Some of the most memorable games in the history of Australian rules football have come in preliminary finals. Some, like Geelong’s win over North Melbourne in 1994, are remembered as wildly fluctuating, end-to-end shootouts. Some, like Collingwood v GWS in 2023, were hand-to-hand combat. Some, like Hawthorn’s win over Melbourne in 1987 and Sydney’s over Essendon in 1996, are remembered for their dramatic finishes. Some, like the Crows-Bulldogs game in 1997, wrenched the hearts out of the losing supporters. Some are remembered for individual brilliance – Ablett in 1989, Long in 1993, Kouta in 1999 and Cox in 2018. And some, like the 2016 prelim in western Sydney and the Brisbane-Geelong game in 2024, are remembered for the high standard of play throughout.
The Brisbane-Hawthorn prelim on Saturday sampled the best of those and distilled them into one discombobulating, unforgettable brew. It had violent momentum swings, exceptional skills, tactical intrigue and plenty of controversy. And that was just the opening 20 minutes. One of our greatest historians once called Australian football an “emotional bath of agony and ecstasy”. Hyperbole butters a lot of bread in footy. But if ever that phrase was applicable, it was this game. It might be the greatest of all the preliminary finals. It might be the finest exhibition of the code we’ve ever seen.
It’s hard to know where to begin with a game like that, so I may as well start with the ending – Sam Mitchell’s press conference. He tumbled into the presser with the enthusiasm of a man about to undergo root canal surgery. “This feeling is the pits,” he said. It’s good to see a coach in pieces like that – no spin, no “learnings”, no next week. He spoke of rage, desolation, confusion, pride. His team certainly had a lot to be proud of. They’d climbed off the canvas. They’d fallen 28 points behind one of the best teams we’ve ever seen. They’d been tromped on at centre stoppages. But they never yielded. They rattled home. They had one hand on a grand final berth, until the hairy hand of football intervened.
It’s also worth touching on the free kick against Jarman Impey. The cojones on that umpire to make that call cannot be underestimated. With a baying crowd, a season on the line, and seconds on the clock, he put himself in the right spot and he didn’t flinch. Impey was tackled, his arm was free, and he didn’t get rid of the ball properly. Yes, there were some line-ball decisions all day, and in the final minutes in particular. But that was a gutsy call, and he should be commended, not pelted with bottles.
At various stages, both sides bent, but did not break. Initially, it was the Lions who lurched back to life. They were 22 points down. They were being torched by Nick Watson. They didn’t have a natural match up for him. But who the hell does? They were being well beaten by a team playing sublime football. We said something similar in last year’s preliminary final. They hit Collingwood with two quick jabs after half-time and the whole mood of the ground, game and season shifted. This year’s turnaround didn’t have the immediate shock value of that. It was more gradual, more structural. But 10 minutes into the third quarter and it was abundantly clear – this was Brisbane’s game now. It was at their tempo, on their terms, in their house. As Mitchell later said, there was a point where he wondered whether his Hawks simply weren’t good enough.
But Brisbane lowered their gloves and Hawthorn seized the initiative. Mitchell says Josh Ward is the only player who could win two most improved player trophies in as many years, and he tilted the contest in the final quarter. And then there was Watson. Every time he did something preposterous, Chris Fagan had the bewildered look of a man who knew there wasn’t a player in Australia who could have done anything about it. His fifth goal might have been his best, when he appeared off the grid like an apparition to toe it through. He is a startling footballer, and Fremantle would be counting their lucky stars they don’t have to worry about him this week.
Some of the heroics earlier in the game – Conor McKenna’s Gaelic conjuring job and Charlie Cameron thwacking a goal in front of the members stand – feel like they happened a month ago. And even the mayhem of the final few minutes were a jangle of moments that may get lost in the wash – Tom Barrass’s mark, Impey’s rundown tackle on McKenna, Brisbane’s gang tackling on the last line of defence, Mitch Lewis’s horizontal launch, Levi Ashcroft’s lunging spoil, and the oceanic calm of his brother Will as he skipped out of that final stoppage. Josh Dunkley had three or four interventions at the end that shifted the trajectory of play – a block here, a fist there. He said afterwards it was the most emotionally and physically demanding game he’s played in since the 2016 preliminary final. An argument could be made that they’re the two best games we’ve ever seen, and he was magnificent in both of them.
High scores don’t necessarily guarantee a great game. AFLX had high scores. This final showcased everything that is exquisite, exhilarating, brutal and cruel about the sport. It’s a game that will be talked about for generations to come. It’s a shame only one of them gets to play again this Saturday.
