AFL Grand Final 2016: Western Bulldogs start celebrations with ritual in private MCG changerooms
AFTER a 62-year drought and two hours of pain, the biggest Bulldogs party ever begins with a strange ritual deep in the bowels of the MCG, writes SAM LANDSBERGER.
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IT IS 6.31pm in the bowels of the MCG.
Newly-minted Western Bulldog immortals have exited coach Luke Beveridge’s final address.
They charge out of the briefing room amid a sea of squeals, the premiership cup floating above their heads.
They first turn left, then right and sneak into the sanctuary of their private changeroom.
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The lights are killed and the speakers raised. The “play” button on Earth, Wind and Fire by September is hit — and it is party time.
In a dark room with gold bling shining, the AFL’s youngest Grand Final team in 16 years begin thumping the lockers in celebration.
The rave-like celebration is a tradition at Whitten Oval, but the tunes have never sounded better than this.
Youngster Toby McLean doesn’t lie when asked how the celebrations will go down.
“Plenty of alcohol, I think,” the 20-year-old tells the Herald Sun.
Outside the darkness sit six eskies, ice overflowing and Crown Lagers being reached for by the beat. Forget partying like it is 1954 — this is 2016 style.
The ruckus more suited to an underground nightclub fits the list profile of this team, built methodically by list chief Jason McCartney and the game’s No. 1 recruiter — Simon Dalrymple.
Behind the commotion stands 1985 Coleman medallist Simon Beasley, trying to pinpoint how this party started.
“I don’t know what Luke (Beveridge) has got, maybe a magic wand,” Beasley said.
“Whatever it is, he’s got something.”
As Beasley spoke, Joel Hamling wandered by fresh from placing a defensive spell on Buddy Franklin.
“Hey buddy, it’s Simon Beasley, mate. I’ve followed you very closely,” he calls out to ‘Hammer’, who continues on his way.
“What a beauty he is. How good’s he? Came from Geelong, they get rid of him. How crazy of them,” Beasley said.
“I think we’re on the verge of something big. The Bulldogs can go on with it — I think we can win premierships.
“I’d like to think we can win two or three over the next few years.”
Beasley perched himself at the Punt Rd end, his posse including “Yarraville legend” Nola Sherwell.
Sherwell is 90 and went to the 1954 premiership with Ted Whitten.
“We look after her and she’s a Bulldog through and through. She was crying her eyes out.”
Beasley knew the Swans were cooked when hugs broke out on the benches.
“Bevo was down there and there were no words, just hugs. Even kisses. We’re so happy,” McLean said.
We struggled as a club. But we’ve persisted, we’ve shown Bulldog spirit and this is the reward we get
- David Smorgon
Twenty minutes earlier and the pups were panting.
A long-time trainer examined Luke Dahlhaus gasping for air, but said while these Dogs might have been exhausted, they weren’t spent.
Up in Beveridge’s box sat gentleman John Schultz — on the edge of his seat. The 1960 Brownlow winner was wedged around Bob Murphy, Chris Grant and premiership VFL coach Ash Hansen.
Anxious and tense but forced to keep calm, Schultz found himself pounding one palm with the opposing fist as he began to ponder presenting the cup.
“Jokingly, I thought, ‘I’m supposed to be handing it over, but I don’t think I will,” Schultz said.
“I think I like holding it’. But they said, ‘No, you’ve got to hand it over’.”
Schultz found a place in the corner of the rooms to soak in the sensation.
In front of him, a Bulldog homecoming unfolded. Jose Romero was one of the first to hug Beveridge as he strutted down the race, tears streaming from the former midfielder’s eyes.
In the rooms, he remained a blubbering mess, arms around Tony Liberatore.
Tony spent the Grand Final “half watching (son) Tom, half the game”.
Tough men Daniel Southern and Matthew Croft held the forte at the back of the room as statements were sniggered from the ridiculous to the remarkable.
“I can die happy,” one supporter beamed. “We’re off to get tattoos on our arses,” a staff member joked. “His will be a bit droopy, mine will sit OK.”
The preliminary final win was referred to as the crying game, with grown men streaming with tears as the 55-year Grand Final drought was broken.
Grand Final night was a case of proud pain. It almost hurt how joyous it was to watch these tears flow.
David Smorgon sat “quietly controlled” in the official match function — until the lead ballooned beyond three goals. “Then I went berserk,” Smorgon said, reflecting on the path the Dogs have travelled.
“We struggled as a club. We’ve had our adversities, we’ve had to overcome a huge amount of disadvantages.
“We’ve had arguments with the AFL about giving us funding. We had to argue with our banks about giving us finding.
“We had to argue with Etihad Stadium about the (gate) returns. We’ve had internally issues with coaches coming and coaches going.
“But we’ve persisted, we’ve shown Bulldog spirit and this is the reward we get.”
Before the game, spiritual leader Bob Murphy said the day was “slivers of sadness amid big chunks of pride”.
As Beveridge placed his medallion on Bob’s neck, those chunks must have exploded.
At Perth airport last year, Beveridge waved his magic wand.
He showed his players a premiership cup and declared that if they follow him, they will get their hands on one.
Fairy dust sprinkled, the fairytale is complete.
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