With scores level, light rain falling, and the sporting nation’s collective tachycardia finally easing post-Matildas, Patrick Cripps licked and rubbed his palms, surveyed his centre square kingdom and went to work. In the space of 45 seconds, he twice pushed off Christian Petracca, twice found Paddy Dow by hand and twice set up Carlton goals. A few minutes later, he eschewed the deep dump, lowered his eyes and feathered a ball to Charlie Curnow, who converted from long range.
Cripps has played better quarters. He’s played quarters where he’s put the entire team on his back. He’s played quarters where he’s had two, three or four players hanging off him, where they’ve still been unable to take him to ground, where he’s been the only Carlton player sufficiently invested.
