Thin line from here to here

by Tom Briglia

AFLX 2018

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It’s not an ordinary pre-season when Jack Billings becomes the AFL’s poster boy for anything, really.

The prologue to the post-Nick Riewoldt era also featured a helicopter for some reason, proof of Ed Phillips’ existence, “Timmy and Jimmy”, “Saint Kilda’s Paddy McCartin” in the Financial Review, and something that wasn’t actually Australian Rules football.

Billings found himself alongside North Melbourne’s Shaun Atley as the faces of said-sport, which was described more often as a “concept” than anything else. Outside of the St Kilda fanbase, Latte’s meteoric rise from “improving young player set to fulfill his potential” to “AFL (well, X) headline act” was probably baffling to the wider footy community, who would still primarily identify him as The Guy We Picked Instead of Bont.

He looked and sounded like he’d spent most of the pre-season doing media training. He’s literally toned up, a far cry from the shy 18-year old with outdated hair we drafted in 2013 (or even the shy 22-year old with outdated we played in 2017).The announcement of Geary as captain (again) and the leadership group was baffling, with extra ignominy added for the video production, sunglasses and stage management of having him and Roberton, Ross, Newnes and Stuv all stepping off and walking across the Moorabbin turf to waiting media/St Kilda social media staff.

Are we back to the 1980s and the boorish days private ownership and the Swanettes? I was looking for the branding tie-in with the chopper. It would have made more sense if they did the reveal by the leaders one-by-one bursting out of the tubs of Dare bottles they hand out before games.

Josh Bruce, Mav and Armo were cut from the leadership group, which was probably a surprise to no-one. Armo has entered Hamill 2007 territory, while the confirmation by Richo that Mav struggled with “a very bad ankle injury” through 2017 was probably an indictment on the coaching and medical stuff as much as Mav himself. Mav’s slimmed down from 91kg to 83kg apparently. Josh Bruce, well…yeah. I (and a few others would have) said last year that if everyone showed the effort he did last year we’d be a much better team, but he’s a long way off being a “leader” given his ultimate output on the field, and that he lacks the vocal and organisational aggression. Let’s hope Ben Dixon’s goalkicking nous extends to shots from general play, too.

So we’re left with Dylan Roberton, who theoretically could actually get better this year after starting his career as another nondescript guy at the Dockers with a slightly odd name. Then there’s Seb Ross, our raining best and fairest but not necessarily the most outwardly vocal or physical guy; Jack Newnes, who has an excellent head for the marketers to work with and is Mr. Consistent, but I’m Mr. Consistent with these posts dragging on too much. Jack Steven still comes across as a 16 year-old boy. As Dad said, “it’s missing a certain factor”, let alone X.

The publicity stunt worked in so far as it earned the lead article on the back page of The Age. In true St Kilda fashion, we followed that up with the revelation that we’d been given $20.6 million from the AFL last year, which most of may or may not have been directed to Jack Billings’ media training.

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Billings wouldn’t even make it to the shitshow that was AFLX . The club canning the intra-club event in lieu of “match simulation” the week before suggested that two bruise-free glorified training drills was enough to cover it, and Latte apparently pulled up with “hamstring soreness”.

The monotony of the gameplay proved the “concept” to be a different sport entirely. It would actually look more interesting where it is intended for use – at the junior level (i.e. the AFL talking about difficulty accessing grounds in Sydney), and internationally – levels and locations where professional Australian Rules football players aren’t found.

Despite us becoming the first club to ever get bottled up in a game of AFLX, broadly speaking this was circle-work played by people that are too highly skilled for any human element or drama to be allowed in, not to mention the short span of the game. Goals were meaningless; not only was there no chance to celebrate, there was no point because the other team was always within two kicks of scoring, and without needing to be in their half of the field, either. Games of footy turn because someone puts their body on the line, a whole team lifts and answers the call of something bigger than themselves. They will themselves to a pack, to take the hit after running harder than would seems physically feasible in that moment. There was no chance for that, and there was no real chance for a game to turn on willpower, or wanting to lift 21 teammates with something that might not be in your own best interest. And certainly no reason for it. Three “Grand Finals” over three nights; how dare they even try. One end of the turf is reserved for kids sitting on bean bags for fuck’s sake.

