What a terrible mess I've made of my life

This season has been one big return to traditional values, so it's comforting to arrive back at the point where going interstate means almost certain defeat. The problem is we're not much good at home either.

So, given that our season has looked like a corpse floating down the river for the last month, why did this loss frustrate me so much that by the final siren I had a blinding headache, an overwhelming urge to throw objects at the wall, and had upset my child by screaming "YOU DICKHEADS!" at maximum volume from another room?

It's because Brisbane did everything possible to keep us in the game for 2.5 quarters but we were too inept to take advantage. Lucky they kicked away at the end, because if we'd been unjustly allowed to stay in front before losing a thriller I'd have been 10x mor upset. Five years ago the rare glee of beating Carlton set off a headache that ended with an MRI to rule out brain tumours, this might have put me away for good. Imagine the first time we play a close final again. You'll have to imagine it, because it's sure not happening this year.

There's no science behind it, but I'm more worried than ever that things aren't going to turn out ok next year. If nothing else, we'll always have those two Friday nights in September to gush over while the world burns down around us. Why not pause this and watch Mitch Hannan or Gee God Boy Wow again? You'll have more fun than reading about Round 15, 2019.

As well as Brisbane's refusal to just get it over with in the first half, I was irritated by our much vaunted midfield (and you know anything called 'much vaunted' is about to have shit poured on it) being obliterated in the middle. Way to say thanks to the ruckman who's been the only one keeping the lights on for most of the season. Max tapped everything, Brisbane players said "I'll have that" and we were instantly put on the back foot. It was genuinely bad football, the likes of which we thought was out of our system.

24 hours later I've once again released that this result meant squat diddly in the grand scheme of things, but at the time it was infuriating seeing us bulldozed in the one area we were supposed to be untouchable. The opportunity to elevate our centre clearances to an artform made me shamefully cave in without argument to this 6-6-6 nonsense, and now this. Can you still blame an interrupted pre-season more than four months in? I don't think so. The bottom has dropped out of the whole operation and the coaches (surviving and new) will have to work hard to stuff it back in for 2020.

Brisbane walloped us at our own game and god bless. They remind me a lot like us last year, inconsistent as all buggery but playing fearlessly. May they drag it all the way to a prelim and then see everything they've worked for burn like buggery over summer too.

The worst thing about being obliterated in the middle was how it left us giving back crucial goals immediately after kicking them. This year we've made scoring look so difficult (now up to 71.2 points per game, still narrowly trailing 71.5 in 2015) that instantly handing six point back on a shiny, ornate platter 30 seconds later makes me want to punch on. By the third time it happened I was shaking like Angela Merkel and ready to start a war like Donald Trump.

That's the story of the game, but for anybody who can stand further detail here's the 'highlights' of four quarters of "get us to the end of Round 23 so we can wear costumes and drink ourselves into a coma" footy.

Like most of this season we kicked the first goal. Which is not going to help us much until scoring comes down to average of about 5.5 points per team. After much premature excitement about him being 'back', so much the better that the opening goal came via Tom McSizzle. It showed that when he can find some space inside 50 he's still dangerous, and when he took a strong contested mark and dropped a pass directly onto Petracca a few minutes later I was fanning myself with excitement. Later he dropped a simple mark of the top of the square, Brisbane went down the other end to kick a goal and everyone gave up on him again. Hello Melbourne.

My theory that he's feeling excessive pressure to perform was furthered by a pre-match interview where he basically straight out admitted it. Everything he needs to be a successful forward is there, he just needs some guru to hypnotise him into thinking it's 2018 again. It also can't have helped that Weideman and Smith offered nothing and Gawn was either absent or hobbling for the last three quarters.

Squeezed between the two Sizzle powered goals was a first to Brisbane via one of those bullshit ruck infringements where neither ruckman knows who's infringed. After watching Melbourne long enough you know 9/10 it was Gawn, but like a magician's trick you can't work out how. What alerted me to the fact that Brisbane would likely go on to beat us was how Zorko didn't stop, gently throw the ball back to the SME and wait for him to miss from the boundary line, he just dashed off and goalled from an obscure angle. If that happened to us we'd play on with an opponent standing in the way, panic handball to somebody a foot away, then watch the ball roll out of bounds.

