First Club > Fight Club > Farce Club

If you thought losing two in a row represented a return to traditional values a throwback to the days when we attracted scandal like a magnet much have been comforting. First there were desperate attempts to pin plummeting crowd numbers on us for not suddenly finding 15,000 match-going fans under the couch, then [snip! - defamation editor] leaked text messages in a 'dig up stupid' style attempt to discredit the incumbent President, before two players engaged in Fawlty Towers-esque slapstick physical comedy at a fancy French restaurant. While all that was going on, Daisy Pearce signed a contract to eventually join Geelong's coaching staff under a program that we don't appear to have bothered participating in. 

Just as it was about to be revealed than Josh and Corey are running the Russian army's Wagner Group, the scandal baton passed to Footscray due to 'footy players bloody love gear' shock revelations. Just like Mick Malthouse was eventually proven right about Steven Milne, this Collingwood fellow certainly knew what was going down at the Western Oval. The good news for the Dogs is that nobody seriously gives a rats about players taking drugs, so by immediately fessing up Smith has come out looking like a victim while Steven May continues to be treated like OJ Simpson.

The main event of #fistedforever flashback week was, in all senses, Jake Melksham lamping May. The story has changed so many times that I don't dare take sides, but the accepted version seems to be Steven getting on the gas while injured, then saying stupid things to teammates until Melksham came up with the innovative idea of getting him to stop talking by sticking a hand in his mouth. Bonus comedy points for the punch ending with Melk having to undergo two surgeries. They even crashed into a table during the fracas, which earned the bout a full five Michelin stars from French restaurant wrestling purists.

Under the circumstances, May's suspension for drinking while injured (nothing, apparently, for distributing hurtful zingers to teammates) was inevitable, while Melksham relatively got away with it. I know he probably wouldn't have been picked anyway, even without the surgery, but it's refreshing to know that in an era where HR departments are swamped by hurt feelings reports there's still somewhere you can clobber a colleague and come out with the lesser punishment.

The obvious cinematic ending is for them to end up on a podium together after the Grand Final but for now that seems a fair way off, so we had to rely on small wins like the world constantly being reminded that we did indeed just win a flag. Try telling this to the odd people who spent the week trying to distribute May-esque zingers about us. 

Those who tried it on me couldn't compute why I didn't go into full siege mentality. Once I took every scandal personally because it felt like another reason we wouldn't win a flag, now I'd have been happy to hand the licence back so WTF do I care if we're in 'crisis'? The highlight was undoubtedly the stereotypes save time "look, even their players eat at expensive restaurants. LOL, ROFL", as if North Melbourne players buy roast chickens at the supermarket then tear them apart by hand while sitting in the park. 

I suppose there's something to be said for our players harassing each other instead of women in nightclubs. This almost brings us to Collingwood, but not before a red-hot whinge about ticketing/seating arrangements. Until now I refused to get involved in the national panic about crowd numbers (see Cheryl from some mysterious AFL Fans Association being wheeled out to discuss the price of chips once a week), but if my experience trying to get a kid into this game is anything to go by I can see why people are becoming pickier about when to turn up.

I'm always asking my kid if she wants to go to the game because the refusals provide good comedy value. So when she said yes this time I dead set panicked about what to do next. It's not like the days where you could buy a general admission ticket from Mavis behind the window 10 minutes before the bounce and get on with your life. Now you've got to pre-plan it like you're going on an international holiday.

I know it was an optimistic to go this week when there will be entire stands available at some of our upcoming games, but if you're not going to encourage kids to the biggest games what's the point? Good thing I went to the 1989 Elimination Final before the game we lost to North by 120 or I might not have come back. In the end she pretty much lost interest once him from Lego Masters and Ash Barty went down the slide, but that's fine. Best she gets into something more wholesome than footy anyway. I'll have another go with Junior Junior when she's the same age in 2028 and I'll practically a senior citizen. 

So I log into Ticketmaster, put my member barcode in, choose 'member guest ticket 6-14 years' and pay a $3.50 extortion levy only for her to be assigned a spot in what seems to be a completely different part of the ground to the one my digital membership is telling me to go to. This couldn't immediately be confirmed, as according to the app I was in the fictional 'GA42'. Obviously 'general admission' something, but unless the 42 was a tribute to Disco Turner it didn't offer any hint on where to actually go. 

