Month: July 2021

Round 20, 2021
St Kilda 3.1, 5.3, 7.7, 12.9 (81)
Carlton 5.1, 10.1. 15.2, 18.4 (112)
Crowd: Zero at Docklands, Friday, July 30th at 7.50pm

At the end of a week of unrelenting slow-motion footage of swimmers’ immediate reactions to their placings, their families back home, Abbey and Hamish being just that little bit too over-the-top about it all, the Matildas, the Boomers, Jess Fox, a spiralling COVID outbreak, and, on Friday, COVID at the Olympics, and then a sort-of-bombshell announcement that Clarko would be leaving the Hawks in a few weeks, Carlton’s review being handed in, Gary Ayres being sacked by Port Melbourne, David Teague maybe being sacked as a result of the review and also Clarko being officially available, and Sam McClure – who had run alongside Caro with the Clarko story – confidently saying on SEN the Carlton coach next year would likely be one of Clarko or Ross Lyon, St Kilda was playing Carlton at an empty Concrete Dome.

No matter that St Kilda’s season was on the line. A win would have us in 8th place ahead of the rest of the round. Between flicking across to the main 7 channel to see Sam Kerr, Teagan Micah, et al’s heroics, we were treated to the worst 31-point loss known to science (aside from the 1997 Grand Final, which “in another, more accurate way” was infinitely worse. Touché Justin.).

Three wins following the Adelaide-in-Cairns calamity and the bye, and we looked like we had the season back on track and a more definable game style. After the Brisbane win, we were suddenly favourites for a finals place, but losses of a combined 18 points to Port and West Coast put us in the awkward Mathematical Chance category on the final turn and reminded us that we probably wouldn’t capture any real sustained positive momentum this season.

Because this is the team. It either picks and chooses when to go, or it simply can’t. Hell, even parts of the team – Brett Ratten in the 7 pre-game talking about how the midfield was down last week made me think that given the number of bounce backs throughout this year – the first West Coast match, the post-bye mini-run – that after two weeks and that performance, Steele, Crouch and Dunstan would be primed for a big night. The late withdrawal of Paddy Ryder hurt immensely, in the sense that we might rely too much on a 33-year-old specifically playing with Rowan Marshall. Jack Silvagni was placed in the ruck given the lessened threat and a Carlton backing their mids over ours. We won the hit-out count 70-16 but effectively broke even in the clearances.

Steele had eight tackles at the beginning of the second quarter and finished with 36 touches. He looked genuinely disappointed in the moments following the siren. Crouch got a lot of the ball, and so did Dunstan, but for a second consecutive week their influence again felt well below what it should have been (According to Wayne Carey, Dunstan was going at 0% efficiency with his first eight touches, but this has been disputed).

Max King picked up where he left off. He looked – looks – unstoppable with space in front of him (not that he needs a huge amount at his height). Three tall marks and three goals by quarter-time, giving it to Weitering as he put through the third. A spurious free kick on the quarter-time siren offered the chance to needlessly break his goal kicking confidence – he was on a run of 17.4 from set shots over recent weeks and into that moment, and he hooked the ball trying to make the 50-metre-plus distance.

No matter – he kicked the next one with minimal fuss. The problem was that it came in the last quarter and we were back to the bad old days of April and May, of large losses and a complete breakdown of play. I’ve been thinking about what exactly to write for this part but like those performances, this was comprehensive. Without needing to rack up massive numbers, Walsh, Cripps, Kennedy, Dow and yes, Silvagni took control of the stoppages and it went from there. Another smashing at the Concrete Disney Store, another team that just seemed to disappear in-game. Dunstan multiple times kicked low balls into the 50 that gave zero St Kilda forwards a chance, ignoring the fact that the most dangerous Saint on the ground had given us nine demos in the previous five quarters on what might work. Kent, Butler, Long and Higgins had few moments of impact. Brad Hill demanded the ball off half-back but to no discernible end.

Zak Jones was trying to make things happen and again barrelled his way to the footy, perhaps trying to occasionally do just a little too much once he got it. Sixth-gamer Leo Connolly proved to be the most creative Saint with multiple dashes and slicing through traffic in attempts to make something, anything, happen.

