a 100 point shellacking in Round One and never really improved. This year the Dees were determined to avoid the same fate and were more than competitive against the Kangaroos. North prevailed in the end, but it was a performance which will give Dees fans hope that there is light at the end of the tunnel. For supporters of Essendon and Fremantle, however, the tunnel looks to be fairly long indeed. Essendon have a shocking record against Port Adelaide, and the Power had little trouble in racking up another win to the lopsided bilateral ledger. The Bombers now acknowledge that they followed a foolish recruiting path in the years 2002-5, picking up dodgy bitplayers and journeymen from other clubs at the expense of youth. Nice of them to finally admit it, but a tad frustrating to many Bombers fans who were saying that at the time! We feel a bit like the rest of the world (and residents of the blue states) pointing out to the Americans that, yes, it's great that you can now acknowledge that GWB shouldn't have been allowed anywhere near the White House (or indeed a pair of sharp scissors) but most of us were saying that back in 1999! That felt really good. The Dockers got soundly smashed by the Western Bulldogs over in the west. It doesn't look like Freo is going to threaten this season or any time soon. We'll have to wait to see whether the Dogs are genuine contenders or merely another Poochie.

That's it for this week, let's hope that this weekend serves up another spectacular round of the great game. Hope your team's a winner, see you back here for the Round Two wrap.

The shadows are lengthening, the temperatures are dropping, the leaves are falling and the sense of anticipation amongst football supporters across the nation - nay, the very globe itself! has reached fever-pitch. Just one more sleep until AFL Season 2009 kicks off! And although the return of the footy is a cause for celebration every year, this time around it's fair to say that it's going to be particularly welcome. It's been a long, hot and painful summer across the nation, both in the sporting arena and, more seriously, in the Victorian bush. The unrelenting heat took its toll upon our ageing cricketers, who slumped to dismal defeat against the South African visitors. At the Australian Open tennis, fluffy yellow balls were combusting on mere contact with the playing surface, as players and spectators alike gasped for oxygen, and flag-painted faces representing proud nations from all five continents gently sizzled. And of course nobody will ever forget where they were when the news came through that the state of Victoria had caught fire. Yes, all in all, it was a summer to try and forget.

But throughout it all, the prospect of footy's return kept a smile on the weariest of faces. Well, perhaps not on the face of Carlton's feisty Irishman with the curiously capitalised name, one Setanta o'hAilpin. At the hottest point of the summer, Setanta lost it completely at a pre-season inter-club training session, turning on teammate Cameron Cloke with unrestrained fury. It was as though Setanta was Shane McGowan, perenially booze-addled frontman of The Pogues, and Cloke a barman with an upper-class English accent who'd just announced last drinks at a St Patricks Day function. Check out Setanta's meltdown here, although you'll want to ignore the bulk of the attached comments- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqx0GzUOmEw. Great news for the tabloid sub-editors, who'd had the headline, "Setantrum!" saved up since Setanta had first gotten off the plane from Dublin.

But Setanta was but an spicy entree for the main course that was, for the umpteenth summer in a row, Ben Cousins. When last we heard from Cousins he had been suspended by the AFL for a season for bringing the game into disrepute, after a long string of drug-related public disasters had culminated in him being sacked from the Eagles. The big question on the lips of footy pundits was a) whether the AFL would let him back onto the footy field; and b) could Cuz find a club willing to take him on? The AFL ummed and ahhed for quite a while before begrudgingly giving him the nod to part a; but part b proved far, far more difficult than Cousins had probably anticipated. Not that he did himself too many favours, turning up to a hair-test (hair can apparently indicate recent drug use) without a single hair on his entire body long enough to conduct the test. Yep, not one on his entire body. Here's where we all feel good about whatever line of work we're in and thank whatever God we believe in that we weren't on duty down the beauty salon the day Cuz wandered in and requested one waxing with the lot. Of course it could have been worse, imagine trying to give that particular service to "Plugger" Lockett, Barry "Festival" Hall or Cam "The Big Hairy Cat" Mooney! Or better yet, don't.

