Morning All,
It’s 1964. Melbourne, the Colossus of the VFL, are playing Hawthorn at Glenferrie Oval. It’s the 68-minute mark of the last quarter, and Melbourne trail by 2 points. If they lose, Melbourne (the Colossus of the VFL) will probably miss finals.
In a last, desperate forward attack, Melbourne HFF Hassa Mann, throws the ball onto his boot and watches it sailgoalward, approximately forward, in the direction of Platform 3 at Glenferrie Station. Goal umpire, Barry from Brunswick, is about to call ‘Yours!’ to the boundary ump, when a voice from the crowd behind him reminds him that he’s 4 weeks behind in his rent, his Granny’s flat is up for repossession, the Sheltered Workshop For The Blind where Barry spends his time during the week could be fore-closed at any moment, - but nevertheless, a solution to all these problems is possible, depending on what Barry does in the next 5 seconds. Barry ponders.
To the consternation of most at the ground, Barry signals ‘Goal!’, the siren blows, and the 4.47 train for Ringwood pulls away with a football in the guards van. A few upsets the following week, and by a miracle, Melbourne (the Colossus of the AFL) go from outsiders to top of the ladder and proceed to saunter their way through the finals to an inevitable flag. The world rolls on and the VFL continues its measured, stately progress. All is well. Melbourne fans are happy.
Happy Melbourne Fans
Then the asteroid hits. Melbourne are forced to share the MCG with Richmond.
In 1965, Richmond finish above Melbourne for the first time since 1952. Melbourne fans are not happy. In totally unrelated news, Liberal Prime Minister Bob Menzies sensationally steps down in December 1965 and is replaced by Harold Holt who promises to ‘Restore Australia to our traditional values’. In 1967, Richmond win their first flag in 24 years. Melbourne fans are still not happy. In totally unrelated news, in December 1967 Liberal Prime Minister Harold Holt sensationally disappears in a mysterious ‘swimming accident’.
Unhappy Melbourne Fans
Richmond proceed to steamroll through the competition for the next 15 years, becoming the most powerful, feared, dominant club in the league, winning multiple premierships.
Melbourne meanwhile, are s**t.
After 1980, Richmond collapse into a pale, timid remnant of their previous dominance and spend the next 30-odd years being annoying, irrelevant, inconsistent, and mostly useless.
Melbourne are still s**t.
In 2017, Richmond roars back to life, annihilates the competition over the next 4 years and returns to its previous incarnation as a ravenous beast, feasting on the bloody carcasses of its victims.
Melbourne (surprise) are still s**t.
2021 – I got nothing. I’m still confused about what happened last year. It’s not just me, either. My distantly related, Demon-supporting, many-times removed cousin, Montgomery Rutherford-Smythe Smythe-Wallaby, says he hasn’t felt this level of euphoria since he unloaded his HIH shares two days before its unexpected collapse. Oh, sure, Melbourne are acting like any reigning premier, destroying the opposition, selling overpriced premiership tat, and their fans are doing their best to be obnoxious to enemy supporters, but no one really minds because – and I’m not sure exactly how to put this – Melbourne don’t matter. They’ve never had a rivalry with anyone (not even a media-created one) they’ve never had a passionate supporter base, and they’ve never done anything to cause any animosity from an opposition. But – here they are, kings of the hill and good on them, I guess. Melbourne fans are happy.
Happy Melbourne Fans
Anyway - onto the game!
Melbourne and Richmond, despite being neighbours for over 100 years and co-tenants for nearly 60, don’t have much in common. No one talks about ‘The MCG Derby’, we’ve only ever played each other in a single finals series (way back in 1940), and despite an ongoing business of trading duds, has-beens and assorted crocks to one another, we just don’t care enough to develop any rancor. They are Melbourne, we are Richmond. Nothing signifies our differences more than the way we reacted to the threat of going broke in the 1990s. While Richmond rattled tins, knocked on doors, and begged supporters for their last few dollars, Melbourne identified their most successful competitor and launched a hostile leveraged corporate boardroom takeover, that was only foiled by the then Liberal State Premier being a Hawthorn fan. In totally unrelated news, the Liberal State Premier sensationally lost the next ‘un-loseable’ election and spent the rest of his days desperately investigating depression treatments and talking to golliwogs.
Unhappy Melbourne Fans
This week is our now traditional Anzac-Eve clash (which dates all the way back to 2015). It will therefore be quite a solemn occasion, at least until the ball is bounced and the game degenerates into a laugh-fest as Melbourne toy with the insipid Tigers who are merely a sad shadow of their recent premiership-winning resplendency. Melbourne should comfortably cruise to a percentage-boosting win, spending the last quarter or so resting their old players for sterner tests to come (old???? Ha-bloody-ha!).
Richmond Captains run
Unless ……….
Look, Richmond still have some spark in them and have the ability to produce the occasional decent performance. They comfortably spanked one of last year’s grand finalists a couple of weeks ago (admittedly the Bulldogs are a bunch of front-running squibs that are intimidated by low-flying butterflies, and the Mighty Tigers followed that up with a dismal effort against a bottom-4 side last week), but nevertheless even a good team faces us with some trepidation waiting to see which version of the Tiggy/Tigers turns up. If Jack Riewoldt (57) can wind the clock back (a long way, admittedly), if Trent Cotchin (74) and Shane Edwards (97) haven’t completely crocked themselves playing their best games for the season, if Bolton, Baker, and Balta can do a few bits of magic and, most importantly, if Nank can do something to neutralize Gawn (Shotgun? Bear trap? ICBM?) we might spring an almighty surprise.
