Cats bring cheer to a hoarse throat

By Susie Giese

This game will probably never be used in a promotional package for the AFL. There were no standout performers, no exceptional displays of skill. What this game was, though, was something quintessential to the game we all love.

It was a contest.

Tackle after tackle, pressure to match a game being played on the right side of September 1—this was tough, spirited footy at its best. In a game touted as the shootout of the season, it was both sides’ defences that ended up stealing the show.

As I walk to the MCG with my mum and aunty, I am struck by how much this night feels like a final.  There are so many people! Everywhere I look, streaming around the MCG’s concourse in all directions are fans decked out in stripes of various orientations. I love being right in here with the fans, where everybody feeds off each other’s energy and the excitement just grows and grows. Against Collingwood, however, I take a closer look at the fans. There’s something about them – they just seem to belong in this setting. Friday night. Blockbuster. A sell-out, as the ground announcers keep saying over the PA. This is their stage.

I feel little more than a country bumpkin (even though I am not actually from Geelong). I feel out of place. What am I doing here? All week I’d been so confident Geelong would win, but now I am seriously taking stock. Collingwood are in red-hot form. They’ll humiliate us – just like they did in ’08 … and ’06. Clearly, even-numbered years just do not bode well for Geelong fans.

As I get to the gate, I pass none other than man-mountain Dawson Simpson. He’s like a beacon: the lone, tall Geelong figure standing up in a flock of Magpies. This gives me some small comfort. It’ll be okay.

There is a minor scuffle between the two midfields before the ball is even bounced, but these teams are all professionalism. They sort it out, set themselves, await the umpire.

First blood is drawn by the Pies through a goal to Dane Swan, who easily outstrips his opponent in Cameron Ling. Before too long, Geelong responds through Gary Ablett up the other end of the ground.

Pods smashes his body into the point post, then smashes the footy into the goal post when he kicks.

From my birds-eye view on the third level, I groan as I notice every player on the ground has flooded into one quarter of the oval. What happened to the open, free-flowing brand of footy both teams are famous for?

Hawkins, relishing his time off the leash, is one of Geelong’s best in the opening term, saving the Cats in both the midfield and in defence. Wojcinski is popping up left, right and centre, winning the ball, but his disposal leaves much to be desired.

The pressure coming from both teams is immense. Perceived pressure is posing just as big a problem as direct pressure, and players all over the ground are wasting their opportunities. This feels as tense as the 2007 Preliminary Final, which is ridiculous, except the skills have been left on the respective team buses.

It’d figure that I have a throat infection on the day I am surrounded by the worst kind of Collingwood supporters. To heck with my voice—who really needs one, anyway?

The second quarter begins. Thank goodness for our defence. They are, as a unit, playing a stellar game against the Pies’ versatile and volatile forwards. Whenever the Pies forwards do get their hands on the ball, they are in undesirable positions.

At last, Stevie J manufactures the elusive goal.

As the dour struggle continues, and fans question whether this is an Aussie Rules match or a soccer game, it seems it will come down to which team has superior fitness and can run out the game. A voice in the back of my head tells me it will be the Pies – they aren’t playing their fourth game in 20 days, coming off a six-day turnaround after playing on the infamous hard-as-Chappy Gabba surface.

Then, a rare highlight. Pods exerts his enormous strength to smash through a pack. The ball finds its way to Shannon Byrnes who quickly handballs to Cameron Mooney. Mooney scores his first goal for game 200.

Then, a sight that warms the heart of every footy fan: Scarlett torps the ball into Geelong’s Forward 50. Benny Graham would have been proud (though he wouldn’t exactly be shaking in his boots).

For the ensuing minutes, errors seem to outnumber effective disposals as neither team can break through the flooded zone. It then comes as a bit of a shock when Mark Blake, or all people, gathers his own tap and makes a beautiful pass to Byrnes, who unfortunately misses.

Moments later an inspired effort by Mooney on the boundary line of the forward pocket ends up with the ball in the hands of Hawkins, who was never going to miss. Geelong are 15 points clear, but it doesn’t feel that way.

Hawkins continues to prove why he is in the team with his second efforts. Against the trend, the Pies end up with two goals in the last 45 seconds of the quarter, both through Dayne Beams. His first came off the back of some very hard work by Geelong’s Josh Hunt to give Collingwood a goal. The second was a beautiful long bomb on the siren.

At half time, Mum produces a Curly Wurly from her bag. Brilliant. I don’t know whether the caramel is going to be strictly helpful to my plight, but I’m no doctor, so I eat it anyway.

The third term is opened by Beams’ fourth goal. Beams nearly gets his fifth soon afterwards, if not for a nice mark-that-wasn’t to Jimmy Bartel. Beams is seriously starting to freak me out. We need to reach into that bag of tricks and find someone or something to stop him.

The game becomes very painful for a Geelong supporter to watch as Collingwood continue to dominate.

The 19-minute mark of the third quarter comes up and, just when things are looking truly grim for the Cats, fans see a rare glimpse of a true Geelong play, resulting in a Travis “Dog-of-a-night” Varcoe goal. Varcoe lifts, Geelong lifts. Next thing you know, Stokes has goaled. Welcome back Stokesy!

At this point, my notes are starting to get looser. “Moooooooooooons!!!!!!” is scrawled across the page. I assume this means he marked and goaled.

It’s at this point of the night that my voice breaks. Pods marks and goals – I have to cheer! Moons again goals, and my voice packs it in all together. Instead of the nice strong “Mooooons!” that was meant to come out (not to be confused with “Toooooves or “Booooooooo” that also dominated the night), I elicit nothing more than a rasp. Mum and my aunty take pity on me, and take over the cheering. Three-quarter time comes and it’s time for the honey and eucalyptus throat lozenge.

Collingwood dominates the early part of the fourth quarter, keeping everyone on the edge of their seats. They are their own worst enemies, however, as inaccuracy (five straight behinds) costs them the chance to put a bit more pressure on the scoreboard.

It seems to me the umpires are continuing to operate at a subpar standard, but I fume in silence: what little that remains of my voice is needed for more important things.

Nick Maxwell intercepts yet another Geelong entry—it feels like he’s killing us tonight. Stokes (twice) and Varcoe add to Geelong’s goal tally, but both teams are clearly (for want of a better word) buggered. Geelong play keepings off, and a dispirited Collingwood let them.

The siren sounds. Game over. Geelong are officially “the team to beat”—again. My Aunty has done such a good job of covering for me in the cheering department that she has lost her voice also. We join in for what is arguably the most off-key rendition of the club song ever.

If there is anyone who still thinks Geelong have a premiership hangover: I’d hate to see them sober.

[Article updated]