Finals Week 1 – Fremantle v Sydney: A half-time submission

I should turn this off and go and pull some weeds out of my garden; listen to some music; do some Pranayama breathing exercises; anything to get my blood pressure down to levels not associated with deep-sea diving.

 

The bizarre thing is I have no particular interest in this game. The team I follow has packed away the Mad Monday costumes and departed for foreign holidays.

 

Footy should be about joy. About the beauty of the contest, and appreciation of the skill.

 

But this team brings out the very worst in me. Their song, their crowd, their boos, their coach, their number 1, their number 3 – right down to their stupid, sea-shanty song and ridiculous, inflatable anchors.

 

And yet, I’ll happily acknowledge that the team contains at least two of the great players of the modern era and one who threatens to be even better.

 

All I can hope for in the remainder of the season is that some remaining finalist wipes the floor with them.

 

Just, please, don’t let it be Hawthorn!