"Bald-gate" was enough to cause sponsors' jitters at first Collingwood, then St Kilda and finally Brisbane, all of which withdrew their interest in getting Cousins on board for '09. It looked as through the former Brownlow Medallist, Eagles captain and premiership player was going to have to ply his trade at a lower level for the remainder of his career. But then, like a Fairy Godmother armed with a cocktail frock and impeccable timing, the Richmond Football Club entered from stage left to whisk Cuz-derella off to the ball. It was all a little indirect, of course. The Tigers originally requested that the AFL allow them to put Graham Polak, who had come off second best from a mid-2008 collision with a Dandenong Road tram, on the long-term injury list. This alerted delerious speculation among the yellow and black faithful that Cousins may have been on his way to Punt Road. However the AFL's refusal to adhere to the Tige's request seemed to be the final nail in the coffin - Richmond only had two picks in the preseason draft and had stated that both were earmarked for young recruits. However the club leadership had reckoned without the fury of its fans. Tigers' supporters had gritted their teeth through year after year and decade after decade of on-field mediocrity and off-field buffoonery. They had seen Number 1 draft picks blown on the likes of Richard Lounder and Anthony Banik who had come and gone without any greater impact than becoming answers in the sporting round at your local pub trivia night. Now here was a proven champion being offered to the club on a platter, and the club was saying, "Trust us to pick someone who might eventually be half as good"? Hell, no, damn it!" A spontaneous march on Punt Road by hundreds of disgruntled fans led the club to very quickly see the error of their ways, their policy was instantly reversed and a stunned and delighted Cousins was soon standing before the flashbulbs wearing a yellow and black jumper.

And tomorrow night he'll be wearing it in anger for the first time, the preseason shenanigans notwithstanding. On the other side will be his ex-Eagles teammate Chris Judd, these days captaining Carlton. The Blues are pretty excited about their prospects this year, after enduring a couple of very trying seasons they're running on the slogan of "We're Coming!" And perhaps they are. All will be revealed when the 2009 season swings into gear, bring it on!
How's that, an entire Wrap done with only two clubs mentioned! I'll see if I can get to the other fourteen in weeks ahead. See you back here next week when we dissect Round 1 and answer the questions that will inevitably arise. Until then, be sure to steer clear of Setanta.

Grand Final: Deja Vu All Over Again

Hey, anybody still remember the 2008 AFL Grand Final? Despite my best intentions, I’ve managed to replicate last year’s faux pas in covering the entire season (with the exception of that ten week gap) before taking off overseas before the main event was given its due. Anyway, in the hope that a late and probably largely inaccurate recollection of the big game is preferable to a continuing wall of silence, the following is provided.

By now the result and basic facts of the game are well known: Geelong managed to replicate the efforts of the NFL’s New England Patriots by concluding an almost perfect season with a disastrous stumble on Grand Final day. Hawthorn played the role of the New York Giants to perfection, ending a 17 year premiership drought and giving long-serving club champion Shane Crawford the perfect send-off. The Hawks’ tactic of rushing behinds at every opportunity resulted in a bizarre Geelong scoreline of 11 goals 23 behinds –not since the Roos of 1977 kicked 9 goals 22 behinds to tie Collingwood (North kicked a lot better the following week) has a team kicked quite so badly on the big day, although the all-time classic shankers remain the Bombers of 1948 who produced an appalling 7 goals 27 behinds to tie Melbourne (and got done a week later in the replay). In 2008 the Cats will also rue a number of missed “gimme’s” of the sort that any given week in the two seasons preceeding would have been snapped up like a heavily discounted fridge at a Boxing Day sale. 2001 Number 1 draft pick Luke Hodge edged out sentimental favourite Gary Ablett Jr for the Norm Smith Medal for best on ground, thus denying the Ablett family a singular slice of history in becoming the only father and son team to win the Norm Smith Medal, let alone in matches for the same team against the same opposition. And the extent of the jubilation in the east of Melbourne was matched only by the extent of the desolation in the Corio Bay vicinity, as Pivotonians mourned the end what looked just a couple of weeks previous like a dynasty set to rival that of the Mings.

For mine, the match was chiefly memorable for the number of déjà vu moments it produced – it was like watching a compilation of famous Grand Final moments from yesteryear. Cam Mooney’s brilliant snap from an impossible angle in the first quarter was Daicosian in its delivery, but whereas the Macedonian Marvel’s 1990 effort was the signal that it was going to be Collingwood’s day, Mooney’s goal proved to be the highlight of both his and his team’s day. In the second quarter, as Geelong completely dominated play but were unable to convert their dominance into scoreboard rewards, one was flashed back a decade to North Melbourne’s similar effort against Adelaide. Like the Roos of ’98, the Cats of ’08 will be ruing some of their misses. Brad Ottens spurned the opportunity to handball to one of about three teammates racing into goal, then missed from 25 metres. Cam Mooney proved that there is no such thing as a certain goal by somehow missing from the goal-square after the halftime siren, he’ll probably prefer watching the replay of his first quarter goal.

