Wharfie Time must go the way of the power stance, the Batmobile and Meatloaf

Not since the Adelaide Crows faux tough guy power stance, staring down Richmond with forced bravado, has a grand final gimmick rebounded so catastrophically.

The Power stance – dubbed Power Rangers stance by Alex Rance who was, shall we say, unmoved by the sight of the line of muscular Crowbots – was about as staunch as Adelaide got for the day. Adelaide fans, and ex-players, still wince at the very mention of the term.

Wharfie Time must go the way of the power stance, consigned like the Batmobile at Waverley (vale, Angry) and Meatloaf to the annals of grand final regrets.

There will be Fremantle fans – and players – who in years to come will hear the first bars of Hells Bells at a party, or walking the aisles of Bunnings, and they will be like the punch drunk boxer who hears a tram’s bell ring and starts shadowboxing. They will drop and curl into the foetal position, reaching for an imaginary doona to pull over their heads.

The reason it has to go is not that it was the reason the Dockers lost, but because it might have been. Was it causation or coincidence? It sort of doesn’t matter because the possibility that it might have played a part in inspiring Brisbane’s comeback is enough to say: marketing be damned, get out of the way.

Can you imagine next season when the Dockers ring the bell for Wharfie Time? What is the first memory to jump into every player’s mind? I think this term for this is triggering.

The psychology of the use of the bells has now not only lost its intended impact – positive thinking and grit to dig in – it now inspires precisely the opposite emotion for any player or fan who heard it.

This might feel like it is imbuing a marketing – sorry, in-game entertainment fan experience innovation – sideshow with too much importance, when losing Alex Pearce was more consequential to the result. But it is impossible to divorce the timing of Brisbane’s comeback from the chiming of the bells.

To be fair, at the time it was great theatre in the ground (and on TV, given the bells tolled just as the broadcast returned from an ad break; funny that). The bells tolled, the expectant purple crowd were delirious. It was fun as a neutral and thrilling if you were a Docker. As theatre, it became tragicomic within four minutes.

It was no doubt intended to be the bell to herald the team putting the proverbial foot on the throat and to move in to finish the job. Instead, it sounded like triumphalism and celebration of a job already done.

Just as Freo fans had been waiting for the chiming of the bells so, it turned out, were the Brisbane players. They had trained for it. Chris Fagan played down the significance of this, but his players didn’t. Many of them in the rooms said they knew that if they heard that sound they had to meet fire with fire. It was their trigger to come back harder.

So the bell has to have tolled for Wharfie Time. To borrow from Vyvyan in The Young Ones: “Shut up you bastards. It’s only (four minutes to go), shut the bloody bells off.”

One of the great grannies

Last week we pondered whether the preliminary final was the greatest final, and therefore one of the greatest games played. Putting aside hyperbole and recency bias it was a reasonable proposition. It is in the conversation.

This game might have been better. At the very least the last three finals were unlike any bracket of finals we have seen. Lost because of the quality of the last two games was the fact the Dockers’ win over Sydney was also a brilliant game of football. Sydney, undermanned, led all night before the Dockers, dare we say it, had a bit of Wharfie Time and put the game to bed. It was a cracker.

The next night was better. Hawthorn fans are only now uncoiling from the foetal position, yet still gnashing teeth over umpiring decisions. When they settle they, too, will agree that it was a game for the ages.

To then see a game – a grand final, no less – as storied as Saturday’s decided in the last minute was better again. A game where there were 10 lead changes, and five goals kicked in time on. Where Will Ashcroft played a last quarter, a last five minutes, to turn the match.

Where there was Wharfie Time. Where football’s kindly uncle, who never played the game at the level of his players, coached a third straight flag and elevated himself to greatness among coaches in possibly, probably, his last game.

Where the Dockers had their Stephen Milne moment with the ball spiking away from Caleb Serong at the last stoppage and into the arms of Will Ashcroft, for him to weave away taking four bounces and providing a second goal in seconds for Logan Morris. If the ball sits as it would 90 per cent of the time Serong takes it, punts deep inside 50 and a win – or at worst a draw – is there for the taking.

Where the Dockers, who lost their captain and best defender yet still held out the opposition for all but one last minute, became the first team since Hawthorn in 2012 to lose despite having 10 more inside 50s than their opponent.

It isn’t recency bias or hyperbole to call this one of the great grand finals.

The defenders Freo must chase

The loss of Alex Pearce to a suspected Achilles rupture, if that’s what scans confirm, is likely to have a more profound effect on Fremantle’s capacity to rebound from this loss and back into flag contention than any issues around AC-DC songs.

On Sunday the Dockers were hopeful Pearce’s Achilles had only partially torn, in which case he might avoid surgery and potentially be back playing sooner next year than if it is ruptured. Even a partial tear can mean anything from a few months out – so pretty much the whole pre-season, meaning he could return in the early rounds next year – to nine months, which would mean a mid-to-late season return. A rupture would require surgery and wipe out the whole 12 months.

The Dockers cannot hope to contend for a flag without bringing in reinforcements for him, as they already looked vulnerable behind the ball. Oscar McDonald was pretty good on Saturday until outmarked by Morris for the second last-goal and outpointed by him for the final goal. Luke Ryan is looking slow. Brennan Cox will come back in, but the Dockers need more ballast across the backline if they are to be here again. That is assuming they can get over the mental scars of the loss.

Sam De Koning is out of favour at Geelong and available on the trade market. He would be a natural target if prepared to move west, which is no sure thing. Reliable key back Charlie Ballard from Gold Coast is also available and would come more cheaply.

Neither is an A-grader like Pearce, but both would add depth. Realistically, unless you throw a godfather offer at Sam Taylor at GWS or Jacob Weitering at Carlton, you are not going to get a replacement close to Pearce’s quality.

The Dockers will also be hoping Sean Darcy returns, although how he’ll manage with the ruck rules is unclear. They need someone because Mason Cox’s stinker of a grand final is cause for concern.

The team that never dies

Craig McRae’s Collingwood had a reputation for winning close games. They have nothing on this Brisbane team in finals.

Consider this: in the 2024 semi-final the Lions only hit the front with two minutes and 31 seconds left on the clock. In the preliminary final it was later still, with just two minutes and 14 seconds left.

And this year? In the preliminary final win over Hawthorn Hugh McCluggage goaled from the free kick with 18 seconds to go.

And on Saturday, just 64 seconds were left on the clock when Logan Morris kicked the goal.

The Lions have been a dominant team across three flags, but they haven’t been completely dominant in those finals. This capacity to snatch victory at the end is why Chris Fagan fondly calls his team cockroaches because they are impossible to kill. Winning when games seem lost, playing out the minutes, never giving up and finding ways to win are true signs of Brisbane’s excellence.

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