The Lions seem to be on the way up after 10 years of disaster (10 years? pfft, amateurs), and while there should be an internal inquiry into how they let us stay close for so long there was a clear distinction between the sides. It wasn't in talent, but in dynamism. They were quicker and livlier, which has us on the back foot all day. The odd success with lightning handballs and quick corridor transitions can't hide the fact that they either usually broke down inside 50 or ended with the ball rocketing the other way untouched. There was also a disparity in four quarter players. We had plenty who contributed solidly for five minutes then disappeared again. I can understand they might be a bit jack of 2019 but it's a bit early to be desperately searching for the finish line.

Everything just seems like a struggle this year. I haven't sat down for that much of a TV game since I discovered the joy of hovering over the set yelling obscenities. At least there was a time that even when we were being flogged in every other element of the game you'd get a tough performance. This time it was landslide defeat in the middle, and a third quarter where the game was on the line and we registered one (ONE, eins, I, uno, 1, ένας, not bloody many) tackle. Print that stat out in A0 for the change room walls this week and summarily execute (in a sporting sense I think) anyone who doesn't set out to rip an opponent's arm out of its socket next week.

From Petracca's goal to about halfway through the third quarter the game was effectively Brisbane being far superior but comically torching goalscoring opportunities at an industrial rate. They had misses from right in front, easy marks dropped and players falling on their arse at the top of the square like it was a sports blooper tape. We had our own collection of classic cockups, many of them involving Angus Brayshaw disposals that wouldn't have hit the side of a barn.

With our midfield being tonked at every available stoppage it was clear that once the Lions stopped falling over and started aiming between the middle posts that we would be in all sorts. And in the end we were, but not until threatening to pull off the biggest heist since Oceans 11. There would be Brisbane fans leaping from windows across two states if they hadn't got their act together and blown us away in the end. Ironically it was all set up by one bloke kicking them from everywhere that his 21 mates couldn't.

I was happy enough to be level at half time, but it was already obvious that we couldn't defend the middle of the ground if our lives depended on it. Our first goal took 1.35 to be returned, and the last one of the opening quarter should have been sent back even quicker deep in DemonTime if it wasn't for a munty set shot. The first two of the second were return to sender in 1.37 (with another Brisbane behind 1.12 after that), and 2.00 and my blood pressure was already going up to Chernobyl levels.

The second quarter atmosphere wasn't helped by the loss of Gawn to what turned out to be a rolled ankle but at first looked like he was totally crocked. He returned (just like Joel Smith and Melksham, because they're both doing fantastically) and will probably only miss one week at the most but at the time I was ready to turn the gas on. Our midfield was so insignificant at stoppages that it didn't have any great effect on the way we played. The only person disadvantaged was Christian Salem, who lost his get out of jail kick-in target.

After a few weeks out injured or down on form, Salem was back to his best. He's the only Melbourne player you'd let field kick for your life and we are a much finer team for having him back there. He also clobbered a Brisbane player while trying to get the ball. Fortunately I've left writing this report long enough to know that the Match Review Officer came to the sensible decision that he was going for the ball, because if he got rubbed out there would have been chaos. The poor bloke on the other end was left looking like he'd been right hooked by Mike Tyson but there wasn't any malice or carelessness in it and Salem (or Salo, as the club have controversially nicknamed him) is free to get us out of all sorts of trouble next week.

The half ended with Oskar Baker smashing a divot in the Gabba turf with his face. To add insult to injury he gave away a free for the ludicrous leap. This and four other frees against left him 1-9 in his career, which is also where his win/loss record will be in a few weeks). The only positive was that it gave us a metaphor for the entire season:

0.01 seconds - Melbourne Football Club 2018
0.02 seconds - Melbourne Football Club 2019

Oskar Baker got a taste of the turf trying to take MOTY #AFLLionsDees pic.twitter.com/p7FIsJ205U

— Lace out (@laceoutofficial) June 30, 2019

For a quarter full of both teams attacking like they were on powerful hallucinogens it was relatively entertaining. If your success depends on selling ad revenue you'd despise it, but there was something endearing about two teams just blindly going forward with no care for the consequences. The only concern was knowing we couldn't convert a big enough score to win a shootout. We had two options, to clamp down on the Lions running circles around us, or let them carry on. Never let it be said that Melbourne hasn't done anything for the good of footy, because instead of turning it into a Ross Lyon style slopfest we tried to stay positive and were beaten accordingly.

