Chapter 12 of Stephen King’s Misery ends with the line: “Then the rain came and things changed.” In King’s book, the weather turned, Annie Wilkes’ mood darkened, and Paul Sheldon forfeited his foot. When the rain came for the West Coast Eagles in 2019, they kept their legs, but lost the double chance. Since that day, pretty much nothing has gone right.
It was round 22 – Richmond at the MCG. One of the great games of the pre-Covid era. In the first term, the Eagles played almost perfect football – the clean, crisp, kick-and-catch brand that had won them a premiership a year earlier. They were four goals the better of the Tigers, and eying off at least two finals at home.
But a half-time deluge played right into Richmond’s hands. They scunged, soccered, scrubbed and scraped over the line by a goal. Oh well, an honourable loss, right? But back in Perth the following week, they were mugged by a pretty ordinary Hawthorn side and relegated to fifth. Some 24-hours after Willie Rioli was pinged for tampering with a urine test, they bowed out to a Geelong side that had finished 17 percentage points clear on top of the ladder.
In the early days of Covid, they played sulky, resentful football, losing their first three games, including to the previous year’s wooden spooners. They recovered to finish fifth, but were skittled by Mason Cox and the eighth-placed Collingwood. Another wasted year. Another year where they were urged to take their medicine, and bolster their list with young talent. Kane Cornes was one of the first to warn that they were heading for a cliff. The CEO called him a “shock jock”. The Eagles could taste another flag. They refused to bottom out.
But by the beginning of 2022, the arse had completely fallen out of the list. WAFL top ups were introducing themselves to senior teammates an hour before games. There were so many factors at play - conditioning, holding onto senior players too long, a game-plan that was stuck in the previous decade, the gaping hole on the list between the veterans and the kids. There’d been so many distractions - the Willie Rioli fiasco, the Jack Darling vaccination saga, the decision of half a dozen young players to go nightclubbing just as Covid was ravaging the state. But mostly it was rotten luck. Coach Adam Simpson lost players in every way imaginable – ACLs, collision injuries, innocuous training accidents, infections, defections. “The cupboard is bare,” he said.
This year offered a chance to reset. They had a soft draw, a good draft haul, a new game-plan and grounds for optimism. But the Western Derby against Fremantle in round three was the finish of them. They had a real crack but suffered injuries to more than half a dozen players. Jeremy McGovern hurt his hamstring and hasn’t played since. Liam Ryan – the footballer you could most picture hurtling over a pommel horse – injured his hamstring in a manner often sustained by Olympic gymnasts. He too hasn’t been seen since. Some have been the sort of soft tissue injuries that send coaches and supporters spare. Others you couldn’t make up. Dom Sheed hurt his throat in a warm-up drill. Jack Williams lacerated his spleen at training. Liam Duggan had a badly infected toe.
Saturday’s game, their second 20-goal loss on the trot, was a particularly unedifying affair. The Eagles barely gave a yelp in the 31.19 (205) to 5.4 (34) defeat. The Swans were just strolling out of stoppages. The home crowd at times could barely summon the interest. It was the biggest losing margin in West Coast’s history, and the fourth biggest in the history of the game. The older players had either checked out or were being asked to do too much. The kids were lambs to the slaughter.
What do you do, or say, if you’re Adam Simpson? There’s no levers to pull. He’s answered every question 100 times. At the post match presser, Simpson looked like he’d spent six months in Annie Wilkes’ spare bedroom. His future at the club is now in the hands of a board of bankers, miners, politicians and former Test cricket openers.
“This will pass,” he said. And yes, this is a club with a history of weathering the storm and contending again. The club is groaning with money. The supporters keep turning up. But their current plight is unlike almost anything we’ve seen in football. For the other 17 clubs, it’s the ultimate “there but for the grace of God go I” fall. It’s a reminder that at footy clubs, as in Stephen King potboilers, when it rains it really does pour.
