Forces of nature denied West Coast the spoils

Football is often referred to as a game of centimetres. And with good reason too.

As veteran Drew Banfield strode confidently into goal in the final quarter, the last surviving member of West Coast’s 1994 premiership side seemed certain to put the flag out of the desperate Swans’ reach.

A straight kick would have seen the Eagles seize a 10-point lead with less than nine minutes of play left; not a secure situation by any means but undoubtedly a commanding position in a low-scoring contest.

But in the blink of an eye, that vision evaporated. The ball thudded into the post, giving Sydney a reprieve and one more chance to end football’s longest drought.

It was that sort of day for West Coast, who seemed to be fighting not only a determined and accomplished opponent, but also the forces of nature. It’s hard enough taking on an inspired competitor, let alone an invisible foe that seeks to derail your best intentions.

That’s not to underestimate the intense pressure associated with a grand final, which unquestionably played a role in the series of errors that plagued the team from the West. They say the arena shrinks to the size of a postage stamp on the last Saturday in September, and early on, the Eagles kicked at goal like that was exactly the case.

They entered their 50m arc with regularity, and their ruckman-turned-forward Michael Gardiner enjoyed his only good patch of the day. But he sprayed his two opportunities to score and from there was virtually unsighted, despite towering physically over his undersized foil, Leo Barry.

True to form, Barry’s David had slayed Gardiner’s Goliath.

The long faces on the West Coast supporters said it all, and they merely lengthened when a seemingly innocuous incident forced Daniel Kerr off the ground. The ankle injury to the Brownlow Medal runner-up robbed the Eagles of their spark; a cheeky little rover who can find a way in and out of a pack, but most importantly, with the ball in tow.

Fate had concluded that it wasn’t going to be Kerr’s day, and nor was it to be Phil Matera’s, who predictably pulled out of the 22 before the first bounce. David Wirrpunda started like a house on fire, only to have Sydney put out the blaze by the long break, while Ashley Sampi was, as he has been for most of the year, largely ineffective.

The indigenous performers, so often the MCG’s main attractions in the springtime, were rendered a non-factor on this afternoon and without them, the twinkle in West Coast’s eye seemed gone.

Through it all, that superstar duo of Judd and Cousins- no first names needed here- stood tall, steering the Eagle ship through difficult waters. Captain Cousins worked tirelessly, cajoling his squad, lifting them with his deeds, as well as his words.

And Judd was a handy first mate, casting aside the tight tags with an ease that belied the effort, using that trademark burst of speed to leave opponents in his wake. Whenever he had the ball, you felt the Eagles were a chance and he had it often enough to generate optimism in even the most pessimistic of fans.

But midfield possessions would count for little, if there was no-one to make them count on the scoreboard. Options were scarce, time a limited resource; West Coast needed a hero.

Like the ghost of Shane Ellen, defender Adam Hunter, complete with flowing mullet, played the role to perfection and turned the contest in the Eagles favour. He was the beacon, the great shining light that offered hope to a boat caught in stormy seas.

Soon the deficit became a lead and a State held its collective breath, waiting anxiously for the final nail in the Swan coffin. It was edge of your seat stuff; Mark Nicoski ricocheted through a point, Kerr returned to snap wide, while Brent Staker fumbled a golden opportunity with the goal at his mercy.

Try as they might, it just wouldn’t happen for them. And when Banfield’s running left-foot shot could only find the woodwork, you sensed it wasn’t meant to be.

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