You don’t barrack for Collingwood; you ache for them. Following the Pies is an illness, a lifelong disease with no apparent cure. I go to Etihad then on a bleak winter’s night with few hopes of anything good and the expectation that afterwards I might need a panadol or two.

It’s been a tough weekend. On Saturday morning I four putt two holes at Bundoora, on Saturday night Sam loses the French Open. On Sunday afternoon my veteran’s footy team lose by nine goals. I am playing fullback. My neck is sore from watching kicks of every variety soar overhead. It is simply too much to ask Collingwood to bring a little joy to a luckless couple of days. They won’t. They never do. They are like a seasonal fever that only brings bad tidings. Read the rest of this entry »

The pre-season has brought many good things to Collingwood and the Western Bulldogs. For the Pies the acquisition of Jolly and Ball will give further grunt and skill to an already accomplished midfield. For the Dogs the NAB Cup gave them some long-awaited silverware, while the recruitment of Barry Hall was an inspired choice.

On the local front the last few months have also seen one or two promising changes. A Thai restaurant has opened up just around the corner, offering the best food this side of Bangkok. If we win I have promised myself Thai for tea, if we lose it will be a Spartan affair- baked beans on toast. I hope we win.

I go to the game with cousin and fellow Almanacker Steve Merry. Steve specialised in philosophy at Monash and provides some welcome yin to my out-of-control emotional, black and white yang. Driving to the game we are cautiously optimistic. This is a good sign- normally one of us can see only negatives but today we feel confident about our side and chances of causing an upset. We believe that the Dogs will miss Eagleton and that Presti provides the perfect match up for Barry Hall. We also think that Brad Johnson’s truncated pre-season will assist the Pies.

The match starts with a flurry of activity before exactly 49,000 fans. In the early moments Leigh Brown is sent to our forward line and he drags the dangerous Brian Lake out of the play. Leroy also provides several good contests around the ball and sets up some early goals. The omens look good. Paul Medhurst, fresh and back from a tough 2009, kicks a great goal. He paddles the ball near the boundary, scoops it up, beats a couple of opponents, turns and kicks accurately from thirty metres out. This may just be our day. Pies’ by thirty at quarter time. I can nearly taste the Thai.

In the second quarter the Dogs mount a predictable challenge. Robert Murphy glides over the ground. He is everywhere. He beats his opponent in the air and delivers crisp, clean passes into the forward line. Up in the stands Steve and I are worried. The Pies kick a number of points and the Dogs repeatedly use their kick-ins to send the ball from end of the ground to another.

The Dogs kick six goals for the quarter. Just as I am about to ring Melissa and tell her to open the tin of baked beans, Barry Hall accidentally clips Sharrod Wellingham. It springs our players to life. Shaw, Maxwell and Didak all rush in. At least the players haven’t given up but the Bulldog tide seems relentless and our lead is whittled to nine points at the long break.

In the third quarter we slowly get on top. Both coaches resist the urge to play heavy zones and the game turns into a free-flowing affair. This suits us well. Didak kicks a couple of great goals and Leigh Brown continues to flex effective muscle in our forward line.

In the last quarter the Dogs look tired, the Pies fresh. The combination of Jolly and Fraser works well in the ruck. Dane Swan dominates with a couple of goals and a clutch of possessions. If he is the 35^th best player in the competition (as per Mike Sheahan’s top 50) the other 34 must be pretty spectacular. Swannie has the best hands in the competition; he never drops a mark. Last year he also had more disposals than anyone else in the league. His fitness levels mean that he often gets better as games go on. He is a great player. Period. He is far better than 35^th in the league.

In the end we win by 36 points. It is hard to see us losing to Melbourne next week, but then again with Collingwood anything is possible. Outside the ground Joffa and a legion of supporters don’t share such doubts. Joffa sings the club song in full golden regalia.

On the way home Steve gets Subway. I am tempted but I know that the Thai restaurant around the corner will still be open when I get home. And cashew chicken beats baked beans on toast every time.

