Vent your spleen

Remember when the only consistently enjoyable thing about following Melbourne was self-deprecating comedy gold? Victories were so rare that we treated them like joyful community events for about 48 hours before reality kicked in. This is not somewhere I want to be again, but it sure beat the other 350 days a year when we were pus.

As any sort of forward motion was welcome, there was no concept of a 'bad win'. GWS 2012 at Manuka Oval featured the worst teams I've ever seen in the same place, but even if you couldn't love a slopfest like that, it was a welcome week off from being humiliated. 

The first post-apocalypse win that left me slightly disappointed was Brisbane 2015, but I was still deep in a "shit wins are great wins" mentality that has never really gone away. The key factor is how you see the future. In recent years we've twice come back from five goals down against worse North sides, but it still felt like we were heading in the right direction (2021) or still had enough life force left to threaten in September (2023).

This episode of Seconds From Disaster had none of that. We got 39 points ahead without ever really impressing, then stopped as if struck by lightning, failed to score for the last 40 minutes against a lowly side that has bled last quarter goals from every orifice in recent weeks, and only avoided an after the siren kick because two of their players had a "You first. No you first" politeness disaster. Cue people punching on for 'End is Nigh' placards like toilet paper during COVID.

We could have won by any sort of margin and not believed in it translating to important games, but the collapse was so spectacular that the reaction went from "yeah, but you won't do that against the good sides" to "we're all going to die". They may as well have complimented the Grand Old Flag by ceremonially unveiling a new Veil of Negativity, because this was dire. Feel free to put a brave face on if you're directly employed by the MFC, but even fantasists like me who have been holding onto the hope of pulling off a shock Hollywood ending are realising that 2024 is going down the toilet.

Maybe four premiership points acquired via the equivalent of sticking your hand into a septic tank will prove crucial and later we'll chortle about being such panicky idiots. That would be fantastic, but between injuries, inexperience, form concerns, the suspicion that there's an outbreak of misery amongst the playing group, and our almost religious devotion to a malfunctioning forward structure I'll eat a pair of Brian Taylor's sweaty undies if we're seriously considered premiership contenders again this year.

Optimists will point out that when we were 39 points up North only had four goals, but even if the game stopped then you wouldn't have been rushing to cancel September plans. North has had their best run for years, and are generating some very good players, but still have half a squad who are only there to fill a spot until somebody better comes along. They played a half against Collingwood that was light years ahead of anything we managed, but I was hoping to assert some sort of dominance, no matter how abstract. Instead, we showed less killer instinct than the RSPCA, nearly lost in all time classic slapstick fashion, and left fans flatter than a plateful of piss.

If you're desperate enough for omens, this was our first win after a scoreless last quarter since 1964 so bet heavily now on Judd McVee sneaking forward to kick the winning goal on Grand Final Day. The key difference is that the original didn't lose one of its most important players for the season with crippling internal injuries. I'm sure Norm Smith would have also sent Petracca back on, but he'd have sensible parked him in the goalsquare out of harm's way instead of pointing to the nearest contest and not conceding it was having a detrimental effect on the team until seeing 20 minutes of facial expressions that looked like a man pissing glass.

With his organs confirmed rooted, the Petracca prognosis went from 'lucky we've got the bye', to 'maybe he'll come back for the last few rounds', to 'see you in 2025' messages directly from the intensive care unit. And from the rest of us, a bit of 'Jesus christ, lucky nobody crashed into him'. I doubt he'll go down the same path as our last durable midfielder who battled surprise injury, but am willing to join the #fistedforever death spiral and fret that he'll never be the same. Despite the best efforts of some flat earthers to deny that it happened, we'll always have 25/09/2021. Buzz Aldrin punched somebody who told him the moon landings were fake, and I'm encouraging our premiership players to do the same if they ever meet a flag denier.

