Season Preview 2010, or, Lack of Sub-Title

Due to unforeseen illness (his first flu in about 12 years) Mrs Watson was waylaid and left me to carry the torch alone for this years season preview. So without further ado…

The Shit-boxes (Leyland P76 teams)

Richmond
Did anyone see the article written by Mike Sheahan a few weeks back essentially excusing the Terry Wallace years? The title of the piece was, “He never had a chance”. Wait, didn’t he have five years worth of chances? Am I missing something? The incompetence at this place is astounding, I mean, they’ve played finals twice since 1982 and still they’re deluded enough to talk themselves into the Jack Riewoldt era. We need to burn the place down or move them to Tasmania or something. They’ve worn me down to the point that I can’t even muster the energy to come up with a clever or even coherent opening paragraph.

Melbourne
The Demons have been absolutely piss poor for about three years and not much will change this year. Since I have nothing more to add, I thought I’d let you know that this season I won’t be entering a Supercoach team and will instead be acting as Mrs Watson’s head scout. Basically I still get to say things like, “dude, you need to consider Beau Waters” and “I don’t think Adam McPhee’s WAFL points count” and suffer none of the consequences. Good times.

Fremantle
I have an on-going wish to see Mark Harvey appear on a “Mastermind” type quiz show. It would just be the host continually firing questions at Harvey while he stared, slack-jawed and not answering, until his time ran out. Hmm, now that I think about it, that kind of sums up his coaching regime at Freo.

The Dump in the Mailbox

Carlton
Let’s see; Carlton lost their 100-goals-a-year full-forward and their big off-season signing was the corpse formerly known as Brock McLean? Does their recruiting manager have any game tapes after 2004? Also, this will be Big League Little League’s first year of “openly taking shots at Chris Judd because he’s an insincere, self-aggrandizing wanker”. Good times.

West Coast
John Worsfold is fast becoming the Kevin Sheedy of Perth: He’ll be in that job as long as he wants or until they drag him kicking and screaming through a media shit fight like they had to do with Kev. What an asshole… both of them.

Essendon
Whenever Matthew Knights is speaking about Essendon’s long-term plan, or the exciting times ahead, or all the young talent they’ve got on their list, can’t you just envisage their fans waking up in 2015 and realising all they’ve got to show for it is one finals berth and a couple of hollow victories over Carlton? He’s basically Terry Wallace with a lazy eye.

The Richmond Memorial “Battle for Ninth” Division

North Melbourne
Both Mrs W and I have a bit of a soft spot for the Roos, they’re like the bizarro Richmond: no money, no members, smart and united off the field and always better than they should be on it. I’m deadly serious; Richmond fans should just pick a new team and start again.

Brisbane
I’m not convinced about Brisbane. Michael Voss pushed all-in this off-season, trading for a host of perennial underachievers and perennial dip-shit Brendan Fevola. And although a Fev/Jon Brown forward line sounds imposing, their back-line is more suss than Andrew Lovett’s New Year’s Eve activities. I am excited about Fev potentially hanging out with rugby league players, though, that won’t end badly at all.

Port Adelaide
(Interior of a bar: The Captain and Mrs W are half-watching a Port pre-season game)
Captain: Hey, that guy looks like a slow, awkward and completely washed up version of Warren Tredrea…
Mrs Watson: (Silence…)
Captain: It… It is actually Warren Tredrea…
Mrs Watson: (Silence…)
Captain: That was a joke…
Mrs Watson: (Silence…)
Captain: It’ll be funnier in print.

Sydney
Weird team, I reckon. For the past 10 years they’ve been my least favourite team to watch on TV (probably tied with Port Adelaide) because of their ugly game style, the ridiculous SCG and the fact that Dwayne Russell is usually commentating. They always seem to recruit pretty well, though, and this year they have an interesting mix of young guys to throw with the usual suspects. I wonder, with Longmire poised to take over next season, if Paul Roos might take the shackles off a bit.

Time + Location = Frisky

Hawthorn
Sam Mitchell still leads the unofficial poll for “Who would you most like to see decapitated during an AFL match?”

Collingwood
Is it just me, or does every season start with Mick Malthouse saying his club are “better placed than they’ve ever been” to win a premiership? And doesn’t every season end with them being a “good but not great” team, mostly due to their predictable, unimaginative game-plan? Listen, Mick, that shit worked in Perth when you had the massive WACA wings and the best line-up of steroid-riddled assassins assembled since the 1960s East German Olympic teams but it’s time to face facts; Buckley has your job, Eddie has your nuts and if your best player is Dane Swan the only thing you’re better placed for than last year is a drunk and disorderly charge. Good day, sir!