Western Bulldogs    3.2    9.6    11.11    13.15 (93)

Collingwood         8.2     10.9    14.13     19.15 (129)

GOALS

Western Bulldogs: Hall 3, Hahn 2, Boyd, Giansiracusa, Higgins, Hill, Lake, Minson, Murphy, Picken

Collingwood: Didak 4, Medhurst 4, Davis 3, Swan 3, Anthony, Cloke, Pendlebury, Thomas, Wellingham

BEST

Western Bulldogs: Murphy, Boyd, Hall, Hudson, Cross

Collingwood: O’Brien, Swan, Shaw, Didak, Medhurst, Wellingham

INJURIES

Western Bulldogs: Morris (TBC) replaced in selected side by Addison

Collingwood: Nil

Reports: Nil

Umpires: Stevic, Chamberlain, Pannell

Official crowd: 49,000 at Etihad Stadium

by David Enticott

I like pre-season games. They tend to be played at traditional, old VFL venues that give spectators a much closer view of the action. This match against Richmond at Visy Park also offers the chance to see a few young players for each team and to look at the tactics that will be adopted by the Pies and Tigers throughout the AFL season. I watch the game with two Collingwood mates- John a fellow Baptist Minister and Tim a mathematician and computer technician. Read the rest of this entry »

Here’s the thing . . .  for 36 years of my life barracking for Collingwood has been a poisoned chalice. From an early age mythical losses have been chiseled into my mind. What hurts more than anything is that many of these tragic events could be described in just one or two words: Froggy’s goal, Breen’s point, Jezza’s mark, the Wayne Harmes pocket, Rocca’s point (or was it a goal?). Near misses, one and all. Read the rest of this entry »

The equation for this game was incredibly simple, even for Collingwood. All we had to do was not lose by more than twenty-two points. A loss by less than this amount would give us a game against the Cats next week (possibly minus Chapman and S. Johnson) and would also mean that we avoided Adelaide’s dangerous side of the draw. Simple. Even Collingwood could surely manage to get this right . . . we didn’t even need to win! Read the rest of this entry »

There have been many great football monikers down through the years, from the Flying Doormat to Plugger and the Galloping Gasometer. My favourite football name is fictional. It was the thinly veiled title given to the suburb of Collingwood by the writer Frank Hardy in his novel Pride Without Glory . . . Carringbush. Read the rest of this entry »

By David Enticott

It has been a long day. At 6.29pm I am running to catch the train at Boronia station, having briefly popped in to a family dinner (making the briefest of cameo appearances). I guzzle down the ribs and then race for the train to Richmond station. As I sit down I wonder about the strange fizzy sensation in my stomach . . . perhaps the American ribs weren’t the best choice after all or maybe it was the three glasses of Coke. Either way my mind won’t settle as we rush past the stations on our way to the ‘G. Memories of Zaharakis’ rushed kick in the Anzac Day rain keep flooding back.

I arrive at the ground at 7.30 and meet my cousin outside the NAB ATM. Steve has an unusual perspective on football for a Collingwood supporter: he sees the game through both his eyes. He studied philosophy at university and clearly this has rubbed off on his view of the game. He takes everything in . . . the crowd, the umpires, the opposition, the tactics. Yet underneath it all he has an incredibly simple philosophy about football: that mostly it is about moving through the centre corridor. His clarity and simplicity are just what I need having spent the day racing from holidays at Aireys Inlet to work and then a family dinner.

In the first quarter the Bombers carry out Steve’s prescription to the letter. They win the ball in the backline (generally from Fletcher or McPhee) and then bring it through the centre corridor with incredible precision. They are like surgeons, cutting the game open with the deftest of motions. Lovett and Prismall both win the ball around the ground. At quarter-time the Bombers have kicked 2 goals 6 points, with two out of bounds on the full. Their lead is just three points and this is an injustice.