Probably not, though. Tigers to lose gallantly by 47 pts. Melbourne fans will be happy.
It’s 1964. Melbourne, the Colossus of the VFL, are playing Hawthorn at Glenferrie Oval. It’s the 68-minute mark of the last quarter, and Melbourne trail by 2 points. If they lose, Melbourne (the Colossus of the VFL) will probably miss finals.
In a last, desperate forward attack, Melbourne HFF Hassa Mann, throws the ball onto his boot and watches it sail
To the consternation of most at the ground, Barry signals ‘Goal!’, the siren blows, and the 4.47 train for Ringwood pulls away with a football in the guards van. A few upsets the following week, and by a miracle, Melbourne (the Colossus of the AFL) go from outsiders to top of the ladder and proceed to saunter their way through the finals to an inevitable flag. The world rolls on and the VFL continues its measured, stately progress. All is well. Melbourne fans are happy.
Happy Melbourne Fans
Then the asteroid hits. Melbourne are forced to share the MCG with Richmond.
In 1965, Richmond finish above Melbourne for the first time since 1952. Melbourne fans are not happy. In totally unrelated news, Liberal Prime Minister Bob Menzies sensationally steps down in December 1965 and is replaced by Harold Holt who promises to ‘Restore Australia to our traditional values’. In 1967, Richmond win their first flag in 24 years. Melbourne fans are still not happy. In totally unrelated news, in December 1967 Liberal Prime Minister Harold Holt sensationally disappears in a mysterious ‘swimming accident’.
Unhappy Melbourne Fans
Richmond proceed to steamroll through the competition for the next 15 years, becoming the most powerful, feared, dominant club in the league, winning multiple premierships.
Melbourne meanwhile, are s**t.
After 1980, Richmond collapse into a pale, timid remnant of their previous dominance and spend the next 30-odd years being annoying, irrelevant, inconsistent, and mostly useless.
Melbourne are still s**t.
In 2017, Richmond roars back to life, annihilates the competition over the next 4 years and returns to its previous incarnation as a ravenous beast, feasting on the bloody carcasses of its victims.
Melbourne (surprise) are still s**t.
2021 – I got nothing. I’m still confused about what happened last year. It’s not just me, either. My distantly related, Demon-supporting, many-times removed cousin, Montgomery Rutherford-Smythe Smythe-Wallaby, says he hasn’t felt this level of euphoria since he unloaded his HIH shares two days before its unexpected collapse. Oh, sure, Melbourne are acting like any reigning premier, destroying the opposition, selling overpriced premiership tat, and their fans are doing their best to be obnoxious to enemy supporters, but no one really minds because – and I’m not sure exactly how to put this – Melbourne don’t matter. They’ve never had a rivalry with anyone (not even a media-created one) they’ve never had a passionate supporter base, and they’ve never done anything to cause any animosity from an opposition. But – here they are, kings of the hill and good on them, I guess. Melbourne fans are happy.
Happy Melbourne Fans
Anyway - onto the game!
Melbourne and Richmond, despite being neighbours for over 100 years and co-tenants for nearly 60, don’t have much in common. No one talks about ‘The MCG Derby’, we’ve only ever played each other in a single finals series (way back in 1940), and despite an ongoing business of trading duds, has-beens and assorted crocks to one another, we just don’t care enough to develop any rancor. They are Melbourne, we are Richmond. Nothing signifies our differences more than the way we reacted to the threat of going broke in the 1990s. While Richmond rattled tins, knocked on doors, and begged supporters for their last few dollars, Melbourne identified their most successful competitor and launched a hostile leveraged corporate boardroom takeover, that was only foiled by the then Liberal State Premier being a Hawthorn fan. In totally unrelated news, the Liberal State Premier sensationally lost the next ‘un-loseable’ election and spent the rest of his days desperately investigating depression treatments and talking to golliwogs.
Unhappy Melbourne Fans
This week is our now traditional Anzac-Eve clash (which dates all the way back to 2015). It will therefore be quite a solemn occasion, at least until the ball is bounced and the game degenerates into a laugh-fest as Melbourne toy with the insipid Tigers who are merely a sad shadow of their recent premiership-winning resplendency. Melbourne should comfortably cruise to a percentage-boosting win, spending the last quarter or so resting their old players for sterner tests to come (old???? Ha-bloody-ha!).
Richmond Captains run
Unless ……….
Look, Richmond still have some spark in them and have the ability to produce the occasional decent performance. They comfortably spanked one of last year’s grand finalists a couple of weeks ago (admittedly the Bulldogs are a bunch of front-running squibs that are intimidated by low-flying butterflies, and the Mighty Tigers followed that up with a dismal effort against a bottom-4 side last week), but nevertheless even a good team faces us with some trepidation waiting to see which version of the Tiggy/Tigers turns up. If Jack Riewoldt (57) can wind the clock back (a long way, admittedly), if Trent Cotchin (74) and Shane Edwards (97) haven’t completely crocked themselves playing their best games for the season, if Bolton, Baker, and Balta can do a few bits of magic and, most importantly, if Nank can do something to neutralize Gawn (Shotgun? Bear trap? ICBM?) we might spring an almighty surprise.
Probably not, though. Tigers to lose gallantly by 47 pts. Melbourne fans will be happy.
