southerncross
05-05-2007, 06:30 AM
Why the Dogs copped a Rocket (http://www.realfooty.com.au/news/news/why-the-dogs-copped-a-rocket/2007/05/04/1177788403579.html)
On the night of September 16, 2006, the best season produced by a Western Bulldogs team in six years ought to have ended in tears.
As it was, the only player to weep after the 74-point defeat by West Coast was the retiring Rohan Smith, chaired in near silence from Subiaco Oval a weary former player.
Later, in the rooms, the muted voices and routine blank stares of disappointment were heard and seen but so were curious rounds of congratulations.
Deflated as they clearly were by the team's final-quarter surrender to West Coast less than half an hour earlier, at least one former captain and members of the Bulldogs board were among those offering consolations to the players and coaches. It was, after all, a season of relative and unexpected success.
Later again, back at the team hotel, players in their nightclub finest mingled with supporters who were unmistakably determined to celebrate the team's achievements rather than stew on its failures.
Suddenly, this reaction, well meaning as it was, became too much for coach Rodney Eade and several members of his staff, one of whom, Matthew Drain, flew home on the midnight flight out of Perth rather than wait, as first intended, until the next day.
Eade stayed on but fumed amid the comfortable acceptance of the defeat. As he did so, he plotted a response.
It wasn't to be as public or as controversial as the speech Kevin Sheedy slapped Essendon's face with in 1983, a post-match attack the then young coach made after watching what he considered to be a shameful celebration of the team's grand final loss to a Hawthorn side that Eade was a part of, but it wasn't too far removed from it, either.
On the following Wednesday, the Bulldog players were summoned to their usual meeting room at Whitten Oval. Their eight-week break was about to begin. There was, it seemed, much to look forward to and back on.
"He (Eade) hit the group right between the eyes with the truth," assistant coach Chris Bond recalled.
"I remember it vividly. I was one of the first to arrive and as the players made their way in, I could tell that they didn't know what they were going to hear. It wasn't a tirade. It was short, sharp, succinct.
"But there wasn't a player who left that meeting without understanding that what happened against the Eagles was unacceptable."
Eade says now that he was not addressing the players alone, that he was also speaking to a cultural issue not dissimilar to the one Sheedy recognised at Essendon in his earliest years or Chris Connolly confronted upon his arrival in Fremantle.
He could understand why, with only 12 appearances in September in 50 years to remember, Bulldogs might describe a sixth-place finish as a "good" year but, he argues, to accept it as one is to condemn the club to mediocrity at best.
"I had to leave them in no doubt where I thought we - and they - were at," Eade said.
"It was an unacceptable performance bordering on embarrassing. What are we? Good-time Charlies, a football club that is just happy, almost grateful, to be a part of the competition? We have to want to do something meaningful.
"I got a bit of feedback from a couple of players and people around the club that, 'Well, you know, it wasn't a bad year and maybe you could've been a bit more positive' and I thought that's exactly the thinking I'm trying to kill off - the typical 'Close enough is good enough' mentality.
"Yeah, we made a bit more progress than we were expected to, we played well with injuries and won some games we weren't supposed to. And maybe we did go further than we should have, but why would you be happy about finishing sixth? If you're comfortable about where you're at, you will stay there."
A sneaking sense of self satisfaction - or was it naivety? - was first apparent, at least within the team, to insiders in the week leading into the semi-final against the eventual premier.
The elimination final victory over Collingwood that preceded it was not only comprehensive but the club's first finals victory in eight years.
Before flying west, the team trained at the MCG midweek. The session was so poor that captain Brad Johnson called the players in and spoke with them about the need to remain sharp.
But training at Perth Oval two days later was scarcely much better. Eade and his staff began to fear not complacency but an outbreak of football's version of high-altitude sickness.
Terry Wheeler, the former player and coach who embarked on a cultural revolution of his own at Whitten Oval 16 years earlier, tried to offer an antidote with the final words of an address he gave to the players before they flew out. "It might not be our year," he said, "But it might just be our premiership."
Today, the Dogs return to Subiaco Oval and once more the Eagles, unbeaten in their past eight matches, await, although the conditions are expected to be dry and speed-friendly rather than wet, as they were last September, and the match will be an afternoon affair rather than an encounter at night.
Doubtless, many will believe that the outcome will establish whether the Dogs have crept at all closer to the best team in the game in the seven months since they were there previously.
Neither Eade nor Drain is so sure. The Bulldogs beat the Eagles at Subiaco Oval during the regular season last year but failed when it mattered.
"We're a work in progress," Drain said.
"We'll take the result if we get it, but if we win, will it mean we're the best or close to it? No. Seasons of consistent results and finals and premierships give you the right to that claim and we don't have those things yet. But we can be filthy if we lose. We have to be."
Or as Eade put it: "It might give us some sort of indication but the test that will reveal us for what we truly are will come in September and how we handle that experience.
"That's when we'll know not only how good we are but how we think of ourselves. There is a difference. We're everyone's second favorite team, people are always telling us how pleased they are to see us doing well, which, of course, means that they like to see us do all right as long as we don't actually beat their team.