Actually being at the ground was dour. Fucking music and literally flashing lights and smoke machines going off every time someone kicked a Zooper goal didn’t need to prompt the question of “why are we here?”. I went because I’m tied to the St Kilda football club and it needed a $20.6 million hand-out last year. I left the ground wondering if Zooper Doopers will ever be mentioned as much in the space of 72 hours again. What if they didn’t sponsor the “concept”? I can only guess the AFL approached them because the brand name sounds like “super”. You can’t really call them JLT goals; I don’t think James Brayshaw screaming that a player can “GO JLT” quite works. But it didn’t quite work or matter once Mark Blicavs was having a ZOOPER shot literally within five seconds of the “tip-off” with the ill-fated silver ball. The at-the-ground commentator that came through like a racecaller on the Thursday night broadcast was just extra noise at the ground; they’d obviously been told to not be too excitable. Just a little excitable. They had bean bags and 40-metre arcs for that.

What to take from a St Kilda perspective? That’s why I write this blog, but this concept lends itself to nothing in particular for form guide purposes. In 40 minutes of footy – no time-on – I remember Coffield and Hunter Clark both putting on some big tackles. I remember Dunstan looking like he was relishing being captain in the first game; Jack Lonie was busier in several minutes with some nice goals and an assist than he would be over 120; and Ben Long kicked a nice goal before going for the OPEN ZOOPER at the beginning of the second half and missing. Seeing Ray Connellan in a St Kilda jumper was nice, seeing Ed Phillips in human anywhere was interesting. Rowan Marshall was in turbo Rhys Stanley mode, making every contest with ease and looming as something of a behemoth that couldn’t take most marks with the first grab. The first level of Corporate Dome brought in was nice, but as an old friend once said to me, “biscuits are nice”.

The way Gil spoke on the Thursday night broadcast about potential for international teams and competitions played in the future, IPL/Big Bash style, and across different leagues was just as terrifying as the experience I had at the ground. Is the AFL trying to create a future where this is what the game ultimately represents? Is this what they want to the game day experience to be? Did they ever ask anyone this? This is the beginning; they’re not ditching this anytime soon. The idea overall isn’t new, but they gave themselves to turbo-charge a lot of things they’ve been doing on regular match days. I was looking at a game in which the focus is forced towards multiple trophies being handed out to placate everyone – who knows, maybe one of the three clubs you follow won one of them – which is played at all times of year, with more noise and default music than required anywhere, literally while you’re sitting in a beanbag. One thing the AFL has done incredibly well is keep winning a premiership and Grand Final Day as sacrosanct – it is all tied to the one season, with no players switching clubs halfway through; it is the last footy played for the year (in a country that general day-to-day life is heavily tied to calendar years); it is the only competition that matters; it is a life event for people. I’m here because one day I want to see a St Kilda premiership, and I don’t want to have waited a lifetime for some DJ to quickly blast a shitbox U2 song and fireworks to go off when the final siren goes as kids and corporates sitting on beanbags clap politely or get up and leave immediately because what does it matter? They paid for a ticket, they were vaguely entertained enough to maybe do it again some time, maybe for whatever bullshit competition with “retired stars” is happening next month, and that’s enough.

It was far, far too early in the season to be questioning these things.

Day by day, even in February

by Tom Briglia

Partly manic 21st century news cycle, but mostly the St Kilda Football Club remaining the St Kilda Football Club.

theage saints feb

Let’s kick off 2018

by Tom Briglia

…with one of the more unique pieces of press coverage “Saint Kilda” will get this year. And perhaps the only in the Financial Review.
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Past tense

by Tom Briglia

Round 23, 2017
Richmond 4.1, 11.5, 12.7, 19.8 (122)
St Kilda 1.2, 4.3, 9.9, 12.9 (81)
Crowd: 69,104 at the MCG, Sunday, August 27th at 3.20pm

 

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I’ve been putting off writing this. It can’t possibly be a game review as it usually would be. Inevitably it would be all about Nick. Writing about his last match would also make the fact that he is now retired more real.

Thinking about his final game is to think about his career and be moving in and out of moments of hope and heartbreak, and very little in between. I began shedding a few tears when the scoreboard flashed up his career statistics in the minutes after the final siren; the first time I would see any final reference to his playing career. 336 Games, 718 Goals. That’s how it will remain.

For all intents and purposes, Nick Riewoldt was the one who would lead the St Kilda Football Club to its second premiership. I don’t know how many times I’ve written that on this thing, let alone just thought it. The thought of him holding the premiership cup made sense. Who else would it be?

