Western Bulldogs are the 2016 premiers. This statement, so unlikely at so many points of an improbable campaign, is the product of the Bulldogs outlasting the Sydney Swans 13.11 (89) to 10.7 (67) in a pulsating AFL grand final.
No less than 99,981 fans crammed into the MCG to witness the Bulldogs’ first grand final since 1961 and their first premiership since 1954. It caps the most remarkable of seasons for the club and the competition. From seventh on the ladder and handicapped by a succession of cruel injuries, the Bulldogs have dominated this finals series, riding an unstoppable wave of momentum.
Luke Beveridge deserves the highest acclaim. This is his triumph. Beveridge’s ability to channel the energy within his group over the past two seasons and harness the goodwill pouring his club’s way in recent weeks has been a peerless coaching accomplishment. “We’ve ridden on your wings,” he told supporters from the dais, before draping his Jock McHale medal around the neck of a tearful Robert Murphy. The coach then stood aside to allow Murphy and Easton Wood to lift the premiership cup for only the second time in the club’s history.
In keeping with the finals campaign, Beveridge masterminded a team victory. Tom Boyd came of age as a power forward, Liam PIcken showed he’s a jack of all trades and master of most and Jason Johannisen, with a team high 33 disposals, took home the Norm Smith medal. But there were contributors everywhere you looked. Easton Wood and Dale Morris spoiled everything in defence. Clay Smith laid 11 tackles. Tory Dickson kicked three goals in a faultless performance in front of goal. You got the feeling Beveridge could throw a guernsey on a member of the cheer squad and they would deliver decisive contribution.
There were six lead changes throughout the game, and the margin stood at just one point midway through the final quarter. Each side threatened to run away with it at different points. Only in the closing stages did the Dogs do so, decisively.
As magnificent as the contest was, it wasn’t a celebration of precise football. The winning team went inside 50 on 59 occasions for only six marks. Dane Rampe and Heath Grundy snaffled 20 of those between them. But what was lacking in polish was more than made up for in industry. It was a brutal affair for three and a half quarters, but when the late afternoon haze began to shimmer through the MCG it was the Dogs who had the run to kick their way home.
The tone was set from the opening bounce and two minutes of preposterous, stoppage-free demolition derby action, with bodies hurled at pace into contact and neither side able to control possession.
So hot was the footy, the first goal took 12 minutes to arrive. Luke Parker took the honours but its genesis was one of the great grand final marks by Kieren Jack. Running with the flight towards the arc, the Swans co-captain flew like a cannon ball, secured the grab, and then had the stuffing thumped out of him by Wood’s shoulder.
By this point Lance Franklin had already been off the ground for five minutes after rolling his ankle in a marking contest. Best on ground when these sides met earlier in the season, the injury-blunted the spearhead for the remainder of the game.
The Bulldogs took to the first break with a four-point advantage courtesy of goals from Tory Dickson and Zaine Cordy. They should have been further ahead. True to prematch form the balance of play was in Sydney’s defensive territory but the Dogs, so slick by hand, were clumsy by foot. At times they weren’t just missing targets they gave the impression they weren’t even looking for any.
Sydney struggled to capitalise on the rebound. As well as Franklin’s issues, Xavier Richards and George Hewett struggled to get into the game and whenever a marking chain threatened, a blue defender left his man to spoil.
The first quarter reaped only three goals but it was absorbing and intense. The second belched 11 and will rank among the great quarters in grand final history.
Boyd, Picken and Dickson marched the Dogs into a 16-point lead but a sharp snap from the excellent Tom Mitchell jump-started the Swans into action. Gary Rohan kicked the most peculiar goal of the day, the game having stopped for an age with the noise too loud for any player in earshot to hear the umpire screaming that the supposed mark had been touched.
All of which was a prelude to the Josh Kennedy show. The Swan turned on beast mode for a passage, kicking two, Sydney’s third and fourth in succession to drag the game their way. By half-time the finals specialist had amassed 22 possessions, two goals, and was a monty for best on ground.
What should have been a clear half time lead for the Swans was dragged to just two points in the shadow of the siren, and in controversial circumstances. Jack was incorrectly penalised for kicking in danger and fined 50 metres for dissent. The Swan deserved a free-kick of his own for forceful contact below the knees but his cries fell on deaf ears. Toby McLean held his nerve.
"Sons of the West....!!!"
— Western Bulldogs (@westernbulldogs) October 1, 2016
Premiership style. 🏆 #bemorebulldog pic.twitter.com/2BioFOPfap
The third quarter resembled the first, with clear attacking chances at a premium. Dickson and Kennedy exchanged lead changes early on but neither side could break the shackles, setting up a grandstand finale.
The finale that began with Daniel Hannebery carried off the ground after his left knee buckled in a ferocious Wood tackle, the latest in a long line of incidents that went against the Sydneysiders. The Bulldogs won the free kick count 20-8.
It was an ominous start, and despite Franklin booting the opening goal of the term, the Bulldogs had the ascendancy. Jake Stringer, a peripheral figure all afternoon, snapped accurately to extend the lead back to seven, and almost as soon as Hewett replied, Picken restored belief.
The game was unravelling as a structured contest. Bodies strewn all over the turf, the Sherrin bobbling of its own accord. Through the chaos, Boyd strode like a man with his own forcefield to wallop the sealer.
Win or lose there would be Bulldog tears. They’re that kind of a group; it’s been that kind of a year. But when Beveridge and Murphy moved boundaryside two minutes before the final siren, the emotion was already overwhelming. It was as pure a scene as you could design in the heat of battle, capped moments later by the coach’s generosity – a fairytale ending to a magical story.
