Norwood swarm forward, and with a brutal bump at half-back, flashy nugget Mitch O’Neill flattens former skipper, Dr. Chris Curran. It’s ferocious but ill-disciplined and the umpire’s whistle arrests this menacing surge. For long, agonised seconds the gentlemanly Tiger is on the ground before he enacts the Biblical instruction: Physician, heal thyself, rises and takes his deserved free kick. In the Sir Edwin Smith Stand, we exhale.
*
Hunter Window streams around the eastern flank adjacent to the scoreboard and kicks, somewhat optimistically, for goal. Begging the ball to go through and confirm our seventh flag, we hold our breath. Glory sours to instant deflation as it sails mockingly across the goal front and out on the full. Norwood claim the ball and relaunch down the western wing. We once more swing psychologically from the elated promise of attack to the gloomy duty of defence.
*
Reigning Jack Oatey Medalist, Lachie Hosie, had no first-half possessions, but we all knew this would change, likely in spectacular style. It did. Imposing himself late, he slots two goals and then, with an athletic leap at the point of the pack, he grabs a rousing mark. It lifts the Tiger faithful. The final score of the season is his kick for goal but it wobbles off the woodwork! Glenelg’s up by five points. Is there a more theatrical moment in footy than the Sherrin crashing into the goal post? The narrative effects are multiple. The scoring side claims what could be a telling single point addition, but the ball is given to the opposition, who steal it forward like surprised thieves. Minor reward is replaced by the torment of major risk.
*
There’s a menacing wave of red and blue as Norwood again flow through the centre square. Baynen Lowe launches the ball long and high. Like an American football kick, it achieves good hang time beneath the Riverbank Stand and both teams run on to it. We’re now inside the final minute and the execution of his disposal is more prayerful than geographic precision. We need someone to scramble back and intercept this indiscriminate bomb. And in what could be the concluding gesture of his 191-game career, Max Proud materialises by the goal square to rescue us yet again. With superior anticipation, he minsters customary relief. Norwood are thwarted.
*
Time stretches cruelly, advancing at a glacial pace. The ball’s on the members wing. On all fours, Will Chandler leaps up and across at the kick and there’s a near-catastrophic but selfless beauty in his diving at a violently swinging boot. For this startling defensive action, during which the ball is arrested before it commences its trajectory, there’s an appreciative roar. A desperate Redleg kick – but Chandler smothers it! In that brief space and moment, danger and grace co-exist but only one can prevail. It’s grace.
*
The siren sounds.
More from Mickey can be read Here.
Image: Wikipedia
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About Mickey Randall
Now whip it into shape/ Shape it up, get straight/ Go forward, move ahead/ Try to detect it, it's not too late/ To whip it, whip it good
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Brilliant summary Mickey.
You have nailed the theatre and tension of the dying minutes.
It was a ripper of a game to watch as a neutral supporter (Bloody hell Sturt!), not sure that I’d enjoy watching it as much with some skin in the game.
I thought Hosie may have played his GF in his comeback match the week before and used up all his tickets, but then he slots those two late goals and hauls in a speccy. Class player.
Chandler’s stats were terrible, but the most important thing he did all day (all year?) doesn’t make it onto the stats sheet. That was one of the best acts of desperation I have witnessed. I remember hearing Neil Kerley say once that even when you are having an off day you can still do something, you can shepherd a teammate, lay a tackle, or spoil a mark. Or in this case, dive on an opponent’s boot.
Terrific Mickey. You capture the tension, and the relief, so well. Enjoy the spoils!
Thanks Greg. It was a terrific match and a few times during the second half I thought that if Glenelg lost (and it mostly seemed likely) I had still witnessed one of the great grand finals. The tension was exaggerated by Hosie’s behind being the solitary score in the last seven minutes. The crowd of 35,000 is an indicator that local footy is healthy.
Appreciate that DB. I reckon I’ll swing by the club soon and collect a souvenir stubby holder. On these I’m sure their prime function is conversation starter. Has science tested if they actually keep beer cold? Does it matter?
How good was Liam McBean?
Thanks Swish. He was magnificent.
I imagine kicking seven of a winning side’s twelve goals is a most rare percentage and I was a little surprised that in his previous three grand finals he hadn’t kicked a goal. He’s a beautiful kick and again I’m unsure of the biomechanics but as he’s 202cm, the ball has to travel further etc. I also love that Glenelg captains wear number 5 in acknowledgement of Peter Carey and McBean (a Scottish Rowan Atkinson) has done this justice in his first year as skipper.
The difference between these two evenly matched teams was the STRAIGHT KICKING from McBean. There were many highlights from both teams but it was McBean that stood tall for the game.
Agreed, Fisho. A worthy Jack Oatey Medallist. Superb battle.