It was silly, it was funny; it made me laugh. I needed a laugh, after the Crows versus St Kilda game at Etihad the previous evening.
The Carlton bloke is not the only one who plays the game from the stand. I don’t use hand signals; instead, I ride the bumps, I edge my opponents out of contests with the clever use of my hips, and I lead all comers in hard-ball gets. Most of all, I make tackles. I put my shoulders into it and I never let the sucker go. I pin his arms so he can’t get the ball free, and I drag him off balance so he can’t drop it on his boot. By the end of most games I’m completely worn out, although I’ve never left my seat.
But not on Friday night against St Kilda. It was a non-event. It was the worst game I’ve ever seen live. Gunston showed that he has a good pair of hands, Jacobs was a force in the ruck and Petrenko chased hard, but I could see no other positives. It was dismal, it was depressing, it was disappointing. The Crows played with no energy and even less confidence.
Perhaps in sympathy I was also lethargic, and my virtual tackling faded to virtually nothing. I stopped riding bumps; I didn’t try for the hard ball. Instead, I sat there quiet and took the punishment.
From what I could gather, most other Crows’ supporters, of whom there were a good number, were just as numb as me. Towards the end, one of them called out, ‘Who the hell’s on Ray?’ I hadn’t even noticed Farren Ray; I don’t think he was much of a factor in the game. But this forlorn cry from the top of the stand seemed to sum up the despair and confusion all Crows’ fans present were feeling.
It also made us laugh. About ten minutes later the same bloke yelled out, ‘Oh, it’s bloody …’, naming a Crow who he’d decided was meant to be on Ray, and that made us laugh, too. I started to feel a little better.
Crows’ fans will need more good humour in coming weeks. The game is no barrel of laughs at the moment, but I say let’s ride the bumps. When you plumb depths such as these, the only thing that can save you is humour. For a while it might seem like we’re riding a barrel over Niagara Falls, but it will feel good when it stops. And we will find we have survived, and can try again.