Further anxiety was provided by internet that was approaching Botswana levels of connectivity. In the all time greatest first world problem I could have watched on TV but it felt like defeating the purpose of buying a house with a Megawall just to go back to doing it the old way. Unfortunately as half time was sent locating and installing an old Wi-Fi range extender I was able to suffer through the second half with no drop-outs or dips into No Definition quality. For those who are counting I'm now 0-4 in games watched on said Megawall.

Things were looking up at the start of the third quarter, we got the opening goal and it took us four minutes to concede it back. After that we didn't look much like scoring but with the Lions still falling over themselves to avoid kicking goals we were able to hold the lead. Stringing a couple of goals together would have been nice, but when people's champion May took a handball from Baker and Howitzered a goal from 50 I foolishly started to think that we might get away with it. That goal begat two for Brisbane and it would have probably been better if he'd missed. What sort of a way is that to run a footy club?

As Eric Hipwood (remember the name, it becomes relevant very soon) got the first less than two minutes later I may have yelled out a popular four letter Anglo Saxon term for fornication. When he added another 1.50 after that I denounced everyone as a dickhead and jumped up and down on two feet in a circle like a small child having a tantrum.

Arguably HipwoodMania might not have existed if McDonald hadn't dropped the simplest of marks right in front of goal. Given how mental our club is we're negligent if we don't take a sports psychologist everywhere we go, but if he wasn't there I hope he was on call to meet Tom at Tullamarine and make sure he doesn't go to pieces again.

Poor old Harrison (never Harry) Petty got whacked for being on the end of four match-winning goals by the end of the quarter but I'd like to stand up for him and say his job would have been made a whole lot easier if everyone else wasn't letting the ball rocket down there at the speed of light.

Other than those 15 minutes of madness, and one amazingly awful kick earlier in the game where he wrong footed himself and kicked to a Brisbane player in 20 metres of space, Petty was reasonably solid. He certainly takes a good mark, and if you're expecting perfection from a fifth game key defender you're insane. On the other hand, Hore had his worst game for us yet, costing at least two goals by doing zany things.

I don't hold Petty entirely responsible for the rampage, especially when Hipwood kicked two from the boundary line that made a mockery of his teammates earlier peg-legged efforts. In the grand scheme of things it was no more than we deserved and the ordeal will hopefully prove a learning experience for him. Premature adjudicators - many of the same people who wanted to shoot Oscar McSizzle - writing his career off based on those few minutes need to relax. Lever replaces him at the first available opportunity and he goes back to the VFL to develop further. No harm for the long term future from one brief rooting.

There's been a groundswell of support for Hipwood to be inducted into the Kingsleys but I'm not buying it. The man has kicked six and four twice each in his career so it's not exactly a surprise for him to nick a few off us. I know that Kent Kingsley himself probably wouldn't qualify under the current rules, but we can all agree that's more about the opportunity to call it the KKK than anything else. Your real Kingsleys are the likes of Lewis Johnston (six of 16 career goals in one game), Paul Stewart (average of 0.33 goals per game, kicked five against us), and one Klassic Kingsley I discovered during the week who kicked six against us in his third game and eight in his other 36. The Kommittee is unlikely to extend Hipwood an invitation.

Just when we looked dead and buried after Hipwood's third, Jack Viney turned up with what might have been a steadier. If Jack Viney wasn't then one of the midfielders who stood back and watched the Lions plow forward to cancel it out 85 seconds later. I was all tantrumed out by this point and just silently fumed. That was the death of us, and Hipwood's fourth from the boundary line after the siren (Super DemonTime) was the icing on a very stinky cake.

To the audible glee of Brian Taylor, who had earlier nearly blown the front of his strides at Gawn's injury, footage emerged of a ripping stoush between Steven May and Sam Frost after one of the Brisbane goals. The best thing was that it not only happened after the goal until Frost told him to piss off, but that May kept going him at three quarter time. I don't give a fat rat's clacker what anyone thinks, that's the sort of passion that is sorely lacking at this club. How many times have you wanted the players to police their teammates? He can never be captain until he stops hitting people, but throw that man into the leadership group ASAP. I'm sure Frost was over it by the time they got on the plane, and didn't spend the whole flight chucking peanuts at the back of May's head.