"It's a form of pity that is well meant but tends to reinforce the club's own fundamental sense of itself, a club that is never really threatening and therefore worthy of fear. That has to change first."
On the night of September 16, 2006, the best season produced by a Western Bulldogs team in six years ought to have ended in tears.
As it was, the only player to weep after the 74-point defeat by West Coast was the retiring Rohan Smith, chaired in near silence from Subiaco Oval a weary former player.
Later, in the rooms, the muted voices and routine blank stares of disappointment were heard and seen but so were curious rounds of congratulations.
Deflated as they clearly were by the team's final-quarter surrender to West Coast less than half an hour earlier, at least one former captain and members of the Bulldogs board were among those offering consolations to the players and coaches. It was, after all, a season of relative and unexpected success.
Later again, back at the team hotel, players in their nightclub finest mingled with supporters who were unmistakably determined to celebrate the team's achievements rather than stew on its failures.
Suddenly, this reaction, well meaning as it was, became too much for coach Rodney Eade and several members of his staff, one of whom, Matthew Drain, flew home on the midnight flight out of Perth rather than wait, as first intended, until the next day.
Eade stayed on but fumed amid the comfortable acceptance of the defeat. As he did so, he plotted a response.
It wasn't to be as public or as controversial as the speech Kevin Sheedy slapped Essendon's face with in 1983, a post-match attack the then young coach made after watching what he considered to be a shameful celebration of the team's grand final loss to a Hawthorn side that Eade was a part of, but it wasn't too far removed from it, either.
On the following Wednesday, the Bulldog players were summoned to their usual meeting room at Whitten Oval. Their eight-week break was about to begin. There was, it seemed, much to look forward to and back on.
"He (Eade) hit the group right between the eyes with the truth," assistant coach Chris Bond recalled.
"I remember it vividly. I was one of the first to arrive and as the players made their way in, I could tell that they didn't know what they were going to hear. It wasn't a tirade. It was short, sharp, succinct.
"But there wasn't a player who left that meeting without understanding that what happened against the Eagles was unacceptable."
Eade says now that he was not addressing the players alone, that he was also speaking to a cultural issue not dissimilar to the one Sheedy recognised at Essendon in his earliest years or Chris Connolly confronted upon his arrival in Fremantle.
He could understand why, with only 12 appearances in September in 50 years to remember, Bulldogs might describe a sixth-place finish as a "good" year but, he argues, to accept it as one is to condemn the club to mediocrity at best.
"I had to leave them in no doubt where I thought we - and they - were at," Eade said.
"It was an unacceptable performance bordering on embarrassing. What are we? Good-time Charlies, a football club that is just happy, almost grateful, to be a part of the competition? We have to want to do something meaningful.
"I got a bit of feedback from a couple of players and people around the club that, 'Well, you know, it wasn't a bad year and maybe you could've been a bit more positive' and I thought that's exactly the thinking I'm trying to kill off - the typical 'Close enough is good enough' mentality.
"Yeah, we made a bit more progress than we were expected to, we played well with injuries and won some games we weren't supposed to. And maybe we did go further than we should have, but why would you be happy about finishing sixth? If you're comfortable about where you're at, you will stay there."
A sneaking sense of self satisfaction - or was it naivety? - was first apparent, at least within the team, to insiders in the week leading into the semi-final against the eventual premier.
The elimination final victory over Collingwood that preceded it was not only comprehensive but the club's first finals victory in eight years.
Before flying west, the team trained at the MCG midweek. The session was so poor that captain Brad Johnson called the players in and spoke with them about the need to remain sharp.
But training at Perth Oval two days later was scarcely much better. Eade and his staff began to fear not complacency but an outbreak of football's version of high-altitude sickness.
Terry Wheeler, the former player and coach who embarked on a cultural revolution of his own at Whitten Oval 16 years earlier, tried to offer an antidote with the final words of an address he gave to the players before they flew out. "It might not be our year," he said, "But it might just be our premiership."
Today, the Dogs return to Subiaco Oval and once more the Eagles, unbeaten in their past eight matches, await, although the conditions are expected to be dry and speed-friendly rather than wet, as they were last September, and the match will be an afternoon affair rather than an encounter at night.
Doubtless, many will believe that the outcome will establish whether the Dogs have crept at all closer to the best team in the game in the seven months since they were there previously.
Neither Eade nor Drain is so sure. The Bulldogs beat the Eagles at Subiaco Oval during the regular season last year but failed when it mattered.
"We're a work in progress," Drain said.
"We'll take the result if we get it, but if we win, will it mean we're the best or close to it? No. Seasons of consistent results and finals and premierships give you the right to that claim and we don't have those things yet. But we can be filthy if we lose. We have to be."
Or as Eade put it: "It might give us some sort of indication but the test that will reveal us for what we truly are will come in September and how we handle that experience.
"That's when we'll know not only how good we are but how we think of ourselves. There is a difference. We're everyone's second favorite team, people are always telling us how pleased they are to see us doing well, which, of course, means that they like to see us do all right as long as we don't actually beat their team.
"It's a form of pity that is well meant but tends to reinforce the club's own fundamental sense of itself, a club that is never really threatening and therefore worthy of fear. That has to change first."