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Ryan Daniels: Four ways the coronavirus shutdown could change the AFL
Ryan DanielsThe West Australian
Friday, 27 March 2020 3:15PM
Of all the things Gillon McLachlan said these past two weeks, one thing stuck with me most of all.

“Football will find a way.” Like life. And, according to Jurassic Park, dinosaurs.

I filtered two things from this statement.

1. Jeff Goldblum will play the role of Gill in the inevitable Netflix Series — AFL Corona: From Where you Never Wanted to Be.
2. He’s right.
Football has a knack of not only overcoming shock and instability — but thriving in its wake.
If we put aside the dramatic and, in some ways, catastrophic impact this whole Covid-19 thing is having on our society, and just focus on footy for a minute, I see short term pain but long-term opportunity.
Footy has kind of gotten away from itself in recent years.
No one really wanted a team in Sydney’s Greater West — but the AFL put one there anyway.
Stephen Coniglio and team mates celebrate winning the round 1 AFL match between the Greater Western Sydney Giants and the Geelong Cats.
Stephen Coniglio and team mates celebrate winning the round 1 AFL match between the Greater Western Sydney Giants and the Geelong Cats. Credit: Cameron Spencer/Getty Images
The people of Gold Coast were happy with overworked tans, over-revved engines and over-tattooed necks. They didn’t need the Suns — but they got them anyway.
AFLW? Sure, we need it. It’s fantastic. But the over-expansion from 8, to 10 to 14 teams in the space of three years was misguided and rushed. Not to mention expensive.
Don’t even get me started on the parade of confusion and desperation that was AFL X — the sporting equivalent of a post-hook-up walk of shame through Northbridge on a Sunday morning.
Hundreds of millions of dollars has been spent pushing up a few new avenues of potential, when the game at grassroots and even state level was on life support.
What the league has been gifted here — through sheer coincidence — is a chance to hit reset.
Much like the rest of us who are taking this time to exercise more, talk to our family, watch that doco we’ve been hanging for or read that book we’ve been desperate to open for months — the AFL should be focusing on self-improvement — and that starts with knowing when not to splice T-Rex DNA with a velociraptor’s.
Here are four things the AFL should focus on after its eventual return.
The Draft Age
Let’s assume there’s no more footy in 2020. I know, it sucks. But it’s looking more and more likely.
No footy means no results, which means no ladder — and that’s where a draft would get confusing. What are we supposed to do? Hand Gold Coast the number one pick again? Do a lottery? And what about all the picks that have been traded already? No.
We kill two birds with one stone.
For a while now the AFL has been keen to shift the draft eligibility age by a year. They want 19-year-old men entering the system, not 18-year-old boys. If you don’t think one year makes much difference — let me tell you, it does. Us blokes mature slow. One year is like seven years for a girl the same age.
Under 18 footy, TAC Cup, WAFL colts — they’ve all been cancelled or postponed, so where are these kids going to get their much-needed development? They can’t.
Lake Grace Junior Football Club players celebrate a second Brownlow Medal win for one of their former members, Nathan Fyfe.
Lake Grace Junior Football Club players celebrate a second Brownlow Medal win for one of their former members, Nathan Fyfe. Credit: Nic Ellis/The West Australian, Nic Ellis
So, let’s hit pause.
Let’s scrap the 2020 draft, shift the age cut-off to 19, and push this year’s crop to the 2021 draft.
Going forward every teenager entering the league gets another year of development — and they get a year in the local leagues which can only strengthen the WAFL, VFL and SANFL.
And they get cleaner socks.
Shorter games
I hated the idea of shorter games. Records would be compromised. Statistics would be lower — devastating news for a fantasy football savant such as myself — and less football had to be a bad thing, right?
Wrong.
The 16-minute quarters worked. Players seemed more desperate to move the ball, we had closer games, and we didn’t have to commit three hours of our weekend to each fixture.
Maybe it’s 17 minutes — or 18 — but we don’t need to go back to 20.
Go Slow
No more Tassie expansion talk. As much as we’d love to see it, now is not the time. It may never be the time.
AFLW? We may seriously have to consider a reduction in teams for the next few years. The AFL is in crisis. They’ve had to mortgage Marvel Stadium. This is real.
We can’t scrap the AFLW all together — it has come too far, and too many young girls have found new heroes. The quality has risen dramatically — sorry haters. We can’t take that way.
But for its very chance at survival — let alone commercial success — we have to be realistic.
Overexpansion was fine when things were flush. They’re not anymore, and the AFLW is not yet near a place where it can finance its own operation.
AFL CEO Gillon McLachlan speaks to the media during an AFL press conference at AFL House.
AFL CEO Gillon McLachlan speaks to the media during an AFL press conference at AFL House. Credit: Darrian Traynor/Getty Images
These teams wouldn’t become extinct — they’d just go into hibernation.
Meanwhile, AFL footy department spending has grown faster than your data usage during lockdown.
The coach’s box on match-day is packed with 15 or more people in polo shirts. The bench is just as full. The rooms are stuffed with staffers — physios, sports scientists, marketing gurus, welfare managers, development coaches and many more. Corona has forced the hand of clubs, it’s time to cut back.
The love of the Game
For the foreseeable future the league needs to focus on its core product.
No gimmicks. No expansion. No catering for a new market with some kind of bastardised netball/touch-footy/Aussie-Rules hybrid with an X on it, you know, cause the letter X is cool.
No.
We already love the game. We love the stars, the prodigies, the next wave coming through — the characters, like Dusty and Ross and Toby and all the other one-name icons.
Play great footy, keep it simple, embrace the natural evolution of our great game and, above all, don’t take fans for granted.
Dustin Martin of the Tigers in action during the 2020 AFL Round 01 match between the Richmond Tigers and the Carlton Blues.
Dustin Martin of the Tigers in action during the 2020 AFL Round 01 match between the Richmond Tigers and the Carlton Blues. Credit: Dylan Burns/AFL Photos/via Getty Images
If this never-ending Corona nightmare has taught us anything, its that footy without fans is not the same.
That hit me the other day when watching the Crows take on the Swans. Tom Papley kicked a fantastic goal, and in his usual cheeky way ran toward the parochial Adelaide crowd to feed off their disapproval. But they weren’t there. Papley almost seemed shocked, and he was definitely disappointed.
This is our game — your game. We love it because it just is.
Now Gill, please, when you eventually come back — let’s keep it that way.
 
