Sunday, September 28, 2008


from w
An optimistic Cats supporter got a tattoo last week, sure that the Geelong AFL team would win. Foolish decision!
Well, the Geelong team should have based on their wins during the year. But, it wasn't to be. They couldn't kick straight, they put the wrong men in and out, and they choked in the second half. The thousands of often-crazy supporters were so disappointed in the team. Anyway good luck to the Hawks who haven't won for about 17 years. Cat city was a bit miserable Saturday night and yesterday though and there were numerous incidents of street rage but the flags and blue and white still bedecked the highways. That's life.

from the Geelong Advertiser:
Cats will remember the year that could have been

Gerard Whateley

September 29th, 2008

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Digg this Post to Post to Stumble Upon Post to Facebook This was a Grand Final lost. Squandered. Botched. Wasted. A season of dominance now counts for nothing. Geelong of 2008 is a cautionary tale.

That's not to say it was a wasted year. For that is both mean-spirited and desperately inaccurate.

The Cats played the best footy of the season. Glorious, innovative, ruthless football. But not on the day when they give out the trophy. Geelong was hesitant and wasteful. Worse, players became panic-stricken. It was so out of character. The team was undone by the occasion and the circumstances and failed to execute their skills and plans.

The best team of 2008 didn't win the premiership. Brought undone by its own hand. Or more accurately its own foot. It is glibly stated Hawthorn was the better team. That stands up to no scrutiny. The Hawks did much right. Their pressure was outstanding. Their physicality matched that of a much-vaunted opponent. The third quarter tactic to absorb blows and counter punch was inspired. It was footy's rope-a-dope. When they struck it was with lightning speed and maximum venom. The hulking frame of Stuart Dew with the lithe figure of Cyril Rioli riding shotgun.

But it should've counted for nothing.

Geelong's dominance of the second quarter was complete. Matthew Scarlett quelled the lethal force of Lance Franklin. He left him quivering after a bone shaking crunch, spoilt in the air and whisked the ball away on the ground. Harry Taylor blunted the second tower, Jarryd Roughead. And Cameron Ling played exterminator to Sam Mitchell's extractor. But up forward the yips had set in and ego had blinded the mission. Geelong has been wholly devoted to the cult of team. It's what made three second quarter decisions so glaring. Paul Chapman took a swing at goal instead of supplying Steve Johnson. Brad Ottens failed to handpass to Tom Lonergan alone in the goal square. Mathew Stokes didn't give the one-two handball back to Gary Ablett, instead turning into three tacklers. Each act ran against the team ethos. Geelong scored 11 consecutive behinds of which only two were rushed.

As the rot became contagious few wanted the responsibility. It was a choke and it proved soul-destroying. It's what made Gary Ablett standout. He wouldn't be dictated to. He refused to accept any fate. When he went to the ball it reinvigorated hope. One man couldn't have done any more.

Hawthorn is the champion and all power to them. History is always written from the winners' perspective. For Geelong this will forever be the missing premiership in the cabinet.



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