Under 'entry gate' it said 'see below for details', which linked to a page that didn't say anything about a gate. Apparently there was an email from the club earlier in the week telling us to ignore the assigned seating and go anywhere we liked in general admission. It's my bad for missing that, but doesn't detract from a farcical process. If your system can't offer a GA ticket without assigning a seat then put my $3.50 towards a new one.

Once we finally got in, our biggest crowd since the 2018 Semi meant being forced to sit right at the top of the Ponsford. This is usually my dream result, except Row MM was occupied so I forced to sit in LL, leading to the nightmare scenario of having people left, right, forward, and behind. It was a balance of our fans and theirs, but all the types I've dedicated the last decade to avoiding. They ranged from "that's good from you knackers" style men who may as well have had 'BANTER' tattooed across their foreheads, to a dad who tried to explain everything to his kids whether they wanted to know or not, (but comically froze up and had to deflect when asked which draft we got Turner in), the traditional angry old man, and a lady in front who reacted to Pies goals by bouncing up and down like she was on a spacehopper while squealing in delight. 

I didn't want any part of this, but there was no escape. I don't know how you lot do it every week. Crowd figures suggest most people only want to come out for the big games but I'll be satisfied if we're down to friends and family by the end of the year. Under normal circumstances I'd have coped by putting on headphones and turning the call up until my ears bled, but I thought it a bit rude to do that after dragging a semi-interested kid all the way to the ground. The lack of audio also meant I was out of the loop on injuries. Mr. Sportsbet Ad behind me finally came in handy when he started talking about Gawn being off the ground. Apart from Brian Taylor screaming like a traumatised Vietnam veteran, there is definitely something to be said for watching on TV. 

I'd probably have taken to the seating arrangements better if we'd won, but at this stage I've got more trust in emailed business opportunities from Nigeria than a Melbourne lead. The good news is that against Freo we torched a 30 point start, then 26 last week, and only 21 here. If this trend continues we should eventually just flat out lose from the first bounce instead of being taunted with a thumping, statement-making win before falling over.

The obvious way to end a week of turmoil would have been to cast off the shackles and pulverise the old enemy on a national stage. See 2011, when we were still fringe finals aspirants, they were the reigning premiers, a bumper crowd turned up... and we lost by 88. Or 2018, when both sides were knee deep in finals contention and our six game winning streak swirled down the plughole. We've beaten the Pies a few times in recent memories but comfortably QB victories are few and far between. 2006 and 2016 were good (party time in four years then?), otherwise the game we used to react badly to being called our Grand Final - but actually was - has ruined more public holidays than Jeff Kennett.

Valid for reasons for being concerned about our chances were, a) half the side's putrid, and b) Collingwood being reasonably good. Our regular shitting of the bed in this fixture as both favourite and underdog shouldn't have had anything to do with it. But the trend continued, and suddenly we're ankle deep in rising shit and scrambling to find a plumber. 

Unlike the last two weeks, you couldn't even argue that our lead looked solid before dissolving. Better to be in front, but the goals came severely against the run of play. So after the Pies incinerated a couple of golden chances, Fritsch going down the other end for the opener was welcome. He got more possessions than he has in the last few weeks but kicked less goals, so overall not his finest hour. Still, deserves a week off after keeping the forward line running single-handedly for a month.

Oliver was obviously very good, but do you think it's a bit suss that opposition coaches are allowing him to rack up so many possessions? I know he's busted a few tags in Herculean fashion over the years, but I'd be interested in a proper, scholarly analysis of whether they got more value from shutting Langdon down than they would have keeping Oliver to 25 touches. Maybe you just let him get it in the middle as much as he likes, safe in the knowledge that the rest of the side is going like a busted arsehole and won't capitalise.

Fritsch's goal set off a few more flubbed chances, and I was hoping the day would end with some rock-bottom simplistic "if only they'd kicked 22.7 instead of 7.22" analysis of the Pies. It looked that way when they hit quarter time on 0.5. Meanwhile, despite being beaten in almost every other aspect of the game we were finding goals. Even Ben Brown - and this will almost certainly be the last time we've got to draw a definition between him and Mitch - got his first in a month. As part of the evidence that the drought hasn't entirely been his fault, he had to work hard to pull down a shithouse kick. The good thing was, for now, the bad forward entries were creating a contest. In the third quarter the Browns may as well have been in Cleveland for all the help they were getting from the midfield.

