I could not be at the ground on Sunday, I was taking my son to the mountains but as I drove that winding road up (and then down) Mt Hotham heading for Dinner Plains and the Alpine School I could not help but think about the mountain Carlton faced. It seems everyone I spoke to hoped only for a good showing. Not a win, not a triumph over a hated foe, just a good showing.

And that, more than anything else, shows just how far we have fallen. But the thing about mountains, I thought, as I wound around another hook turn (oh for a tunnel or two!), is that they stand there waiting to be scaled. They are makers of Destiny but rarely take Destiny upon themselves.

And this mountain, this mountain was The Mountain. Mohammed had his mountain, Moses too. Jesus went into the mountains and the Buddha has four sacred mountains. Monasteries are always placed on top of mountains and Collingwood is always our biggest mountain as we are theirs.

When we play each other the Gods themselves pause in their games of chess to watch the outcome for in these clashes, like the great epics from Ancient Greece, heroes are made when these two sides meet and greet.

Those of us old enough to, remember that wonderful fist of Harmes, as sure a sign of strength as Odysseus restringing his bow. Or the flight of Jezza upon Jenkins’ back, as elegant and deadly as anything Achilles could muster. It must be said for posterity’s sake, in the scheme of things, Collingwood is forever our Hector.

So how the Collingwood faithful, like Goblins from the Misty Mountains in Lord of the Rings, licked their chops at the prospect of staining our proud heritage with that 15th straight loss. How they prepared themselves to dance upon our carcass, to feast upon the beloved Bluebagger bones crushed under their black and white feats.

Of course the problem for all villains, from Batman’s Joker to those sad tragic rejoicers of Troy, is that they always get ahead of themselves. And so too did Collingwood, that mountain we almost feared, so too did they get ahead of themselves, thinking they were our Everest, our certain conqueror.

The thing is, Collingwood will always be our little bump along the round to glory. And so it came to pass.

It started, as it often seems to now, with Murph, almost beheaded and yet alive and well, gathering possessions at will. It began with our own Irish hero, kicking true and hitting Fev lace out. Setanta my not have gathered a lot of stats on the weekend but I loved his contests, I loved that around him Collingwood were never able to set up from defence, he exerted pressure and suddenly they panicked. It started with our man Gibbs who gave them a gift to lull them and then went head hunting like a man possessed. I think Beowulf and Gibbsey might have shared similar traits: Selflessness, courage and a sense of the dramatic. Many have not noticed this lad’s work in close. I had and after the weekend, now everyone understands.

It, of course, burst into full flower with Fev, who again, scaled heights mere mortals can only wonder about. Fittingly, it ended with perhaps the greatest hero in the Navy Blue today, Judd’s last quarter gave us the steel this young side in the past has lacked. When things grew tight in that last quarter and the slope seemed too steep for the young lads to scale, Judd simply ran to the peak and cried, ‘follow me lads, up and onwards to glory!’ He called and they followed. ‘Course it helps with Fev turning Brown inside out and then going all bear on the poor magpie defence presenting Griggs with his first goal.

And all of this was built upon a defence as stable as any rock. We found our footing on Sunday and we remained standing from start to finish.  A four-quarter effort I watched thanks to the delayed brilliance of that pay-TV mob. (Send some dough the club’s way and next time I’ll mention your name!).

So the mountain became a hill and then the hill became a gentle glade, soft grass, a trickling stream and a Sunday stroll. We waltzed home singing all the way; ‘we are the navy blues, we are the old dark navy blues…’

Which brings us to this week’s mountain. Okay so with Melbourne we may just be talking about a gully, but even ditches have their dangers! We must not take this one lightly. I want two on the trot! More, I want three or four; heck lets say five or six in a row! But to do that we must conquer the next mountain! We must produce that effort of last week again this week. We must make all those tackles and assists and defensive efforts part of the team’s psyche. We must build on last week’s platform so that mountains become hills, and hills become soft green slopes our navy Bluebagger boys run down as they smash their adversaries and find their dream (I think this is called milking the metaphor, but heck I’m having fun just reliving last week’s win).

It’s time to start scaling new heights! This week we slay our demons. This week we produce two in a row. A winning streak starts here, starts with the second string of a glorious new run.

Fev to kick 5, Carlos for 3 and Gibbs to get BOG.

Go Blueboys!

PS. – everyone take blue-tainted glasses so that horrible jumper might just appear the right shade of blue!

Go Blues!