The siren sounds…and sounds…and bloody sounds. Alright, it’s over. Message received.
The eventual outcome was the most obvious possibility heading to the Gabba last Saturday. But when that confounded noise signalled the end, it was confirmation hope had been extinguished. No more possibilities and permutations. Season done and dusted.
Geez, it’s abrupt.
That’s part of life in elite sport. Winners and losers. Goes with the turf, cop the good with the bad. All that garbage.
It’s okay if you’re emotionally bankrupt, not really invested in the success and failure of your club. But losing really sucks. Not playing finals hurts even more. That’s why we’re here. Brisbane achieved it, we didn’t.
Out of the corner of one’s eyes, it is impossible to avoid locals celebrating in the Gabba stands. Not something to savour, best to drop the head and ignore it. The Lions victory song reverberates around the stadium completely at odds with my emotions. Can’t watch it. Time to hustle downstairs to the rooms.
Mental note to self: ‘keep it in check.’ There’s still work to do. A round of media interviews to organise, the media conference on zoom with coach Adam Simpson. We need to get this done, wrap it up and get to airport.
We’re on a plane at about 9.30pm, seated ready for the 4500km trip home. It’s always a long flight. This one will be longer. Much longer.
Fortunately, to kill some time there’s a documentary to source off a hard drive. “Undefeated” – more than a little irony in that title – is a documentary about a struggling Memphis high school football team battling to compete with far better resourced opponents.
It helps to pass the time and divert thoughts away from a season gone. But it’s temporary.
And to be perfectly honest it was only a partial distraction. The sound of that siren continued to recur ad nauseam.
Round by round, matches flick over in my grey matter like a departure board at JFK airport. Occasionally, there is a pause when there is a moment of clarity.
You go back to round two against the Western Bulldogs at Marvel Stadium; great game, lost by seven points when it could so easily have been two wins from as many games. Then the loss to St Kilda at the same venue a fortnight later after being five goals up, that still stings.
The Port Adelaide game in round three, a brilliant performance. A sense that we would be right in this at the pointy end.
The derby against Fremantle when we won convincingly without Tom Barrass, Jeremy McGovern, Shannon Hurn, Luke Shuey, Liam Ryan and Elliot Yeo. That really was something.
The win against Hawthorn at the MCG, the remarkable effort against Richmond at Optus Stadium. They all fuelled hope. Fanned the flames of optimism that if we could just get all of our A-Grade talent on the park at the same time, the ultimate remained a possibility.
We did get them all together at one point, but the band was out of tune.
They were off key. Being ready to play, didn’t necessarily mean playing with customary synergy. This is a tough competition and it takes time to regain touch and fitness; to re-learn the skill of gut-running, re-condition the body.
A few losses late in the year meant we went to Brisbane needing something special; and for a team or two above us to oblige in round 23 with an unexpected loss.
For the Eagles – without McGovern, Josh Kennedy, Hurn, Tim Kelly, Jack Redden, Brad Sheppard and Liam Duggan – the task proved too difficult. They had a crack but the ultimate outcome was defeat.
By the time I drove into the garage at about 2.45am on Sunday, every torturous – and joyous – minute of 2021 had been dredged through and processed.
At least one could be consoled at being home…Ooohh, crap, 14 more days of quarantine.
Time to go through the video library and regurgitate some of the glorious victories of the past. Six hours of sulking is enough. Time to re-discover the power of positive thinking.
Bring on 2022.