The first quarter saw commentators – for the first time in a long time – openly willing an individual Saint to an exciting performance. That goodwill and anticipation for Max was a distant memory by the final moments of the second term. Webster lost his bearings as James Brayshaw uttered “Saints have the numbers”, and a Carlton kick that was slammed into an open forward line bounced perfectly for Fisher, who neatly gave off to Williamson. His kick on the half-time siren went through, and we’d quietly blown our season.

***

Sharman kicked his first goal as the Matildas stormed their way through to – and then held on for – a famous win. I only just caught it – I’d spent most of the lead-in to the game, quarter-time and half-time following the Matildas’ quarter final.

Outside of the team events, the Olympics is feel-good junk food, or at least is presented that way. We don’t follow individual athletes like we do a club – St Kilda has existed for 148 years and represents more than the sum of its parts. Its on-field history; the experiences of its fans and the collective. But at the Olympics, everyone’s a hero, everyone has done a nation proud, everyone is an inspiration, and according to 7, we’re almost expected to be celebrating just like Ariarne Titmus’s family or the students at someone’s old primary school, to the point where it can wrongfully dilute the passages of athletes like Saya Sakakibara.

I haven’t not watched any of the Olympics; in fact, I have watched and listened to a lot of it. And enjoyed it (but not so much the presentation). Part of me was perhaps waiting all week to watch the Saints and feel smug about how much more real the attachment is. Another showcase from the next Messiah – I was there from the start! Only footy can do this!

Following St Kilda post-2011 has just been a dour lifestyle choice rather than an observable journey. While I’m fortunate enough to be in a position to be able to pay for a souped-up membership every year, it’s silly of me to put pressure on myself (however subconsciously) to feel or experience (and then write about) every match in a horribly fatalistic manner. Friday night is the “every week” in the “I watch the Saints every week”. Sometimes that’s ok. Not every medal winner has to be an incredible inspiration, nor was the “entire country” jumping up and down in the lounge room. But I did take a few minutes out of my day to go to the lounge room and watch Jess Fox in the C-1 final. And I got a thrill out of it!

***

BT tried winding up the prospect of a potential upset with seven or so minutes left. Indeed, there was a minute or so in which the intensity clearly lifted (maybe it was just BT’s slightly-louder commentating) and it appeared we may have the momentum and just a four-goal margin with plenty of time left. The ball fell to Billings for a second set shot in the quarter, on the right side for his left boot that we all assumed several years ago would become a weapon. He missed. In that moment he may have perhaps been a victim of BT trying to keep viewers on 7mate rather than whichever of the others was showing the Olympics, but the connection between this team, its players and this season seemed to fall apart at that point.

Only a run of late goals prevented this from being the eight goals-plus margin that it absolutely should have been. The umpire himself had just given up by the end, paying a free at the top of the square in the final minutes to Jack Higgins while Cooper Sharman claimed the mark. In the spirit of a game played at a lower intensity and in a duller atmosphere than the pre-season match between these teams at the same venue, he left it to the players to decide who should take the kick.

After the bronze medals of the week – some upsetting, some uplifting, some bemusing – and the close-run silvers, and the GOLD FOR AUSTRALIA, and Alastair Clarkson, and David Teague, and Sam Kerr, and 20 rounds of a season, St Kilda is 13th on the ladder.

Round 19, 2021
West Coast Eagles 2.2, 8.6, 11.7, 14.10 (94)
St Kilda 2.1, 4.2, 7.6, 13.8 (86)
Crowd: 43,657 at Optus Stadium, Saturday, July 25th at 4.35pm AEST

Get up off your lounge room couch and move the coffee table to the side. We’re back to doing the dance we’ve done several times over the past few years – a last month of a home and away season that presents a mathematical but very unlikely path to the finals, and we have to ride every mundane and uselessly hopeful minute of it.

In the lead-up, the club wheeled out the remarkable Sunday afternoon in early 1998 in which Daniel Healy and Peter Everitt both kicked six goals on their 24th birthdays as the Saints stormed home over the Eagles at Subiaco to pinch a two-point win (never mind that we lost to eventual wooden spooners Brisbane at home a week later). I thought first-game-as-sub Cooper Sharman might have supplied the novelty material, but while our first-tier players were mostly reduced to bystanders, Max King kicked six goals for the first time in his career to almost pull off a similar heist.

