AFL grand final 2017: Richmond Tigers see the Western Bulldogs, and raise them one

Lightning struck twice in the same place, and even more incandescently than last year, when Richmond won the 2017 premiership.

The monkey on the 2016 Bulldogs’ back was older, but Richmond’s was bigger, as the club is bigger. The Bulldogs did it harder than the Tigers in the finals, but the Tigers came from further back, season on season, further than any team ever has come before.

Tigers win first Premiership in 37 years

After a rocky start Richmond took control of the second-half, romping to a 48 point win.

Tigers’ second quarter blitz

Richmond scored three goals in five minutes to storm ahead in the grand final.

Riewoldt produces grand final mark

Richmond full forward Jack Riewoldt rises above the pack to take spectacular mark.

Tigers express joy; in expletives

Normally reserved with the media, Richmond Tigers players let it all out after winning the AFL grand final.

Killers surprise with Aussie cover

Midnight Oil did end up at the grand final, via a cover from the Killers.

Upset in grand final sprint

The sprint saw an early upset on grand final day.

Cotchin: Rioli creating own history

Richmond captain Trent Cotchin knows that Daniel Rioli will step up in his own way on the big stage.

Tigers win first Premiership in 37 years

After a rocky start Richmond took control of the second-half, romping to a 48 point win.

Like the Dogs, the Tigers came when least likely or expected, beginning from recent and nearly existential crisis. But you were to define a difference, it was that the Dogs came from the clouds, the Tigers from the wilderness.

Everything this day was off the scale: there was the crowd, more than 100,000. Many had waited all night for this, not to mention all their lives, and their parents’ lives, too.

There was the crowd’s presence, which was bigger as a roar is bigger than a woof. You have to believe it was a measurable force in this series and finale. The parenthesis here is an outsized fail for the AFL, who at every turn turn this day overlaid artificial, amplified, extraneous sound over the most spine-tingling naturally-occurring noise in the competition. It’s a turn-off; turn it off.

There was the margin, an improbable eight goals. There were the repetitions of Tigerland, an endless number, and of course that bellowed “yellow and black” rejoinder, and no-one gave a stuff now that it was more yellow than black.

The Bulldogs’ triumph was a fairytale come true, the Tigers a giant awakened. Historically, the Bulldogs hope for flags; the Tigers, for a time in this town, expected them. That time was long ago, but suddenly is revived.

Get the latest news and updates emailed straight to your inbox.

Richmond finished the season with the premiership cup, the Brownlow medal, the Norm Smith medal, and that’s before you get past irrepressible Dustin Martin, the everywhere man. Few do. They also had in Alex Rance the All-Australian captain who in only a slight re-imagining might also have been this day’s medallist. A year ago, captain Trent Cotchin had neither premiership nor Brownlow Medal, and did not look likely to collect either. Now he has both, meritoriously. Oh, and Conor Menadue won the grand final sprint. AFL, beware.

The Bulldogs were everyone’s pets last year, but the Tigers this year were a cause. The Dogs were a suddenly fashionable team, playing a fashionable game. The Tigers were less fashionable – whoever had heard of Jack Graham and Nathan Broad and Jacob Townsend six months ago? Expect to hear plenty of them, and from them, henceforth.

Their game was less fashionable, too. This flag was won the way flags used to be won, with manic fury tempered by just enough science. It doesn’t show up on the stat sheet – have a look for yourself – but it showed up on the ground. It was the slick of Adelaide versus the stick of Richmond, and the stick won. The Crows aim to be exact, the Tigers exacting, and they were.

The style was unimportant. One of the themes of this season at Richmond has been to be prepared for less than perfection, because in such a furious bodily contest, it is unattainable. This day, indeed this finals series, they dared to be imperfect, and so became perfect.

Throughout, there was an ever-growing sense that this was not just an opportunity for the club, but its vocation. Borrowing from a Paul Kelly thought bubble, together they made the thing that none of them could make alone.

At the back, Rance was as Bradman was when Plum Warner said to Lord Hawke: “This is like throwing stones at Gibraltar”. Next to him, Bachar Houli was mini-Gibraltar. So it was that they held the Crows to their lowest score of the year. In the middle, Martin and Cotchin did their things, but so did Shane Edwards.

Up forward, the way the Tigers play, it didn’t matter who kicked the goals, and eventually 11 did. All the forces conspired for them: metaphysics, yearning, Adelaide’s injury toll, the balance of free kicks paid and missed. With all that bearing down on the Crows, they fell apart. In the middle hour of this match, the Tigers kicked 11 goals to one, after which all was gift-wrapping.

At the final siren, you could see the weight lift off Richmond, almost physically. Non-players and players celebrated together, for this had been a corporate effort throughout. The hugs were at least as tight as last year, and more plentiful. But there were few tears. This victory was on an emotional plane somewhere beyond crying.

As the rites were conducted, Cotchin said all things that Martin didn’t. It has been like that for a while now, and it suits both. But in the rooms, it was Martin who insisted that the entire list join the song-singing circle, and it was Rance who held back the masses to make room for it. On the field and off, it was the same way.

This premiership differed from others in one other way. More than any club, Richmond still represents not just a vast set of supporters, but a distinctive suburb, the one just across the park from the MCG, where their ground lies. The Tigers disported with their spoils at what is called the Punt Rd end, but also the Richmond end. This extraordinary cup might have been the longest time coming, but it was going to make the shortest journey home.

Search This Blog

Australia Breaking News | Top Stories | Entertainment | Political | Movies | Sports - Times of News