We’ve been in it to win it against Port, Richmond and the Bulldogs but for one reason or another we’ve failed to be in front when it really matters. One week we’ve looked flat and disinterested, the other our accuracy in front of goal let us down and the next a failure to adapt to conditions and grasp opportunities lead to our downfall. Really though they are issues that have plagued us all year.
I was feeling a bit flat upon my arrival at AAMI Stadium mid Sunday afternoon. The wintery weather wasn’t getting me down but more so a realisation that the end of our season is in sight. Gone was the usual buzz of impending finals excitement that we’ve revelled in over the past five years and gone was just about half the crowd.
The Dogs got off to a perfect start with skipper Brad Johnson sealing his side’s first goal within the early minutes of the match. It almost seems a formality now that our opposition are the opening scorers of the game so I didn’t quite fear the worst at that point.
And as it turned out we controlled the next chunk of play. The ball was mostly kept inside our half of the ground and when it did venture north towards the Dogs’ goals our defence, lead by Rutten and Bock, was looking much like our dominant defence of years gone by.
Our intensity for the ball had returned after a fortnight off, spearheaded by Rory Sloane, and our run and carry was getting us closer to goal. In front of the sticks though it was the same old story. We crumbled. Again we failed to mount some scoreboard pressure on the opposition and an opportunity to gain an early lead went begging.
By quarter time the Bulldogs were up by eight points having nailed three out of their five shots at goal. Us on the other hand had only managed to kick one goal along with a disappointing five behinds and two out on the full.
Then finally, finally! We kicked three goals in a row without a behind in the second term. Hallelujah! First Thompson, then Porplyzia and lastly van Berlo who kicked a ripper of a goal under enemy fire. We shot out to a nine-point lead and it was the Dogs who suddenly had a pile of pressure on their shoulders.
After a productive quarter effort we trailed the Dogs by one straight kick at half time.
Jason Porplyzia, who has returned to much needed form over the past couple of weeks, put us up by a point early in the third term. His timing was impeccable as the rain began to tumble down and the conditions worsened it was clear that goals were going to be hard to come by.
And they were. Each side scored just one more goal for the quarter and the Bulldogs held a narrow one-point lead at three quarter time.
With the rain worsening we were put on the back foot in the fourth term after conceding an early goal. We desperately needed one of our own and for the next what felt like forever we tried our guts out to score.
The ball was not coming out of our half of the ground. Bock, Schmidt, Stevens, Rutten and Johncock had formed a wall that ensured safety in numbers if there was a swift turnover.
We were trying pretty much everything to steal a goal. A quick snap from a pack or a long bomb from outside 50 but nothing was working. Despite all our hard fought efforts I thought we over used the ball in the slippery conditions. Too many handballs in tight traffic and floaters to the top of Tippett’s and Walker’s heads had me pulling my hair out.
To make matters worse the Bulldogs’ Brian Lake had built his own one-man wall across our goal face meaning that anything that fell short went uncontested.
It was an excruciating 20 minutes of play. For once we needed some luck to go our way but ‘lucky win’ and the Crows are rarely ever seen in the same sentence.
I kept looking over my left shoulder to the hanging TV behind me where I could just make out the minutes remaining. With just a few left on the clock I knew we had to get a goal and get it soon.
Then out of nowhere a break off of half back. Bock to Sloane, Knight, VB and Reilly. Reilly boots the ball as hard as he can to a one-on-one contest on the edge of our forward 50. This is it, the last roll of the dice. The ball sails over Tippett’s head and he finds himself in a footrace against the Dogs’ Easton Wood.
Tippett falls over and as he slips so does our chance of victory.
Another weekend, another loss and another frustrating game of footy but at least we gave it our all. I walked away wondering what could have been yet again.