Adelaide
There’s something mechanical and menacing, but ultimately deficient about the Crows: They are a physical, well-drilled team with a collection of blonde guys, who all look like privileged assholes, who like to beat up on the lesser teams. Essentially they are the Cobra Kai of the AFL. Don’t be surprised to see Bernie Vince, Nathan Van Berlo and crew chase a terrified David Zaharakis onto a Glenelg beach and kick the crap out of him before bombing out in the prelim.

The Bill Braskys

Western Bulldogs
Ah, the dogs; everybody’s tip for this year’s flag. They’re like Avatar at the Oscars, only with a storyline. And that storyline is old men. They even wheeled them out for the NAB Cup Grand Final. To be honest, they looked slick as shit in the pre-season; fit, strong, skilful, relentless and like they could blow anyone away. But history shows that they’ve not played their best in their biggest moments. So, after another super impressive regular season, and with the pressure of big finals and old men brewing, I look forward to Robert Murphy’s annual disappearing act.

St Kilda
Mrs Watson’s iphone screen saver is the famous picture of Riewoldt and Kosi spooning and crying after the Grand Final. And every now and then, we’ll be at a bar or something, and Watson’s phone will be sitting on the table between us, and one of us will catch glimpse of it and everything is all right again.

Geelong
The Cats recent history has in some ways mirrored parts off the great Muhammad Ali’s career. 2007 was like Ali 1960-64: Knocking everyone out within 4-5 rounds and eventually doing the same to an overmatched Sonny Liston (Port Adelaide) in his first Title fight (Grand Final).

The second phase, 1965-71, saw Ali fend off several challengers but eventually lose his title in a 15 round slugfest to Joe Frazier (Hawthorn) who would become a bitter rival.

In the third title fight, Ali was up against a young, hungry George Foreman (St Kilda) who had been demolishing everyone and, it was largely assumed, was going to do the same to the recently defeated champ. After letting Foreman punch himself into exhaustion (kicking point after point) Ali came to life in the eighth round (fourth quarter) eventually setting Foreman up with a left hook (Scarlett toe poke) before landing a crushing straight right to the face (Chapman’s goal) which sent him crashing to the canvas (Riewoldt and Kosi spooning).

Memorably, Ali, seemingly past his prime, had one more great fight left in him, willing himself to victory in probably the greatest and most brutal boxing match of all time.

Here’s hoping The Cats have a “Thrilla in Manilla” left in them.

He loves us, he loves us not

While Mrs Watson and I toil away at our up-coming season preview, I thought I’d take the chance to add my two cents to the over-flowing and diseased water fountain that is this most annoying of issues. And I've seen it all before.

Countless times in American sports I've watched a player get drafted, build a career with his original team and when his contract is up, he’s faced with a choice: (significantly) more money somewhere else, or the on-going comraderie of team-mates, the continued love of fans, the comfort of an established home base and the probability of more team success. And you know what 95% of players choose? Yep, the money. And that 5% is only there as my margin for error; I can’t actually recall one player giving the “home team discount”.

Now, is Australia’s culture different to that of the USA’s? No doubt, but we’re getting closer. Teams are doing pre-season training at high-altitude, players are crying after games [and spooning. Justin Koschitzke, I'm looking in your direction. - Mrs Watson] and clubs are employing full-time leadership consultants and psychologists. We’re about two years away from a “Some Kind of Monster” type documentary that follows the trials and tribulations of Matthew Knights, Jobe Watson and the Essendon leadership group as a clingy therapist clumsily takes part in handball drills and pleads his case for a spot in the forward pocket. But I digress.

Ablett, despite the heritage, has never struck me as particularly loyal, or connected to Geelong. Neither did his old man, for that matter. If, for example, GC17 came sniffing around Cameron Ling’s backdoor we would not be having this conversation: Ling would captain Geelong for $12.50 an hour and a Lamby’s VIP card. But Ablett? He seems aloof enough to be able to walk away from Geelong with a completely clear conscience.

Now, on top of this, throw in these facts: At Geelong he has won two premierships, a club best & fairest, two AFL MVP awards, countless All-Australian selections and a Brownlow medal. In other words, he's done more than enough for the club and has nothing left to achieve in Geelong.

On the Gold Coast, being a much quieter AFL market than Melbourne, the reclusive Gary Jnr would be left alone to shop, surf and eventually appear in “Underbelly 8: Gold Coast Bikini Party”.

And did I mention his family lives there? That’s right, not only does Gaz Senior, aka God, now live up there, but his nut-job brother signed there in what Ari Gold would call a “family deal”. (Speaking of Entourage, I think we should refer to Nathan Ablett as Johnny Drama from now on.)

So, to recap: An aloof, recently single, media-shy star with nothing left to prove and no family connections left in Geelong has the chance to play with his brother, live in anonymity and spend his spare days on some of the world’s best beaches in 25 degree weather.

Oh, and the Gold Coast can pay him twice as much as Geelong (legally) can.

So long, Gary, we’ll always have Paris.