Retro jumper, retro performance

I said this season had a hint of the Baileyball rollercoaster about it, but didn't expect to hit the 'rank, uncompetitive interstate performances' at our first go. It's not worth getting overexcited about, but after the Round 1 win swept questions about our defence under the rug, conceding 14 scoring shots in the opening quarter was a bit of a downer. The margin didn't end up much worse than what it was at quarter time, but that was courtesy of Freo adopting the 'marathon not sprint' philosophy and pulling up at the end instead of disfiguring us. 

Dusting off the old flamehead jumper was good for social media content, and in tribute we burnt like buggery when things turned hot. This was always going to happen at various points during the year, but I hoped we'd hold off until injuries, fatigue, and mental CBF started to take their toll. Despite some excitement last week, I accept that in the early stages of a new coaching regime some performances will be shite.

This big fat reality check was the latest in a series of post-flag traumas inflicted on us by the Dockers, and makes beating them at 0-5 last year look more ridiculous than it did at the time. The only explanation is that they thought victory was in the bag and celebrated by inhaling solvents on the way to the MCG. This was more in the spirit of the dual 2024 maulings, including 20 minutes in the first quarter when we played like hapless villagers escaping an exploding volcano.

It's a flimsy excuse to blame the heat, but there was something in Turner doing his hand midway through the first quarter. Sure, the time he spent on the field was mostly occupied desperately defending against an end wave of attacks, but without him we were cactus. This was an example of how it's not a long way back to 2024-style paint-drying level boredom. Look at van Rooyen, who went from the time of his life to barely going near it, and dropping easy marks when he did. See also Pickett (L), who got a Goal of the Year nomination on debut but couldn't have looked more out of his depth here unless dropped from a helicopter into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. 

There's no need for panic yet, our short term future will include violent mood swings from week to week. However, if we concede 7.7 in the first quarter against Carlton you're welcome to panic. This won't be the last time we're sliced and diced into a million tiny pieces this year, but there will be good times too. The fun is never knowing which version of Melbourne will turn up.

I didn't want to make snap judgements against opposition that went tits up after quarter time last week, but this looked bad very quickly. Freo shifted the ball around practically unchallenged, and we couldn't slow them down. After Steven King's post-sealer antics sent the feelgood factor through the roof last week, this intrusive TV coverage of the coach was less heartwarming. I don't blame him for looking baffled while trying to find answers in what appeared to be a calendar. 

Maybe he was consulting a chart of Perth's sunset times, because we didn't handle the sunny end of the ground very well. As if that made seven goals of difference to the quarter time margin. We were offering such enormous gaps for the opposition to run through that it's hard to think the result would've been different if the game started at 10pm. 

We didn't have many winners, but appropriately, on the night he drew level with Nathan Jones for games captained, Gawn risked spinal damage by trying to carry his badly outmatched team. Jack Steele had a bash in a midfield where everyone else forgot to turn up. We got Steele as a replacement Oliver, now he has to be part replacement Viney, and this was a great cover version of both. He willed himself into our best players with wholehearted effort, despite half the kicks missing a target, and a bunch of panicky inside 50s going nowhere near a marking forward. That's because we didn't have any. 

Everything that went well in attack last week was absent here. If Chandler tried the same kick that diverted through traffic and straight to Mihocek it would've gone the other way and into an open goal before he realised what was happening. And after having the time of his life, JVR handled the ball as if wearing oven gloves full of acid.

About the only highlight of the first quarter was the best set shot Ed Langdon's ever done for us. After an average start, that steadied things for about 15 seconds before the Dockers went back to doing whatever they wanted. The rot was arguably already in place, but it really set in when Pickett (who doesn't have much luck on this ground) flubbed a handball receive and our backline was under siege again. Somewhere during the quarter, said backline lost Turner, leaving us neck deep in shite.

Tholstrup did effectively tag one of their top midfielders, but the problem was the rest of them romping around collecting disposals like a pre-season training drill. Meanwhile we were in full panic mode, trying to get out of trouble via toe-poke kicks off the ground that helped nobody. Cue a shitload of Freo attacks, and our worst first quarter against anyone since conceding 8.6 against GWS in 2017. If you're looking for in-depth coverage of all seven, I'm sure there's a DockerBlog out there somewhere. I was more worried about losing by 130.  

As if further humiliation was required, there was also Patrick Voss mocking Petty with revolutionary insights about hair loss, and the old hyper-masculine "you cried once LOL" beloved by intellectual lightweights everywhere. Voss has the head of somebody who'll eventually do something indescribably stupid and try to justify it with the phrase "It was just a joke bro", so I'd be happy to just roll footage of Petty winning a flag while he was getting sacked by Essendon. The world needs ditch diggers too. Besides, villains are good for football. I only had half an idea who this character was before, now I'm invested in Freo games in the hope he has a string of shockers and/or has to obviously try combating hair loss by applying bull's semen to the scalp. 

To be fair, I did enjoy when he later hoisted Langdon for a vertical suplex and thought for a second about trying to deposit Ed on top of the fence. Maybe the guy currently trailing Brett Voss for industry contribution knows that feuding with Melbourne is the express route to AFL success. Kate Hore's future brother in law - flag, Zorko - flag, the otherwise forgettable Brisbane guy who also hung shit on Petty - flag.

I'm not turning on Freo over this, because I'm fascinated by the most random set of ex-MFC players ever assembled. Oscar McDonald and Corey Wagner played together, but both were gone by the time Luke Jackson turned up, who played one season with Judd McVee, who never met McDonald or Wagner in his life, before legging it. In the unlikely event of Freo winning a flag, I'd like Oscar to be involved so both the McSizzle Brothers have one.