I'll take the advice of rug sweeping experts at the AFL that we followed correct procedure in letting Petracca go back on (but am still bitter that they didn't take him straight back off when he was clearly broken), but it was a great excuse for the usual collection of journalists and amateurs who should have their hard drives seized to stick the boots in. Somehow in our longest period of not being shit since John Northey we've reached the point where you can fling any sort of dirt at us and it'll stick. This is only supposed to happen when you're at a Neeld-era level of distress. The classic "if you sit by the banks of a river long enough the bodies of your enemies will float by" comes to mind, but it feels like you might be waiting a while. 

Our best part of this season coincided with the media treating us like the Medellin Cartel, so I thought another round of being dragged through the mud might inspire a backs-to-the-wall response. Except  the players probably thought it was a debacle too. Then how about the chance to save a once-promising year that is now threatening to miserably fizz out? I'll remind you at this point, as you're probably introducing head to oven reading this, that we actually won. But even if you're not prepared to admit it publicly, if there was a midweek replay you'd 100% expect North to win.

There'd have been more heat on us if it wasn't for a free kick staging scandal, but I say it's about time we got into the dark arts after years of opponents diving headfirst into tackles. People were more upset about Steven May pretending to have a sore head than they were when Brayshaw was smothered into oblivion. May is now hated by fans of Brisbane, Collingwood, North and French cuisine, who can all form an orderly queue to piss up a rope. Until he does something closer to murder he's a hero in my book. Tedious people who didn't win a Grand Final with their hammy held together by string can boo until it validates their miserable lives, but he's so good that I'm already sad about him retiring well before it happens. Lever might be the straw that stirs the drink, but at his best May is worth the failed inside 50 that caused the ball to rocket back towards our goal.     

Based on the last few weeks, it wouldn't have been an earth-shattering surprise if we'd lost. Which says something about how far our star has fallen. The best indicator of something going horribly wrong had nothing to do with on-field matters, but me being in the ground. It feels like I've seen as any live losses as wins in recent years, but as much as I'd prefer to be there every week, if you think Melbourne's forward line is disjointed, come and live my life for a bit.

The MCG never had the courtesy to respond to my post-Round 1 complaint about shutting the top of the Ponsford Stand, but against the odds it was back just in time for our worst home crowd against a Victorian team (non-pandemic division) since 2013. That was for a 1-11 team who'd recently lost games by 90, 95 and 83 points, this was full-scale abandoning of a sinking ship and even that figure was propped up by large numbers of downtrodden opposition fans who thought they might be in with a chance..

It's not that the alleged 'People's Ground' was taking up the cause of fans who want to sit dozens of rows away from everyone else, they just realised it's even more cost efficient to neck the entire top level of the Southern Stand, including the AFL Members. There were so few people there that they could have shut level four entirely and put us all up in unused corporate boxes like disaster survivors.

The payoff for all this glorious space was having every seagull in Victoria flying overhead. The MCG's Anti Bird Coordinator must have chucked a sickie and been replaced by Alfred Hitchcock, because they were everywhere, carpet bombing shit on poor bastards who'd gone out of their way to attend this less than glamorous event. It made spectating an extreme sport, and until finding something better to worry about in the last quarter I was terrified about my number coming up next. Turns out level one was the place to be viciously shat upon, which resonates with me because the first time it happened to me was right behind the goals at the city end. That day we were 75% of the way to winning by 121 points, here you might have been pelted with all sorts of avian disease while also watching us play like it was 2015. 

Maybe the birds were spooked by the pre-match appearance of a marching band that had more members than there were spectators. When these American kids were told they'd be playing before an AFL game they probably all went "a what?", rushed straight to Google for more information, and were misled into thinking it would be a blockbuster crowd. By the time I arrived they were tootling away to 90,000 empty seats and still went home with better memories than fans of the winning team.  

Nothing says 'tough times at Melbourne' like a brass band, and we missed a fantastic opportunity by not paying their trombonist to stick around and do this whenever something went wrong...

... but by full time they'd have died of oxygen deprivation.

