Individual brilliance gets Bulldogs over line on a typical Beveridge-era day of AFL footy

With 10 minutes to go until the opening bounce of the Bulldogs’ game against Melbourne, Luke Beveridge stalked the MCG boundary line, a man careful not to slip on a banana peel. He was more clenched and coiled than usual. He looked as if he’d spent the last six months deadlifting trucks and moving magnets. He knew better than anyone how dangerous this game was. He’d seen Brisbane slip up the previous day. He’d seen Fremantle nearly throw away their season. He knew his own team’s history of self-sabotaging in games like this.

When Aaron Naughton kicked his fourth goal and his second in as many minutes in the third term, his coach was entitled to loosen up a little. The first half had been a dozy affair, with both sides just trundling along. But now Naughton was marking everything, Bailey Dale and Marcus Bontempelli had about a thousand touches between them and the Dogs had their foot on the throat.

But there were little distress signals that all was not well. Their deficiencies are glaring. They’re a poor intercepting team and struggle to score from turnovers. Their defensive zone is often sloppy. It only takes a couple of players to be a couple of metres out of place in the grid and the opposition can go to town on it. For about half an hour, every time the ball was in the air in their backline, they looked like conceding a mark, a free kick and a goal.

Besides, the Demons are far from the worst team in the world. They annihilated West Coast a week ago and it’s worth remembering how well they were playing against St Kilda until Nasiah Wanganeen-Milera went berserk. They had a locum coach, but they had nothing to lose, and they were suddenly playing like it.

Ten points down at the final break, the Bulldogs were forced to go as deep down the well as they have in a long time. This was a crackerjack contest, a most welcome heartstopper after weeks of blowouts. Both sides were superb, but some individual brilliance dragged the Dogs across the line. It was Naughton, who booted five goals for the fifth time in six weeks. It was Joel Freijah, whose clever handballs and tap-ons directly set up three goals. It was Ed Richards, whose two goals both had a high degree of difficulty, and both helped his team regain the lead.

And with all chips on the table, and just a few seconds left on the clock, it was Sam Darcy who hurled himself into oncoming traffic and pulled down the match saving mark. There’s no wasted energy with Darcy. He doesn’t get mad at himself. He doesn’t bother with much push and shove. He misses a goal and just trots back to defend. Even when he did his knee, he didn’t seem very distraught. But with his team’s season on the line, he summoned the urgency and the hide that the moment called for.

View image in fullscreen Sam Darcy marks the ball. Photograph: Morgan Hancock/Getty Images

All up, it was a typical Beveridge-era day at the football. They’re one of the most potent teams we’ve seen in recent years. They’re a terrific team to watch. They have half a dozen of the best and most exciting players in the league. They have been competitive in every game they’ve played this year. They have a percentage of 135. And they still probably won’t make the eight.

While all this was going on, one of the biggest upsets in decades was brewing in Perth, where the cellar-dwelling Eagles threatened but ultimately failed to roll the top team Adelaide. Heading into this weekend, the last time a bottom nine team had knocked off a finals contender was five weeks ago when Sydney beat Fremantle at the SCG. The Swans went in as favourites that day anyway. And they’re the last team you’d want to be playing right now, with a depth of talent that belies their ladder position. On the weekend, they finally had a full list to choose from, a score to settle and a platform to launch their 2026 campaign. And they had Isaac Heeney, who even when he’s green-gilled still looks as if he should be playing in a bow tie. The Lions were wasteful, caught on the hop by Sydney’s slingshot game and suddenly in danger of missing the double chance. But Chris Fagan has an optimism that’s at odds with his careworn expression. “I don’t doubt this group in any way, shape or form,” he said.

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It’s the sort of thing Ken Hinkley has been saying for more than a decade. It has been a lean year for Port Adelaide, but they’re still one of those teams that can spring a major surprise every couple of months. With Hinkley and Travis Boak bowing out and Zak Butters scampering out the front of stoppages, they looked poised to sink Fremantle’s season. The Dockers had never beaten them at the Adelaide Oval and were playing dreadfully.

But Fremantle are dogged, well-conditioned and finally reliable in close finishes. The cartoon villainy of Patrick Voss and the exquisite skills of Murphy Reid were pivotal in the final term. And with scores level, the music stopping and the chair being hoiked from underneath them, captain Alex Pearce drifted forward. He resembles Reno Raines from the 90s late night TV show Renegade and he sometimes kicks like him. But the set play and the set shot were perfectly executed and the Dockers dodged another bullet. That final round game against the Bulldogs is going to be excruciating.

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