Mick Malthouse reveals the tough lessons of coaching AFL finals

THE wins are glorious and the losses haunt you forever. Ignore anyone who says a final is just another game, writes MICK MALTHOUSE.

Mick Malthouse and Nick Maxwell lift the 2010 AFL premiership cup.

FINALS. There are many who say, “it’s just another game”, and some who quip, “we have nothing to lose”, but finals are finals.

You’ve worked so hard for 23 rounds just to get to them. Each final is far more than an average game, and you have everything to lose if you don’t win.

Percentage is no longer a concern. You want nothing kept in reserve, and yet still have fit and ready bodies to take to the field.

Finals are a juggling act that rarely goes to plan. I have been fortunate enough to be involved in coaching 52 finals.

No two have been the same. My first time coaching a final was at Footscray. We’d finished second ahead of our opponent Hawthorn.

As a group we were full of optimism, despite most of our players having never experienced a final, and taking on a hardened Hawks side.

We got absolutely flogged. By 93 points.

Footscray coach Mick Malthouse after the 1995 qualifying final.

We beat North Melbourne the following week in the first semi and then faced Hawthorn again. This time we took it to the wire and were beaten by just 10 points.

I played both Hawthorn games over and over in my head throughout the summer, breaking them down play by play, and I came to one conclusion: our first loss had nothing to do with our physical preparation — it was all psychological.

From this I learnt so much about preparing the mind for a final.

And it was all confirmed for me in my first season at West Coast.

By the end of our 1990 finals campaign we had travelled 38,000km back and forth across the country in our last two home-and-away games and four finals (including a draw and replay).

We didn’t make the Grand Final, but in the games we did win, even when we looked gone, it was pure mental strength that got us across the line. It was exhaustion and some finals naivety that ended our year.

The mind can will the body by concentrating on the contest, not the result.

By focusing on one task at a time. By knowing the game structure and getting the strategies right in your mind, without playing out the entire game in your head the night before — because that’s exhausting.

Tony Hall marks under pressure from John Worsfold in the 1991 Grand Final.

We learnt more lessons in 1991 when we played off in the Grand Final.

We stuck to our routine, thinking it was best, missing the Grand Final parade to travel to Melbourne that day instead.

But it left the players feeling tense, and by Grand Final day, weary — as I’m sure most of them had played the game in their minds throughout night. We were smashed by Hawthorn.

There is nothing more damaging to the soul as an athlete or coach, than losing a Grand Final. It leaves a dagger in your heart.

The victories fade, but the losses stick with you forever. All of those “what ifs” left to linger in your mind.

So in 1992 when we contested the Grand Final again, not only did we have the pain of a Grand Final loss to fuel us, we’d learnt to adapt and adjust to the demands of Grand Final week.

We travelled earlier and participated in the parade. We soaked up the atmosphere at training sessions crowded with supporters.

Families flew and stayed with us at the hotel.

It all helped to relax the players and allowed them to prepare for the game unhindered.

And it worked. Our two Eagles’ premierships were won with a mentally and physically fit team.

Heading into this finals series, John Worsfold had experienced a Grand Final loss and a premiership as coach. For John Longmire it was one win and two Grand Final losses.

Chris Scott has coached a premiership.

They, and the other coaches, will still learn something new each week of this finals series though, because you never fully know what to expect.

The agony ... Mick Malthouse consoles Peter Matera after the Eagles were knocked out of September by Carlton in 1999.

... and the agony. Paul Licuria was in tears after Collingwood’s 2002 Grand Final defeat.

There is a lift of intensity on field during September, because it’s the best of the best playing the game.

It’s the same in the coach’s box with a natural excitement to be involved in finals.

And the main difference is that it doesn’t matter if you win by one point or 100 points, because it’s a win only which ensures that you survive another week.

I wouldn’t ever suggest messing with a game structure for finals.

Systems can be very hard to change at short notice and you don’t want your players being caught off guard.

But strategies can change week to week, depending on your opponent.

From Don Pyke’s hard running backs to his marking forwards; and John Longmire’s mass number attack on the ball, each of the top eight teams (now six) has been trained differently and they should stick to that game plan for finals.

As coach your focus is on the game at hand, but you can’t help that your mind also wanders ahead to the following week.

You have an awareness of the possibilities of the next game that you wouldn’t necessarily have during the season.

Each injury sends your brain into a spin working out if that player could still be right for his next opponent.

When Jason Cloke and Anthony Rocca were reported in preliminary finals in 2002 and 2003 respectively, it definitely played on my mind for the remainder of those games.

Depending on where you’ve finished the season proper and the margin in the final, you begin to think about resting players in the final quarter.

If you know you have the next weekend off you don’t, because you want all players to have plenty of game time.

And if it’s tight, you keep your best players on and ask for everyone to give it their all so that there is a next week.

It’s such a balancing act.

The ecstasy ... Mick Malthouse embraces his players after their 1992 Grand Final win.

On top of that, some players naturally step up to the plate come finals, while others, even some superstars of the home-and-away season, fade.

I might be a hard marker, but I have always judged a player by how he stands up in the big games. It is all psychological.

In 2010 at Collingwood I had the choice of taking a senior half-forward into our finals campaign, or a first-year player.

I went with Jarryd Blair because I liked his discipline, his hardness, and his ability to focus on one task.

He proved invaluable for us as we went on to win the premiership. There’s no guarantee that the other player wouldn’t have performed well also, but I went with my gut feel.

And sometimes in finals, that’s all it takes.

Originally published as Mick Malthouse reveals the tough lessons of coaching AFL finals