Are there any comparable weird collections of our exes? It was unusual when Port Adelaide tried to win with #fistedforever era icons Barry, Toumpas, Trengove and Watts, but they made more sense as a group. GWS could have a go by adding one of our old players to Bedford, Hogan, and Oliver via the mid-season draft, but to beat the Freo four it would need to be Brian Stynes or Ivor Warne-Smith.

The only hope of getting something out of this game (more likely dignity than premiership points) was Freo turning a great Round 1 start into defeat. And for part of the second quarter, it seemed they might be vulnerable to another spontaneous combustion. We got it back to 25 points, thanks to him from quarter time comprehensively buggering up a two-on-one in front of Freo's goal. 

If we could got to half time with the game the margin that (relatively) close, who knows what would've happened. I'm pretty sure we'd have still lost comfortably, but never found out thanks to conceding two goals late in the quarter and winding up right back where we started from.

The sun was gone after half time, but our phobia of kicking to the left of screen endured. Rivers was so adverse that he stuffed up a handball receive in the middle of the ground (that old move), and allowed Freo to wander into an open goal. The next came via end-to-end counterattack and a big rooting was back on. In an unwelcome throwback to recent years, we got thrashed but only lost the inside 50 count by two. Because the inside 50 count means fark all, and I can't believe we haven't evolved to a stat that appreciates quality over quantity.

Pickett (L) wasn't alone in failing to go on from last week, but we'll take a long term view of this performance and call it a learning experience. His first two kicks were violent shanks, but when he ran onto a loose ball at the top of the 50 it finally appeared we'd get a bit of excitement, only for him to kick it 15.01 metres straight to a defender.

In the interests of avoiding fatigue over a long season, I'm not wasting time on describing what else happened in the third quarter, except Freo kicked another seven goals to one, winning to the last quarter of the Grand Final end of the ground by 14.9 to 2.3. Ouch.

Any more of that in the last quarter and the margin was heading towards triple figures. Justin Longmuir seems like he'd drive 50 in a 60 zone just in case the speed camera is faulty, so I was hoping Freo would slam cue into rack and avoid doing anything risky. Instead, about 20 seconds in Treacy was lining up for his fifth and if I wanted to see a once great organisation being kicked while down I'd have kept watching the South Australian election. After booting them from every angle in the first three quarters, he missed this one from close range and we responded with some of the earliest possible junk time goals. I was not having much fun, but it was better than the high velocity rooting that was on the cards earlier. 

There was still time for slapstick comedy, because it looks like after six years, Jiath is reintroducing Sam Frost style unpredictable, live ferret in your undercrackers, thrills. See, for example, his cross country run around the defensive 50 without thinking about a bounce. 

Unless you were sensible enough to hit the piss at the quarter time, this game was a waste of your Saturday night but it's nothing we haven't seen before. If the follow-up is good, this result will be only remembered by enthusiasts and fans of players acting like arseholes. It was pox but doesn't have to be fatal. To paraphrase paper sales representative Chris Finch, it's one and one, no harm done.

2026 Allen Jakovich Medal votes
5 - Max Gawn
4 - Jack Steele
3 - Koltyn Tholstrup
2 - Ed Langdon
1 - Kade Chandler

Apologies to Rivers + Turner for contribution per minutes played. 

Leaderboard
Naming Maximum the provisional winner of the Stynes now would be an invitation for his hamstrings to simultaneously detonate, but it'll be hard to catch him from here. No votes for defenders yet, which is consistent with our backline acting like a screen door on a submarine so far this year. 

10 - Max Gawn (LEADER: Jim Stynes Medal for Ruckman of the Year)
4 - Jack Steele, Jacob van Rooyen
3 - Koltyn Tholstrup, Caleb Windsor
2 - Ed Langdon, Brody Mihocek
1 - Kade Chandler, Jai Culley

Next week
It's more Voss related content, this time against the one who actually did something during his playing career. If recent history has taught me anything, we're going to lose to Carlton by the range of 1-9 points, so there's that to look forward to.   

I have no firm views on selection, having only turned on the Casey game at the start of the last quarter and being temporarily thrown off by Jack Billings kicking a goal for Footscray. The game was already lost so there wasn't much value other than outrage that Jason Bennett is reduced to doing Reserves games while some of the biggest buffoons in Australian broadcasting are paid several hundred thousand dollars to talk shite.

Max Heath randomly kicked a snap which further endeared him to me, and for god's sake there's five on the bench now, can we just play him instead of running Gawn into the ground for four quarters per week? Last week I didn't know how to fit him in, but after this showing it'd be nice for Pickett (L) to go to the VFL for a couple of weeks and get his touch by wrecking part-timers. Don't care that it's not even remotely a straight swap. 

If you're worried about our backline, it's not a great sign that Casey conceded 135 points. Could be a long season for them once our depth starts to dry up. As much as I'm in favour of more Jed Adams eventually, McDonald was an emergency for the main game so didn't get any of the 135 on him and can replace Turner. Otherwise, Moniz-Wakefield seems to have done well so he's welcome back for another crack soon.

Who knows what to expect in a game between two sides that do insane things but I'll try and be positive for once and claim we'll win 

IN: Heath, McDonald
OUT: Turner (inj), L. Pickett (omit)
LUCKY: Sparrow
UNLUCKY: Melksham

Aaron Davey Medal for Goal of the Year
In the retro spirit, let's go all the way back to Ed Langdon's set shot, when we still had high hopes of pinching something from this game. Pickett (L) still the overall leader for his right angle extravaganza in Round 1.

Final thoughts
If this is how we're going to play interstate, start lobbying the AFL to help conserve aviation fuel in these drastic international times by relocating the entire season to Victoria.