In the week leading up to the AFL grand final, official footy media has been united in polite admiration. Geelong may not be the finalist that most excites the narrative, but there is mutually agreed praise for the fact that they are here again, contending again, another year defying the AFL cycle driven by salary caps and draft picks that sifts teams down to the bottom half of the competition after a season or five near the top. Deeper into the crevices of the internet, politeness fades, with diehards of other footy allegiance more likely to say that they are sick of the bloody Cats who should piss off and give someone else a turn.
On pure statistics, this is fair. As a fully disclosed Geelong person claiming no objectivity while anxious for another win, I might be accused of gluttony at the buffet. In truth, though, in 2025 I want this one bad. It doesn’t feel like one more inevitable year in an era of unbridled success. Let me explain before you put a foot through your screen. The numbers are admittedly awesome in the last 22 seasons: 19 finals series, 14 prelims, seven grand finals, four premierships and hunting a fifth. Rich pickings, especially to supporters of teams that have finished most of those seasons outside the top eight.