More moments of déjà vu? What about Cyril Rioli’s unbelievable second and third efforts to win a free kick when hopelessly outnumbered by Cats on the wing? His uncle Michael Long would have been watching proudly, no doubt recalling his own virtuoso performance out there on Grand Final day 1993. But the déjà vu moment par excellence for the Wrap came when Hawks coach Alistair Clarkson adopted Kevin Sheedy’s 1984 masterstroke of swinging the unlikeliest of characters into the forward line. In 1984 unfashionable backman Billy Duckworth (and to a lesser extent Paul Weston) were brought forward and ran amok amongst the hapless Hawk defence. How sweet it must have been 24 years on for the brown and gold faithful to see that tactic brought on board. Clarkson’s blunt instrument of choice was the portly figure of ex-Power premiership player Stuart “Mountain” Dew. Not since the 1970s halcyon days of Rene “The Incredible Hulk” Kink and Mick “The Galloping Gasometer” Nolan has there been a figure quite as rotund as Dew’s running around in September, although Derek Kickett did turn up to preseason training in 1994 with Sydney resembling Augustus Galoop from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory following a long summer of comfort eating having been dropped from the ‘93 Essendon flag side. Dew had been talked out of retirement by Clarkson, and his selection and frontwards deployment duly proved a masterstroke as he bagged two goals and set up another. But given that Cats coach Mark “Bomber” Thompson had a bird’s eye view of the original 1984 move – having been on the field at the time – it is fairly amazing that he didn’t pick it earlier.

I was watching the match with an increasingly excited Hawks fan who, like many of his compatriots, steadfastly refused to believe that the game was in the bag until the final siren sounded. Every time the indomitable figure of Gary Ablett Jr came near the ball my friend had visible palpitations. If anyone was going to get the Cats across the line it was going to be the little bald guy, as courageous and inspiring as his father was nineteen years before him. But once more it was déjà vu, not even Ablett at his peak could deny the Hawks on this day. As the shadows on the MCG lengthened, a series of late Hawk goals ensured that the upset of the 21st century became a reality.

The final siren for season 2008 sounded, sparking jubilation amongst Hawk players and fans alike. Many would have entertained serious doubts not so long ago that they would ever see another Hawthorn premiership, given how close the club came in 1996 to becoming a velcro attachment on a Melbourne jumper. For its longest serving player and ex-captain Shane Crawford, this truly was the sweetest victory of all. Not even the most shattered Cat fan could have begrudged Crawford his joy as he stood on the dais and bellowed “That’s what I’m talking about!!” to the global television audience.

But if the Hawks were ecstatic, the Cats were gutted. What a time to produce such an un-Geelong-like performance. Very hard to put a silver lining on a loss like that to end a season of almost unparalleled dominance. But perhaps the previously inexplicable 86 point shellacking the Cats suffered way back in June against Collingwood is now just a little more explicable. Good news, of course, for Essendon fans – 2000 remains the most successful single season in AFL history. Woo-hoo!

As mentioned before, the Norm Smith went to Luke Hodge for a masterful performance on the halfback flank. Some felt Ablett was stiff to miss – if his televised reaction was anything to go by, Ablett himself was in this camp – but really, given the Hawks’ ultimate winning margin, the medal really had to go to a Hawthorn player.

And that was it for season 2008, one of the most entertaining seasons I can remember. Bravo to Hawthorn for pulling off one of the most unexpected premierships of them all. Commiserations to Geelong for the final result, but kudos on another season of gloriously entertaining football (and full credit to the Cat fans for resisting the temptation to trash the eastern suburbs of Melbourne, Xavier College Muck-up Day style). The bar has been set very high indeed for season 2009, we will await it with baited breath.

Thanks to all the readers, particularly those who encouraged the Wrap’s return after the midseason slump. We’ll see how we go next season. In the meantime, I commend to you “Balls of Gold”, a marvellously entertaining read focusing mainly but not exclusively on cricket. Find it here- http://www.ballsofgold.blogspot.com/
Have a great summer all.

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.