All felt right with the world

by MICHAEL STEVEN

I KNEW something was wrong early in the week when so many people who never go to the football were telling me that they could feel it in their bones: this was Collingwood's year!

But on the morning of the match all felt right with the world. A magpie landed on the front deck picking at the coconut fibre of a hanging basket, preparing to build its nest. Earlier they were singing outside the small room as I sat there contemplating the weather.

I rang young Nick and jokingly told him that I had lost the tickets. "What does that mean?" he said slowly. "I've lost the tickets" I repeated. He was silent until I started to laugh at which he sighed with relief. All felt right with the world.

The barbeque went without incident. No one was too nervous, there were no bold statements. The weather was clearing. All felt right with the world.

Walking through the carpark there was little excitement, no feeling of expectation, no surge of emotion, frustration, expectation. Been here, done that. All felt right with the world.

The prematch entertainment was loud, the screen gave the best view and soon it was over. First Brisbane came out, then Collingwood. The roar was there but it's been louder at plenty of other games. A friend sitting in the back row of the top deck rang. I could see him waving as we talked.

The Brisbane team went through a tackling drill as part of its warm up. Collingwood concentrated on short, sharp reflex skill drills.

It is difficult to find anything to write about the game, except that Brisbane was fantastic and Collingwood was not. Collingwood players were made to look soft, hesitant and not up to it. I know how I have waxed lyrical about the influence that the Rock has had on games this year but not even his presence could have influenced some of the skill errors, poor disposal, soft tackles and constant hesitation against a bigger, better combination. The young players who haven't been in a grand final before were blown away. More experienced players who have played well in a grand final before were well below par. But in the end the main difference was that one team put its body over the ball and the other did not.

It is true that football is a game of momentum and Rocca provides momentum, but if he means eight goals to this team then there is something wrong with the structure that needs to be addressed.

Fraser, Presti and Buckley were the only three players who had any reason to feel that their contribution was worthy of a pay cheque. It was a day when everything felt right with the world but nothing went right for Collingwood. It was as if they thought if they didn't get excited at the end of the preliminary final they would be certainties in the big one. The media machine had everyone convinced that this was Collingwood's day, everyone except Brisbane of course.

Smaller, faster players replaced older harder players like Betheras, Freeborn, Steinfort and Lockyer from last year's grand final. It looked like we had addressed our pace problem. The only trouble was that we were never given any space and seemed to be without any idea how to create it. Brisbane's strength of mind and body was the winning factor.

Some players like Cole and Walker will learn from the experience, others will be shattered and may not recover. New players will come into the team, bigger players with new enthusiasm and new strengths. King, Shackleton, Nixon and Davidson have what it takes. They now have to apply themselves so that they do make it. The opportunity is theirs. Collingwood has seen the pain barrier that it has to burst through. The challenge is there. The hurdle is bigger than what it was 12 months earlier but the opportunity is still there.

Congratulations to Brisbane and in particular Leigh Matthews. This team knows what it takes, has the skill to take it and goes about it with simplistic, methodical authority.

By 8.30 I was on the couch, watching The Bill. The cops were still bent, the crooks the victims of society. The next day the sun did shine and, out with the whipper snipper, I silently took it out on each blade of grass. Even the magpies were singing as they prepared for next year. That's one good thing about being a magpie. There's always next year. Again, everything was right with the world.

Go the Pies

australianrules.com.au

Disclaimer