Ryan Daniels: Four ways the coronavirus shutdown could change the AFL
Ryan DanielsThe West Australian
Friday, 27 March 2020 3:15PM
Of all the things Gillon McLachlan said these past two weeks, one thing stuck with me most of all.

“Football will find a way.” Like life. And, according to Jurassic Park, dinosaurs.

I filtered two things from this statement.

1. Jeff Goldblum will play the role of Gill in the inevitable Netflix Series — AFL Corona: From Where you Never Wanted to Be.
2. He’s right.
Football has a knack of not only overcoming shock and instability — but thriving in its wake.
If we put aside the dramatic and, in some ways, catastrophic impact this whole Covid-19 thing is having on our society, and just focus on footy for a minute, I see short term pain but long-term opportunity.
Footy has kind of gotten away from itself in recent years.
No one really wanted a team in Sydney’s Greater West — but the AFL put one there anyway.
Stephen Coniglio and team mates celebrate winning the round 1 AFL match between the Greater Western Sydney Giants and the Geelong Cats.
Stephen Coniglio and team mates celebrate winning the round 1 AFL match between the Greater Western Sydney Giants and the Geelong Cats. Credit: Cameron Spencer/Getty Images
The people of Gold Coast were happy with overworked tans, over-revved engines and over-tattooed necks. They didn’t need the Suns — but they got them anyway.
AFLW? Sure, we need it. It’s fantastic. But the over-expansion from 8, to 10 to 14 teams in the space of three years was misguided and rushed. Not to mention expensive.
Don’t even get me started on the parade of confusion and desperation that was AFL X — the sporting equivalent of a post-hook-up walk of shame through Northbridge on a Sunday morning.
Hundreds of millions of dollars has been spent pushing up a few new avenues of potential, when the game at grassroots and even state level was on life support.
What the league has been gifted here — through sheer coincidence — is a chance to hit reset.
Much like the rest of us who are taking this time to exercise more, talk to our family, watch that doco we’ve been hanging for or read that book we’ve been desperate to open for months — the AFL should be focusing on self-improvement — and that starts with knowing when not to splice T-Rex DNA with a velociraptor’s.
Here are four things the AFL should focus on after its eventual return.
The Draft Age
Let’s assume there’s no more footy in 2020. I know, it sucks. But it’s looking more and more likely.
No footy means no results, which means no ladder — and that’s where a draft would get confusing. What are we supposed to do? Hand Gold Coast the number one pick again? Do a lottery? And what about all the picks that have been traded already? No.
We kill two birds with one stone.
For a while now the AFL has been keen to shift the draft eligibility age by a year. They want 19-year-old men entering the system, not 18-year-old boys. If you don’t think one year makes much difference — let me tell you, it does. Us blokes mature slow. One year is like seven years for a girl the same age.
Under 18 footy, TAC Cup, WAFL colts — they’ve all been cancelled or postponed, so where are these kids going to get their much-needed development? They can’t.
Lake Grace Junior Football Club players celebrate a second Brownlow Medal win for one of their former members, Nathan Fyfe.
Lake Grace Junior Football Club players celebrate a second Brownlow Medal win for one of their former members, Nathan Fyfe. Credit: Nic Ellis/The West Australian, Nic Ellis
So, let’s hit pause.
Let’s scrap the 2020 draft, shift the age cut-off to 19, and push this year’s crop to the 2021 draft.
Going forward every teenager entering the league gets another year of development — and they get a year in the local leagues which can only strengthen the WAFL, VFL and SANFL.