When the Eagles’ lead hit 33 points during the third quarter – as it had earlier this year – I absurdly believed it more likely that we would win. I scanned fantasies of headlines and Fox Footy discussions about the Saints pulling off a pair of 33-point comebacks against the Eagles in the same season, and the tweets referencing 33 points something times two something equals 66 (something equals 1966?). (Worth also mentioning this would have echoed the difficult 2017 late season run that saw a stunning last-minute collapse against the Power and then a juddering win against the Eagles the following week.) There was a constant exchange of feeling like we were in it, that Eagles had an extra gear every time, that they were going to completely blow it open.

***

Perhaps for the first time this year we’ve posted a loss that actually lifted our feelings about the future of this team (it only took 19 weeks). This was mostly built on Max King, Zak Jones, Dan Butler and Brad Hill. The St Kilda group chat at three-quarter time discussed how quiet the captain had been during the game, while also acknowledging his massive last term against the Lions a fortnight earlier. He opened the last quarter with the break out of the centre, helped by Butler timing his run into the middle from the forward line with perfection, and weighted the kick perfectly into the oncoming hands of Max King. As much as I was willing for a bunch of history to repeat itself, Steele never quite got going. Despite 13 tackles, a late forward-50 entry between Saints players and straight to an Eagles defender was more reflective of an un-Jack Steele-like performance. 

He, Crouch and Dunstan had just 53 disposals combined and were constantly outworked by the Eagles’ own midfield. Kelly, Sheed, Gaff and Yeo were all prolific, while Kelly and Sheed kicked goals when the Eagles made their move and when the game needed someone to step up in the final minutes. It also meant the larger US College Jocks got to have their way in the forward line. Kennedy and Darling had five between them by half-time when the Eagles led by 28.

Zak Jones was our biggest presence across the ground, repeatedly bodylining the ball and taking hits, looking to take the opposition on and get the ball moving. Hill used up his almost-obligatory funny disposal for the match early on with a squirted handball but otherwise racked up another busy game off half-back in which he did what he could to get things moving around and ahead of him. King kicked six to make the absolute most of everything that went forward (we’ll get to that) and Butler put in his best performance of the year by far. The quick-thinking, slicker Butler we saw last year was back – good finishes, hard running, and some smart ball work up the ground (including a complete halt and turn around to kick backwards to Billings that allowed for an entry to set up King’s floating mark early in the third; also he pounced on Rotham’s wayward bounce which was a universal lol).

There were some ok moments. Paddy Ryder, in a St Kilda jumper, snapping around the corner to get things going in the first quarter. Billings kicked a goal on his right. Long put on some heavy tackles. Byrnes and Connolly again looked comfortable at the level.

Quieter games and blunders weren’t just for top-liners. Oscar Clavarino made four (maybe five?) outright turnovers by foot that gave the ball straight back to the Eagles in all sorts of the ground. This was a day of few real winners.

***

Which made the result all the more surprising, and perhaps at a second glance – certainly going over the numbers – makes Max’s game all the more impressive. An aimless opening had a pantsing written all over it; no real structure, no real purpose in the forward entries.

For all the issues going forward over recent years, his teammates did the right things by him by putting the ball into the right places. But this was more about a young forward putting on a thrilling display that justified all the hype. He repeatedly flew for marks and they stuck. Edwards being put on him felt a little bit arrogant on West Coast’s part, although there is sense to it. Counterintuitively, I felt personally affronted almost for the same reason when the Eagles put McGovern on him to close out the game. Instead of wilting, he turned McGovern inside out after being outworked in the marking contest, sprinted onto the bouncing ball, got down low and gave off to Butler who brought us back within 13 points, and then a few moments later ran into space on the hill and marked the Brad Hill kick at its highest point, stared down the 43,657 interstate crowd and kicked the goal.

From his first goal – a faultless kick from outside 50 – he threatened right to the end. He got separation on his opponents, he drifted across packs, he launched over defenders. For the first time, the seemingly lackadaisical line-up, the unchanging facial expression and calm action were borne out of confidence, rather than the self-doubt we’ve been projecting that he must be feeling since the Geelong game. We now have images and footage of him flying in the afternoon shadows for a mark over multiple opponents when the team and the season really did need someone. We know what Max King being dangerous and damaging looks like.