With all the distress caused by the end of this game, it's hard to believe that we kicked five goals to one in the first quarter. That's undoubtedly a good thing, but the famous 'Feels Like' measurement would have halved that lead. Nothing we did looked easy, and a lot of the scoring was courtesy of unforced blunders by the opposition. You'll take goals any way you can, but this was a long, long way from pelting North on the same ground last year. Back then we also let them kick the last three goals, but not until going 108 points in front first. Final quarter goalkickers that night included unlikely once-off teammates Josh Schache and Brodie Grundy. Keep that in mind in case it ever comes up in a trivia contest.

The first quarter wasn't all that inspiring, but as there were no signs yet that they'd end the game treating us like the Little League I was willing to go along with a glorified training session. There were still challenges to overcome, like the all-hands molestation of Gawn at every stoppage. Clarkson might be a White Line Fever nutcase but he didn't win flags galore by accident, and obviously realised that in lieu of a high performing midfield Max would try to grab the ball and do his own clearances. Not with opponents hanging off him for dear life. He battled this infringement of dignity to put in a solid performance, but if worked well enough that he may as well get used to being humped at every stoppage for the rest of the season.

Challenge #2 was the latest chapter in Clayton Oliver's toil and struggle years. Remember when he was practically untaggable? Coaches kept trying it, he played like the opponent wasn't there and had 30 touches weekly. Now he's without any of Brayshaw, Petracca, Jordon, Harmes etc... for company and no longer has untouchable aura. I get that he didn't have a proper pre-season (not a footy one anyway), and remain hopeful that he'll come back in top form next year but it's a hard watch. He's had decent games this year, but only the occasional reminders of his sixth sense years, when he could handball over his head to the exact spot a teammate was standing.

If Clayts didn't have recent form for going astray when not involved in club activities I'd say send him off on a mini-pre season and reload for finals/a headstart on next year. If we're going to play him every week no matter what, I question the effort put into getting him into the game. He'll never be a Petracca style forward, but just send him to wander around down there for a few minutes as a break from being scragged. It might stop him doing silly things like taking a theatrical, umpire duping dives when lightly pushed by an opponent. It might not work, but it's not like we can score much less.

On that note, welcome to the regular segment where I howl into the void about our Malfunction Junction attack. Jerry Seinfeld was playing over the road, and once he was done being heckled by nuffies he should have come to the 'G and asked "What is the deal with Melbourne's forward line?" I don't know shit about footy tactics, but am convinced that a decent forward line can cover up a lot of other deficiencies. Seems obvious but it's more than the direct kicking of goals, it's about the linking up, the contests inside 50, bringing the ball to ground etc... etc... The handful of footy TV shows don't have enough time to go into the depth you want about your club, but please give me an hour On The Couch special where Garry Lyon and Jason Dunstall spend an hour mocking behind the goal footage of our forward structure. The studio will need to have fire extinguishers handy in case they spontaneously combust.

Our forwards were certainly trying, but after sitting behind them for the 50% of game where our only goal came from a running midfielder, I need expert confirmation that they collectively have no idea how to be forwards. Turner and Petty had their best games in weeks, but that's not saying much, and didn't point to improvement against good teams. They can do something if the ball comes directly to them, but for positioning, leading, and playing together as a unit they're like Mark Corrigan (not the ex-Casey coach) threatening to put one right in the goal hole. I'd be happy for one of Petty or Turner to learn on the job, but expecting both to do it at the same time is madness. JVR is doing his best to lead the group but isn't a miracle worker yet, and with everything glued up like a Beijing traffic jam Fritsch has gone missing. Even if there's no obvious replacement (meanwhile, here's Tom McDonald banging goals from 50 but no thought to trying him for a bit?) try something else. 

It's still too early for me to turn on the coaches (no complaints if you want to), but this has almost cracked me. Do they seriously think this is the best we can do? If you so may as well go completely off the wall and send a mystery player forward every week. Tomlinson, Lever, May, Salem, McVee, Fullarton, Jefferson, Kentfield, Cuthbertson etc... leading to a shock run to the Grand Final where Schache gets left on the bench for four quarters again. There was going to be undue pressure on Melksham to make a difference immediately after returning from long term injury, but he's going to walk in and find everyone dead like Mr. Pink at the end of Reservoir Dogs.

