You know what this round of football needed? Something that could surpass it. Gather some sizzle merchants around a whiteboard and brainstorm some ideas. Maybe ‘Wildcard Weekend’ or ‘Magic Round’ or, as SEN’s owner suggested with a straight face this week, ‘The Gauntlet’. It’s what the fans want, what they crave. In the space of 24 hours, there were six games with a cumulative margin of 40 points. But that won’t do. We need more footy. We need closer games, wilder comebacks, content, content, more, more, more!
I jest. But these days, it’s difficult to tell who’s being serious, who’s having a complete lend and who has an agenda. There’s always a sneaking suspicion – and a certain amount of evidence – that the people running this game could change the rules and the format of the season at a few hours’ notice.
But their product, for the most part, still holds up. Even by the standards of this most unpredictable of seasons, round 22 was quite extraordinary. In particular, in the 24-hour period starting with Isaac Heeney and Chad Warner’s final term at the SCG, to Mac Andrew’s goal after the siren, it was hard to know where to look, what to believe and what to make of the ladder.
It started late on Friday night when the Swans woke from a month-long slumber to end Collingwood’s season. The pernicketiest officials this side of Olympic race-walk judges were surprisingly lax about a bloke creeping five metres over the mark, but the Magpies have had a pretty good run in such circumstances right through the Craig McRae era. Besides, this wasn’t about them. It was about a team that’s been dragging their feet through winter, but who finally rediscovered their confidence and crispness.
It continued on Saturday afternoon, with two high standard games featuring four finals aspirants. GWS played as poorly as a top eight team can play in the first term but an almighty bake from Adam Kingsley sharpened them up. Brisbane’s been untouchable for several months, are always hard to toss at the Gabba and could easily have been eight or nine goals up at quarter-time. But it was a couple of 20-year-olds – Aaron Cadman and Darcy Jones (in just his 10th game) – who booted five goals between them in the last half hour to skittle the home side.
Even the deadest of rubbers in Tasmania delivered, with West Coast kicking three goals in 90 seconds to pinch it. On the other side of the country, in a game played at a finals like intensity, Fremantle coughed up yet another three-quarter-time lead and now face two of the in-form teams in the competition. The Cats have struggled against the Dockers in recent years, but it was their guns who stood up when it mattered. Patrick Dangerfield in particular was like a freight train and at 34 he can still go from zero to a hundred like few others.
That night, Port Adelaide faced one of those games you have to slog through – take the four points and get the hell out of there. Port were probably hoping and maybe expecting an opponent that had put the cue in the rack. But the Dees fought like caged lions. Jason Horne Francis was pivotal in the end – he made all the right decisions, he put his body on the line and carried his team on his young shoulders.
Across town, there was Essendon. There’s always Essendon. Good Lord, where do I start with Essendon? They booted nine behinds in the final term. They had so many looks, so many inside 50s, and a ladder that had suddenly opened up for them. But they found a dozen different ways to throw away their season, and were nutted after the bell by a team that hasn’t won on the road in 446 days.
Saturday was a tough act to follow. Sunday was a chance to take a deep breath, to enjoy the first sip of Melbourne’s spring and to try and process the first six games. The Carlton-Hawthorn game had been billed as a mini-elimination final, but it was quickly evident that only one team had turned up.
Two passages of play early in the second quarter showcased Hawthorn’s exquisite skills, their speed and their ability to use every inch of the MCG to create. First, Jack Scrimshaw barrelled a reverse torp from full back that found an unattended Jack Gunston, who in turn pinpointed Jai Newcombe at centre half forward, who then wheeled and found Calsher Dear in the goal-square. From kick out to toe poke goal, it took 13 seconds. Another chain of play a few minutes later started at half back, featured 11 handballs, and finished with Gunston strolling into an open goal.
The Hawks may or may not make it. The finals will be all the more interesting for their presence. But we really don’t need an extra round to determine whether they should be there. For the AFL, there’s another way. They could let their seasons play out. They could stop with the thought bubbles. They could trust their product. They could resist letting policy be dictated by media owners or radio hosts. Twenty-four hours over the weekend proved that footy can still be magic, and still be wild, without being officially branded as such.