***

Paul Hunter giving away a free-kick from the throw-in just seconds before three-quarter time was quietly stunning. Spectacularly St Kilda. All that had to happen on the wing was a break-even contest; instead the US College Jock Captain pushed the margin out to 25 points.

That was barely the reason we lost. Even in the final quarter, for all of Max King’s contested marks and straight kicking, the inability to back up goals was brutal; aside from the obvious scoreboard impact, it never allowed any serious momentum to build. Three of the last quarter’s six goals were replied to within 105 seconds, 100 seconds and 76 seconds – and that includes the time for the ball to go back to the middle and the ground to reset.

Anyone who listened to Grant Thomas on the excellent Unpluggered podcast a few weeks ago heard the former coach suggest how all of the near misses over St Kilda history really just accumulate to something inherently wrong with the club rather than 148 years that can be reduced and summarised as just entirely “bad luck” or “if onlys”. The 2012 season saw four games in which we had more scoring shots than the opposition and/or lost by less than a goal. Turn those results around, and instead of finishing ninth, we finish fourth. Throw in the game in which we kicked more goals than Collingwood and lost by six points – with Armitage running into goal in the final seconds and the umpire paying a free kick against us that the AFL said was a mistake – and we finish third, ahead of premiers Sydney. We could make the same case – as those moments become part of history, the nuances wash away and we’re left with a fossilised core. The bones spell out one premiership since 1873, they spell out a ninth finish in 2012 that no-one need bother remembering.

Imagine if we had all the guys out there! Marshall, Gresham, Clark, Higgins, Highmore, D-Mac, Paton, Battle, Geary. Other teams have injuries too, and waiting around for the perfect moment has never really worked out. If only Max had kicked straight against the Cats, if only Jack Higgins has kicked straight against the Swans, if only we’d used the ball better against Port, if only we were awake in the first part of the game and didn’t fall back asleep during the second. How would a neutral view St Kilda in the context of the wider 2021 AFL season? We wouldn’t really play any major part. There probably isn’t enough upside or time or logistical space for the season to turn from here. Our expectations for the last few weeks are coloured grey. Resurrect the St Kilda Messiah Complex – beyond that, they do look rosier.

Round 18, 2021
St Kilda 2.4, 3.5, 6.9, 8.13 (61)
Port Adelaide 1.0, 4.6, 7.11, 10.14 (74)
Crowd: Zero at Docklands, Saturday, 17th July at 1.45pm

Among the “prune juice iron” and “chicken liver pâté” tabs I can find yet another Google Docs draft that will feature too many words and too many long-winded sentences vaguely recounting a St Kilda loss brought about by poor ball use, some poor marking efforts, poor forward structure, and, of course, poor kicking at goal.

Zero goals from set shots, six behinds. Port themselves finished with a rangy 10.14 (enough to win us the 1966 premiership, mind you), but yet again it’s our mistakes with the ball in hand that are giving us grief.

Watching this felt like playing a 6pm (or perhaps 6.40) game of futsal and you still haven’t had time to get into weeknight warrior mode. Everyone had to double-check the start time close to the opening, no one knew who was going to turn up and when, nothing felt settled, no real cohesion, no sustained momentum. The only constants were not much space, and the ball being camp in one of the halves of the ground. Players couldn’t find each other or link up. It was high pressure, but not quite in the high-intensity finals way. This just needed to be played and put it in the books – yep, Port’s better than the Saints at the moment.

***

Last week may just have been a One Night Only atonement of sins committed through the season. This was the beginning of a new pile. Season on the line in the final minutes; Marshall misses a set shot, everyone drops a mark, Brad Hill does a weird dribbly kick thing twice. Two of those moments burned Leo Connolly producing the best pair of St Kilda field kicks this year, one from a turn against the boundary in the back pocket and a slashing 45-degree left-foot kick to open up the entire ground, the other from the sharpest of deliveries to a leading forward.