In the second quarter the Pies find a way to block the centre corridor and the game changes direction. The Bombers struggle to release free men in their backline. The endeavour of several Collingwood players is noteworthy. At one point Dale Thomas runs 100 metres to lay a tackle at another point he runs just as far to give a clear option in the forward line. Maybe that’s the problem with the modern emphasis on statistics . . . they don’t show endeavour. Thomas’ efforts will never register on a highlights reel or a stats sheet and yet they lead the way for others to follow. Another silent man on the stats sheet, Presti, is playing well on Lloyd while the unheralded O’Bree wins countless contests around the stoppages. By half-time we are neck and neck in most of the statistics but six goals ahead on the scoreboard.

Steve and I go off on several tangents during the break . . . the Ashes (we are worried about team selections and wonder why Brad Hodge is not picked in the squad); the Tour de France (is Cadel’s team up to it); motor racing (Steve finds it boring and may have a point); team changes for the next few weeks (perhaps bring in either Clarke or Cox).

When the game restarts Collingwood continue to assert their dominance on the contest. Josh Fraser is relentless in the ruck and on several occasions finds our players in space from his hitouts. It is as if Josh is carrying the headlines from Anzac Day on his black and white back and shaking them off one by one. At the end of the quarter he lays his stamp on the game by kicking a snapped goal from a forward-line ruck contest. He finishes the night the most influential player on the ground.

Maybe this is the whole reason that we go to the footy . . . because you can never quite tell how things will turn out. Life rarely runs in straight lines, more often it is like a series of tangents running in all sorts of unpredictable directions. One week a villain, the next a hero.

On the way home Steve has a surprise of his own. He is off to Adelaide tomorrow to play with his melodic death metal band. I’d never have picked him as the keyboard player in a death metal outfit, but then life always has its surprises. I believe the lead singer of the band is a lawyer.

David Enticott is the Minister of the Rosanna Baptist Church, who enjoys preaching sermons about the many mysteries of life.

By David Enticott

There is nothing better than hearing AC/DC on the radio. In the midst of countless tiresome oldies their music stands out like granite in a swampy morass of easy listening. AC/DC reminds me of factories near my childhood home in Cheltenham in the 1970s- all grease and sweat and industry. These were the days before computers made our lives a little easier. AC/DC were blue collar to the bone.

The band was born during the era of the hard men of football- Ditterich, Mal Brown and John Nicholls. Collingwood had more than its fair share of working class heroes. Players like Tuddenham, Stan “the Man” Magro and later Dennis Banks and Darren Millane. Coming from middle class suburbia these players offered something different, something tough and hard like the back streets of Abbotsford. These were footballers that got better in the heat of battle.

A few years ago the song Back in Black was used by Collingwood to fire up the crowd before the players hit the field. It was a marketing masterstroke. Few songs speak as clearly about what football once stood for.

Yet sadly this year Collingwood have seemed more easy listening than heavy metal. Their tactics have almost wanted to avoid any physical contact. They have hugged the boundary relentlessly. Mostly this has made for some untidy football. In a way it has been most un-Collingwood- we haven’t always had the best teams, but we have rarely shied away from a fight.

On this night I have no idea what to expect as a take my seat in the stands with a mate called Chris who is also a minister (and much better behaved at the footy).

We start the game well but then the lights go out. The ground is in semi darkness and the Power start to win the ball around the clinches. It is a headline writer’s dream- Power switch on when Power switched off, More Power to them . . . you get the idea. This is truly Collingwood’s Annus horribilis- a player beaten up in Queensland before the season starts, incessant coaching speculation, a forward line on the sidelines and now a Power failure against the Power. What next?

The second quarter is much the same with Rodan and Cassisi dominating around the ground. We continue to play death by a thousand cuts around the boundary. This triggers a long lament on my behalf from Row 21 in the Southern Stand. I am like Marlon Brando in On The Waterfront.

“For thirty five years I’ve been watching this crap. I could have done something with my life. I could have climbed the Himalayas, I could have found a cure for cancer, I could have written the great Australian novel. I could be at home with my wife and three kids, but instead I’m here watching us butcher the ball around the boundary line.”

Chris just laughs.

