May I take this opportunity to thank everyone involved with the Collingwood Football Club for providing such a glorious ending to an otherwise bleak season.
Thank you to Anthony Rocca for elbowing Brendan Lade in the head. It not only cost the team big time during the match itself, but the unsuccessful tribunal appearance and subsequent failed appeal ensured we didn’t have to wait until game day for footage of despondent and heartbroken Collingwood officials.
Two losing tribunal hearings complete with the obligatory images of ‘shattered’ club officials (and doesn’t Neal Balme do a great shattered?) was the perfect lead-up to the last Saturday in September.
Thank you to Nathan Buckley for looking so insanely ‘focused’ all week. Even when winning the Brownlow, Nathan’s jaw was set in a manly grimace as he stared intently into the middle-distance. The message was clear: the Collingwood Football Club considers the upcoming Grand Final to be of supreme, utter and absolute importance.
Which makes the fact that they got hammered by nearly 10 goals so much sweeter.
Thank you to Eddie McGuire for reminding us all season long of the greatness of the Collingwood Football Club. There is something undeniably joyous in the thought that the best club with the best song/jumper/coach/president/heritage/supporters/sponsors/cash flow has the worst grand final record in VFL/AFL history.
Gee, that sounds so nice I think I’ll say it again. The worst grand final record in VFL/AFL history.
Thank you to all those Collingwood supporters who deserted their team en masse from halfway through the third quarter. The Collingwood Army must have been watching the same training films the Italian Army was privy to during the Second World War.
Thank you to Simon Black, Jason Akermanis and Michael Voss for showing us all how a Brownlow Medallist should play in the biggest game of the year.
Thank you to Rhyce Shaw for handing the ball straight to Lynch 40m out from goal. Ditto to Tristan Walker for palming the ball directly to Caracella 15m out from goal. These little moments of comedic improvisation can really make a day at the footy something special.
Thank you to the members of the Collingwood Cheer Squad (who, by the way, are all far too advanced in years to be doing this sort of thing) for just being there in the car park as I left the ground.
Boy, they take their footy seriously. By the looks on their faces as they were slumped against their 1971 Toyota Hi Ace van, you’d think they’d just seen their club fail to win their 11th Grand Final from the previous 12 attempts.
Thank you to Brisbane for losing their Qualifying Final to Collingwood. False hope is so cruel an affliction you wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Except, of course, a Collingwood supporter.
Thank you to Neil Balme for becoming involved with the Collingwood Football Club. We still haven’t forgiven you for 1973, but four or five more heartbreaking Grand Final losses ought to just about even the ledger.
Thank you to the God of Irony for inspiring the author of the Collingwood club song to include the immortal lyric ‘Oh, the Premiership’s a cakewalk’.
And finally, thank you to my mum for barracking for Carlton. So far, I’ve been at the MCG to watch my team win five Premierships. Watched five times as Jezza, Fitzy and Sticks held the cup aloft. Stopped by the Herald Sun five times to pick up the Weg poster on the long, deliriously happy walk to the Social Club. And spent five of the best Sunday’s of my life devouring the post Grand Final newspapers.
No wonder Collingwood hates us.
Thank you to Anthony Rocca for elbowing Brendan Lade in the head. It not only cost the team big time during the match itself, but the unsuccessful tribunal appearance and subsequent failed appeal ensured we didn’t have to wait until game day for footage of despondent and heartbroken Collingwood officials.
Two losing tribunal hearings complete with the obligatory images of ‘shattered’ club officials (and doesn’t Neal Balme do a great shattered?) was the perfect lead-up to the last Saturday in September.
Thank you to Nathan Buckley for looking so insanely ‘focused’ all week. Even when winning the Brownlow, Nathan’s jaw was set in a manly grimace as he stared intently into the middle-distance. The message was clear: the Collingwood Football Club considers the upcoming Grand Final to be of supreme, utter and absolute importance.
Which makes the fact that they got hammered by nearly 10 goals so much sweeter.
Thank you to Eddie McGuire for reminding us all season long of the greatness of the Collingwood Football Club. There is something undeniably joyous in the thought that the best club with the best song/jumper/coach/president/heritage/supporters/sponsors/cash flow has the worst grand final record in VFL/AFL history.
Gee, that sounds so nice I think I’ll say it again. The worst grand final record in VFL/AFL history.
Thank you to all those Collingwood supporters who deserted their team en masse from halfway through the third quarter. The Collingwood Army must have been watching the same training films the Italian Army was privy to during the Second World War.
Thank you to Simon Black, Jason Akermanis and Michael Voss for showing us all how a Brownlow Medallist should play in the biggest game of the year.
Thank you to Rhyce Shaw for handing the ball straight to Lynch 40m out from goal. Ditto to Tristan Walker for palming the ball directly to Caracella 15m out from goal. These little moments of comedic improvisation can really make a day at the footy something special.
Thank you to the members of the Collingwood Cheer Squad (who, by the way, are all far too advanced in years to be doing this sort of thing) for just being there in the car park as I left the ground.
Boy, they take their footy seriously. By the looks on their faces as they were slumped against their 1971 Toyota Hi Ace van, you’d think they’d just seen their club fail to win their 11th Grand Final from the previous 12 attempts.
Thank you to Brisbane for losing their Qualifying Final to Collingwood. False hope is so cruel an affliction you wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Except, of course, a Collingwood supporter.
Thank you to Neil Balme for becoming involved with the Collingwood Football Club. We still haven’t forgiven you for 1973, but four or five more heartbreaking Grand Final losses ought to just about even the ledger.
Thank you to the God of Irony for inspiring the author of the Collingwood club song to include the immortal lyric ‘Oh, the Premiership’s a cakewalk’.
And finally, thank you to my mum for barracking for Carlton. So far, I’ve been at the MCG to watch my team win five Premierships. Watched five times as Jezza, Fitzy and Sticks held the cup aloft. Stopped by the Herald Sun five times to pick up the Weg poster on the long, deliriously happy walk to the Social Club. And spent five of the best Sunday’s of my life devouring the post Grand Final newspapers.
No wonder Collingwood hates us.
