The season deserved that climax. A display of our game in all its glory. The first half loaded with spectacular highlights.
I could sit here and argue with absolute conviction Zac Bailey kicked the goal of the year and Bobby Hill took the mark of the year.
The 18-goal display of skill, dare and audacity was surely the equal of any first half Grand Final day has seen.
The second half was raw and physical and sickeningly tense. And it took us to the final seconds with so many moments to relive and obsess upon. The perfect conclusion to a wonderful season.
If the aliens were scouting us for a one off match, they’d live the week in fear of our two best teams.
When I look at this Collingwood premiership I see two things. Situational mastery and storybook sentiment.
Craig McRae’s quiet revolution is a treasure trove for the misty eyed and hard-headed alike.
The Magpies defied their tragic history on footy’s biggest day not through the gods or the fickle hand of fate but through situational mastery.
They met and conquered the tightest and trickiest scenarios. They reached into a deep reservoir of learned and trained behaviour. And as was their mantra: minute by minute, moment by moment. Little things win big games.
There has never been a team better in the art of the close finish as evidenced by their victories in this finals series.
Sometimes it had to be won. Sometimes it had to be saved. They met each with an even stare.
7 points against Melbourne, 1 point over Giants and 4 points to down the Lions. It’s a premiership sequence without precedent.
The closest I can find 1918 when South Melbourne won the two finals required by 5 points.
McRae’s drill sergeants knew when to surge and knew when to control. When they needed to construct a goal methodically they progressed through a sequence of kick-mark to create the opportunity.
When chaos was required they kept the ball in forward movement and swarmed. Both were equally effective.
In the first quarter Collingwood kicked 2 goals 1 in the last 2 minutes. In the second 2 goals in the last two minutes. In the third they trailed with three minutes to go and took the front. And in the last were headed with 5:31 on the clock. Situational mastery.
Cox to Nick Daicos to Pendlebury for the kick forward. At the foot of the spoil Daicos again with the midair hand ball to De Goey for the defining goal.
And Collingwood again proved the most underrated aspect of winning the close ones is your ability to convert difficult set shots at clutch moments.
Think De Goey after the quarter time siren. Crisp after the half time siren having already done it when the chips were down earlier in the term. And Sidebottom from further out than you would have dared dream to establish the match winning cushion.
Losing close Grand Finals has been the scourge of Collingwood’s history. Winning the close ones was a learned skill. Craig McRae’s quiet revolution finally put the odds in their favour. There’s so much here for the boffins.
But if you love your sport for the romance… this is the well of good souls.
McRae won a Preliminary Final on his 50th birthday. And a Grand Final hours after his wife gave birth to a daughter they named Maggie.
From St Vincent’s to the MCG at midday without his dress shoes for the occasion Instant Grand Final folklore.
On the dais a father who was emblematic of the Collingwood shortfalls during the hardest years handed the Cup to his son soothing the wounds of the past.
A father who provided the Magpies more highlights than one man should, then produced two sons to shape another generation.
An American who had never heard of Australian Rules or visited this country was a centerpiece of the triumph.
A player who found trouble too often redeemed his second and third and fourth chances to land the go-ahead goal.
Two teammates who won a premiership as youngsters embraced as old men having done it together again 13 years later.
You could recount these stories for hours and conclude that the writers of Ted Lasso didn’t go nearly far enough.
I did rather like the sentiment Ted Lasso wishes he was Craig McRae.
A Collingwood premiership is a rare seismic event. Many will feel you wouldn’t want to live through it too often, but this Collingwood premiership was every kind of wonderful.
It’s a Grand Final that takes its place with the draw of 2010, the epic of 89 and majesty of 1970.
Some snap judgements…
I thought Joe Daniher was Brisbane’s best player. The advantage call in the final 90 seconds was flat out wrong. There has to be an intent to claim the advantage… Bailey had no such intent.
He scrambled a kick with no knowledge the whistle had been blown. The umpire’s duty was to recall the ball and let Neale take the free kick. We’ll never know what might have happened.
And the high tackle is a complete mess and in desperate need of attention in the off season.
If you fire enough fireworks and flames you can mask almost anything. KISS felt big… like a stadium band should.
I have no idea whether they were any good, but they were big.
And in the head-to-head with the NRL’s Tina Turner tribute ensemble it was a no contest.
I reckon that’s the end of the bounce as anything more than a ceremony at the start of a quarter.
The absolute importance of the trade period has never been clearer.
Collingwood self-destructed in these weeks in 2020. Last year they made the decisions central to winning the comp:
Bobby Hill for what will amount to a pair of picks in the 40s. Tom Mitchell for 41 and 49. Billy Frampton for this year’s third rounder. Dan McStay as a free agent. And Oleg Markov free to a good home.
Got them all for nothing… for all the strained comparisons through the years that’s Moneyball.
And if you’re going to ask Gil and the Prime Minister to turn away from a cliff hanger in the dying minutes to take a photo, don’t be cleaning the lens and asking for poses… hurry the hell up and get out of the way.