That excitement was our last, as we soon discovered it's harder to launch a last quarter comeback when the other side is only one down on the bench. When guess who kicked his fifth to open the last (1.26 from the centre bounce if you're keeping score of all the times our midfield bled like a gunshot victim) the more squeamish would not have been blamed for turning off. From there we just ebbed away as the Lions did what they liked.

We got away with a 33 point loss but it deserved 63. There was nothing honourable about it. Can't play Freo every week. Which is what I'm hoping Carlton are saying next Sunday night...

After getting a bit comfortable about beating an injury-wracked team we're now a game and 19% behind 15th. Forget the surprise run to the finals people were contemplating a few weeks back, we'll now be lucky to escape the bottom three. We certainly won't go upwards in a hurry, Hawthorn's not going to stay 15th for long, leaving us two games and percentage behind St Kilda. In one of the rudest betting markets of all time we're somehow considered 500-1 more likely to win the flag than the Saints. Like the people donating to Israel Folau, if you put your money on either outcome it's better that the bookies (or in the Folau case, the lawyers) get it because they're going to spend it more sensibly than you.

But forget looking up, have a look in the other direction. Carlton has just drawn level with us on points and play a shit side next week. Otherwise we're one game and not much percent in front of Gold Coast. The Suns are the worst round 3-23 team ever invented and it's hard to see them win twice more by the end of the year but if they get their act together (and let's not forget they've conceded 63 points less than us in the same number of games) we're going to be staring into the wooden spoon abyss.

If that happens I won't send a submission to give the draft pick back but oh god my dignity will be completely stripped. Even if it's a highly competitive spoon race where teams are winning five or six games coming last is a humiliation. To be fair it would make up for the two we morally should have had in 2012 and 2013, or the narrow miss in 2014. It might turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to us when we draft the next Chris J**d, but more likely we'll ruin the career of another promising youngster. I can't have that blood on my hands.

If the season just limps to its conclusion without us being thrashed again I suppose there's some consolation in only being truly thrashed once. Not much though, I'm still thoroughly humiliated and am considering applying for a restraining order so nobody can talk to me about footy in real life. On the internet fine, but if it means having to listen to somebody give their theory on where it all went wrong I'll be displaying this classic:

2019 Allen Jakovich Medal votes
5 - Christian Salem
4 - Nathan Jones
3 - Steven May
2 - Clayton Oliver
1 - James Harmes

Apologies to Fritsch, Lockhart and Viney

Leaderboard
There's 40 left to play for, so no matter what happens next week the line of elimination is coming. In addition to everyone on zero, Corey Wagner (who has been dropped twice after getting votes) and Hibberd will also be in all sorts unless they score.

Importantly for Oliver, he's thinned the gap at the top to just over two BOGs. He's been way down on last year so it would actually be criminal for him to overtake Gawn now, but that's how the system works sports fans. In the minors, I'm about a week from making Salem the provisional Seecamp winner, and Hore is still holding on in the Hilton but Lockhart looms dangerously.

38 - Max Gawn (WINNER: Jim Stynes Medal for Ruckman of the Year)
27 - Clayton Oliver
25 - James Harmes
23 - Christian Salem (LEADER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year),
14 - Jake Melksham, Jack Viney
13 - Angus Brayshaw
11 - Marty Hore (LEADER: Jeff Hilton Rising Star Medal)
9 - Nathan Jones
7 - Jayden Hunt, Christian Petracca
6 - Jay Lockhart
4 - Bayley Fritsch, Billy Stretch
3 - Sam Frost, Steven May
2 - Corey Wagner
1 - Michael Hibberd

Aaron Davey Medal for Goal of the Year

Another week where I was in such a state of psychological distress that it's hard to remember who did what. For this segment I've had to watch highlights so I hope you appreciate what I do for you. Respect to Petracca kicking two set shots, but the award comes down to two players making the most of horrible passes.