While we're horrifically off the boil in this department, forward coach Greg Stafford is on the end of assistant coach slander not seen since the Bohdan Babijczuk era. Other than the time he gleefully banged rubbish bin lids together I've got NFI what he does so won't join the pile on yet, but do you think the nutter who jumped the fence to stalk him years ago was actually sent from the future to pass on the important message that Harrison Petty is a defender and should be played accordingly?

I will note that Turner turned limited opportunities into two goals, and that Petty took a bloody good intercept mark during the first quarter. If we can get opposition defenders to do more insane kicks across goal he might become the world's first specialist forward 50 intercept player. Otherwise he's at the wrong end and either needs to self-exclude or reveal what sexy inside gossip he's got on the coaches. We don't need intimate details on the emotional state of players, but the reaction of teammates to his goal felt a bit deeper than just supporting somebody who's been struggling with form. There's something weird about the whole operation at the moment, and I'm not declaring a mental health emergency but it's like some terrible, deep dark secret about the inner-workings of the club will be revealed later and we'll all go "ahh, that's why they were acting like that".

The usual disclaimers apply about not trying to run any of these players out of town. I'm frustrated with the way we're playing, but can't take fans whose only solution to underperforming players is to flog them at a discount price. Lucky these campaigners aren't in charge of health policy or granny would be turned into Soylent Green at the first sign of a cold. Clayton Oliver looks like he's getting zero enjoyment out of the game and conceded the stupidest 50 for not giving the ball back since Lever in the Brisbane final, but before we leave a bone fide premiership legend and multiple B&F winner out for hard rubbish, any chance of getting him through a full pre-season and seeing what happens?

So anyway, even if you couldn't take the four goal quarter time lead seriously it was better than the alternative. Even against a backline that has been shelled from every direction for years, we were still making scoring look difficult but it was a start. As long as we didn't concede bulk goals then you could see the path to an unconvincing but important win. Earlier in the day I'd been asked for a prediction and said "if we keep them to under 70 we'll win". This turned out to be correct, with not much margin for error.

Between two sets of fans going in opposite enthusiasm directions, and some spicy on field action, there was more atmosphere than a game like this deserved. The central villain was Eddie Ford, who sounds he should be the drummer for a 70s rock band, looks like a VCE student, and has a flair for agitation.

Eddie Ford is so awesome for this #AFLDeesRoos pic.twitter.com/uf8AJpdQ2s

— Todd Davey (@ToddJDavey) June 22, 2024

The more players spicing up games like this the better. I was going to talk about him showing Viney how many wins he's played in, but turns out the 33 gamer was a finger short. Jesus H Christ, even we never got to the point of having somebody with a 2-31 record. Don't let that detract from the fact that we need more action like this in the league, and how much you'd enjoy it if our players did the same thing.

We struggle to play two good quarters in a row, so to nobody's surprise the goals dried up after quarter time. They still weren't kicking any either, and for the first 15 minutes it looked like another ad free Saturday night for Channel 7. In the end each side got one, and we were left pretty much where the quarter started but with what counts by modern standards as a 'brawl' at half time. This article oddly describing it as 'out all carnage' was taking it a bit far. I missed the lot by going for hideously overpriced food at the siren, which probably cost more than what any of the players involved will be fined.

In many ways this game was pointless, especially the second half. For only the second time in VFL/AFL history, neither side scored a behind after the break. We helped by not kicking goals at the end either, but with our recent accuracy woes this was as unusual as kicking the club's highest ever fourth quarter score in 2013, or winning a Prelim/Grand Final via blitzkrieg attack then spending years trying to bore opponents to death. 

For a game that ended in fans having to be restrained from self-harm, we looked to have finally shaken them in the middle of the third quarter. None of it was in the slightest bit impressive, but three goals in five minutes took the margin to 39 and to the outer reaches of what you'd believe we could give away. When Gawn took us to 11.4, North was still on 4.7, and it wasn't quite the Chris Sullivan Line but at the outer limits of what you could believe we'd let slip. 