Just as we did earlier in the season, we’d banked some wins – the only team to win three out of three heading into this weekend – to feel as though we’d built up enough momentum to go head-to-head against a top four fancy on our home deck and win. The win over a breaking Brisbane was one better than the Max King game against the Cats, but we were going to need to do a lot more than that. All the results had gone our way by Monday night, and Thursday night saw a chunk taken out of Freo’s percentage. It was just like Round 22, 2008, when everyone lost and we beat Essendon by 108 points to finish the season in fourth. Except, it was the beginning of Round 18 and we’re ninth. Then Jack guided Richmond to a very big win and the reminder was there that not so fast – we still have to do stuff ourselves. And this week, not so lucky.

Feel the static air of a non-descript temperature on your face. Bask in the artificial lighting. No, you’re not in the glorified TV studio that is the Concrete Dome – it’s Lockdown V and you’re in your lounge room watching the Saints play another home game in front of zero people. Dwayne is doing some of what he does best – calling games played in front of low crowds. Music doesn’t work after goals at the ground, nor on the broadcast. D-Mac was adding another strong game to his career resurgence and put on a huge tackle on in defence, and was rewarded with a concussion, Georgiades landing on his chest, and a Port Adelaide goal, and having it all broadcast in high definition with some public domain up-tempo, inoffensive dance music over the top.

That was probably the moment I quietly accepted that it just wasn’t going to happen. The first quarter was dominant, in that the ball lived in our front half. Steele and Butler cut through the noise with snap goals out of traffic, and in true St Kilda fashion Port made one meaningful foray and goaled. But there was no clear purpose to a lot of touches.

King was in all sorts of contests – pushed out, outbodied, a touched ball, and then finally grabbed one and missed. Long again appeared to have more of a presence in the forward line. Butler decided to turn up for a bit. That and a 2.4 to 1.0 quarter-time scoreline was promising, if only just to show that we were still keeping the opposition to restricted scores.

But the second quarter was a mirror image of the first. Port had all the play, and made a little more of it. Their seven-point margin at the main change felt much, much bigger. Their talls were creating problems, despite Charlie Dixon being reduced to a hobble at some points, and we were sure to fast-track the rise of Mitch Georgiades, even if it meant leaving him unattended at the back of a pack three metres out from goal for him take a simple chest mark. Or giving him the honours of knocking out D-Mac.

Out only major came from a great contested Ben Long mark and a wild shanked kick as good as his 2.7 record for the season suggested. So much so, the kick was never near registering any score, but of course, Paddy Ryder (*more depressed voice than usual*: in a St Kilda jumper) crumbed the pack and goaled. Of course. Callum Wilkie could have turned the novelty dial up to 11 but missed his set shot.

By half-time, Trent McKenzie – you know, the absolutely not full-back guy – was all over Max King, capped off with a free on half time. The nature of the game made it a certainty that Steele and Crouch again were most prominent, joined by Luke Dunstan. Brad Hill was doing what he could off half-back (and there were plenty of opportunities given Port’s territorial dominance). While the game never quite broke open, Port always seemed to be the next goal away from exactly that happening. 

***

Marshall accidentally kicked a goal from the pocket in the third but the next couple to Port saw the margin out to 20 points. Webster won an important one-on-one out wide as they looked to land what would have really been a finishing blow, and then found himself with the ball just a few moments later on 50 and utilised his left boot in a way that hasn’t happened enough. Game on? It was time to show the footy world what we do best – poor skills and weird bits. On the break with numbers, the ball to a two-on-one to a small forward (Long) who was rightfully pissed. Butler was on very good terms with himself and at the fall of the ball in the final seconds of the quarter dished an over-the-shoulder handball towards goal, and I like to think of his face still looking composed for a moment while the ball trickled away behind him. Ryan Burton was a big presence for the Power all game but made the curious mistake of soccering off the ground backwards to McKenzie in the goal square. King was right with him, found the right positioning and kicked it off the ground himself for a goal.

Going over the game again I was surprised that we were actually in front halfway through the last quarter. I barely remember it. Naturally, the result colours how you see the rest of the game but I’m as convinced of the inevitability of the result as I was during the last quarter. Much like the back end of last year – namely ill-fated late charges against the Lions and the Lions – nothing drastically changed in the way we were playing the game; we were just doing it a little better. Marshall’s snap goal at the beginning of the quarter was huge, his late set shot miss equally so.