To believe in Nick Riewoldt playing in our next premiership challenge was to believe that we might be able to find redemption for anything that happened throughout all the extremes since the 2000 and 2014 wooden spoons, and what we seem to refer to now as “the Grand Finals”. Nick was someone that had been there with you for that journey. It made sense that he was the number one pick at the end of the year 2000, at a(nother) ground zero for the club that he would lead with his good mate picked at number two to the promised land. He won the 2002 best and fairest, a season that returned just five wins and a draw. He was a key part of the 2004 and 2005 teams. He was the one who led the team out on the Grand Final Days of 2009 and 2010. It’s worth noting that he was at the front of the “St Kilda schoolgirl” bullshit in the months following the Replay, that marked the beginning of the end. His faux-knee in Round 1 apparently heralded the handover to the players who we hope are part of our next premiership challenge. To watch the end of his career is let all of that go, to let it all become part of history.

In lieu of vast quantities of team success over 144 seasons, it is individuals that we have had to celebrate more so about this club. Nick was a beating heart in a human body that represented the club. Right now we can only hope that this club is better for having had him. Hell, even our premiership has solitary elements to it. We remain with the failed St Kilda identity in tact. One Darrel Baldock. One Ian Stewart. One Tony Lockett. One Robert Harvey. Still, somehow, One premiership, by one point. One Nick Riewoldt.

***

I shed more than a few tears as he was carried off by The Most Inaccurate Man in the AFL and, wonderfully, his cousin. I’d taken both my Maddie’s Match and membership scarves to the game and wrapped the former around my face. I stood outside the MCG after the game for a bit but they weren’t really going to stop, so I walked to the city with it over my face the entire time and caught the 58 tram home, sitting in the corner facing backwards and out the window.

Until I’d come home and watched Richo’s post-match press conference and the highlights I could stay in that moment in which we were all experiencing Nick Riewoldt’s last match. He wasn’t quite retired, not just yet. For just those few moments. But watching back his final post-match interview on the ground, his final moments in a St Kilda jumper on a footy field – one based on the jumper he wore in his first game, no less – Richo talking about the day in the past-tense, and then an interview in the rooms with Nick himself made it very real. I ended up pulling my dressing gown over my head, lest an individual look up to my bedroom window overlooking Brunswick West and see my oddly lamplit face crying at my desk over the computer. On behalf of whoever might stumble across that: no thanks.

What to say about the game itself? By quarter-time the season was officially over as the Dockers’ late push against the Bombers fell short. Our effort ended up being a disappointing replica of the Melbourne match just a fortnight earlier; in fact, all three results on the Sunday were the opposite of what was required for us to make the finals.

If we shat ourselves under the pressure of the occasion and the gaze of 53,000 people against the Demons, then the 69,000-plus fans might have amounted to the most people Billings, Gresham, et al might had ever seen in one place and the effect was the same. Never in it as Richmond looked like the top four team they’ve become, getting first use and breaking down any move we made coming the other way, and getting an even contribution across the ground.

Flipping the Port Adelaide result would have only meant missing out on finals by percentage for the second consecutive season, and we were rightly left lamenting inherent aspects of our game plan rather than just thinking “what if” about a few moments and ignoring the constant inaccurate kicking and useless delivery going forward.

The final few minutes were almost – almost – enjoyable. The stress of this season, the stress of having a countdown clock on Roo’s career, they were coming to a close, and it should be pointed out the Richmond fans and players were excellent in their reception of him after the game. His first mark on the wing in the final minutes was met with a huge cheer, as we sought to soak up what he brought the field for perhaps the final time. The umpire decided to step in and pay a free kick to his cousin Jack, which was a little bit funny to begin with, and was made funnier when the smiles on the ground brought everyone in on the joke. Shortly afterwards he took another contested mark in the same spot, and still managed to break the emotion of the moment by kicking a torp. I don’t think he particularly tried kicking it any further than he usually would have; he carefully put it onto his boot to make sure he kicked it correctly, and it took me a couple of days to realise it wasn’t a barrel at all – it was an NFL-style punt; a nod to a sport he loves and the country that is now an integral part of his life.

It would prove to be his last contribution. He would be on the goal-line for the final the siren; the final play of his final game. As Josh Bruce moved to wrap his arms around him, Jade Gresham – who had turned 20 three days earlier – kicked his fifth goal.

