Round 7 – Sydney v Geelong: Today and Then and Football

Today and Then and Football

 

Doing my Oral History of Footy book, I’ve come across so many old timers, legends of the game, who hate footy now. Some can barely watch. Some don’t. Others worry about its future. Those still involved in the game, as coaches or committeemen, tend to think it’s better than ever. They argue there are still one-on-ones, everywhere, they just don’t last as long. They argue the game is more physical, requires greater courage, than ever.

Then there’s all the international footy that comes across in the old time player’s stories. Right back to when St Kilda used to play scratch matches during the 30s and 40s, in New Zealand in front of expat sheep shearers. Listening to their tales, there’s been far more Aussie Rules overseas matches that I ever imagined – The first game proper, after the ’63 Grand Final, Geelong versus Melbourne in Hawaii, that turned into a 120 minute fight when Polly farmer charged his Melbourne opponent at the opening bounce. Harry Beitzel’s All-Stars versus Carlton across Europe, finishing up with a hungover game in Greece, on a soccer oval, with Ron Barassi having to hold up temporary goal posts. At one stage they were even going to play in Cold War Russia.

Sometimes I try to watch the game through the eyes of a foreigner, as if I didn’t know the rules, or the strategies. Just to see if it’s entertaining as a spectacle. If it’s peanut butter and jam, or vegemite. I know in the 70s and especially the 80s it was spectacular. Free kicks were paid. Holding the ball was paid, players held their positions. All of this meant there were far fewer packs, the ball flowed, up and back, yet compared to today many of the player’s skills were woeful.

That’s how I took on Sydney versus Geelong on the weekend. In a pub, by myself, shit 80s songs in the background for somebody’s 40^th. No commentary. Imagining it through the eyes of a foreigner. Not as it was, but as it is today.

 

It was breathtaking! The tackles, the pressure. The speed with which handballs were shot out, the skills with which the ball was delivered, the crunch of the impacts, all spectacular. If I was from overseas I would have bloody marvelled at these supermen who went so hard for so long, and at least three times knocked each other out and fought through the pain to rise again, then kept going. I’d wonder how nobody got killed playing the game? I’d wonder how it was possible to be so fit? Or to be so quick with your decision making? Or run so hard and close to a person? It was inspiring!

 

In the back of my head I couldn’t help but ask why? At the start Geelong out-Sydneyed Sydney. The Swans got their fair share of both the ball and the contested possession, but they weren’t used to such pressure – to a mirror coming back at them in a Geelong jumper. They held onto it for two long, looking for the perfect option. They waited until they were under the pump before constantly handballing to a Swans teammate wearing a second skin. They all thought they were Sammy Mitchell. And they aren’t.

They relentlessly overcooked it.

For three quarters there were shades of last year’s Grand Final.

But three quarters isn’t enough. Or, 2 ½ to be exact. Sydney’s midfield got on top, Tippet was unseen, but just by being there he made it impossible to double-team Buddy. The Swans had more grunt, better linkage. When Rhyce Shaw and Jetta started to find room to run and deliver off the half back, Geelong’s lines of grit were broken, it was all over.

I would have loved to have shown Selwood to a supporter of yore, or a Japanese first-timer. But not this time. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was down, beaten on the night, or is fading? Even superstars have been known to come down a peg or two when there are no longer superstars around them, spreading the opposition.
Anyways, Sydney got on top momentum-wise before poor Dean Towers got rid of that bloody vest, and put on a lot of finishing touches.

I went Parker, Richards and Buddy for the 3, 2, 1. Yes, an on-baller, a backman, a forward. Kennedy and Johnson the ball puncher unlucky. And yes, the game was far, far closer than the last quarter indicated. The result did the game no justice.

As someone who plays, watching as if I’d never seen the game before, I would think it was a freakshow of fitness and brilliance. The best show on Earth!

As someone who loves the game and always wants its best side represented, in a dream world Buddy would have kicked 7.1, not 4.5, Geelong were two goals up for much of the first half. In that dream world, when the Cats were pressing, would have had the injured Tomahawk there, someone to match Buddy, who seemed to be on the receiving end of Sydney’s momentum swings, rather than instigating them. Momentum is everything. It looked to me like Sydney were lucky Geelong were just that one particular star short. The bloke to turn a 2 goal lead into a 4 goal break and really put on the pressure. With big Tom playing it would have been a shootout.

I also would have got Levi Casboult to play on the wing, in his Carlton jumper, and fly for all those long bombs when the backman had a kick but no running options. There were brilliant marks from in front, but none from behind, no Cloke or Cameron, no pack marks.

 

I grew up in the 70s and 80s. I used to hate the selfishness of the forwards with their u-turns and snaps over the shoulders and refusal to handball, and be filthy on the coaches who wouldn’t call them out for it. From Barassi down to my level. But I loved hating them. I was born a backman!

I miss my youth less than I miss 70s football. The problem with many people is they tend to blur the two when forming an opinion on the state of the game today.

Sydney versus Geelong was intense, physical, close for most of it, the collisions were brutal. Both of Sydney’s baldies slayed it, Buddy showed his motor, just not his high marking. All that was lacking was some of the pack clunking Levi is so good at, and I’d sell the game proudly to anyone, at any time in history.

 

But in no way, ever, would I try to explain holding-the-ball, or what is and isn’t a handball these days to them.

 

I think the biggest changes of all in the modern game lie in how we perceive it. The one-on-one duels and high marking and low percentage goals have been replaced by the highlights of gobsmacking tackling and defensive skills, the quickness of hands and gut running. Things that drop your jaw in their moment, but are not as spectacular, that are harder to imitate in a concrete school yard, and don’t linger as long in the memory.