In the second half something strange happens. Our players start to will themselves towards the contest. Sharrod Wellingham wins the ball on countless occasions in the middle of the ground like a proud middleweight boxer. He stands his ground. With him are the tireless O’Bree and Swan. For something different we actually take the ball through the middle of the ground, with Clarke and the effervescent Dick kicking long bombs into the forward line. We kick nine goals for the quarter and look for a moment like the team that the experts predicted us to be on the eve of the season. Competence has replaced comedy for the first time this year.

The final quarter peters out . . . the only interest in the game is whether Dane Swan can rack up fifty possessions (he doesn’t). With more paint on his arms than the roof of the Sistine Chapel, he looks like an old fashioned Collingwood player. He looks as though he wouldn’t be out of place in the high rises of Abbotsford or as if he could share a beer with Tuddy or Stan the Man. These are not bad things. They auger well for the future. The club is in safe hands.

I could imagine Dane Swan standing there front and centre when AC/DC play at Etihad next February. His ink reminds me of our roots around metal workshops and factory floors. Collingwood was a club born out of struggle. This should never be forgotten in the rush to corporatise the game and make it something that it isn’t.

David Enticott is a middle class Minister working in Rosanna.

by David Enticott

It has been a horrible week. We’ve been locked up inside with gastro for four days straight. Our three boys have had it, Melissa and I have it and now our cat and two dogs are starting to show signs of being seriously unwell. Heaven help us if swine flu ever hits- we may as well buy the family plot out at Springvale and be done with it.

Still the footy offers the prospect of a few bright hours in an otherwise miserable week. Due to fears of spreading disease among the faithful, I stay home to watch the game on the big screen TV. This is the one week in the year when our house is divided along party lines- Melissa and Ben support the Saints, while James, Thomas and myself are one-eyed Magpies.

Ever since the 1997 Grand Final Melissa has thought that she was cursed, so she refuses to watch St Kilda games on the telly. While doubtful of this, in the faint chance that she might be jinxed, I make every effort to coax her into watching the game- I pour a cup of tea and offer the best seat in the house. It doesn’t work. Melissa heads to the other room for Facebook. As soon as she does Bruce announces “Davis and Medhurst are late withdrawals for the Pies.”

The game starts like a boxing match and Collingwood are landing a few telling blows. Maxwell is fierce in his hundredth game and Stanley, Wellingham and Barham all make important contests around the ball. Yet even in these early stages we look like Rocky Balboa against Apollo Creed in Rocky 1 . . . we are throwing punches but are seriously outmatched. By quarter time the margin hits ten points in the Saints’ favour.

In the second term St Kilda start to impose their superiority. With no Davis, Medhurst and Didak we lack class. St Kilda look like a group of elite middle distance runners. Tall and lanky players like Gilbert, Goddard and Fisher begin to dominate. The pro-Collingwood crowd starts to fight with the umpires, yet little is gained. By half way through the quarter the Pies are so far behind that Melissa feels comfortable watching the game. She starts sledging the Pies- “When you win you at least want the other team to turn up.” It is going to be a long night.

At half time we go looking for some suspense so watch a bit of LOST. The action is much more compelling than the footy. When we turn the game back on in the third quarter the Pies are getting thrashed. Bucks is as incisive as ever on the telecast. I am not, I start yelling at the screen. “Stop talking, start coaching Bucks. We need you.” Melissa looks down from her knitting . . . “You know they can’t hear you.” Reality and football should never mix.

The last quarter is seriously depressing. The Saints are taunting us. It’s the late seventies and early eighties all over again . . . except that this time it is the Pies who are getting beaten up. In the end the Saints win by the biggest margin ever against Collingwood – 88 points. There is nothing good to come out of the game from a Collingwood point of view. Three more players are injured- Fraser, Cloke and Swan. We will barely be able to throw a punch against Carlton next week. While for St Kilda their title fight awaits against Geelong in Round 14. On tonight’s form they could be a worthy challenger.

David Enticott is the battered and bruised Minister of the Rosanna Baptist Church.