And bloody hell did we have a bash at letting it slip. Thinking back to when we were in the same boat as North now, the only comparison I can make is Essendon 2014 if it ended with the ball rolling out of bounds instead of Salem marking in acres of space. And we still nearly lost that game straight from the next centre bounce. This time we could have gone a point down after five minutes and probably still never scored again, it was like the power had gone out Gabba lighting style.

It wasn't all bad news. Another reminder that we did end up winning, but also Rivers looked promising as a midfielder, Tholstrup showed signs of good to come in the future, and even Viney got plenty of the ball, even if it regularly ended in slaughter. Now, back to our scheduled program Thanks, I Hate It.

Whinging about the umpires sort of misses the point of everything else we were shit at in the last quarter, but they did get the first goal from a soft as butter downfield free. Consider it karmic payback for the Oliver/May shenanigans. I've got more objection to the next one, via a 50 where the player on the mark was bilked into moving via a fake handball despite this being excluded from the rule ages ago. It was a weird night for umpiring, and without taking sides in the 'who had it worse' debate, I saw a few times where they changed their mind halfway through a signal. Maybe this happens all the time, but it felt like some of them were stressed out by this enormous, high profile game they'd been sent to officiate.

Unlike the rest of this post, you can sum up everything from here until the big tackle easily - North did as they liked, we were less threatening than Mother Teresa on Zoloft. By the time the margin was under a goal with plenty of time left for us not to response, the idea of losing was so comical that I'd almost come to terms with it. Like thinking Geelong may as well kick another goal so I could have been at the record loss, it was like people were already going to be really upset so why not send them entirely over the edge. Good coping strategy at the time, a few days later I can confirm that had we actually lost I'd have kicked an inanimate object off its hinges.

The only part of this fiasco I wanted to see highlights of was Nathan Brown fretting over Kynan's debut. The default setting for first gamer parents is 'going off like a pork chop' so it was refreshing to see him absolutely bricking it. In the company of Daniel Ward and unbeaten MFC senior coach Adem Yze, the man suspiciously nicknamed 'Doggy' had the expression of somebody waiting for their kid's medical results to come through.

I was in such a masochistic mood after the game that listening to talkback radio seemed like a good idea. The callers came from across the drunk/senile/dropped on head as babies spectrum, including one who reacted to Yze having the slightest bit of non-Richmond related enjoyment like he'd done high treason. Maybe get upset if he was wearing our scarf and falling from his seat at the siren, but if you're not sentimental enough for a guy to support a 30+ year friend and a kid he's probably known since birth then there may be a position for you in the war crimes and genocide department. And if you're really upset about it then send Yze back to us thanks.

Speaking of sentimentality (not to be confused with siege mentality), it's a shame that after all these years we finally debuted somebody as the sub. I'm sure Brown preferred it to battling a Casey Fields wind tunnel the next day, and it's better than not being picked at all but still feels uncouth by modern standards. He showed good signs in pre-season but somehow looks younger six months down the road. This is the most baffling age scenario since Charlie Spargo (remember him?) turned up looking like a middle aged divorcee who's slightly lost the plot and is doing his own research on vaccines.

Of all the people we could have given the novelty-size tactical hook to, Salem seemed an odd choice at the same time North was kicking the door down. Not to beat up on the usual suspects, but what more were you getting from the tall forwards as a group? Petty took one good contested mark and may have been jibbed out of another, and Turner had multiple goals on the board but we'd reverted to attacking as if drunk so one could have made way and not made things worse.

The good news for Brown Jr is that we might have made him wait forever, but he joined the exclusive club of players whose first involvement in AFL football was a sick rundown tackle just as their side looked like botching a game in humiliating fashion. It wasn't quite a game saving tackle because we still another vigorous bash at losing, which is a shame because that would have almost made everything worthwhile. Other than, as we're legally obliged to state, the premiership gained for having a higher score than the other team at the end.