***

It would be remiss of me to not mention Joey after today’s announcement. He never got rid of the loopy kicks and he was probably the most unfashionable of a core midfield brigade with Lenny, Dal and, for a period, Harvey, Thompson and Powell. He was capable of long running goals too but also handy for some clever moves. His great goal late in the third quarter of the 2009 Grand Final has been pushed to the darker corners of our memories. It would prove to be our last goal of the 2009 season.

He was overlooked over the past few years as a leader around the club. It’s hard to compete with Riewoldt’s blonde hair alone on the field, and it’s more of a shame that his exit would be pushed so far into the background. Leigh Montagna’s 2010 season is second in St Kilda history for most disposals with 745, 10 ahead of Robert Harvey’s 1998 season and 11 behind his 1997. Joey’s 2009 is seventh on that list. Of the 1,589 people to have played for St Kilda, he has played the seventh most games.

***

“Be proud that you’re a St Kilda person.”

In the frenzied off-season following 2010, Nick made an impassioned speech at the club’s annual general meeting. He closed with these words, which were so simply against the tide of the time. In front of the board, the entire playing list, and members, he took a swipe at the media and at anyone looking to “denigrate us”. As fans of course we were all feeling it, and the 2011 season would prove the players were too. The introduction of the black collar and cuffs on the jumper felt like a mark of disgrace emanating from the failed premiership bid over so many seasons, and after so much promise.

It was left to him to guide the club out of the black hole it was swallowed by. Even in the 2010 Draw, it was Roo who wouldn’t let us go down, who took what remains an overlooked mark across half-back to shift the play to our front half for the final score and final moments. In a club that has only existed in extremes, seven days later he would be on the wrong side of the moment that represented the gulf between the teams. Dodgy knee and frustration aside, he took on the figurehead role through another wooden spoon, and the early, unrewarding stages of a rebuild. Of course, he suffered extreme personal duress in that period, also.

For the first time this club will be without a clear leader, or clear heart and soul. Barker’s career overlapped with Frawley and Lockett, which were given over to Harvey, Burke and Loewe. Harvey remained, and Lenny and Riewoldt were there to take on what had been built from 2009.

That lineage is done now appears done now. It really began with the 1991 and 1992 finals appearances, took in 1997 and the failed 1998, the rebuild to 2004 and 2005 and then 2009 and 2010. History will tell us if it represented the closest to a golden era the Saints can get after the period overseen by Allan Jeans. That era succumbed to a long winter, and after this season we’re painfully unsure that this rebuild will take us close.

***

That Nick Riewoldt would ever retire seemed something bordering on unfathomable for so long. I remember early in 2004 thinking how bright and how endless the club’s future looked. Nick embodied the notion that GT instilled in him – that the way footy is played can be a reflection of the person. Nick was the embodiment of St Kilda in a number of ways, and therefore he represented something so dear to us for so long.

Nick’s retirement is sad perhaps because it felt that it came at the right moment. That definitively it would ever be a reality. It is a reminder that time doesn’t wait for anything or anyone. Not even Saint Nick.

And then there was one

by Tom Briglia

Round 22
St Kilda 4.3, 8.14, 14.17, 18.19 (127)
North Melbourne 5.2, 6.3, 8.5, 12.6 (78)
Crowd: 29,126 at Etihad Stadium, Sunday, August 20th at 3.20pm

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It’s hard to write much about the game itself. It was probably the most accurate encapsulation of a rather odd season in one game – plenty of missed chances at goal, fluffed opportunities from the goal square, a demonstration of the gap between ourselves and the lower teams, a lot of Seb Ross and Jack Steven, some Hotline and Gresham, the looming presence of My Favourite Hair in the AFL and his future, not much Mav Weller, absolutely no David Armitage.

There was also eight marks taken and two goals kicked by said My Favourite Hair. After almost a full season of chatter about whether or not he’d play on in 2018, a few weeks ago we officially got our answer. Sunday was the kind of day that seemed unfathomable for so long, and for how sad his lap of honour in front of a St Kilda home crowd was, this Sunday afternoon will be very difficult.

All of a sudden this has become more real. Given the ridiculous moments and lapses that underpinned the Port Adelaide and Melbourne matches in recent weeks we now have an almost certain end date. This was a dry run for Sunday, but even then there plenty of tears around the stadium after the match.

