I feared for that team, feared the balance was out of whack. I think, in team sports, balance might just about be the most important ingredient, regardless of talent or intent. Geelong, going in to the finals last year, lost its balance (and may be about to experience the same thing again this year). The wrong players injured meant the wrong balance of their team (or they chose the right balance but knew it could not last the whole 4 quarters).
Out of balance, they lost their superiority and the rest, as they say, is history – and seeing as it's Hawk history, let's just forget the rest. One of things Carlton has addressed the last couple of years is the balance of the list. We can see how it's paying dividends. So when that touring list was released I think I knew, then, we were gone. The lads fought well but never managed to dominate, never exerted their will, much like Geelong last year. Without the right mix, that strong will loses itself. So we must wait until the Poms come to our sunny shores to redress this mistake. We must belt them here and send them packing, their tails between their legs and the ashes back in our firm hands.
There are the strange goals, like coming out to play Melbourne on the weekend knowing they would be in that twilight zone, in that horrible place the AFL has constructed called the Priority pick. We Bluebaggers (sadly) know all about that place. We've been there, had the rug pulled from under us and been there, had the rules changed, and been there for Judd and the rest. It's a weird place, a limbo between two seasons, between the season that is and the season that will be. It's football's That Was Then This Is Now.
Buddy was in a similar place on the weekend, another mad zone crafted by the AFL for good intentions but lacking forethought, lacking that wacky American idea of intelligent design. If you take evolution out of the game (and the Priority Pick and The new Bump rule both lack an evolutionary context, both are just ad libs in the Farce of Demitrou or his cronies' minds – a bit like the right whack they gave us and which should never be forgotten or forgiven – which should, in fact, make the return to finals all the more sweeter) then you need intelligent design or all that's left is Chaos.
Anyhow, back to the .4 fraction of a moment that was Buddy's lot. In that moment he had to forgo all the years of football, all of them, chuck them out, forget them, discount them, choose other than them. Yeah right, easy. Belt him for two weeks. The brainlessness of that rule and the decision just shows that none of us should take this great game for granted, at times it ends up in the hands of clowns, and clowns, while funny, in the end, should never run the show.
The game against Melbourne brought back old memories of times long past, the glorious years before arthritis set up house in my joints and Carlton won certain games without ever hitting top gear. That was how it panned out on the weekend. We never lifted above third, they never went flat chat and both teams performed a waltz of sorts, a wirling derva of cosmic particles lost in the turf of a single, rather meaningless game.
We failed in one simple aspect of this game, Haddles got hurt. That hurts. I've liked his return to the side. He wins the hard ball, has clean hands and lets the runners run free. We'll miss him. Other than that though, we ensured Fev grabbed the Coleman and we got to play a bit of Elsie and the cubs, a bit of Born Free football. It was fun, it was a relief to relax and let the boys do the job while my brothers, niece, nephew, son and I enjoyed the easy zone of this game.
There are small goals, small but very important. Like getting out of bed on time, like respecting the efforts of your mates, things like that. It has been disappointing as a fan to hear of the events of Sunday morning. Little events really, no big deal, except that a club coming back from the brink of darkness like we are, must dot all the little i's and cross all the tiny t's.
I applaud the club for the stance, nothing more needs to be said.
So to this game against the Crows, and what an important game it is. None of us wants this first final to be interstate. I want to be there, in the stands, in the flesh, my voice hoarse, my eyes blazing not only with the sight of the lads running rampart but also filled with the memories of the dark times, the penalties, the hard years under Dennis, the shellackings, the pain. Pain is worth every cent when it leads to sunshine. So I want to be there at the M.C.G. (or Ethiad if it must be) with the spring breeze blowing the greatest grass on earth, the sun shining down upon my aging head and my beloved Bluebaggers running out to play finals again – a tear may even be shed - O come on baby let the good times roll!
It's been too long boys, too long for these fading eyes that need reading glasses now, too long for this heart that has less beats left than what it's already beat. So belt the Crows lads, belt them bad. Send them featherless and sad back to that city of Churches. Let their bells toll in despair, let them ring out their defeat while we walk off the sacred turf, heads high, walking straight into September's first great finals week and a home bloody final!
Go Blues!
Fev for 4
Yarran for 4
Simmo for 3
and T-Bird for B.O.G.
Bring on the finals!
Please Note: the views expressed in the above article are solely the opinion of the author and do not reflect the opinions of the Carlton Football Club or those employees of the Club. The Carlton Football Club would like to acknowledge the tireless work of those supporters who contribute to carltonfc.com.au.
