When I was young, there was something bitter about barracking for Geelong. We were the heartbreak side, the cardiac Cats. For 44 lean years we promised so much, produced so little. We made four grand finals in seven years, and lost the lot. A fellow sufferer described standing at the stinky old urinal on the western side of Kardinia Park in 2006, when the Cats were up by six goals at three-quarter time. A dark, knowing laugh ran down the row of men when one grunted, “We’ll probably lose.” We lost.
The Cats’ home ground, Kardinia Park back in the early 2000s.Credit:Vince Caligiuri
A year later, Geelong stopped losing. We won three flags in five years, with one of the greatest teams of all time. The stinky urinals vanished, a state-of-the art stadium rose in the town. Over the past decade, the Cats won more matches than any other club and made the finals every year but one. In recent years, one supporter has often taken his young son to games. One day, Geelong lost. As the pair got up to go, the little boy was puzzled. “Dad!” he demanded. “Why aren’t they playing our song?”
The transformation of Geelong is a long story, with many twists, but among all the forces at work there is evidence to suggest that a club that had worshipped brilliant individuals, in a town that had faced many struggles and needed something to worship, finally found a way to work as a collective. Through good on-and off-field decisions by smart people, hard work, persistence, a bit of magic and a dash of luck, a culture was changed, in ways that carry lessons for any organisation.
On Saturday the Cats play in another grand final. If they win, many critics will be proved wrong – including me. In 2022 Geelong is easily the oldest team, and in recent years I have thought the club was far too focused on picking up established but older players through free agency, and would suffer for neglecting young players in the draft.
Tom Hawkins and Joel Selwood after the 2011 grand final.Credit:Mal Fairclough
The Cats kept winning, boosted by great talent and a home ground advantage, but year after year, they folded in finals. Chris Scott, clearly an accomplished coach, seemed too defence-focused, and perhaps too dominant a voice inside the club, when the golden years of 2007 to 2011 had been built on many voices. The game plan looked predictable, the players slow. Everyone could see the premiership window had closed – everyone except the club itself.
This year, Scott and the other coaches have turned out a faster, more attacking side, but an even bigger story is how the medical and fitness staff have deftly managed the team’s ageing stars. Marginal players, the bottom six, have all improved and play defined roles within a well-constructed plan. A few recent recruits have added speed; one, Jeremy Cameron is a football freak.
What of things we cannot see? The unfolding story at Hawthorn makes football culture topic of the week, yet culture is often a mystery, subject to spin in the short term, with the truth emerging only years later. What role has been played by new CEO Steve Hocking, who says little but who once told me in passing, when he was Geelong football manager 10 years ago, that everything he did at the club sought to counter the individualist culture he found there as a player in the 1980s and ’90s?
Perhaps the best evidence for the strength and steadiness of Geelong’s culture is that so
many players want to play there. Through all the upheavals of modern times, the club has kept traces of its knockabout, country character. It unearthed a star, Tom Stewart, in its local league. Cameron and Tom Hawkins, both farm boys, have bought farms in the Geelong area; Paddy Dangerfield came home from Adelaide to surf at Mogg’s Creek.
A YouTube video of Hawkins interviewing the captain, Joel Selwood, might give a glimpse of this culture. The pair, both picked in the 2006 draft, have played more than 300 games together, nearly an AFL record. As young players they shared a house with teammate Simon Hogan, who has spoken warmly of the care they showed him when he suffered a serious bout of depression.
In the interview, the bond between the two is clear. When Hawkins hands Selwood an iPad containing messages from his parents, brothers and wife to celebrate his 350th game, Selwood fights back tears. Hawkins calls Selwood Geelong’s greatest player ever, and who can dispute it, when we count character as well as footballing class? If the team wins on Saturday, Selwood might retire. If that were the case, the players would know as they took the field.
We’d be nuts to be cocky. We had an easy draw this year, luck with injuries, and Sydney beat us the last time we played. But it’s time for faith, not doubt. I’m ready – eager – to eat humble pie. If “We are Geelong, the greatest team of all” rings out across the stands after the final siren, I’ll consider it a delicious meal indeed.