It was a borderline dead rubber and realistically was played in that manner. Plenty of open play, a lack of real urgency that you can sense when a season is still to be played for, and some comical errors. The Acres to Sinclair to Dunstan slapstick was the headline act; the Gilbert banana goal overturned for a throw to him, and then Gresham’s sneaky pounce goal from the resulting North free kick was a close second.

The lack of urgency was something you could sense from the start. North’s win-loss record belies how competitive they’ve been this year and after the disappointment of the previous week I wasn’t going to be surprised if we were a little flat and caught off our guard. If Brown hadn’t have hit the post they would have had six goals for the opening term, including two goals in last 26 seconds.

The match day entertainment again fell a little flat on quarter time owing again to some, uh, Jake Carlisle-based issues after all the faux-drama of his pre-match. The club obviously doesn’t and shouldn’t take into account scuffles on flowing beyond the siren of any quarter, but for the second time this year Emma Davenport has been put into the position that she has to bring a family friendly and/or feel-good segment to the crowd on the big-screen when everyone’s wound up (or whatever the equivalent was for Sunday) and absolutely not in the headspace. It happened on three-quarter time of the infamous Blues match earlier this year when she had to bring us “Saints in the Seats” after Murphy had a crack at Jake Carlisle who was lying on the ground after being smacked in the nuts, following everything else that had been yelled about between players during the game. The mood was heated, Carlton had frustrated the Saints (except for Hotline) all day, and I ended up screaming at him that he was a “fucking dog” and “weak prick” immediately afterwards (with a small child directly in front of our membership seats), and sending out an ill-informed tweet that I deleted later. Carlisle was involved this time too, but much more actively in that moment. He managed to get reported twice after almost not making it out there. His back seized up in the pre, pre-match warm-up and it looked like Brandon White was going to come in (he shouldn’t have come out in the first place, really). But the big screen cut to the rooms just minutes before they ran out and he was doing whatever handball drill they were doing, and then bizarrely he ran out by himself – again, wonderfully, in the long-sleeves – for a quick kick-to-kick with a trainer before running back in, and then running back out with everyone else. He was still reaching for his back as the team came out from the banner and was clearly in no shape to do the bullshit mini-sprint drill. Whilst whatever jab he’d probably received eventually kicked in, he wasn’t able to take Brown, so Brown was on Brown, and Brown would have had a much dirtier day if Brown had kicked straight, because Brown just couldn’t keep up with him on the lead nor compete with Brown in the air. For as long as North were taking it up to our mids, Brown was looming as a key player and it was looking like the Coleman Medal might have “Brown” etched on it soon. Brown had to stay on Brown for the entire match. That’s about how many times I heard that line used during the game from someone in the crowd, to go with the constant high decibels emitted from the mouthy kids that sit directly behind my eardrums.

Billings and Gresham’s polished finishes in the opening term at the Riewoldt end be damned, we were going to send Roo off from the stadium the best way this team knows how – by missing goal after goal after goal. The aforementioned Blacres/Sinclair/Dunstan job was obviously the highlight, which shows just how bad it was given it was competing for a spot amongst the plethora of entries in a season-reflecting, season-beating 4.11 for the quarter. That included 15 consecutive forward-50 entries for the return of 3.11, and keep in mind Sav kicked a goal from a set shot after the siren.

Josh Bruce kicked things off of course; Jack Steven ensured he still incredibly has not kicked a goal from a set shot this season, Dunstan missed a set shot, Billings missed a snap around the corner from deep in the pocket, Blacres and Seb missed too.

Jack Steven picked up 40 touches but in a year that he obviously struggled for attention I think we’re mostly over what his ceiling is. His kicking can be haphazard and he’s kicked 6.15 this year. He’s obviously not the only one afflicted with the team-wide illness and perhaps that’s something that might be contained to 2017, but that’s still what he’s bringing to the team right now. A particularly soft effort in front of the members in the last quarter had me rushing to “Nick Riewoldt would never do that” thoughts, but with the improvement of Seb Ross, the form of Luke Dunstan in the five games since returning to the team and the development left in Jack Steele and Blacres it’s the depth and to a certain point the versatility that those on the list currently will bring. Armo may or may not exist anymore, Gresham and Billings are better suited to the “high half-forward” roles, Sinclair and Newnes are different types of wings, Koby Stevens has probably shown his best (not such a bad thing) and Freeman may not even get out there. The list is still incomplete, which is right now is an exciting thing.