What else stands out? The Seb Ross nothing kick deep into the forward line, Crouch’s miss on the run, and Butler running into an open forward line, not seeing or ignoring Hill running with him, no-one leading to him, and he deciding not to kick anywhere near the advantage of the one-on-ones but to two Port Adelaide players 30 metres out from goal. Hill’s two kicks off half-back within moments of each other, which are pretty funny when I watch them over.

If we’re going to be reductive, these may be the hinge moments of a season that from the beginning hasn’t been convincing. It has not found any genuine momentum, or rhythm, or whatever you want to call it. Much like St Kilda’s own, the broader season has been played in social conditions lumpy at best. We could be about to embark on an indifferent and stumbling end to the season. There’s a very good chance we’re 13^th by the end of next weekend.

***

The Fox Footy production team, in another failure to read the lounge room, had Eddie and co talking over the top of the scenes after the final siren, rather than let the song play and the players’ reactions speak for themselves, and to give us a few moments to take in what had just happened and (depending on who you follow) experience the highs and lows of what it means for the afternoon, for your season, or for your lockdown. I know we can’t really go anywhere or do anything at the moment, but just give us a second.

Brisbane Lions 1.5, 4.8, 7.8, 8.15 (63)
St Kilda 1.3, 6.6, 9.9, 14.11 (95)
Crowd: 9,075 at Metricon Stadium, Saturday, July 10th at 7.25pm

Footy moves fast. Within games, weeks, seasons, rebuilds. I said it the other week on this (not that I’m the first, nor the only one to say it.) As we ticked past the halfway point of the second quarter in Cairns, a 5.6 to 0.0 lead over the Crows following a horribly frustrating but encouraging loss to Sydney suggested our mojo was back -never mind the 111-point loss that broke up the similarly frustrating/encouraging Geelong defeat, and a nondescript win over North (which quietly had its own late fade).

Just a couple of hours later on that Saturday night, St Kilda was again decidedly a club looking silly and lost, all over again. We had a whole two weeks to think about it and hate it all, while the president’s letter to members that was intended to calm instead raised anxieties, was slammed as revisionism. That mid-season break was spent pre-empting, and if not, lamenting another failed rebuild.

Seven excellent quarters at the MCG in cold and wet conditions suggested that perhaps we’d established some sort of definable brand of dour footy. For six quarters, 30 minutes and 31 seconds, we’d conceded 4.17 before a dire last term tainted the lot.

***

Only 24 hours before Saturday night, we were given a showcase of the difference between St Kilda’s lack of killer instinct and teams that have earned the praise of the wider footy world. For the second time in 2021, Adelaide went goalless until the second half of the second quarter – they beat the Saints the first time, while on Friday night Essendon went on with it to win by 63 (the 11.18 prevented it from being any more). I know we kept the Tigers to 2.10, but that was the exception in a season of fading finishes, wayward what-ifs, and outright smashings.

Some of these wrongs accumulated over the season were righted, if only for one night. A thundering passage proved the breaking point. Ben Long leapt into the air from a high Wilkie kick and brought that thunder (and the footy) down with him (I love watching on the replay the St Kilda bay going off after the mark). A blatant hold in two acts on Max King’s jumper was not seen (in the same way Daniel Rich’s throw in front of our goal in the second quarter was simply not seen), but Butler was at the fall and spun his way to Billings, who casually roamed the space and found D-Mac, who couldn’t have been a better person to finish off a play that was equal parts thrilling, representative, and novelty. Get the royal fuck out of here.

Max King tore the game apart with three goals in the second quarter. Two of them came from towering marks as he had to deal with All Australian Harris Andrews, and the conversions dismissed any nerves or doubts that might have quickly grown in his head after an early shot from an angle strayed wide. Bringing him higher up the ground kept him active and in the game, and he held his marks – 10 of them – in another big stride.

Play as well as you want, you (we) still need to kick straight. A start of 1.5 reflected the ongoing yips as well as a number of shots having to be taken from out wide. From that point we kicked 13.6, but until the last quarter storm we were again anticipating a side going into preservation mode. Kent and Billings missed set shots on the eve of three-quarter time; Brisbane had made a fast start to the second half, and while their forward set-up had suffered after Hipwood went down and we’d held off their flourish, those shots felt like the last best chances we’d get.

