Grand final and its aftermath

No, that lower case ‘f’ in the heading is intentional — note to non-pedants, it should be a capital if it refers to the Grand Final (see?).

 

What an amazing game. The Magpies looked unstoppable early in the first quarter, then the Saints steadied and all but squared the ledger. The Magpies dominated again, but failed to take full toll where it counts — on the scoreboard.

 

In the second half the Saints found a resolve and determination that had been lacking to draw themselves back into the contest and hit the lead in the final ten minutes — only to be headed again by the Magpies.

 

Had the ball bounced as it has ninety-nine percent of the season, Milne has a gift of a goal with barely a minute to play. The footy gods decreed otherwise and a point sealed an enthralling contest. It was, truly, a grand final in every sense of those words.

 

We here at AussieRulesBlog Central are traditionalists. We don’t find anything in the least wrong with a drawn Grand Final. On the contrary, it has everything that is best and proudest about Australian Rules embodied in it.

 

So, that was the good part. What about the rest of the day?

 

Let’s start with catering and call it what it was — a shambles. The Great Southern Stand still looks pretty sprightly, but if the mooted makeover does nothing more than make the catering outlets moderately efficient, footy fans of all persuasions should go down on their knees and offer up thanks.

 

And then there’s the ‘entertainment’. INXS did pretty well belting their three numbers out. The new-ish bloke out front does do a pretty fair job.

 

While the boys did their bit, a Sherrin-shaped hot air balloon (with the Sherrin stood on its point) sat uncomfortably at the centre circle, tied to — apparently — and surrounded by two brace of Toyota Hi-Lux crew cab 4x4. In the basket of said balloon, feverish hands continually activated the propane burner to maintain inflation — 90,000 cubic feet if our eyes didn’t deceive us. The wind desperately tried to bowl the balloon over, such that it appeared at times as though the balloon might self-imolate in some bizarre anti-Magpie protest.

 

A couple of over-eager tugs on the burner lever saw the basket bouncing once or twice in what turned out to be a rehearsal. Would they fly it out of the stadium? Now THAT would be entertainment (especially the bit dodging the cables for Channel 7’s mid-air camera!).

 

We wondered what would happen. After the ‘drama’ of the Tom Thumb cracker-powered cup descent of last year and the crazy dudes on top of vaulting poles the year before — not to mention the hallowed memory of Angry and the Batmobile — the waiting was . . . long!

 

At last, after braving the queue for the bar to rescue a plastic(!) cup of Draught from the mits and gut of some marauding Magpie supporter, we returned to our seat to see the balloon zooming upward to the full extent allowed by the tethers to the Hi-Lux armada.

 

Breathtaking stuff! Would the brakes on the Toyotas hold, or would there be a new worldwide recall on Monday? Would the balloon run out of gas, having already changed one gas cylinder over?

 

No, there was a very special treat in store. Tom Harley was announced walking onto the MGC’s sacred turf. Then, as the balloon pilot gave the burners an extra long spurt of gas, some dude in a red lycra jumpsuit appeared on the ledge of the balloon basket. Next thing we know, he hauls the Premiership Cup into view.

 

What will the dude do? Will he drop it to Tom? Will he lower it on a rope? Will he jump and hope the ’chute opens in 35 feet?

 

Nope. He threw a rope over the side and proceeded to abseil down the rope in an upside-down fashion, clutching the Cup in one hand. The symbolism of this left us speechless. All is forgiven Angry!! Come back, please??

 

Having resumed terra firma, the dude handed the Cup to Tom, who walked about twenty-five meters to hand it to Peter McKenna and Cowboy Neale. Obviously any remaining members of the 1958 Collingwood Premiership team couldn’t be broken out of their retirement homes and nursing homes, so “Pretty Boy” was chosen to do the honours in the event of a Magpie victory.

 

What in the name of all that is footy did all of this mean? Search us!

 

As ‘entertainment’, it was right up there with having finger nails pulled or sticking pins in your own eyes.

 

And while we’re having a grumpy rant, how is it that Stephen McBurney managed to spend more time on the field than on the bench? He was the emergency umpire! The only emergency was wondering if he’d run out of puff when we couldn’t see him! People used to give Darren Goldspink a tough time, suggesting he hogged the limelight! Bollocks! He was a rank amateur. McBurney is the Master.

 

What the hell! We can’t wait until next year week!