MAJOR General Michael Collins holds a special place in history. As the command module pilot on the Apollo 11 mission of July 1969 it was his job to maintain the orbit of the mother ship while his colleagues Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin made the descent to the lunar surface and then space-walked into immortality.

High above, Major Collins watched on. Having done all the training, taken all the risks, endured all the challenges and shared all the hopes and fears of his colleagues, his duty denied him that moment.

Armstrong and Aldrin are household names. Major Collins a footnote in history. I bet if he were an Aussie rules fan he'd be a Saint supporter as well.

Watching St.Kilda in the last few weeks, the parallels with Major Collins’ story struck home. Here’s a team seemingly blessed with the talent, drive and desire to reach for immortality that has, at times, got within touching distance of glory. Yet on numerous occasions it has been denied its goal. Whether through bad luck, poor planning, an impetuous temperament or divine will, it has fallen short.

Like Major Collins, we’ve sat in close orbit around our destiny and watched while others realised their dream. In 2003-5 we challenged the might of the Brisbane Lions Empire. There were some thrilling wins at the Telstra Dome (remember Troy Schwarze’s match winning bomb?) and the odd mauling (the first final of 2004 and the tears of 2005).

We set ourselves to take their crown but the plan was never realised. In the meantime, a powerful rivalry developed with the Geelong Football Club. Again we shared a few epic battles with the Cats but we always thought we had their measure.

That all changed last year. Somehow the Geelong Football Club found the courage to grasp their moment in history. Meanwhile, we drifted alone high above, like Major Collins, looking down as others experienced what we’ve only dared to dream about.

Last weekend confirmed that the difference between the two teams can be measured in light years. Like the thousands of spectators at Cape Kennedy who had to crane their necks skywards as Apollo 11 raced into space, we were left to watch the vapour trail as Geelong exploded past us with alarming ease in the third quarter.  For all our industry and intent we never really got into orbit. Poor execution and an inability to take advantage of our early dominance in the game left us stranded on the launch pad.

We can take heart. It took the space program countless missions and many spectacular failures before realizing President John F. Kennedy’s stated goal of having a man on the moon by the end of the 60s.

And so we go back to the drawing board and re-configure our plans once again. This Friday night it’s the Bombers.

There’s nothing that would give me greater pleasure than watching us knock them out of orbit.