And so we had another tentative go at sending the ball forward and keeping it there (kicking the sealer was well beyond us by now), and admittedly Petty was rorted out of what would have been a crucial mark on the half-forward flank. This led to the latest chapter in North pelting forward in convoy and the aforementioned marking mixup that saved us. I'm surprised it didn't bounce straight out the back to somebody on his own in the square. But for what it's worth we hung on for dear life to win and our remaining fans went mild.

If there was ever a time for the captain to take a stand and tell his team that they won't be singing this song this was it. Not the sort of bold stance you'd expect from the MFC, and off they went with a 75% power rendition that nobody except bored journalists would have missed if it didn't happen. We'd have been called bastards for denying Tholstrup/Brown their moment, and it would probably cause unnecessary controversy but fuck a duck, the majority of this side has seen ultimate success, surely they knew pretending to joyously celebrate this was like when the Christmas Eve news reports on the location of Santa's sleigh. 

I'm aware that this comes just a few paragraphs after complaining about people being a joyless drain on society, but the world won't stop if you shelve the jaunty showtune for a week after going scoreless for 40 minutes against North Melbourne. I'm not saying the players should fill the spa with boiling water and write tear-stained apologies to fans, but for once celebrate winning behind closed doors and send a message that you're not prepared to settle for winning like this. Then when you win properly against decent opposition sing it so hard bits of your lungs fly across the room. Instead we continued Going Through The Motions Night before the people involved dispersed to reassure the public that it wasn't all bad, the lunatic fringe of our fanbase got excessively personal towards players they'd have lined up to nosh off 24 months ago, and I sulked off thinking 'is that all there is?"

I'd rather eat plutonium than watch the replay, but we'll judge the long-term value of this later in the year. For now, strap yourself in for Friday night because all signs point to it being putrid.

2024 Allen Jakovich Medal votes
5 - Steven May
4 - Trent Rivers
3 - Max Gawn
2 - Jack Viney
1 - Alex Neal-Bullen

Apologies to McDonald, McVee and Pickett + an encouragement award for Tholstrup 

Leaderboard
As long as they stay upright it's hard to see the big one going to anyone other than Gawn or May from here. There's still a minimum of 45 votes available, so even if he's probably never heard of Allen Jakovich, maybe Kentfield can take inspiration and go bananas in the last few weeks. Gawn is already 99.99% of the way to the Stynes, and May is on the verge of provisional status in the Seecamp. The Rising Star is the close one, where nobody's scored a vote for weeks and any random could come from the clouds and snatch it in one game. Which would be great if it came as part of a surprise match-winning performance, not default votes because everyone else was crap.

34 - Max Gawn (PROVISIONAL WINNER: Jim Stynes Medal for Ruckman of the Year)
27 - Steven May (LEADER: Marcus Seecamp Medal for Defender of the Year)
23 - Christian Petracca
22 - Alex Neal-Bullen
18 - Jake Lever
12 - Jack Viney
9 - Judd McVee, Clayton Oliver
7 - Tom McDonald, Kysaiah Pickett
6 - Trent Rivers
4 - Bayley Fritsch, Christian Salem, Tom Sparrow, Adam Tomlinson
3 - Ed Langdon, Daniel Turner (JOINT LEADER: Rising Star Award), Jacob van Rooyen, Caleb Windsor (JOINT LEADER: Rising Star Award)
2 - Kade Chandler, Harrison Petty, 
1 - Jack Billings, Blake Howes

Aaron Davey Medal for Goal of the Year
Pickett's opener was nice, but it's got to be Rivers wandering through half the North side (a Rivers dance if you will) for that goal on the run in the second quarter. He's not Petracca and never will be, but this was a fair cover version. I was almost going to show ridiculous recency bias and promote this to third on the leaderboard but that would mean having to reference this game every week until something else beat it, so no.

