At risk of stroking the bear, welcome back Carlton.
We think. Maybe. Let’s see.
Let’s face it, except to their myriad fans, the Blues were never the most loveable of clubs. They didn’t try to be.
The Blues react after their semi-final win over Melbourne..Credit: Eddie Jim
If the history of modern Carlton began with the coup that was the recruiting of Ron Barassi in 1965, it can be said that from that time on, they played hard ball.
Then, they were the only club that could give tyrannical Richmond a run for their money. They weren’t bullies as such, but they were cocky. Think Collingwood, but with lots of premierships. Seven in 20 years, to be precise. Between the Blues and the Tigers, they personified footy then: you couldn’t take your eyes off anything they did.
They didn’t even try to sell an image – not genteel Geelong, not Hawthorn the family club, just Carlton, who win premierships. If they had a motto, it was president John Elliott’s growly assertion: “We don’t rebuild at Carlton.”
Former Carlton president John Elliott with Stephen Kernahan and Paul Meldrum in 1988.Credit: Andrew De La Rue
The Blues had bellicose leaders. Elliott sometimes made even their own wince. In Ian Collins, they had a CEO who knew all the tricks, because he invented most of them. It later made him a terror of a gamekeeper at the AFL.
In 1986, they swept up Stephen Kernahan, Craig Bradley and Jon Dorotich just before the draft was instituted, but what is often forgotten is that they almost landed John Platten as well. Platten would win a Brownlow Medal and a slew of premierships with Hawthorn.
Later, the Blues smuggled David Rhys-Jones out of Sydney, and later again Greg Williams from the Swans, and more premierships followed.
The Blues were ruthless, but irresistible. David Parkin won them a couple of premierships as coach, was sacked three years later, and later still went back in the certain knowledge that he probably would be fired again, and won them another premiership before a more dignified parting of the ways.
David Parkin in his Carlton days.Credit: Mark Dadswell / Sporting Pix
In 1995, Carlton were travelling so well that at post-match press conferences, Parkin unilaterally would announce the following week’s team, because it was usually unchanged. They lost two games for the year. As recently as 1999, they conjured up the most miraculous preliminary final win of all.
At this point, it is necessary to say that it wasn’t all a case of might is right. They were a well-resourced, well-run, well-coached, well-followed football club. Princes Park was second only to the MCG as footy’s main campus.
But the competition was widening and deepening, and the rules were tightening, and the Blues were loath to adapt. At long length, the karma bus arrived. Carlton lost their way, made bad decisions; the worst was to shackle themselves into the confines of whatever the Docklands stadium was called at the time. They “won” their first wooden spoon, and another.
False dawns and messiahs came and went, second-hand coaches and players. Not even Chris Judd and all his powers could relieve the funk.
Carlton after another loss in 2013Credit: Pat Scala
“They know we’re coming,” the Blues had proclaimed in 2008, but like all second comings, it was illusory. In 2011, they were a kick away from a preliminary final. In 2016, they beat Collingwood twice in eight weeks. As it transpired, beating Collingwood twice was not the nirvana it was supposed to be, and the Blues receded again. They were not abject. They made and won finals, but never two in a row and were never in premiership calculations.
As was their wont, they swung the axe often and hard, and sometimes it seemed indiscriminately. Kernahan, by now president, was veritably mournful in 2016 as he showed Brett Ratten, an old teammate, the door.
So it has come to pass that, incredible as it seems to those who have done a few laps of the oval of life, Carlton are enduring the second-longest current premiership drought, behind only permanently barren St Kilda, expansion clubs excepted.
But it had to be admitted that without a strong Carlton, footy lacked something. It wasn’t anything as refined as je ne sais qua, but it was a particular presence. Maybe it was a team for others to love to hate. Collingwood couldn’t do the job alone and none of Hawthorn, Geelong or Sydney really fitted the bill. And no-one could begrudge the Bulldogs and Melbourne.
Jacob Weitering rejoices with fans after the semi-final.Credit: AFL Photos / Getty Images
In this sense, renascent Richmond proved to be a disappointment; they were Simon the Likeables all round. OK, there was always Collingwood, but it turns out that they, too, aren’t as abominable as they’re supposed to be. Don’t they know who they are?
For footy to work in all its light and shade, it needs a true dark force, and none were once darker than those old dark Blues. Maybe they’re coming into their own again (though, worryingly, they also have an endearing streak in them).
Are they back? Well, they’re more back than they have been at any time this century, which is nearly a quarter over. They’re back as far as a preliminary final. They and their da da da da da daaaaa’s have set this finals series alight and you have to say footy’s been better for it.
So (fingers crossed under the table), good luck, Blue Baggers. I could add: but remember your place. The trouble is that not only have they remembered it, they’re intent on resuming it.
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