Earlier this year, Melbourne invited several dozen journalists and broadcasters to a breakfast in the MCC committee room. The club felt they had botched their messaging in recent years and were keen to shift the narrative. They spoke about “cleansing” and “trauma”. They locked down a new theme for the year: “Love. Play. Celebrate.” “Soul-searching was prioritised over Sherrins,” News Corp said.
At that point in the pre-season, there were grounds for optimism. There were still 16 premiership players on the list, several champions who seemed certain to leave had stayed, and some excellent young players were coming through. Despite losing to GWS Giants in round one, they gave every indication that they were a team for the long haul. They were clearly emotionally invested, their team defence was solid and they blooded five debutants, all of whom looked capable. The Giants, semi-finallists in 2024, played outstanding football in the final term but were arguably fortunate to pinch it.
Since then, all the Demons’ love and optimism has gone up the spout, and a tired and broken team has been revealed. North Melbourne strolled out of stoppages and put six goals on them in as many minutes. Then Gold Coast trounced them at the MCG. The Suns resembled a Simon Goodwin-coached team in its prime. Damien Hardwick even had the temerity to talk about “contest and dee-fence”, the traits Melbourne has prided itself on.
The loss to Essendon was the worst of the lot. Players were bickering and several were sobbing in the rooms. They were like the David Bowie song Always Crashing in the Same Car – they keep losing the same way. They keep playing in the same straight lines. The coach keeps saying the same things. They keep winning the inside 50 counts and keep losing the game. They keep blasting and hoping. It is headless, hopeless football. There is a sense of futility every time they stream forward.
The lunatics who abuse them after games (and film themselves doing so) always accuse them of lacking effort. But if anything, they’re a team that’s trying too hard. If anything, they’re too committed to Goodwin’s rigid way of playing. Everything – from the way they win the ball, to the way they move it, to the way they explain themselves afterwards – is laboured.
Their senior players are down on form, but most are trying their guts out. I watched Max Gawn from down on the fence during the Gold Coast game. You get a better insight from that vantage point into just how hard he works, how much unrewarded running he does, how much punishment he subjects himself to, how many digs in the kidneys he cops. After all that, the captain is the one who has to apologise to the members, defend the culture, and pat away the radio pundits. For so many reasons, Gawn must be feeling totally cooked.
The same goes for Christian Petracca. He’s a player who wears his heart on his sleeve and he was distraught after the loss to Geelong. “That’s not leadership to me,” reporter Caroline Wilson said. Others said he should save his emotional outbursts for the dressing room. That’s the deal when you’re a leading footy player – they’ll bag you when you smile after a loss and they’ll bag you when you cry.
The Melbourne president, Brad Green, wrote a letter to the members this week. It was Jeff Kennett’s preferred mode of communication when he was in charge at Hawthorn. Kennett’s letters were often rambling and frequently little more than an opportunity to take pot shots at people who were irritating him. Green’s was more an attempt to calm the supporter base, and to get them to turn up to watch their side against Fremantle, an opponent that’s given them so much grief in recent years.
Melbourne supporters tend to be inured towards pessimism, which is perhaps why the messaging over summer seemed a little forced and unnecessary. They can see what everyone else can see – a tired team that can’t score, a team that has achieved significant things, and which will leave enduring memories, but which has run its race.
For an industry that is pitiless on pretty much everything – smiling after losses, flipping the bird, tattooing lobsters into a skull – we’re squeamish about calling for a coach to be sacked. Compared to most sports around the world, the modern AFL coach gets a lot of time and a lot of leeway. Goodwin has been at the club for more than a decade and is contracted until the end of next year. But the era of “contest and dee-fence” is over. The game has moved on and Goodwin’s side hasn’t moved with it. If they lose to the Dockers this Saturday, they should shake hands with the coach, handle it with dignity and look for a replacement.
This is an extract from Guardian Australia’s free weekly AFL email, From the Pocket. To get the full version, just visit this page and follow the instructions
