[This match report came to TTBB headquarters by satellite from the MCG via Pluto, hence the delay.]
Jottings from the Ponsford Stand 
Q1
‘We’re the pride of South Australia…’ Adelaide enter the MCG, the crowd is eerily flat. The media have the game billed as the Grand Final rematch. They are right I suppose, the two clubs that did battle on that glorious September afternoon last year will lock horns at the ‘G’ for the first time since. However, truth is the teams are quite different, we have four players running around tonight that didn’t play in the Grand Final whilst Adelaide eight. Nevertheless, when the two Grand Finalists from the year prior play it is never just another game.

The jungle drums are beating and it’s our turn to burst through the crepe paper.

‘Oh we’re from Tigerland…’ at this point I half expected the Adelaide players, led by Tex, to crawl up in the foetal position such has being the fanfare associated with the Crows infamous camp. The team bus, blindfolds, our club song on repeat. Whatever went down the players clearly didn’t take to it.

I flick through my twitter feed. I smile in approval. A video clips shows the boys walking out of the race and Grimesy taking the emergency phone off the wall and handing it to Rioli, “it’s for you mate”. This group seemed to have captured that illusive balance between fun and business. Long may it continue.

Rascal of the week…gold by Dylan Grimes just before running out! #AFLTigersCrows @7AFL @BobMurphy02 pic.twitter.com/0xzgddm0Nw

— Tamara Hyett (@tamhyett) July 6, 2018

For the first ten minutes of the opening quarter we bomb the ball into our forward line and Adelaide’s tall timber pick off the intercepts. We haven’t scored and don’t really look likely to. The Crows have yielded the first six inside 50’s and have four shots on goal to show for it, they look up for the fight. Sometimes I think we could put the ball to grass far more than we currently elect to, it would suit our mosquito fleet and give Jack a break from having to smash packs. I murmur under my breath, “Gee whiz boys putting it on Butler’s head isn’t going to get us anywhere”.

Moore, who alongside Corey Ellis is one of our ‘ins’ for the night, has started well. He has got on his bike and embraced the open spaces of the ‘G’. It’s a positive sign, I can’t help but notice his speed, for a bloke of his size, that could really set him apart. He looks a player.

A chiselling ball from Meatball finds Jack and 19 minutes in we have our first, moments later Rioli goals and finally we are on our way.

By quarters end the game was an arm wrestle with the ball pinging between the two arcs, which suited Broady who was doing as he pleased racking up intercepts marks and kicks at will. A player in the tricolours hadn’t gone near him, he had 11 possessions and should the trend continue he was on target for a 40 possession game.

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Q2
Dusty gets caught holding the ball, I swear he busted every one of those attempts in 2017. I can’t help but feel he is going to be crucified by his own standards such was the level he played at last year. There may never be another year like it. Early on our minds are working faster than our hand eye co ordination with all those little ‘flick on’ passes and deft touches not quite coming off with the bloke on the receiving half a step or second too late to respond.

Early in the second Rioli looks inspired. He is such a pleasure to watch. A Nank tackle on Jenkins results in a holding the ball decision. First gamer Moore takes the opportunity to play on and goals. A fellow Tiger in the crowd still isn’t pleased “We hate a set shot at Richmond”. She has a point, in 2018 we have tended to avoid taking responsibility in front of goal more than I would like.

A security guard strolls past me and heads to the front row. He asks a fan to pull his scarf back from over the fence. I miss the days of banners dangling from every stadium tier and cut up phone books filling the skies and goal squares. There is no doubt that some of the colour has definitely gone out of the game.

A Caddy goal puts us two goals up and the contrast in game style is obvious. Adelaide are dominating the skies and we are loving the ground ball. Shorty kicks another to push the margin beyond 3 goals. The man has become a seriously important cog in the Richmond machine.
I see it coming straight for me. I jump to my feet and shuffle to my left, the two seats alongside me are vacant. I brace myself and let the momentum come to me. I clasp both hands around it and squeeze. Just as I thought it was secure it bobbles it. How the bloody hell did that happen? I did everything right. I pick up the footy and boot it back onto the turf. The ball felt distinctly flat.