Then Jordon was gifted a 50 for the player on the mark going for a wander (a rule that didn't make it all the way to the final siren) and we had three to nil. You might have been excited but I was sitting there thinking "oh god, it's going to be embarrassing when we throw this away". Apologies to those who believe that good vibrations can help influence a result, but I was right. With all their misses the lead was only two goals and didn't seem built on solid foundations. 

Other than Oliver, it was hard to find anybody who was playing really well. Brayshaw came alive after half time, but for now we were just battling to keep the Pies at bay. So it was no surprise when they got their first goal straight out of the break. We had the chance to cancel it immediately but Neal-Bullen hit the post and the rot was considering setting in. Not before we teased another breakaway, because that's what we do in first halves now. Oliver added a goal to his 20 something first half possessions, and Harmes missed a golden chance for another straight after. I don't know whether he was having a shot, or trying the selfless pass, but after ANB missed one in similar circumstances against the Swans I'm glad they weren't the players bursting out of the middle during the Mad Minute.

Ludicrously, we did get another goal before switching off. And it was a lovely, gift-wrapped, tribute to Her Majesty's Diamond Jubilee in the form of a handball straight to Brown at the top of the square. I was very much aware of our chance of blowing this (might go on Hard Quiz with failed MFC leads as my specialist topic), but we were actually in a good position. After not playing particularly well, the lead was over 20 points and we'd absorbed a lot of their punches. Turns out they had plenty in reserve while we were finished the day covering up and taking damage like early 80s Muhammad Ali. 

Speaking of 'punches', there was a light round of manly jostling where absolutely none were thrown. On the balance of things this is probably a good thing, but it does come off as pantomime behaviour. Unlike the days when Nathan Jones used to treat fines like a tax deduction, it was our first remotely serious wrestle/melee in a long time. Probably not required when you're playing well. The crowd liked it, probably because they'd seen stuff all else of interest to that point. I know the MND fundraiser doesn't leave much space for extra razzle dazzle, but I miss Collingwood home games where they put on the most gaudy, pointless content possible just to remind you they're a big club. I certainly do NOT miss the years we a) let a ski resort dump fake snow outside the ground, or b) sent the Scotch College marching band out to establish posh credentials before the footy team were shat on from a great height.

Brown's goal was our last for the quarter, and we went back to watching Collingwood miss chances. You can't do this forever, and surprise surprise we couldn't hold out until half time. The lead was still eight but wobbling like a jelly. However, as negative as I can be at times there's also nothing I enjoy more than being sucked in. So after a first half when his disposal efficiency was about 5%, I was mad for Viney pouncing on a botched handball to thump one through. 

Maybe we were going to turn the tables on the previous two weeks and play a decent quarter at the end of a game? I doubt we would have even if Petracca hadn't been flummoxed by a bouncing ball while miles free in the square, especially because we got the next goal anyway. Considering how that came from another massive blunder I was ready to believe. A few minutes serious thought was given to throwing myself down the Ponsford Stand stairs. 

The guy next to me almost had his hat fly off from anger when Lever was done holding the ball right in front but it was a free every day of the week and twice on a public holiday. Both Lever and old mate had plenty more to worry about shortly after. Between Gawn's injury and our forward entries being reduced to hit 'n hope, it was a great day for David Schwarz's American cousin Mason C. Ox, who had done rock all since the 2018 Prelim but turned up here to pull down marks at an industrial rate and kick a vital goal. I went in terrified of a repeat of the day he booted six and became the first international Kingsley but didn't expect us to assist the second nomination by aiming the ball at him 38 times. 

For anybody considering starting Kingsleytables.com, Mason joins Brad Dick as one of a handful of two time inductees, and alongside double Dick and Adam Oxley's intercept marking masterclass is the fifth from Queen's Birthday. By comparison, the closest I can find to an out of box performance on our side is Dean Kent kicking three from 23 touches in 2016, and I'm sure Collingwood fans aren't still thinking about that six years later.

