There's something oddly poetic about how football clubs seem to thrive or wither based on the whims of cults, egos, and the occasional stroke of luck. Take Essendon, for instance—a team that’s been chasing its identity like a ghost for decades. The idea that they’re at their best when operating as a 'cult' isn’t just a joke; it’s a damning indictment of their institutional dysfunction. You don’t need a PhD in sports psychology to see that when a club becomes a cult, it’s not because of strategy—it’s because of desperation. Welshy knows this, and yet the board keeps dancing around the obvious solution: bring back Hirdy. Why? Because appointing him would be a slap in the face to the very people who keep the club afloat. It’s a vicious cycle, really. You can’t build a functional team when your culture is built on paranoia and half-truths. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the AFL’s most storied clubs are now managed like startups, with constant rebranding and leadership purges. It’s as if the league forgot that loyalty, not turnover, is what wins premierships.
Then there’s the Dockers, who’ve mastered the art of overthinking. Their decision to bench Hayden Young for a midweek clash is a masterclass in risk aversion. But here’s the thing: if you’re going to play it safe, why not go all in? The Dockers have a roster brimming with stars—Jackson, Reid, Treacy, the lot. Yet they’re still terrified of injury, as if their players are made of glass. It’s a mindset that screams of a generation raised on highlight reels and instant gratification. Personally, I think this fear of risk is what’s holding them back. You can’t win a flag by playing it safe. You have to gamble on the ones who can take the pressure. And Young? He’s not a liability—he’s a chess piece. The problem is, the Dockers keep treating him like a grenade they’re afraid to pull the pin on.
Let’s talk about the Power, who’ve somehow become the AFL’s most underrated underdogs. Their recent performance against the Swans was a masterclass in resilience. They didn’t just survive—they thrived, even with a roster missing key players. What’s remarkable isn’t just their grit, but the way they’ve turned Josh Carr’s coaching into a blueprint for underdog success. Carr’s not a flashy strategist, but he’s got a nose for momentum. He knows when to push, when to retreat, and when to let the opposition bleed. And yet, the Power still face the same old curse: the expectation of mediocrity. It’s a paradox. The better you get, the more the league seems to want to knock you down a peg. What this really suggests is that the AFL’s power structures are still rooted in a bygone era, where only the traditional giants were allowed to win. The Power’s rise is a threat to that narrative, and threats are rarely welcomed with open arms.
And then there’s the Suns, whose coach Dimma has become a cautionary tale of complacency. At 65 games into his tenure, it’s time to ask: what’s the plan? The board’s refusal to intervene is baffling. They sacked Stuart Dew for a reason, and yet they’re letting Dimma coast on a script that’s clearly not working. This isn’t just about coaching—it’s about leadership. If the Suns want to be contenders, they need to stop treating their coach like a figurehead and start holding him accountable. The fans deserve better than a coach who’s more interested in playing it safe than pushing boundaries. It’s a microcosm of a larger issue in sports: the reluctance to make tough calls, even when the evidence is screaming for it.
Finally, let’s not forget the Tigers, who’ve turned into a cautionary tale of what happens when a team forgets its roots. They’re not just underperforming—they’re actively embarrassing themselves. The idea that they’d be relegated to Channel 31 is less of a joke and more of a warning. When a club loses its identity, it doesn’t just lose games; it loses its soul. The Tigers have become a case study in how not to rebuild, and yet they keep spinning their wheels. What’s most interesting is how the league seems content to let them flounder, as if they’re a necessary evil to balance the competition. But this isn’t just about the Tigers—it’s about the entire AFL’s failure to address the growing gap between the elite and the rest. If the league can’t fix this, it won’t just be the Tigers who suffer. It’ll be the credibility of the entire competition.