Jenkins had responded with an Adelaide goal roosting it right into level 2 of the Ponsford Stand and, flat footy or not, I had dropped the perfect crowd mark. I was filthy.
By half time Tex had accumulated 3 touches, the footy Gods were with us.

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Q3
If you ever get a chance to watch a replay of tonight’s game cast the clock back to the 8 minute mark of the third quarter. It is quintessential 2017-2018 Richmond. Relentless pressure followed by all out ‘line busting’ offence that leaves the opposition gasping for air. Though truth be told hopefully by seasons end there will be little reason to go back to this game with bigger fish to fry and bigger stakes at play.

Shedder dominates the premiership quarter, a term that has new meaning when we are playing Adelaide. I spend three quarter time contemplating how good it would be to play football like him.
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Q4.
With the result in the book I put my notepad away and cheer my heart out. The win is capped off by Tex butchering a certain goal by bowling over his teammate 15 metres out from goal, turning a 2 on 1 for Adelaide into 0 v 1 in our favour. The crowd are in raptures and right on cue a bloke a few rows back who had been strong on the sledge all game chimes in. “Don’t you remember the bus Tex? the song? you know…the last tour. It’s coming again Tex, you’re gonna hear it”. He had saved his best for last, the siren went, the song blared out and it was sweet seventeen in a row at the ‘G’.
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The Votes [these unfortunately arrived too late to count – my very different votes can be seen here]
5 Shane Edwards – Shedder by name shedder by nature
4 Broady – did as he pleased until a facial injury ended his night early
3 Prestia – everything he touched turned to gold
2 Lambert – a running machine, the way he sustains top speed when collecting a ground ball is a sight to behold
1 Short – that leg…that glorious right leg
Until we share again,
Andrew Hamilton @_tigertime

I am on foot weaving my way through the back streets of Richmond. The car park is officially full so in order to make it for the first bounce we had little choice but to dump the car in a two hour space and take our chances. I am returning to the ‘G’ for the first time since that wonderful drought breaking day, part of me doesn’t want to go back. Like a holiday destination where the memories are so good, so pure you make a conscious decision to never return for fear of the second time around never living up to the first.

It’s hot, real hot for April in Melbourne. The sun has the same intensity of Prelim Final day… there I go again, referencing the good old days just as my father has done before me. In football terms to be nostalgic is to be in a position of privilege.

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First Quarter

The umpires are not going to go quietly today, they pay two 50 metre penalties that from my vantage point on level two of the southern stand looked questionable. I wish they’d put the bloody whistles away.

The ball is pinging between the arcs, both backlines are super organised with neither team able to make the most of their forward thrusts.

My goodness Shedwards looks dangerous early, the better we have got, the better he has got. The bloke sees things two steps ahead of most others on the ground. I give my sister a nudge, “your boy is looking sharp.” She says she is modelling her game on him. I feel she has a way to go.

Hardwick, of the brown and gold variety, bursts through the centre, only Cotch stands in his way from a shot on goal. His ‘single arm’ tackle effort is so out of character most tiger fans in my neck of the woods turn to each other with furrowed brows. Hardwick misses, no harm is done.

We are handball happy early happy to take any option; a metre handball, a ten metre chipping kick. Our boys surge forward and run in waves but can’t quite find the synchronicity they need for an open avenue to goal. A fellow tiger behind me screams for us to kick it long, I take the bait. “Mate this won us a premiership so just (insert explicative) accept it.” It’s a cagey game at the moment, a chess battle, the two coaches know each other well. I can’t help but think their fingerprints are all over the opening fifteen minutes.

I am pleased with our composure, we are patient and errors by hand, foot or mind don’t seem to reduce our desire to take the game on. This a substantial shift in belief and mindset from so many tiger teams that have come before. For the time being our boys play in a headspace where the fear of failure has been tamed. That makes us a seriously dangerous football team.
Early on everything the bloke wearing the number four turns to gold, from 2017 to today it seems nothing has changed. By quarters end we have five individual goal kickers and a 17 point lead.

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Second Quarter

Early on in the second term something remarkable happens, George kicks a goal with his hand. Eventually the review system gets it right and correctly awards us a point but it serves as a moment when you can’t help but question the validity of technology in football.
It’s mid way through the second term and it feels like we are beginning to bust the game open with our spread from the contest. Just as the game begins to open up so too did the sky with the April sun finally working it’s way over the back of the Olympic stand to bath us in sunshine. It was hot, real hot. The only sensible thing to do was begin to the let the Great Northerns flow.