Nobody appreciates a cult figure like me, so if we had to be turned over by anyone I'm glad it was the international beanpole dressed like Kieran Perkins rather than Generic Australian Rules Footballer #3627. And didn't the crowd go bonkers about it. I'm surprised he didn't emerge from the three quarter time huddle like Kenny Powers. By the reaction of players and fans alike, I thought his goal must have been the first since the near career-ending eye injury. Turns out he kicked one two weeks ago so god knows what that was all about. It was certainly consistent with the crowd acting like a Make A Wish kid was living his lifelong dream every time the ball went in his general direction. They can get stuffed, but I personally wish Cox well. The more interesting players in the league the better.

Things were starting to go south, but no matter how many easy chances the Pies had missed, our defence deserves credit for keeping things tidy for so long. May would obviously have come in handy, but his absence is far from our biggest problem. I doubt anyone would have stopped the Freo riot, but we've twice kept the opposition to a coverable score that couldn't be covered due to shite forward play meeting shite forward entries. 

Lever didn't have his best day, and Turner was nervy but far from disgraced on debut before being knocked loopy, but may I reiterate my love and admiration for Harrison Petty. He turned up sticky taped together like Bruce Reid in Still The 12th Man and nearly held together a defence at its most vulnerable since Si zzle Jr, Frost and Smith were wiped off the table by West Coast in 2018. It didn't help that he also had to go off for a concussion assessment, but since Lever accidentally clobbered May our backline has been the most dangerous place on earth so nothing comes as a surprise now.

According to the AFL website match report we were already behind at three quarter time. For those of you not living in Cloud Cuckoo Land this was incorrect. In the week of Hall of Fame inductions, here's another reminder that the league are the last people you'd trust with the game's history. Maybe the reporter was queuing for a whizz and came back to find us behind, because it didn't take long to after three quarter time. Considering the same writer was at the centre of the post-match voting controversy he might have been in there since half time.

Due to a) not listening to the radio, and b) handing my phone over to a kid who had completely lost interest, I wasn't across losing Petty temporarily and Turner permanently. Given that they don't even announce substitutions at the ground anymore it wasn't until I saw chasedown assassin Kade Chandler on the ground that I wrested control of the mobile back and worked out what was going on. 

The idea of Chandler bringing another dimension to our wonky forward line appealed. Suffice to say that didn't work, he took one mark 80 metres from goal, looked up to see no decent options to pass to, nothing came of it and he didn't get another touch. I feel sorry for Kade, he's now up to nine games, four where he didn't set foot in the field, and three where he's had about 25% game time combined. When his career fizzles out and the AFL finally change the rule to allows subs at any time (which I dislike, but is better than the current system), they should tack on an apology for butchering his career. Having said that, he's done nowt in all three cameo appearances this year and was only there today because Bedford needed a full game in the twos, so NFI what to expect if we pick him again. We're in trouble anyway, just give the poor bastard four quarters and write him off if it doesn't work. 

As much as luck had run in our favour earlier (including Howe unleashing one of his famous turnovers out of defence), it was all over now. See for example Jamie Elliot running back with the flight into the square and somehow marking while facing backwards. It was a very impressive feat but you wince when comparing with Petracca's fresh air shot from the same position.

Our literal last gasp came via Luke Jackson, who must have been seeing dollar signs in both eyes after Gawn came back on hobbling like the elderly. He marked, he goalled, and we were back within six points. How we'd let it get to chasing was no longer valid, there was a red hot chance of building 60,000 people's hopes up then crushing them. And in the end the only thing I want nearly as much as Melbourne wins is for opposition fans to be unhappy.

It didn't matter because Jacko kicked it anyway, but surely Cox's jumping up and down on the spot was a violation of the stand rule. Even if you land in the same place, pogoing as if in a moshpit is not standing. There's no way the umpire could have missed it. Surely if Jackson missed they would have blown for a 50, simultaneously nuking the brains of Pies fans who were already feeling hard done by, and possibly changing the course of the game so we didn't turn our second chance in a 26 point loss.

