The best I can do is use the Lassie analogy. Lassie Come Home. Carlton Comes Home.
Somewhere in our journey, Carlton fell out of the car, or maybe got left at a distant ranch chasing the white rabbits, O'Reilly or Mansfield, McGuane or Charles, while the rest of the league packed up their troubles in their old kit bags and left us for dead. They stocked up on draft picks, we scattered them to the four winds. They sacrificed the present for the future, we gave up our future for the here and now.
Like Lassie in those films, as the new day dawned and she found herself alone, we knew we'd missed the boat. While other teams stockpiled kids, we bickered, got caught with our fingers in the jar and then had the precious early picks plucked from us. We were the dogs of the AFL, the curs. Everyone, it seemed, had the right to kick us, to sink the boot in, to wave wooden spoons like daffodils in the spring air. And we, we just gave 'em the big doleful Lassie eyes while secretly chewing the old bone of what we once were.
Think of the Rumble in the Jungle but with Foreman winning in a first round knock-out, or better yet, Jezza flying on Jenkins' back in 1970 only to spill the mark. Things were out of whack. We became the littlest hobbo, we lost our Rin Tin Tin attack, we became Lassie, lost, far from home, the smell of September a distant echo in the doggie nostrils of memory.
The thing about Lassie, though, is that no matter where she is lost, or how distant and hard the trek, she knows how to find her way home. That's the journey we are on, that's the secret to the slogan this year. We know where we belong. We know that as the air turns warm, as the days begin to linger and the breeze stirs blossoms and flowers, that time when dusk is set aside for play, when young boys stand outside the back doors of their mates' houses calling 'EEE-yan, Commmm-ing out to Plaa-ay!' that's the time Carlton comes out to play.
And so, finally, we are home. We've crossed the Atlantic, we've conquered the Himalayas, we've rescued babes and battled baddies, and we are back. We are in the finals. Sure we buggered up on the weekend and now must travel to Brisbane to play, but listen here kids who've never known better, come closer, lend us an ear. You see, young 'uns, we are back. It is spring, it is the time of the year set aside for finals and we Bluebaggers haven't packed away our football gear. The duffel coat's still waiting like a dog at the front door, the scarf is still beside it, coiled, asleep, peacefully purring until this weekend.
It's September and we are in the action. We have reached that part of the Lassie film where Lassie turns into the home street, the family car is parked out front, the lights are on, the kids are playing on the front lawn and suddenly someone yells out 'look it's Lassie', and amid laughter and cheers, everyone comes running.
So come running Bluebaggers, come running into the streets, it's Spring, it's September, it's finals and the game's still on! The losses are forgotten, the wins are now meaningless, they have done their job, this is a brand new season. It is Finals football; there are no 'next years', no excuses, no 'if onlys', there is only this week.
This week. against the lying Lions trying to camouflage themselves and turn our dearest into deers, who apparently are saying their whole team is injured and they'll be fielding a little league team – how easy is that! But Ratts is not fooled by no Voss Goss. We'll plan for Black and the rest. We plan to travel up to the tropics and bring them some good old fashioned Melbourne 'make hay while the sun shines'.
Fev will strut the finals stage, he'll bag seven or so while those downhill skiers in Judd & Co run amok, reminding everyone why Teflon Terry no longer coaches that Tsunami of downhill skiing sides in Richmond.
It will be no easy task, Carlton have lost their finals experience. Not many of our blokes have been around this late into a season, but the club, the club is Lassie, the club will not forget, it knows the way home in finals.
So my advice to the players is to enjoy this week and to remember it, cos the hard work, the 22 games, the training sessions, the aches and pains, the bruises and bloodied paws (oh wait, that was Lassie) are all for this, all so that the team can strut their stuff in Spring. Blues by 27 points!
Fev for 7
AJ to turn off the Power
Hampson to hammer Clark
Judd for BOG
Go Blues!
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.
