Entering a season of optimism, except for those teams not in the hunt

"Cocktails and dreams" from the 1980s movie Cocktail was the preferred diet of the fictional Doug Coughlan and the eventual name Bryan Flanagan, also fictional, bestowed upon his own bar as an homage to his flawed friend.

That same name could be given to the fortunes of 800 league footballers this week, except it would have to be corrected ever so slightly. As the home-and-away season ends and the finals reveals itself, the psychological state of these players is almost split into two, but it's "cocktails or dreams".

Bryan Brown (left) and Tom Cruise in Cocktail.

I was desperate not to reference the smell of spring this week. Desperate. And then I went for a run with the dog along my usual route and there was freshly cut lawn everywhere. A deep puddle that could almost classify as a small pond that had settled on the footpath, not far from Merri Creek, had become a side-stepping ritual on my trail, but this week it had dried up.

I noticed more people along that very same path this week too. More people, more dogs and more smiles. It was nice to see, but there was a slight twinge that reminded me how much I enjoyed the solitude that winter jogging can provide.

By the time I was on the loop back towards home and noticed the fresh lines being painted on the local footy ground, I gave up trying to write about anything else. Yep, spring is almost here and I am just as powerless to stop that as I am powerless to stop writing about it.

2007 was the first year I wrote a column for The Age. I wrote about it that year, and have done so just about every year since. The smell of spring is my football muse; my constant companion, a touchstone, a sturdy and reliable metaphor to tie my literary rope to. That first inhale of jasmine or cut grass has been a powerful force in my life and I suspect I'm not alone.

Richmond and Hawthorn kick off the 2018 AFL finals.Credit: Eddie Jim

We football folk are instinctively linked to the seasons. Summer is for football blue-sky optimism. We're all on top of the ladder and the recruits will be stars at their new home! Last year's on-field problems are just that – last year's problem – and the optimistic words from a suntanned senior coach and a shiny new TV membership campaign are enough to fill our cups.

Autumn is calm to start with. The winds lay low as the hot air balloons fly high as the pre-season crosses into the real stuff. It's only at the back end of autumn as the burning leaves begin to fall that the first seeds of doubt fall to the ground with them. As the tree branches thin out and the breeze picks up we start to wonder in our quiet moments, “Will this really be our year?”

Winter is the grind. The blue skies are gone, the optimism is tested. This is the time of year for routine, repetition, aches, solitude, pain, will and resolve. Winter is beautiful, in its own way. Winter is dirt under the fingernails for players, teams and coaches and it's a season of questions for supporters. Are we the real deal? The good teams keep the pressure up and the weaker ones fall down. July brings everything to a head and from there it's a mad scramble for a place in the eight.

It happens every year, so maybe it shouldn't come as a surprise, but all of a sudden winter softens and spring flirts. First with fragrance, but soon with sunshine.

It's true – spring is for dreaming, but it also signals the end for many. Round 23 finishes up and very swiftly, 10 teams are out. The players left tired and weary, both of heart and head, and are looking for a cocktail to cry into.

The smell of jasmine is the smell of whether you're in or out. If you're out, the blade goes in and with each deep breath of cut grass, that same blade is twisted. For the eight teams still alive, spring brings with it all of the cliche things we associate with this time of year. Fresh opportunity, the promise of a better tomorrow, the dream of one perfect, glorious day.

These are thoughts, feelings and senses that people in football are not always thrilled to share publicly, because a life in football is painful, even for those lucky bastards who have had that glorious one day.

Spring is a mixed bag for footy folk. The accepted behaviour at this time of year, within footy, is to borrow one of Doug Coughlan's laws for life: "Never show surprise, never lose your cool."