Mick Malthouse reveals the moment that threw his Grand Final plans into disarray

AS A coach, I always told my players to enjoy Grand Final week but avoid distractions. My plan was the same. Then you get a curve ball, writes MICK MALTHOUSE

Simon Prestigiacomo trains before the 2010 Grand Final.

YOU don’t fluke a berth in the Grand Final. But winning it, that’s the really hard part.

You need all the stars to align and then some, so preparation is key.

Players can be like robots during the season and in the days leading up to the Grand Final you almost want to push that autopilot button because suddenly it feels like the world revolves around you and your team.

As a coach, you want to make it as normal and positive for them as possible.

That’s not to say you don’t enjoy the buzz.

I always told my players to lap up the week; to enjoy the big crowds at training, to soak up the atmosphere at the parade, and to sense the anticipation in the air.

Because one Grand Final doesn’t always guarantee another so you want them to take it all in and remember it.

Then he spoke the words that could’ve knocked me down with a feather: 'I’m going to let the boys down if I play.'

But what you don’t want are distractions. Friends coming out of the woodwork for tickets, family from interstate turning up on the doorstep.

These things always set alarm bells ringing for me because I worried about the effect it would have on my players. Some could cope with it, others couldn’t.

My advice was always this: deal with it early in the week so your routine isn’t too put out and you can still sleep on the Wednesday and Thursday night, then if nerves or excitement get the better of you on the Friday night you’ll still be OK.

A well-rested player is crucial for success. That’s why training stays light and meetings are limited. Eating, sleeping, resting and treatments should all stay the same.

As for me, my mind ticked overtime.

Mick Malthouse and Simon Prestigiacomo at Collingwood’s final training session before the 2010 Grand Final.

For every game I liked to gather all the season stats for our opposing team and I would circle the games with the highest possession-getters and then those with the lowest.

What was the common denominator for where the lowest possessions were gathered?

For each player I would work out what type of opponent had nullified him and how I could replicate that with one of my own players.

It was time-consuming work, but unequivocally necessary, especially for a Grand Final.

And then you’re thrown a curve ball.

In 2010 we trained before the Magpie army prior to the Grand Final parade. It was a light session and everyone got through.

But as I was walking back from Gosch’s Paddock, Simon Prestigiacomo sidled up beside me.

Presti was as quiet and shy as they come so this was unusual.

Then he spoke the words that could’ve knocked me down with a feather: “I’m going to let the boys down if I play.”

He’d been deemed fit to play by the club doctors after recovering from a groin injury, but he revealed to me then that he had felt sore in that last session and didn’t want to play not being able to give 100 per cent effort. What an amazingly selfless act.

My mind was spinning as we started the parade.

Simon Prestigiacomo with Nathan Brown after the 2010 Grand Final replay.

Presti’s omission had left us with the dilemma of who to put on the in-form Nick Riewoldt.

Nathan Brown was capable, but he was young and inexperienced.

The uncertainty of the match-up and reworking the structure on Grand Final eve twisted my stomach into a knot.

I smiled at the supporters who lined the city streets, all of them oblivious to my inner turmoil.

Browny himself had been coy when I told him of his inclusion, a common reaction when they are replacing a teammate, but I’m sure when he left my office he would have silently punched the air. (I had to have the same conversation with him a week later for the Grand Final rematch when Presti was again unavailable and this time I did so with more confidence after Brown’s solid performance on Riewoldt in Grand Final one.)

From Brownlow night — where you want your players in and out and fast as possible — to fenced-off training sessions with security guards, it really is a week like no other. And nothing is left to chance.

Prying eyes are thieves of information, so game tactics for stoppages and set ups are all worked on inside, in total secrecy.

The look on Hinkley’s face when he saw our zone set-up for the first time was of total confusion.

That is how the Eagles took Geelong by surprise in the 1994 Grand Final.

West Coast had had an effective man-to-man system in place all year, but indoors we had been practising a zone formation for weeks.

I wasn’t sure who we would use it against, if any team, until the Cats were the last team standing in our way of a premiership.

We knew from experience how accurate and dangerous Ken Hinkley was at the kick-ins, but we also knew they would be expecting us to defend one-on-one.

It is risky to change your game structure for one game, but sometimes a Plan B is required. We’d been practising it long enough for the team to be comfortable with the change and I also liked that it gave the players a process to think about rather than just “the game”.

The look on Hinkley’s face when he saw our zone set-up for the first time was of total confusion.

We scored enough goals coming back the other way for it to be a telling factor in the match and made the risk worth it when we won the premiership.

Nick Maxwell and Mick Malthouse in the Grand Final parade.

There is tangible electricity in the air before a Grand Final.

Nerves are present without question, but there is also excitement and pure determination. Everyone is well aware that there is no tomorrow.

I once wore a heart monitor for a Grand Final which revealed that my heart rate peaked during my pre-game speech, rather than the match, so great is the emotion in those final minutes before the team runs out.

When the national anthem echoes around the MCG on Saturday the two coaches will feel weak in the legs, because they have run the game already through their minds countless times.

They will hope that their players haven’t done the same because it is so tiring to do so.

Then, they’ll just want the first siren to sound so everyone can focus on the game rather than the occasion.

The next two hours will determine the fate of their club and by the end coaches and players alike will have given absolutely everything of themselves. But there will only be one winner.