Despite continuing to have the worse connection since Togo Telecom I tried to convince myself there was still a chance. With Mitch Brown forced to play in defence, possibly ending his senior career in the most journeyman fashion possible, I knew who I'd have had my money on from there. And while we couldn't work out a way to put the ball in the Inspector Gadget hands of a former Coleman Medallist at one end, they found a kid running into acres of space 40 metres out directly in front. Would have been a good time to catch a case of nervous leg, but he held it together and we were all but stuffed. 

After showing zero interest for a quarter and a half my daughter looked up from the phone and said "Well, this is going badly". I had to concur. And she was right, the team with properly functioning forward delivery and a full complement of key position players ran away with it. 

If staying in the game for three quarters despite kicking a pitifully low score, then falling apart halfway through the last quarter sounds familiar, you may be remembering a similar fixture at the SCG 12 months ago. The "we just can't play the SCG" and/or "they were emotional about Buckley" excuses were always ropey, and as far as I'm concerned this proves it. Let's see what happens when we play Collingwood again in a few weeks but for now I'm convinced they've got our number.

Suffice to say I didn't stay for the presentations, but the same people who ERUPTED into sooking when Pendlebury was booed by Essendon fans didn't think much of Oliver winning the medal. In the best footy awards moment since Robert Klomp, two of the three judges had Cox BOG but the other didn't give him a vote and allowed Clayts to sneak through. If it didn't have the name Neale Daniher on it he'd probably have lobbed it into the crowd (or preferably at them) Peter Moore style. Now our fans are outraged, but are probably the same ones who were booing Ginnivan one touch into his first career start against us because the media told them he's bad. Good luck getting any sense out of footy fans, I'm just happy Pies supporters have progressed from beating the piss out of player's parents outside the ground.   

Somehow, despite all this, we nearly finished the day atop the ladder. This means 99% of stuff all unless the wins start again soon, forget top two or four, the gap to eighth is only two games and percentage now, with a cow of a run home. Anything could happen, but at this stage I'll eat my hat if we finish top after playing Brisbane x2, Geelong, Footscray, Freo, Carlton and Collingwood again. At this stage I wouldn't even be pencilling in wins against Adelaide and Port. 

Mind you, if we escape from that fixture with a double chance something will have gone right, and it should set us up for another serious crack at the flag. Until then we suggest reverting to that classic piece of pre-2021 wisdom, when it comes to following Melbourne always expect the worst. You'll either be right or pleasantly surprised.

2022 Allen Jakovich Medal votes
5 - Clayton Oliver
4 - Angus Brayshaw
--- Blinding daylight ---
3 - Harrison Petty
--- Mildly irritating sunshine ---
2 - Jack Viney
1 - James Jordon

Apology to Petracca, who might have snatched the last one by default just for getting touches, and to Salem who was quite literally better for the run. 

Leaderboard
36 - Clayton Oliver
25 - Max Gawn (LEADER: Jim Stynes Medal for Ruckman of the Year)
23 - Christian Petracca
17 - Jack Viney
16 - Angus Brayshaw (LEADER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year), Ed Langdon
14 - Steven May 
9 - Jake Bowey
6 - Alex Neal-Bullen, Harrison Petty
5 - James Jordon
4 - Luke Jackson, Tom Sparrow
3 - Ben Brown, James Harmes, Kysaiah Pickett
1 - Toby Bedford (LEADER: Jeff Hilton Rising Star Medal), Bayley Fritsch, Tom McDonald, Charlie Spargo, Sam Weideman

Aaron Davey Medal for Goal of the Week
I liked Oliver's one, but it's got to be Viney in the third quarter. And as this is literally the last part of the piecemeal review that I'm writing that's as much analysis as you're getting out of me. Weekly prizes are suspended until we either start winning again or there's a decent comedy setup, and the top three remains unchanged. Now, on to some other nonsense that I wrote two days ago... 

Next game
First the bye, then a return to serious crowd chat after nobody turns up for a top four game against the Lions on Thursday night. If there's ever been proof that live attendance has been neutered to suit Channel 7 this is it, because even with half the state now 'working from home' on a Friday there will be stuff all people there. Back in the day I'd have moved heaven and earth to attend, now I've got no interest in carting myself back and forth to the city several times within 24 hours so without the slightest shame, TV will do me nicely thanks.

