REHEATING LEFTOVERS FOR SUNDAY LUNCH
Is it just me or has Gather Round been a bit flatter than normal this year? Poor weather, somewhat lacklustre fan activations, and the only close game containing less scoring than me on a night out in Hindley Street actually had me looking forward to a good old-fashioned belting.
Enter Geelong and West Coast, one of a startling number of reheated-for-your-convenience matchups from prior Gather Rounds. If history was an indicator, we weren’t in for much. Brisbane and North had played out a largely uninteresting game out in the far-flung regions of distant space, and Essendon had defeated Melbourne in a highly surprising manner that never really felt close in the last quarter and a half. Both of those matches were in 2023*, and so, in fact, was the last Eagles-Cats fixture of Gather Round.
This one holds a fond place in my heart as I’d been invited into a bar staffed by some mates of mine, and getting pleasantly drunk indoors was a far better use of my time than watching perhaps the most forgettable game of the entire weekend. I wish I’d had the same facility available to me on this second occasion.
Still, watching the match on my home PC was at least a better deal than the spectators who’d travelled vast distances to freeze in the stiff breeze that seems to permeate Norwood Oval and yet, generally remain conspicuously absent in the wealthily leafy streets of the suburb at any other time.
Cats fans, and indeed myself, were hoping for the sort of monumental battering that at least keeps a game macabrely interesting, a la Sydney against the same opposition last week, while West Coast fans were hoping that the young side would treat that performance as a blip on the radar and continue their generally impressive start to the season, keep it close, and otherwise ruin my fun. In the end, neither really got what they wanted. But I get ahead of myself.
* – yes, I know they also played in 2024. Who cares?
NARROW-MINDEDNESS ON A NARROW GROUND
West Coast started hot, Harley Reid steaming down the middle of the ground and getting it to Jake Waterman, a man who I’m wanting to get onto Jerry Springer’s show to convince me that Fraser Gehrig isn’t his biological father. Waterman missed, and kicked off a run of behinds and almost-chances that could have seen the Eagles build an early gap, as undeserved as it would have been.
Geelong had rested a few players for this one, no doubt convinced this would be as much of a contest as a toddler trying to wrestle John Cena, but also took the unusual step of sending poorly-formed clones of their starting lineup onto the field. These clones sadly all suffered the same defect – a distinct lack of Geelong-ness. You know Geelong-ness, it’s the discipline and focus that has inspired them to essentially become the AFL’s Imperial Empire over the last two decades. Instead of a drilled and refined approach, they gave away dumb free kicks and 50s with alarming regularity.
Mitch Edwards, who I mistook as one of Norwood’s light towers at first glance, impressively gave away two frees in the space of thirty seconds, and then Shaun Mannagh (or at least the crudely-formed facsimile that took the field in his stead) bombed the ball away after it had fallen harmlessly out of bounds, and gave away a free. These acts helped West Coast generate enough chances to hold the lead for the first 25 minutes, but a real standout was Kade Kolodjasniij.
Having been absent from the side for nearly two years, he emerged from his cryogenic chamber to a new football world, and seemed to be unable to comprehend the marvels of a bizarre dystopian future. Firstly, on a ball on its way to bouncing merrily through for a behind, he picked it up some two metres from the line and accompanied it over the line, which resulted in a deliberate rushed behind call. Luckily for him, Jake Waterman had left his kicking boots back in Perth and managed only an extra minor score. Then in the second term, the defender whose name makes spell checking software quake in fear failed to stand on the mark for Jobe Shanahan, giving away a 50 that honestly should have been paid seconds before as the ball had been bumped out of Jobe’s hands, resulting in a goal that levelled the scores. Eventually the side-effects of frozen carbonite wore off, and the Cats would sharpen up mentally as the game progressed, but it was a mystifyingly poor start for them.
The Eagles then decided that acting like that one drunk guy who you hope gets thrown off the train would work in their favour, by attacking Cats players in the forward 50 after they’d disposed of the ball. This resulted in seven points’ worth of damage from the resulting free kicks, which represented the entire gap between the sides at the first change.
THIS IS MORE LIKE IT
The Cat-clones were all mercifully dragged off the field and melted for parts in vats of acid, with the exception of “Tom Stewart”, and their play vastly improved. The Cats were uniquely suited to the narrowness of Norwood Oval (which commentators were constantly whining about), thanks to the narrowness of their home ground of Kardinia Park (which Eddie McGuire constantly is whining about, despite the Pies having not played there since the Paleolithic Era). After some early stumbles, the Cats rarely conceded a free from failing to keep the ball in play. The Eagles, more used to the wide-open, MCG-like pastures of their monolithic home in Optus Stadium, centred their play down the middle. This produced great results when they turned on the jets and countered after turnovers, but not so much in general play where their poor disposal tended to give the Cats excellent field position, from which they’d spread the play wide. One moment that really put these contrasting theories on display was a kick-in from the Eagles being taken wide, and the kick itself being taken well over the line by the breeze. A chaos ball into the 50 fell over the top and Brad Close goaled thanks to ARC intervention, the only call overturned by it in multiple appearances on the day.
Not that the Cats actually got too much of a chance to test the wings, as their stoppage supremacy often saw them taking it straight out of the centre into the 50, particularly in the final ten minutes of the second term. Bailey Smith racked up the inside 50s, although he kicked with his usual trademark accuracy which, if he were deployed as a piece of artillery, would see him rack up collateral damage like Max Holmes was racking up possessions. In the weirdest cameo of the weekend, Mark O’Connor drifted up the ground and scored three goals, with most of the other contributors getting their six pointers through forward 50 stoppages in particular. The Eagles were putting on pressure but fatigue began to tell and the gap blew out to five goals. From here, the Eagles never once looked in the game, Geelong registering 19 scoring shots to eight in the second half.