And they get cleaner socks.
Shorter games
I hated the idea of shorter games. Records would be compromised. Statistics would be lower — devastating news for a fantasy football savant such as myself — and less football had to be a bad thing, right?
Wrong.
The 16-minute quarters worked. Players seemed more desperate to move the ball, we had closer games, and we didn’t have to commit three hours of our weekend to each fixture.
Maybe it’s 17 minutes — or 18 — but we don’t need to go back to 20.
Go Slow
No more Tassie expansion talk. As much as we’d love to see it, now is not the time. It may never be the time.
AFLW? We may seriously have to consider a reduction in teams for the next few years. The AFL is in crisis. They’ve had to mortgage Marvel Stadium. This is real.
We can’t scrap the AFLW all together — it has come too far, and too many young girls have found new heroes. The quality has risen dramatically — sorry haters. We can’t take that way.
But for its very chance at survival — let alone commercial success — we have to be realistic.
Overexpansion was fine when things were flush. They’re not anymore, and the AFLW is not yet near a place where it can finance its own operation.
AFL CEO Gillon McLachlan speaks to the media during an AFL press conference at AFL House.
AFL CEO Gillon McLachlan speaks to the media during an AFL press conference at AFL House. Credit: Darrian Traynor/Getty Images
These teams wouldn’t become extinct — they’d just go into hibernation.
Meanwhile, AFL footy department spending has grown faster than your data usage during lockdown.
The coach’s box on match-day is packed with 15 or more people in polo shirts. The bench is just as full. The rooms are stuffed with staffers — physios, sports scientists, marketing gurus, welfare managers, development coaches and many more. Corona has forced the hand of clubs, it’s time to cut back.
The love of the Game
For the foreseeable future the league needs to focus on its core product.
No gimmicks. No expansion. No catering for a new market with some kind of bastardised netball/touch-footy/Aussie-Rules hybrid with an X on it, you know, cause the letter X is cool.
No.
We already love the game. We love the stars, the prodigies, the next wave coming through — the characters, like Dusty and Ross and Toby and all the other one-name icons.
Play great footy, keep it simple, embrace the natural evolution of our great game and, above all, don’t take fans for granted.
Dustin Martin of the Tigers in action during the 2020 AFL Round 01 match between the Richmond Tigers and the Carlton Blues.
Dustin Martin of the Tigers in action during the 2020 AFL Round 01 match between the Richmond Tigers and the Carlton Blues. Credit: Dylan Burns/AFL Photos/via Getty Images
If this never-ending Corona nightmare has taught us anything, its that footy without fans is not the same.
That hit me the other day when watching the Crows take on the Swans. Tom Papley kicked a fantastic goal, and in his usual cheeky way ran toward the parochial Adelaide crowd to feed off their disapproval. But they weren’t there. Papley almost seemed shocked, and he was definitely disappointed.
This is our game — your game. We love it because it just is.
Now Gill, please, when you eventually come back — let’s keep it that way.

That literally may be the best article
I’ve ever read from the west. Funny, insightful, and on point all at the same time.

Ryan Daniels is my new favorite journo.


Sent from my iPhone using BigFooty.com
 

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Dardys got a vid up on the club insta worth viewing. For those that struggle to understand Dardy, that's because that guy is definitely one of a kind and we probably never will. You don't put Dardy in a corner.💃
 
