When the AFL can negotiate a billion dollar TV deal but can’t tell us whether a goal is a goal, fans get dudded and players ask: what’s the point?As far as the AFL is concerned, every problem can be solved. Everything can be measured, conquered, spun and sold. Everything can be ameliorated with a snappy press conference, a diversionary thought bubble or a long lunch.It doesn’t always work like that, of course. The game itself operates in the grey zone. The way it’s funded and administered is built on conflicts of interest, on give and take, on taking a progressive stance one minute and cosying up to the likes of Lachlan Murdoch the next. On any given day, the governing...
Only the ‘hairy hand of God’ can stop Carlton riding this winter wave of hot form all the way to finalsWith scores level, light rain falling, and the sporting nation’s collective tachycardia finally easing post-Matildas, Patrick Cripps licked and rubbed his palms, surveyed his centre square kingdom and went to work. In the space of 45 seconds, he twice pushed off Christian Petracca, twice found Paddy Dow by hand and twice set up Carlton goals. A few minutes later, he eschewed the deep dump, lowered his eyes and feathered a ball to Charlie Curnow, who converted from long range.Cripps has played better quarters. He’s played quarters where he’s put the entire team on his back. He’s played quarters where he’s...
By trusting tagger Finn Maginness, Hawks coach Sam Mitchell gifted every AFL team a blueprint on how to do itThere’s a chapter in Tony Wilson’s book about the 1989 Grand Final that focuses on Scott Maginness, Hawthorn’s young chiropractic student slated to play on Geelong’s Gary Ablett. The Cats star was in murderous touch, fresh from a preposterous eight-goal performance in the Preliminary Final. “You’re wanting to not make a fool of yourself,” Maginness tells Wilson. “You want all those things you’ve always dreamed about, but know at any point it could all go horribly pear shaped.”He arrives home and tells his two brothers who he’s playing on. “Oh shit,” they say in unison. Continue reading...
Through his culture, dedication and skill, the quiet former Sydney Swans forward crafted himself into one of the AFL’s best athletesOn Lance Franklin’s right forearm, you’ll find a tattooed portrait of his mum, Ursula. Just below the shoulder, his dad, Lance Sr. The artwork provides a rare glimpse into the soul of football’s private superstar. Buddy was born into football royalty – Ursula, a Whadjuk-Noongar woman, is a Kickett.An exceptionally talented footballing family, the Kicketts exhilarated crowds across the country. According to Franklin’s uncle, Larry Kickett, Noongar footballers’ success is built on 50,000 years of life, culture and work: “It’s not too hard for us to pick up a football and kick the thing.” Noongar players make up one-third of...
A paragon of preternatural talent and preparation, the Hawthorn and Sydney great was pure theatre on a fieldLance Franklin quietly announced his retirement on Monday, a few weeks shy of the end of his 19th year in the league. His retirement one of the few things in football he seemed unable to control.Nevertheless, he handled it with class and in good grace. Franklin is not a passive-aggressive nurser of hurts, nor is he one to seek outside affirmation. He is a footballer with nothing to prove, having achieved nearly every football accolade that matters. And more than that, on the field he was theatre. Continue reading...