Losses, leaked texts and drunken brawls between teammates are inevitabilities in the AFL’s alpha male world but at a club like Melbourne, they matterIn 1995, the previously undefeated Carlton hit a flat spot, dropping games to the bottom two sides. At training on Monday, captain Stephen Kernahan stopped the group mid lap and growled in that gravelly gutted voice of his – “we’re not losing another fucking game!” They completed their lap, beat Hawthorn by 102 points that weekend, won their next 16 games, and coasted to the Premiership. They were one of the great teams, a team that bridged the semi and fully professional eras, a team that pretty much coached itself, a team whipped back into shape with...
When you’re a big, polarising club and nothing’s going right, it can feel like the footy world’s closing in on youA few years ago, the Sunday Age columnist Tim Boyle recalled a conversation with Kevin Sheedy at a draft camp. The teenager was spooning some mashed potatoes when Sheedy sidled up to him. “Ever hit anyone, Boyley?” he asked. That was the era. And that was Sheedy. He was always wary of cerebral types. He preferred tradies and farmers. His teams, particularly in the early days, lunched on the meek. “Half the time you were playing for self-preservation,” Dermott Brereton once said of Essendon games. “You didn’t know if you would be whacked, split open, broken nose, have your ear...
Cameron can claim credit for moulding a club with a purpose, a hard edge and an identifiable brandLeon Cameron coached his last game on Sunday. He choked up as he addressed his players beforehand. He told them he had no silverware, but no regrets. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told you on day one,” he said. ‘She’s on.” But when Carlton slammed on four goals in the first 10 minutes, she was over. Afterwards, Cameron limped through a guard of honour of the league chief executive and both teams. He looked relieved. He looked exhausted. He is nearly 50, and has worked full time in football since he was 16. Coaching was “zapping”, he said. It was time...
His issues with Collingwood and Nathan Buckley seem unresolvable but there are other voices emergingIn football, the dogs bark, and the caravan moves on. There’s always next week. There’s always a new hero, a new villain, a new outrage. For years, Collingwood hoped, or assumed, that Héritier Lumumba would simply go away. He was living on the other side of the world. Most of the major players in the controversy were no longer at the club. Collingwood had positioned itself as a more progressive organisation.Indeed, for years, every time Lumumba would air his grievances, my flinch reaction was always the same: Heritier, you need to let this go. This has been going on for nearly a decade now. Collingwood did...
Last year there was a very real chance he was lost to football; on Saturday Dusty was back with a bang On those rare occasions when things aren’t going Dustin Martin’s way on the football field, he repeats three words to himself: Strong. Aggressive. Unstoppable. It’s staggering, really. He has all the talent, all the medals, and all the money in the world. An entire football club was built around him. An entire competition was unable to lay a glove on him. He had an oaken constitution, and the perfect physique for his sport. Even in the ad breaks, he was swanning about in his underwear, seemingly without a care in the world. Turns out he was like so many...