The real X-factor in that list is Blacres, who brings speed, acceleration and size in a way the others don’t to what still looks like a blue-collar side. He’s one of the few guys in the team that are willing, let alone able, to break through traffic and create new angles on the line of play, as well as releasing and bringing other teammates into the game and affecting movement in the process. His disposal still needs work and he still comes across as an airhead at times, but I still think his progression and style is a this-decade version of BJ. He’s also got the size to go into attack and play as a lead-up forward, and his set shot kicking is much better than most – his goal from the pocket was very, very nice. Maybe the calamity that was the Port finish is slowly fading (maybe), and Blacres played arguably the key role in that. So when he kicks into the man on the mark just outside the 50 metre arc late in the game and then runs over and pushes the guy over, gets the ball and gives it off to a player running past (Sav) for a goal, that shows development and certainly makes us a feel a little better (for the moment).

Blue-collar tag perhaps, but as Billings, Gresham, Sinclair and Acres all become more prominent those small spikes of class are showing through. Billings’ and Gresham’s goals were a tease for what this year could have brought more often but also for the wait over the off-season ahead, and does anyone dare say that Sinclair’s finesse in dancing around his opponent and kicking that third quarter goal was…Harvey-esque? It’s much easier to bring in the comparison given he’s wearing 35, but even his hair is getting gradually suspiciously bigger as he gets better.

One thing that might have popped out of Richo’s post-match press conference was how unequivocal Richo was about Gilbert playing next year. Brandon White was dropped which was strange, but who else do you take out when you’ve gotta play Nick? He’s obviously not in danger or losing a place on the list or anything, and he’s one of the most promising guys we’ve drafted over the past decade going on their first handful of games. But next year will be different, and if surely we couldn’t play both Joey and Gilbert the entire year, although that’s more of a Joey conversation than Gilbert conversation. Gilbert has shown more intent than many of his teammates throughout the year, and no one would deny him that. If anything his game has actually improved, but is that at the cost (potentially) of developing White and D-Mac and Rice? Will there be enough improvement from the younger guys across the rest of the team that would justify playing a guy who’s turning 32 (albeit towards the end of the season – he just turned 31 last week) in the side?

That only 29,000 turned up is a blight on the wider St Kilda fanbase. I found it strange Richo and Jack Steven (i.e. the club) went out of their way to point out what a great turnout it was. The club has more than 42,000 members, and it was almost embarrassing when the crowd number went up on the screen. Not just that the number itself was low, but because looking around the ground fuck me if there was actually anywhere near 29,000 there. What else does it take to get Saints fans to turn up? It’s a beautiful day and the Corporate Dome still has a closed roof for our “comfort” (i.e. enhancement of match day garbage), but since that long ago time in which we were a competitive side, we’ve gone from not turning up at the open MCG under any circumstances to not turning up to an historical home match with all components of a TV studio.

Conversely, I’ve really started challenging what I expect and should want to get from this football club for a host of reasons. Its incompetence has an almost unblemished record of more than 14 decades to point to as a get-out clause for fans, who most recently got to see the club piss away more than a decade despite having the biggest non-AFL gifted armoury of top draft picks. But this is the legacy of this particular one individual that the club – which has had to celebrate individuals in lieu of its own success – will need build on if it wants find the promised land. Turn up.

The sadness of the moment post-match probably caught a lot of people off-guard. Yes, this had definitely become a real thing. It was hard to not tear up (if you hadn’t already) as Roo ran the final lap in front of the home fans. The future might be a very uncertain place without him, and for as long as he was around there was a link to the teams of 2004-05 and those that came so close to a premiership. For as long as he was around those heights seemed maybe not so far away. Once he’s gone we’re going to be looking to a lot of difference faces and a lot of different people. There might be an element of fear in that for supporters. I certainly feel it. I certainly shed a few tears as I crossed the Bourke Street bridge and headed for the tram. This is an event for St Kilda, and for St Kilda supporters.

Barring the kind of miracle in the final round of 2008 that gave us a slim chance of a premiership for Sir Robert (of course it didn’t eventuate), this Sunday will be the last time Saint Nick runs out in a St Kilda jumper. Embrace it, enjoy it, appreciate it.