In an immediate response to our scoreboard Poppy from Hawthorn slots a goal. It would become a pattern for the afternoon. Far too often we goaled and gave up an easy one almost immediately.

Enter my favourite passage of play for the game. Dusty chips to George, George on the arc knows the distance is beyond him and handballs back to Dusty. Dusty never gets balanced and his shot on goal comes off Hawthorn hands. The debutant ‘Higgo’ claims the mark, he realises it’s touched, plays on and wheels around to snap the ball truly. He joins the first kick, first goal club and celebrates accordingly, running down the forward pocket with his arms held high over his head. It’s a celebration KB would be proud of. Then true to the pattern of the game Poppy kicked another and cancelled our goal out.

Astbury stops another Hawthorn attack. It’s a moment to recognise how good he has become. With Rance, Vlaustin, Houli and Dave we now have some serious talent in intercepting.

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Third Quarter

I bolt back up the southern stand stairs with a beer in hand. I sit down and the umpire slams the sherrin into the turf, my timing was impeccable. My brother in law plonks himself down next to me. He is sporting a 2013 Hawthorn premiership jumper. I am no longer envious of his guernsey I now have the equivalent for myself. In a break in play he leans across. “The tiger fans are getting cheeky, one lady on the way back up told me I would need more beer.” I no longer hope she is right, I feel she is. That is a significant shift.

Early in the third the Hawks are clearly on top, clouds bring some respite from the heat. For the first time I feel a little nervous.

Goals to Riewoldt and Grigg restore order, I scream “C’mon the Premier”, just because I can.

At the 18 minute mark there is an audacious passage of play that represents everything I love about the current incarnation of Richmond. If you haven’t seen it, I urge you to go to the tape and find it. It’s a series of flicks, touches and team work that would make the Harlem Globetrotters proud. In line with this style of play Higgo volleys one out of the air to put us 34 point up. He has taken no time to find the pace of the game. In the words of Hardwick, “the recruiting team keep picking them so I have to keep playing them.” It is a wonderful problem to have.

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Fourth Quarter

I am confident, so much so I begin to plan my late lunch in Swan St. Hawthorn kick three on the trot and the Hawthorn cheer squad are working overtime. I note their flag policy. It seems at Waverley they have opted to go for size not quantity.

A string of handballs is finished by a Butler back heel. It is surge football at it’s best. It’s another passage of play with deft touches and team cohesion that perfectly reflects the current day Tigers. There is little resemblance to our teams of yesteryear. These Tigers are unique, I smile with pride.

At the 16 minute mark I am frustrated. It seems we still haven’t worked out the Poppy is knee high to a grasshopper. Lloyd rips his head off and Poppy makes us pay. The difference is now 20 points.

The final five minutes is painful, the result felt inevitable but we made it far closer and nervy then it needed to be. The coach said we lacked composure, I thought we had one eye on the clock and put the cue in the rack.

Post match Jack says its best, “this is our cauldron, this is our home ground.” We are now 10 games undefeated at the ‘G’ dating back to round 13 last year. We make the pilgrimage back to Swan St, for some reason it is open to traffic. I thought from last September onwards it got shutdown after every big Tigers win. Maybe next time

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The votes:
5 Cotchin – If there was a coal face he was at it, time and time again on he started the Tiger engine.
4 Conca – Amassed touches, had excellent centre square positioning and some vital centre breaks
3 Edwards – Oozes class, was instrumental early when the game was taking shape.
2 Short – Took the game on early with his run and carry from the back half. This set the tone for others such as Ellis and Houli to do the same as the game wore on.
1 Rance – The bloke is a God. If not for the number four he would be the best I’ve ever seen wear the jumper.
Honourable mentions: Nank and Jack. My goodness they are important to us. They battle manfully every week with very little tall timber to support them. God give them strength.

Leaderboard

By Andrew Hamilton [@Tiggerstales14]

Editor’s note: here is a blast from the past – solid TTBB supporter JD at the footy with son Noah, 2014, from our first season of the ‘new’ TTBB.

And here’s Noah at the G yesterday! Always great to see the TTBB family grow up!