I saw the first half of the Casey game and the Pies put up such feeble resistance that it's hard to tell if anyone is worth picking. Dunstan got 38 touches but doesn't cure what ails us, Rivers was ok, Weid only kicked one goal but was in the play enough to pass Mitch Brown by default, and while JVR looked very good forcing a first year player into our forward line at the moment would be like handing a learner drive the keys to his first car while blindfolded. 

The obvious Bedford for Chandler substitute switch aside, there was nothing from my half-arse viewing that suggests blood dripping Game of Thrones style insanity at the selection table. And in shithouse timing, just as Gawn's injury offers the chance to Bradbury his way to a senior game Majak Daw was nowhere to be seen. I tried to check the website injury report to see if there was any reason but at the time of writing they hadn't updated it since May 23. Either way, it doesn't look like we'll get a Majackson ruck combo. I guess it would mean Jackson as #1 and Weid as #2? People who subscribe to Moneyball theories can tell me statistically how far they fall short of Maximum combined, but it will be a good chance for Jackson to take the lead and have a look at what his life will be like if he stays after Gawn retires.

Obviously May comes back, sure he's guilty of distributing the shittest zingers since Vince Sorrenti but this is no time for morality, we've got a top four position to firm up. And I'll certainly be firming up if we bounce back off the canvas to KO the Lions for the second year in a row, especially if it's another gutsy, come from behind win like 2021. As if we'd have the scoring power to overcome any sort of decent lead at the moment, more likely we boot a few goals at the start then hit the waterslide towards Elimination Final weekend. How the allegedly mighty have fallen. 

IN: May, Bedford, Chandler, Weideman
OUT: Gawn, Turner (inj), M. Brown (omit) and choose your own adventure on the sub,
LUCKY: Plenty who could do with a spell if there was an obvious replacement
UNLUCKY: Rivers, van Rooyen

Last September
Without the aid of Back To The Future style time travel shenanigans, no scandal can detract from winning the flag. Even if we have to give it back in five years due to Storm style rorting of the salary cap, you can't rebottle the outpouring of emotion that night. Don't care that I wasn't there as long as it happened. Took me a long time to find any negativity about that night, but the effect on Nathan Jones' while watching it from afar left me a bit flat.

It would have been bad enough missing out in Perth, and nobody can blame him for going home, but I did think at the time how it was sad it was that after everything he'd gone through he had to sit at home elbow deep in crappy nappies without the company of anyone who really understood the emotion. It was hard enough for me as a fan, I can't imagine how it felt for somebody who lived the quest 24/7 for 15 years. 

His wife has obviously been a tremendous support over the years, but in an ideal world some Lynden Dunn, Jack Watts style figures would have bee, joyously patting him on the bald head Benny Hill style as we ran up the score. I hope they did and are just keeping it quiet to avoid public scandal. Once everything went quiet and he was on the other side of the country from the party he'd probably still have felt the same pain, but the idea of him being removed from the joy of the night hits me right in the feelings. By late September the rozzers had given up policing lockdown, somebody who lives 100km closer to him than me should have pulled up outside the house and reminded him how loved he is. Might have woken the kids up but it was a special occasion.   

Anyway, I'm glad he's come to terms with it now. And in the off chance that he's reading, Jones can take some comfort in the fact that he'll always be a hero to me, and many others. There's 57 years of other legends whose careers aren't defined by how many flags they won, and not many of them put in the shift he did along the way. What a man.

Final thoughts
It's all a bit shit at the moment, and nobody likes losing to Collingwood, but whisper it quietly I'm struggling to be outraged. I respect the right of anyone to blow up and call for mass sackings, but I’m just not that bothered. As far as Queen’s Birthday annoyance went, it ranked on a par with the year we had three goals at the final change and were still a half chance of winning.

It helps that I didn't think we were that good in the first place, but everything seems frivolous after last year. More power to you if you're bleeding from every orifice, but when joyous Collingwood fans were getting chirpy after the siren - as if we're not used to losing this fixture - I wasn't even considering arguing back. Let's have a really thrilling loss and see if it ends in a brain haemorrhage, but for now results don't seem to matter as much as a year ago. Which helps now that we've started losing again. Might be time for a succession plan, where somebody younger and more vigorous takes over and skirts the boundaries of defamation/good taste again while I hug tapes of old wins.