Hannan gets a commendation for creating something from a McSizzle shitekick, but our winner is Fritsch, who rescued Frost from looking foolish by goalling from this tremendous slice. You will not see a better piece of hoovering this weekend outside the toilets of the TV Week Logie Awards.

Bayley Fritsch goes Bang #AFLLionsDees pic.twitter.com/sM755s8fsJ

— Lace out (@laceoutofficial) June 30, 2019

Bayley wins a free 15 minute counselling and personal improvement session with Steven May over a pint. Hore still leads overall.

Despite containing a blooper and a shit hot goal Fritsch didn't qualify as part of the AFL's 'highlights' package. We are, as ever, indebted to the service of @laceoutofficial.

Nobody wants an All The Goals video this year (sorry Haymes Paints), but the idea that the league wouldn't include them all is perverse. I doubt randoms are stumbling upon AFL.com.au videos and thinking "oh god no, 10 minutes is too long for me" then closing the browser never to consider watching Australian rules again. These packages should be so comprehensive that people can watch them in 20 years' time and know exactly what happened, not what some galoot video editor deems worthy.

Even with home ground advantage Brisbane's effort was very poor. I did like their gimmick of making players run through the gap in a chain-link fence before they got to the banner, but after that they were confronted with a real turd. Forget the hokey Mt. Buller gag, this think looked like it was in the final stage of a terminal illness. Letters were threatening to peel off and it felt like one gust of wind would have destroyed it.

Also, there was a sizeable gap between 'Dee' and 'S' that indicated the original inclusion of an apostrophe. Either somebody pointed out at the last minute that they didn't need one or it just fell off due to awful construction. One of the saddest efforts seen yet this season.

Ours was another design masterpiece. Minus points for the tedious, almost-skiing level reference to taming lions, but I'll never grow tired of having the straightest lines and best kerning in the country. Another triumph, albeit against something that looked like it was picked up second hand at an op shop. Dees 13-1-0 for the season.



I'm sure Jason Bennett was just happy to be doing an AFL game, but imagine calling next to a prime buffoon like BT and knowing he's getting paid several times more. I fear that Bennett will be called into the CEO's office one day and told he's being promoted to a full time AFL caller but the payoff is that he has to reduce the actual footy talk in favour of 50% more blokey bullshit. Of course he'll do it, and what a sad day that will be.

Next Week
At first I thought we were playing the Bulldogs, fresh from slogging through the ocean against Port. That had some appeal. Instead it's the nightmare scenario of possibly losing to Carlton. If you think beating Freo hid some of our troubles under a bulging rug then wait and see what happens if this goes tits up.

Carlton has form for rolling us out of nowhere too. Forget last season, there's no point comparing 2019 Melbourne to them, we're much more like the ordinary but not entirely dreadful 2015 and 2016 teams that suffered upset late season losses to the Blues when they were out on their arse. Even in 2017 we barely got over the line when red-hot favourites. This has got danger game written across it in 1000 point font.

You'd say here's to them over-celebrating after their bananas win over the Dockers and turning up not ready to play next week, but the number of times they've done the Demon style Stranglewank this year I won't trust any lead until:

a) we hit three quarter time across the Chris Sullivan Line;
b) there are more goals to get than minutes left; or,
c) the final siren.

Even without Cripps and C. Curnow I'd still brace yourself for the defeat that might leave us 17th and swing the gates of hell open for everyone involved.

I assume Lever for Petty is an automatic change as long as Jake doesn't develop some flesh eating virus in his knee before Sunday. Otherwise VFL reports don't suggest much in reserve. Kennedy-Harris has been best on ground on the seconds two weeks in a row, so even while I don't think he's got a massive step up in him I'm rewarding form.

JFK can replace Brayshaw, who went up like the Challenger shuttle after a couple of good weeks. It's about time we made a statement and axed a big name. They don't seem that keen on playing him in the middle anyway so may as well give somebody else a go. I'd still like another look at Maynard before he's inevitably axed at the end of the year so could handle him getting a run instead (or as well as, does it really matter anymore?).