MICHAEL WAS THE BEST AND RAREST

MARK DUFFIELD

When younger people ask what sort of player Stephen Michael was, I say he was like Nic Naitanui except 30 years earlier. It as close as you can come, without being completely accurate. Naitanui, at 202cm and 110kg, is 14cm taller and 20kg heavier than Michael’s 188cm, 90kg frame, but modern players generally are taller and heavier than counterparts of the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. Michael’s predecessors and ruck greats John Nicholls (Carlton) and Graham Farmer (East Perth, West Perth and Geelong), were about the same height. His contemporary, ruck rival and the 1976 Brownlow medallist Graham Moss, was 196cm but considered tall for a ruckman at the time. Michael was my childhood football hero which was the result of a few factors: I grew up in South Fremantle’s zone at Darkan. Michael grew up at Kojonup, an hour away. Local footy legend Kelvin “Muddy” Hughes had left Darkan’s home team, West Arthur, to coach Kojonup in the early 1970s and had told the locals to look out for this kid from “Kojie” , when Michael shifted to South Fremantle in 1975. We felt connected to him. He became South’s best player, which was saying something given that he played with Maurice Rioli, Noel Carter and Brad Hardie in a team that contested three grand finals in as many years, winning the 1980 flag. I remember Naitanui’s draft year and talking to Fremantle recruiter Phil Smart. The Dockers had the No.3 pick and knew Naitanui wasn’t going to still be there. The big Fijian was, in Smart’s eyes, the best player in the draft. “He wins the knock and either gets it himself, hits it to a teammate or tackles the opposition player who gets it,” Smart said. That was Michael. He had a great leap, and took big marks but he was lethal when the ball hit the deck around stoppages. Like Naitanui, he could hit top speed off about three steps. Opposition midfielders needed to tread very carefully around him. Naitanui can hurt players with his tackling but Michael used to hit them down the middle with shirt fronts, all but outlawed now but greatly admired at the time. Ernie Dingo, in announcing Michael’s elevation to legend status in WA Football’s Hall of Fame in 2019, labelled him the “unstoppable horse” . Coach Mal Brown, his mentor at South Fremantle, called him a “freak of human nature who just knew where to go to get the ball” . Michael won South’s best and fairest three years in a row — 1977 to 1979. He won the Sandover Medal in 1980 and 1981 and South’s best and fairest again in 1981 and 1983. He was in the best players in three of the four grand finals he played in for South. It was a different era in football. The best players were stars but the competition was local and you were closer to them. You got to hear them talk about footy and not just have them sign autographs. Michael came to watch my home team West Arthur play when I was about 17. It was my first year of senior footy and we were in front of Pingelly at half-time but making hard work of things. Our coach Mike Chennell asked Michael to talk to us in the long break. We sat there on the edge of our seats waiting for some highly complex football wisdom that would set us on the path to victory. What we got was a simple and blunt observation. I have altered the language to give this a PG rating but it went something like this: “You blokes have got me confused. At South Fremantle we handball to get out of trouble. You blokes handball to get into trouble” . We handballed less and won. VFL clubs were after him for some time but the most serious approaches came after his second Sandover Medal in 1981. He had an extraordinary year, polling a then-record 37 votes, which included nine best on grounds and votes in 15 of the 21 games. South Fremantle looked after their champion well both on and off the field and he was always going to be difficult to shift, especially after he set foot on Victorian grounds. “I went over (to Geelong) and we walked onto the footy oval in six to eight inches of mud,” he said later. “Jesus Christ. It was like a cow paddock at home. “Going to Melbourne wouldn’t have made much difference. I played sport for love” . Michael had been the most athletic of a superb group of WA ruckmen of his era that included Moss, Ron Alexander, Mike Fitzpatrick, Swans enforcer Ron Boucher, East Perth giant John Ironmonger and East Fremantle’s Andrew Purser and Paul Harding. In 1983, after the Bulldogs had endured a disappointing 1982, he re-shaped his game, becoming more physical and an even greater threat to the midfielders around him. It came with controversy. In a game against East Perth at Perth Oval he had the Royals faithful baying for his blood after he knocked youngster David Morgan out with a brutal shepherd. For me, Michael’s physicality and the response to it was a case of the tables being turned. Indigenous stars — Polly Farmer aside — had often been the smaller, quicker and more skilful players that others targeted physically. Michael and teammate Basil Campbell took the fight to opponents. He boxed to warm up before games. I was invited into the South rooms as a 17-year-old and watched him spar with Bulldogs boxing coach Laurie Flanders. It was an awesome sight. He would sometimes cross Fremantle Oval to spar with inmates of Fremantle Prison. He also crossed paths with other notable names, on the left is a photo of Michael boxing with a young John Kizon. Michael played 188 consecutive games for South. But after a hunting accident late in 1983, which left him with shotgun pellets in his leg, his career wound up quite quickly. He finished up in 1985, after 243 games and 231 goals, a remarkable number for someone who played mainly in the ruck. For a young kid like me, he was everything I wanted footy to be about. “The greatest moment of my life is running out and giving people satisfaction to come and watch a football side they believe in,” he later said.
 

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