All players taking responsibility was a big theme of the night. D-Mac continued his rise, running hard along the wings and providing a presence at more extremes of the ground. He has added goals to his game, and played provider with a neat hit-up to Membrey in the third. Connolly kicked his late third-quarter goal after running off half-back earlier in the chain. Long shook off his 1.7 record to deliver a massive blow in the final term before touching the Gold Coast sky.

Despite three misses last week, Long has found himself again as a forward after the break. It’s probably where he should have been playing (opening the spot for Nick Hind to play where he should have been played, too, but I digress), although it might have something to say for learning about the game in the back half. Either way, he appears much more likely to make a physical impact on a contest, it seems – his accidental hit on Payne in the last quarter that created Steele’s goal wouldn’t have happened with anyone else – and he’s had eight shots at goal since the bye.

Meanwhile, the Brisbane forward line became Tom Highmore Country. It’s widely known he was picked up as a mature-age recruit from South Adelaide; just two years ago he was playing for the Canberra Demons. Now, he’s joined Callum Wilkie as a no-fuss inclusion into a backline that all of a sudden looks a lot more difficult to navigate. By game’s end he’d moved into “Guess who?” Territory on-sight from the commentators (thankfully Jason Bennett is on greater duty), as well as Post-Match Interview Guy Territory. Combined with Wilkie and Howard, the aerial presence allows for more considered rebounds. Hill can time his runs, Sinclair is there to mop up, and if there’s a mark taken there’s also the chance to take a more measured approach. He’s calm with the ball too. Leave the hot stuff to Dougal.

While Long and D-Mac and Hill and Sinclair have changed and added to their games, Dunstan continued his higher-profile resurgence while adding “annoying campaigner” to his repertoire. He got some back in the last quarter too, and it’s fun to see a Saints player getting their hands really dirty. Some more big numbers, and by the time we woke up on Sunday morning he was SEN news trade talk fodder.

And yes, the inclusion of Zak Jones immediately made the midfield look more complete, bringing a helter-skelter approach to moving through traffic and away from stoppages to go with the grunt of Crouch and Dunstan, while Steele added another dynamic performance to his resume. It wasn’t entirely a four-quarter performance, but that’s what made it more notable. The game needed a St Kilda midfielder to lift after a quieter third term, not just for the immediacy of winning stoppages but also to bring his teammates with him when surely there would be doubts again about finishing off a game. Fifteen touches, a set shot goal to extend the lead early in the last and then a running snap across the body to seal it. While we watch Bontempelli and Petracca and Parish become the in-form mids in the competition, for the moment we have Steele and a midfield that looked that little bit more complete.

***

Hipwood’s injury could be calamitous for Brisbane’s premiership hopes. They’d won 10 out of 11 coming into this, and despite Zorko’s efforts their forward line couldn’t adapt in-game. There’s no positivity in that happening, even if when saying “sometimes it’s just your night” (evidently it was). And yet, at the same time, St Kilda got the fundamentals down. Pressure up, running in support off half-back when the ball was in play and in our hands, working hard to provide options laterally when we had control. Ross, Byrnes and D-Mac all hit leading targets with no fuss. Neat and tidy.

As per last year, Membrey was rewarded by his teammates (mostly D-Mac’s hit-up) and the result more broadly for another Herculean performance interstate. A pair of goals in the third (including one from tight in the pocket where several others had failed) helped weather the Brisbane fightback, and he took 14 marks. They were at both ends as he quietly builds his leadership presence.

That can all add up and give way. The rush of an interstate team that shouldn’t be winning, yet has forced its way in front has all the running, is irresistible. There is no other context in which the ball is turned over by Ross and Marshall, Long takes that mark, and the ball ends up a King fly, the manic Butler and casual Billings combination, and D-Mac snapping the goal. Also, did the umpire give Dougal a pass for the deliberate out of bounds because it was just so obviously a brain fade?

***

With the return of a proper season (for as long as that will last), the year is again framed by the footy season. I woke up on Sunday morning and walked up to get a coffee from John Gorilla, past the trees and dogs of Gilpin Park. The sun was higher, the lighting just that little bit warmer. It tells me we’re already heading into the final part of the season, and – whoever may be playing – that finals are on their way. Footy moves fast.