1st - Bayley Fritsch (Q4) vs Geelong
2nd - Kysaiah Pickett (Q4) vs Footscray
3rd - Kysaiah Pickett (Q4) vs Geelong

Next week
It's been a season of weird results, but I'll fall off the back of the couch if we beat Brisbane. They're prone to wacky performances like losing to Hawthorn or drawing with Adelaide, but have otherwise scored over 150 twice in recent weeks and have the second best percentage in the league. On paper they're going to kick seven shades of shit from us, but in the unlikely event of a morale-boosting performance I'll happily go back to fantasising about a miracle saving our season.

If you're hoping for the biggest post-win turnover since Freo saddled us with the pre-finals bye by chucking a last round game, the bad news is that a) we'll never do it, b) I think they're actually quite happy with how this game went, and c) who are you going to pick as replacements? Assuming Lever comes back, the AFL listed players at Casey this week were Adams, Billings, Fullarton, Jefferson, Kentfield, Laurie, McAdam, Moniz-Wakefield, Schache, Sestan, Verrall, and Woewodin. That's a lot of names, but not much to make your liver quiver. 

With Windsor hitting the wall at force on Saturday night, I thought we might give Woewodin a full game after weeks of substitute wankery, only for him to get injured in a pointless marking dual with a teammate. So that was good. He came back and didn't do much, but I'm picking him for want of other options. Alternatively go back to Billings again so I can throw myself from an upstairs window.

Laurie did nothing against Collingwood but it was a bit harsh turfing him straight away considering how many chances some other players have had, so there's that. Otherwise, your senior experience options are *drum roll* Fullarton, McAdam and Schache. The first has missed the boat, the second couldn't kick over 40 metres last time, and the less said about Option C the better. 

Moniz-Wakefield had another shitload of Reserves disposals, and looked composed when he had the ball in defence but assuming Brown gets another chance, I don't know if we're ready to go full Casey and play 1st, 2nd and 3rd gamers in the same senior side. There was something fishy about Salem being allegedly tactically subbed out though, so if he's hurt then give me primetime AMW off a five day break against a team scoring for fun. What could possibly go wrong?

There's more chance of Putin dropping Ukraine than an unenforced change to our tall forward mix, and as we didn't even let Ben Brown play one last game against North in the VFL it seems unlikely that they'll go for the radical plan of playing somebody who knows what a forward does. It might fail miserably, but on what reasonable grounds can anyone think we'll get anywhere playing Petty and Turner together? One of them fine, but both at the same time is suicidal. 

My next selection in the category of Things That Will Never Happen is to send McDonald forward and play either Tomlinson, Petty, or both in defence. The nuclear option is to reward what passes for VFL form this year and give Matt Jefferson a game, but I've watched enough of Casey recently to know that throwing him into our slow-moving clump of a forward line would be cruel. Maybe later in the year, but can we exhaust all the options involving experienced, big-bodied players who have proven goalkicking history first?

I'd like to preface these suggested changes by saying that I'm aware Petty will play in the forward line unless the game is called off due to an alien invasion. Just trying to set up a scenario where I can either say "I told you so" or be wrong but happy. 

IN: Lever, Woewodin
OUT: Petty, Windsor (omit)
LUCKY: Chandler, Fritsch, Oliver, Turner
UNLUCKY: Jefferson, Laurie

The All-New Bradbury Plan
I think we can agree there's no point looking at anything beyond a 'falling into the eight' scheme. Here's to a rethink in the next few weeks, but for now I'm willing to concede that the top sides will stay there and use them to our advantage. 

North Melbourne d. Footscray
Sydney d. Freo
Collingwood d. Gold Coast (Not the end of the world if it goes the other way, but they're going to make it so may as well depress the Suns before we play them) 
Adelaide d. GWS
Geelong vs Essendon (If we lose Essendon, if we win Geelong)
St Kilda d. Port Adelaide
Richmond d. Carlton
West Coast d. Hawthorn

Final thoughts
It's not over yet, but welcome to Italian Job week, where all our collected riches are teetering on the edge of a cliff. Michael Caine had a great idea that was never explained, but I'll bet it was superior to anything we'll come up with this week.