Finals - Week 1, 2004

 

 

The fat lady sang for the Go Dees on Saturday. Yze’s misdirected handball in the final minute must rate as the biggest tactical blunder since Jeff Kennett thought an early election might be a good idea back in 1999. The Fuscias have now finished the season with five straight losses. If any other team had suffered such a fate, blood-letting and recriminations would surely be on the cards but Melbourne, like Geelong, seems to be one of those teams whose board and supporters tend to take a social worker approach to failure – let’s not criticise anyone now, it might damage their self-esteem, let’s all just sit in a circle and hold hands.

 

It was a different story at the Gabbatoir as the Saints were made to look like kids, with another vintage performance from Jonathan Brown’s boots, elbows and fists. Some commentators say he reminds them of Wayne Carey, but the more accurate comparison must surely be with Tony Lockett in his younger, wilder years. Just like Plugger circa 1984-1990, Brown has the size and strength to totally blow backlines away, yet just cannot resist the temptation to get in a blue whenever the opportunity presents itself. As a result, he ends up dominating matches because backmen aren’t game to go near him. It surely won’t be long until we see him throwing crutches at camera men next time he gets injured.

 

But what is the football world to make of the performance of the St Kilda coach? Whilst his team were copping more stick than Bob Brown’s drug policy, the response of Grant Thomas was like a dazed roo sitting in the middle of the road waiting for the truck to hit it. He didn’t even try to make any moves to stop the carnage, he just looked on dumbfounded. Thankfully, he looks likely to be put out of his misery by the Swans this Friday. Putting up the tactical genius of Thomas against Paul Roos will be like pitting Barney from The Simpsons against Stephen Hawking in an IQ contest.

 

The Swans gave the Indian Ocean Pretty Boys a predictable drubbing. John Worsfold should now spend the summer pondering the wisdom of Confucius. 2,500 years ago the great man offered a pearl of wisdom which remains just as relevant today as it did then: “ Team With No Forward Line Won’t Win Big Games.”

 

Over in SA, the Silver Teal finally won a final, even though it took another typical Richard Butler performance from Geelong to gift it to them. Just like the three premiership flags flying proudly at the Gabba, every peroxide mullet in South Australia will be billowing with pride this week now that the Power have finally win a final. Despite the delirium which greeted the win, Chocko Williams is still walking around with that perpetually grimaced look on his face as if he’s just backed over his grandmother. If he ever wins a flag, the AFL should arrange for the presentation of the cup to be preceded by a ceremonial removal of the broom that has been lodged up his bum for the past 4 years. Perhaps they could hitch it up to a high-horsepower Alan Scott truck to do the honours.

 

Whilst the Power finally got their act together in a big game, Geelong chose to do otherwise. Kent Kingsley’s effort was particularly ‘novel’, attempting for the first time in his career to be some sort of enforcer. He must have looked at the footage of Jonathan Brown on Friday night and had delusions of grandeur. Unfortunately for Kingsley, he lacks just a few of Brown’s more imposing attributes. Brown minus the goals, minus the marks and minus the size leaves only the rank ill-discipline. Kingsley ended up swinging more elbows that he had kicks. It was the most notoriety that he has enjoyed since he won that prettiest footballer comp two years ago by getting all his mates to vote for him. As he showed on Sunday, he’s much better at beauty contests than he is at biffo.

 

Now the Cats will face up to the Dons for the right to get flayed by the Lions in the Prelim Final and elongate their seasons by another futile week. Lethal came out swinging this week, accusing Victoria of ‘rampant parochialism’ by playing the Prelim at the MCG, yet it hardly makes any difference to his Victorian opponents – the difference between facing Brisbane at the Gabbatoir or at the G is about the same as the difference between getting run over by a Mack or a Kenworth. In the final wash-up, it’s all a bit academic from a Victorian point of view.

 

Lethal is now inexorably heading towards four in a row, and five flags overall, which would make him the most successful coach of the ‘modern era’. And the one person who would be most annoyed if he did would surely be Sheedy. Think about it: in 24 years Sheeds has achieved 7 minor premierships and 7 grand finals (and lost two prelims by a point) yet has won ‘only’ four flags. Matthews, on the other hand, has so far coached four grand finals for four flags (with the help of a salary cap allowance in three), never once finished on top of the ladder and his overall record is somewhat tarnished by his ‘achievements’ at Collingwood from 1991-95, during his reign as ‘Coach for Life’ under the Dad’s Army regime of Alan McAllister (who must surely have modeled his presidency on Graham Kennedy’s pie tycoon president in ‘The Club’ – talk about life imitating art.)

 

Sheedy must think Lethal’s had a pretty easy ride. It makes one wonder just what lengths the old plumber would go to in order to thwart Lethal if the Dons meet the Lions in a Preliminary Final. Knowing he couldn’t possibly beat them, what might his game plan be? Perhaps he could send last-gamers Mercuri, Misiti and Wellman in on suicide bomber missions to take out as many Brisbane players as possible - not to win the game but to weaken the Lions for the Grand Final. Two years ago when he faced a can’t-possibly-win-it game against Brisbane he resorted to “no rules” tactics just to stick it up Lethal. It would be interesting to see it happen again, but perhaps it won't make much difference. The three old farts would probably bounce straight off Voss and Mal Michael, they’d never be able to catch Simon Black, and Martin Pyke and Aker would be too busy giggling at them to even notice.