AFL Round 22 – Geelong v Sydney: Nobody knows you when you’re down and out

If it wasn’t for bad luck I’d have no luck at all.

Albert King sang this line on this on his crossover hit ‘Born Under a bad Sign’ and if Rhyce Shaw is a blues fan I reckon that lyric would’ve been circling in his head all weekend. Ten minutes into the first quarter and he must have felt that the very stadium itself was conspiring against him. In a seemingly minor twist during a tackle the recently returned defender ruptured his ACL and that was it, season over. He cut a forlorn figure on the sidelines and if this wasn’t a primarily writing gig at The Almanac I’d have simply posted a picture of him to sum up my feelings about Saturday’s game.

The Enemy have an enviable lock-down on their home stadium. We did them in a couple of years ago but let’s face it sheer karma and an overwhelming sense of self belief rarely seen in any team were the keys to success that day. Today we came in at fairly long odds and with a home final up for grabs I knew there was a chance The Enemy might edge us out.

Notice I said edge us out. Not run bloody circles and turn cartwheels around us. Not dish up a forty four point hammering which if not for errant kicking could’ve been closer to eighty.

Simply put The Enemy’s relentless attack and our lack of work rate did us in today. It looked as if they had five extra players on the paddock today. With our ball receivers under immense pressure the boys were panicked into bad disposals, either belting it long to no-one or hand-balling to a team mate in an even worse position. I haven’t looked at the stats but my take is about seventy percent of the game was played in our defensive fifty. And under those conditions it’s only a matter of time before things go dreadfully south dreadfully quickly. The Enemy wasted some early opportunities and we kept ourselves in the fight for a while before succumbing.

There were some standouts amongst the slaughter. Pyke continues to take great marks. Kennedy was inspiring in an otherwise lifeless midfield. McVeigh and Richards were absolute champions in defence under an enormous shelling. Rohan looked to be working himself back into form with great defensive attack.

Yet if kicking it to Tippett in a completely lost cause four on one contest is Longmire’s finals decoy strategy it’s working very well, possibly too well. Stop doing or someone will work what we’re up to. He took a great mark in the opening minutes but beyond that wasn’t able to break free enough times. The less said about missing that open goal the better.

Hannerbury going down and off in the third just about finished me off. The wife let loose a tirade of abuse against The Enemy only for the footage to show it was due to friendly fire. Ten minutes later he was back on getting stuck in as the boys mounted a brief and ultimately doomed campaign to close the gap.

Halfway through the final quarter I was instructed to stop thrashing the couch in anger and start dinner before some permanent damage was done to our furniture. I did not resist, my pen had stopped working and a chilly balcony BBQ was suddenly preferable over the debacle. Shambling between the kitchen and the balcony The Enemy belted in a few more goals. The siren had barely blown when we switched channels; the thought of hearing The Enemy’s anthem more than either of us could bear.

I cannot decide whether this game represents a serious wake-up call or a brutally cold take of where the Swans stand going into September? Today Hannebury’s knee is apparently not quite as good as it should be and he’ll be out a week. Yet in what could be both bizarrely disappointing yet inspiring news Jude Bolton has announced his retirement. You never want to see great players go, especially one of Jude’s calibre, but if we can’t get to the Granny for him then who else?

We just need a bit of good luck is all.