Coaching can take grown men to dark places. Justin Longmuir was in that place late on Saturday afternoon after the AFL grand final. During the presentation, he began to topple over, like someone suffering abdominal pain or warming up for a pilates class. In reality, it was probably a body going into shock. We shouldn’t use words like “grief” when we talk about losing a game of football. What happened to Fremantle and Longmuir was akin to someone running over the family pet. Longmuir, a farmer, would scoff at such a comparison. But the hardest thing for anyone associated with Fremantle is finding the right measure of hurt – do you hide under the doona for a week, do you skip the country, do you employ a bit of gallows humour, or do you take pride in how well they played? There is no precedent or playbook for how to respond to a loss like that.
Chris Fagan was in a very different place. At first, he was utterly wrung out. Those around him seemed conscious of giving him space. It took him several minutes to gather himself, to actually enjoy himself. Within half an hour he had reverted to type – deflecting all praise, commending the opposition, reminding his players to be humble.
