Catman’s Round 2 Review: Accepting mortality.

April 12, 2015

0-2. Something Geelong fans are not used to and are obviously finding difficult to accept. The word ‘perspective’ was bandied around last week. Let’s try a new one: acceptance. Accept that Geelong is not the 2011 premiership team. Accept that there is high quality opposition this year. Accept that a net of retired premiership stars will not be replaced overnight.

Successive losses to genuine contenders at the start of the season is hardly cause to call for a coach’s head, like some Geelong ‘supporters’ are doing. Take a deep breath, relax, and put the tissues away. Geelong are mortal. Deal with it.

That’s not to say that the last two weeks have not been bloody frustrating. The most pressing issue that needs urgent addressing is the delivery inside 50. Clarke and Hawkins are clearly yet to gel as a combination, but wow, when it’s getting wormburned into the forward line around the pockets, or just bombed into the never-never, you want to throw your remote at the television.

Further to that, where’s the defensive pressure? Hawthorn and Fremantle just coasted out of Geelong’s forward line as if they were competing with witches’ hats. Too easy. I’ll accept that Geelong are not what they were, but it’s hard to accept a lack of grit. It’s exactly this defensive pressure from the opposition that has choked Geelong’s run so far this season. Maybe watch replays of the Crows’ games fellas.

Anyway, it’s not all doom and gloom. Gregson had a crack, and Cockatoo will excite every time he goes near it. Geelong tackle the Gold Coast next week with Bartel and Motlop back in the side, and the Suns have hardly impressed the punters thus far. They should get the chocolates next week, but fans will save themselves a great deal of blood pressure if they accept that Geelong are realistically middle-road this season. Watch the younger players develop, and cheer on when the greats turn back the clock – that’s season 2015 at Sleepy Hollow.

A look at the enemy camp…

Who’s smiling?

St.Kilda and Josh Bruce. Eight marks and six goals, no worries. They were all over the Suns last night, who seem to be lost without Ablett racking up 40+ disposals every week. St.Kilda are widely expected to grab this year’s wooden spoon, but last night they thrashed a finals fancy.

Who’s red faced?

Mick Malthouse. Sorry Mick, you were saying something about not seeing where Carlton would lose a game…the rest of the footy public is wondering when the blues might win one. Problem with your side, mate, is that you have three good players: Judd, Gibbs, and Murphy. Shut them down and your boys are beat. Oh, and teach Casboult how to drop the ball onto the boot.

The finals smoky?

The Western Bulldogs will be good, scary good, soon. The question is, how good will they be this year? Bontempelli is a genuine gun, and I regret not picking him in my Supercoach side already. Early trade-in for sure. Then there’s Dickson, Stringer, Dalhaus, Wood. A sneaky few $$$ on the doggies to make the final eight would not be the worst idea this season.

As for Richmond, will their supporters ever stop suffering?

Up and about…

Adelaide. They are looking scary at the moment. Collingwood did not necessarily play bad, it’s just that they weren’t given any opportunity to produce anything that might be remotely good. They had no room to move. Adelaide’s intensity and defensive pressure in the first two rounds has been as good as I’ve seen. Sloane and Jaensch are dominating, and Tex Walker has had a great start as captain. Also, Ellis-Yolmen has become a great bargain buy for those SuperCoachers out there.

Thank you…

Essendon. After a week of hearing about just how great the Hawks are, you boys just slammed the lid back on for a week or two. They probably tried to sledge you boys about the drugs hey, since nothing is off limits for the Hawthorn boys. Old Lakey would have had a field day running his mouth on poor old Joe, until Joe kicked three and Hooker slammed the door shut on the supposed unbeatable Hawks.

Flog of the week

Yeah, Mick Malthouse.

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