IS THIS THING ON REPEAT?
The second half itself isn’t really worth devoting much time to, for either of us. Geelong continued to dominate stoppage play, giving them first use and a quite frankly embarrassing inside 50 and centre clearance differential. Outside of that, their fitness advantage saw them find so much more space, with their disposal skill advantage allowing them to find targets with less pressure on them.
The Eagles, meanwhile, were constantly under pressure, forced to bomb the ball out of defence before a rabid Cat laid a hand on them. Tellingly, despite touching the ball 50 less times, the Eagles laid 20 less tackles. Whenever the Cats got it, the ball would sweep forward with telepathic passing. Whenever the Eagles found it, they never really kept it all that long. Normally this would have all the ingredients of the tasty dish that is the masochistic 100 point belting. Not this time, though.
See, the game entered a very tedious cycle. The Cats would pressure the Eagles, force a garbage dump kick which the Cats would easily intercept, they’d link up really well until they were about 60 metres out and then the kicker, invariably Bailey Smith or Tanner Bruhn, would just bomb it up to noone in particular. More often than not it fell to a free Eagle, as West Coast were flooding the box at this point. Reuben Ginbey got ten intercepts, and Hamish Davis, who I’m being told is a real person, got eight by mainly sitting in the hole and waiting for a blue-and-white-striped mortar cannon to randomly fire away. It was like watching a game of Battleship between a panicked child and a forgetful grandpa. Occasionally, this tactic would produce goals, either when the Cats would seemingly accidentally find a true one-on-one or the Eagles would counterattack and find a tonne of people ahead of the ball, who largely found themselves there because the Cats had outran them, but mainly it was just dull.
The Cats’ best chances came either from direct centre clearances where they could find true one-out battles, or whenever Harley Reid got bored and decided to give David King more talking points by committing a needless indiscretion.
The Cats also kicked for goal incredibly poorly. Anyone who had multiple shots outside of their greatest current scorer and O’Connor (who averages a single shot a game) went at 50% or worse in front of the sticks. Tanner Bruhn was an epitome of wastefulness, going at 68% and missing both of his shots. Connor O’Sullivan missed from fourteen metres, presumably shocked at both getting so close to goal from his usual defensive post that he had altitude sickness and Kelli Underwood mistaking him for Mark O’Connor. Staggeringly, according to xScore, his miss barely made the Cats’ top-five worst for the day. They kicked 17.20, and really blew a chance at a massive percentage booster.
The Eagles deserve some, but not a huge amount, of credit. They facilitated an environment in the last term where the Cats could do nothing but miss for a solid fifteen minutes, drilling six behinds in a row and turning the ‘skip 10 seconds’ button on Kayo into my most used feature this month. I feel like I’m maybe being overly critical of this match but the Cats were woefully inadequate in doing Cats things (being ruthless against a poorer foe, discipline, ball movement) and the Eagles started vaguely promisingly but were merely a canvas being painted on by a talented, but heavily drunk, artist.
DIAMONDS IN THE ROUGH WATCH
The Eagles had vanishingly few performers who could truly hold their head high, but good performances were there. Willem Duursma was again a delight to watch in a battle with Ollie Dempsey, not letting a Mark O’Connor assassination attempt get in the way of racking up 20 and a goal as he roamed all over the ground. He’s gonna be a star, but you know that already.
Jobe Shanahan’s also a can’t-miss prospect and while he got most of his four goals from general Geelong apathy, he still finished better than any Cat today. Ginbey was a standout in defence with a match-leading 10 intercepts and only one ineffective disposal, while McCarthy, Lindsay and Schoenberg had good moments. Bailey Williams also at least competed, even if he was far from the most effective player.
Many of the Eagles’ deficiencies at stoppages didn’t seem to be his fault, having won the ruck battle at least on pure numbers. Then again, his main opponent’s only played four games. But too many were completely ineffectual – the experienced hands in the midfield only showed glimpses, Hough went an hour-long span with two kicks, and Archer Reid and Sandy Brock may as well have stayed on the bus. Harsh on the kids, maybe, but these are starting-23 level players at the Eagles currently and by default, have to be held to those standards. After all, the Derby looms large next week. If you can’t perform at a sodden Norwood Oval, the bright lights of a full Colosseum will prove blinding.
The Cats, meanwhile, had a bunch of guys who played well, with a but. Smith had 16 inside 50s, but he butchered almost every single one. Atkins was his usual self, a contested bull, and O’Connor he might face a week’s holiday for his hit on Duursma. Holmes had 34 touches and looked good in a role across half back, but I feel his overall impact wasn’t quite what I’d expect from the superstar we know he can be. Cameron kicked three but good service would and should have given him seven, and so on, and so on. Mannagh, one of my favourite players of 2025, was totally absent and Tom Stewart was nothing short of a liability until his half-time oranges. If they’d faced a genuine contender today and played like this, I doubt they’d have walked away with the four points and for me it’s clear that the Cats are still licking wounds from last year.
They need a lot of work to get back to the imperious machine they have been, and indeed should be, and the Dogs with no Richards or English presents itself as yet another game they should win big in. They need to actually do so.
