General Footy Writing: Cats resemble a champion fighter on the ropes

By Damian O’Donnell

Sporting greatness comes and goes, but when it is in full flight we see no end. Indeed, we don’t want to see an end.

I remember when Marvellous Marvin Hagler was stopped by an irrepressible Sugar Ray Leonard in 1987 it took me some time to realise what had just happened. An era had just ended. A man seemingly made of granite, with speed and power far beyond his immediate rivals, was suddenly found wanting. Sugar Ray Leonard was quicker, more thoughtful, and hungrier. In the end he was simply better.

I watched the fight waiting for Hagler to land the final punch. Yes Sugar Ray was going well, but he would never go the journey, would he? But as each round ended and a new one started it was Leonard who bounced out of the corner, it was Leonard who landed the telling punches, and it was Hagler who became mortal.

Watching a champion lose or fade away is a bit like confronting our own mortality. In a champion or a champion team we see our own aspirations. Their journey becomes something very personal. Their achievements become something we feel a part of. It’s why a great sporting performance lifts our spirits and occasionally brings tears to our eyes. Remember the feeling when Cathy Freeman entered the straight in the 400 metres final at the 2000 Olympics? So when it all ends, as it inevitably will, a bit of us dies. Not only is the champion a bit older and slower, but so are we.

Recently the world stopped and took in the astonishing performances of Usain Bolt. This bloke is unstoppable. He will win many races in the future, he will conquer numerous world records, and he will run faster than we all thought possible. Usain himself has said he is already on the road to becoming a legend. I have no doubt he will be a sporting legend, but I am already intrigued to see how he deals with the end of his own era, because there is no doubt that some scrawny kid currently running around the streets of Jamaica or the USA or Britain will one day step up and knock him off. It will be a sad and great day.

But not all eras end sadly. Cathy Freeman’s 2000 Olympics triumph was simultaneously her crescendo and her conclusion. She knew it and wisely retired; her thirst was quenched. Similarly Kieren Perkins lifted in the 1996 Olympics for one last monumental swim. He qualified for the final of the 1500 in lane eight and went into the final virtually a spectator; a curiosity of sorts. We waited to see how he would cope with an inevitable defeat. His victory was one for the times. The curtain came down gracefully.

As a Geelong supporter I have no doubt I am witnessing the end of an era. The Cats have looked like a battle weary boxer for most of the year, finding a way to win the minor rounds against usually inferior opposition, but as the season has dragged on, and as the games have become more important, they have not been able to find a way.

In the last two seasons Bomber Thompson has marvelled at the mental and physical toughness of his team (and rightly so). He has been astonished at the teams’ ability to break a game open quickly and ruthlessly. He has said on many occasions that the Cats just seem to know how to win. Recently, however, he has been puzzled as this ability seems to have deserted them. I don’t see any mystery in this at all.

The beginning of the end did not come in the 2008 Grand Final. For Cats fans that was sporting disaster pure and simple. In my view the beginning of the end was against the Saints this season. It was Hagler and Sugar Ray all over again. We waited for the Cats to land the knock out blow and it nearly came in the last quarter, but it was the Saints who were hungrier and smarter. It was a Saint who towered over the pack to end the battle with an enormous grab. I thought at the time it was a very significant moment. The Saints were simply too good.

Friday night’s game against the Bulldogs was another telling sign. In the 2007, 2008 and even the start of the 2009 seasons, the Cats would have found a way to win it. Stevie J would have kicked one over his head, or Varcoe would have swept across half-forward, or Ablett would have powered across the 50-metre line and bombed the sealer home. But Friday night showed once again that the spark is gone. They got close, they fought it out, they battled hard like a champion does, but the Dogs got through their defences and landed one punch too many.

This year’s finals will be fascinating. Can the Cats extract one more campaign from their weary bodies and minds? Can they end their era like Freeman or Perkins or will the Saints or the Pies prove too much? Either way for Geelong it will be a full stop on a magnificent three seasons.

Go Cats!