The Brisbane Lions have moments when it all comes together in a wave. Joy and belief surge through them and pop from their boots. For the third time in three weeks, this manifested in the game’s last five minutes as the Lions overran a suddenly subdued opponent.
In the middle of it all is the league’s biggest off-season signing, the 5ft 8in Lachie Neale. Out of street clothes and in the Brisbane maroon, blue and gold Neale no longer looks small. He is built to perform. His game is as functional as an axe handle and no more elaborate. In his first month as a Lion, Neale averaged more than 38 disposals, 22 pressure acts, nearly 10 clearances, and for good measure, four marks a game.
Greg “Diesel” Williams has been working with Neale, having last year mentored Brownlow medallist Tom Mitchell. Neale may already have nine votes at his new club.
Marcel Proust once observed that “before Renoir painted there were no Renoir women in Paris, now you see them everywhere”. In much the same way there appeared to be no match-winners at the Gabba, but Neale has made such an impression with an artist’s eye for precision (he has a disposal efficiency of 82.6%), that the Lions’ talent – Hipwood, Rayner, McCluggage – is more evident.
But it is not something Neale will take credit for, preferring to talk to the impact of Lions’ coach Chris Fagan.
“I think Fages’ philosophy and the way he brings people together is really impressive and the whole club has sort of adopted that,” said Neale. “I feel like the playing group is in a hurry to go places really quickly and they want to learn and grow as quickly as possible.”
This Brisbane team has already achieved much. Before Saturday night, the Lions had lost their previous five games against the Power by an average margin of 10 goals. After a 17-point win, Brisbane is now 3-0 for the first time since 2010. The home team rooms at the Gabba are loud to the tune of La Marseillaise, where once all you could hear was nagging, nattering and tsk-tsking.
Like Brisbane, it wasn’t that long ago the only way you’d be caught dead in Carlton’s rooms was by contractual force. Unlike the Lions, the Blues are yet to learn how to win, demonstrated by a final quarter surge against Sydney that saw them kick a wasteful 2.6. At times it looks as Carlton’s forward game plan was created when the lights went down at Princes Park.
“Close enough is not good enough,” said Brendon Bolton after the game, having ditched the peppy self-help patois, his patience as thin as the Blues’ ruck stocks.
In what could now truly be described as an era of Carlton despair, their captain Patrick Cripps is the notable exception. He keeps getting better. He delivers.
Cripps has the potential to retire as a Carlton captain with a legacy as large as John Nicholls. “Big Nick” played in an era where legends were born in memory and imagination and by word of mouth. At only 24-years-old in a time where wall-to-wall coverage has largely stripped the game of any mystique, Cripps already seems larger than life. But such is the weight that rests squarely on his shoulders from carrying a generations of supporters that are strangers to success, you fear that if Carlton don’t soon learn how to win, the only upside for Cripps is that he’ll be able to wriggle out of straightjackets for money, just like Riggs did in Lethal Weapon 2.
But if you look north to Brisbane you see that things can turn.
“Last year they’d see out games but couldn’t win them,” said Fagan of his young Lions. “We’ve finished our games off well the first two weeks so there would have been a little confidence inside them from that … They’ve built up a really strong will to win, this group.”
This week, Carlton takes on Gold Coast, the pre-season presumptive wooden-spooners. But the Suns are another Queensland team that has this year learned how to win, after holding their nerve to beat the Western Bulldogs at the Docklands.
The Lions will look to continue their streak against an Essendon reacquainted themselves with winning against a Melbourne who last week relived 2009 in almost every possible way, laying down like a fat Buster Douglas (although Douglas did at least win a title).
But in terms of belief and bringing it all together, the most ominous result of the weekend was Saturday night at the MCG, when it was déjà vu all over again for the reigning premiers – right down to the Liam Ryan screamer and the Dom Sheed set-shot from the boundary. Although this time it came with a best-on-ground performance from Andrew Gaff.