With Gawn under a cloud I will dead set punch on if we don't pick Preuss. Not just for the competent ruckwork, but because he will provide a decent contest when we panic bomb the ball 20 metres out from goal. Obviously they think his role in knocking Sydney's best intercept defender out of the game was more pox coaching on Longmire's behalf rather than Preuss himself doing anything good but there has literally never been a better time to have another go now that Maximum could do without playing 99% of the game in the ruck.

Preuss comes in for, Tim Smith who I'm comfortable with and would keep him as a depth player, but when he a) tried that shithouse short pass from 40 metres out, and b) failed to jump for a marking contest the red pen was mentally slashed through his name for the rest of the year. McSizzle doesn't survive by much, but adds a lot more up the ground even if he's not kicking goals. Even if Gawn can't play I'm still offering Smith a spell.

I didn't think Baker or Weideman were much chop but there's nothing to be gained from dumping either of them. As long as he doesn't totally drop his bundle and stand leaning on the goalpost for four quarters The Weid in particular should be gifted games for the rest of the year just for development purposes. Baker is in a similar position but plays a position where we should be able to find a replacement if needed without a three year development period. Could have had a swing at Gaff last year but nooooooo it's all about contested ball so why would we want somebody like that?

At some point Lewis has got to come back for the old farewell game but it's tempting fate to do it next week. Let's just play this one sensibly, give him a spin under the roof against the Dogs then wish him well in his future endeavours.

IN: Kennedy-Harris, Lever, Preuss
OUT: Brayshaw, Petty, Smith (omit)
LUCKY: Baker, McDonald, Neal-Bullen, Weideman
UNLUCKY: Lewis, Maynard

I hope to win, but won't be all that surprised if we don't. We're at the point where people are going to start punting home losses so we get [alleged next big thing] in the draft. You can bash that up your ginger, there will be enough unwanted losses in the next few weeks, let's go all out to get a cheap one here.

Alas while I will be watching this potential abortion of a contest it won't be from the ground. So, if you're the sort of person who reads this far and it's your lifelong dream to be the guest reporter then get in touch via any of the usual channels. The only rule (other than following the standard format) is that you've got to get it to me by 6pm Monday night. Otherwise I'll be providing a reduced service report.

Last year
I'm increasingly concerned that the entire 2018 finals experience was part of a cruel Truman Show style experiment set up specifically to fuck with me and that you're all in on the plot.

Final thoughts
I've never been a quality of the game fetishist (because what is a 'good' game?), but by christ this season is proving a chore. Nothing will stop me watching Melbourne, but my interest in the rest of the competition has hit rock bottom.

Everything about the competition just has a relentless negativity around it, and after years of the AFL treating fans like idiots for being interested in a product they themselves considered 'broken', people have started to take notice. Then the media starts throwing fuel on the fire because controversy creates clicks, the vicious spiral sucks more people in, we're left with an endless stream of misery about how awful every aspect of the competition is, and I'm reduced to watching quarters of games instead of three full matches a week.

There has never been a popular competition boss yet in my lifetime. But Ross Oakley, Wayne Jackson and Andrew Demetriou (who I came to like after he wrote us a big fat cheque) rode the self-propulsion of the competition to the point where it became a multi-billion dollar industry. Now the AFL has flown too close to the sun and the bloke in charge is left holding a bomb that's going to wreck the joint if the next TV rights deal doesn't live up to expectations. So they get roped into a cycle of trying to maximise the price by mercilessly violating the game, people get more upset, scores keep dropping, they keep tinkering, scores keep going down and they'll get so desperate that the Channel 7 CEO will probably demand a 49% stake in the competition just to put in a bid.

They're lucky that live sports are about all that's keeping the major networks from falling to community TV levels. They might get away with a big price if they can keep Channel 9 and 10 interested enough to create competition but it's not the slam dunk it was last time around.

I stand by the outrageous claim that I'd be perfectly happy if the whole competition went back to being part-time. As long as there's a Melbourne Football Club in the top flight why should it bother me if the full forward works five days a week as a roof tiler? The problem is there's no gentle slide back to this. If the TV money dries up clubs die and having undergone two bailouts in just over 10 years (once self-driven, one by the league) we would not be immune.

All that's left to do is sit here in my specially constructed siege mentality bunker and hope we pinch a flag before the whole enterprise falls to bits. Get (football) rich or die trying.