YJFL U11 Blue Preliminary Final, August 19, 2007, Balwyn Park

Fitzroy 3 5.2 (32) lt Greythorne 5. 3 (33)

Nerves, excitement and maybe a few butterflies in the tummy too:
maybe that was a little problem. Then again, there were some other things going on. Dave had a throat infection earlier in the week and didn't train. Fraser was a bit crook. So was Jaquan. Atticus, Charlie and Digby raced from Tournament of the Minds at Bundoora to make it for Terry's pre-match address. There was something in air, the boys were quiet, waiting, watching, thinking about the game ahead. And then it was time, and they ran to the banner (''Go, Go Roys Boys'') and huddled together to break through the crepe. The ground sloped gently to one end and the clouds blocked any hint of sunshine.
And soon enough, we were underway, and Greythorne was doing everything that Terry had forecast: their boys were running to space, moving the ball on and winning the contests.

It didn't feel too good. The Roys' defence was put under fierce pressure and had to work feverishly. The little things, as always in finals, made the difference - a smother from Dave, Lachlan's solo effort at half-back, Patrick's mark in the last line of defence and Nick N's brave tackling. But there was just a sense that it could not last, and sure enough Greythorne kicked the first and quickly followed it with another. The Roys tried to grab the initiative back, and first Martin and then Sebastian worked ferociously to win the ball out of the centre, but Greythorne prevailed and kicked their third before quarter-time. It was a strange opening. Greythorne had dominated on the scoreboard, but Fitzroy had plenty of possession. But the Roys stuggled to get the ball in to their forward line.

The second quarter continued the pattern. Once again, the defence was under the pump and this time it was Adam, with that flash of blonde hair, bobbing up across the half- back line, and Nick B, calm and brave, close to the ground. Elia followed Terry's instructions to the letter, and ran hard to be at every ruck contest. Jesse's tackling was so good it caused a couple of turn overs and Max, wounded after a heavy contest in the first quarter, bravely kept presenting. Greythorne, though, were inspired. They wanted to win it, they wanted to be at the ball first, and they kicked their fourth. Digby was still launching himself desperately at contests and knocking the ball to the ground, and Connor and Lewis were alert scouts, searching for ways through the traffic. But the wall looked like it could crumble at any time. And then, a running Greythorne forward handballed to a unmarked mate in the goal square for their fifth goal. At half-time, there was an ominous air to the game.

Greythorne had done all the scoring, and led by 31 points, their winning margin against the Roys during the season. It could get ugly.
What do coaches say at half-time in a preliminary final when their side has tried its hardest but has not scored? If they are Terry O'Reilly they remain calm and controlled. 'Let's be positive,'' he began, and it all made sense. There was no panic, just the simple message to keep trying to get to the ball first. Sounded simple, often hard to do. But the boys worked at making it happen. Sam was reliable in defence, marshalling the backmen around him. Kent started to find the football and was fearless in his desire. David, always a solid tackler, started to slow down some of the Greythorne runners, and Aleks was working his way in to form. Noah was creating that vital thing - space - to move on to his left foot, while Connor showed some inspirational desperation to win the ball. The Roys were slowly, very slowly finding some system. More importantly, they had managed to keep Greythorne to one point for the third quarter.

The margin was now 32 points. It looked like a mountain. But then again, you have to start somewhere and Terry told the Roys to start with a score, any score, and to just see what happened. "Let's give it our all for the last quarter,'' he said. "There's only 17 minutes left. Let's make sure that we've tried our hardest.'' Then, as he had done every match this season, Terry asked the boys if they could do it, and once again, they shouted "yes'' in unison, loud, strong and certain. Parents can be doubters. Maybe coaches too. But the truth was that the Roys had lost Jaquan to illness, Sebastian to a hamstring and Fraser was under the weather. On the face of it, the Roys needed a miracle or maybe a bloke called Ted Hopkins. If the ghosts of the great Collingwood-Carlton rivalry weren't strong enough, that old Magpie Peter Daicos (now co-coach of the Greythorne's Under-14s) was an interested spectator and the Carlton full back of the century, Steve Silvagni was wandering around the boundary fence. Terry changed his forward set-up, using Charlie at full forward where he had done so well in the first semi, and trusted his defence to do the same flawless job it had done in the third quarter.

It started with a poster, a snap that rolled the wrong way. But it was a start. The sun broke through and every player in a Fitzroy jumper started to look taller, stronger and faster, Nick N was magnificent in defence, leaping in to packs and putting big punches on the ball that now started to fall the Roys' way. The rebound came out of defence through players such as Walt, who showed plenty of dash and desire.
Where there had been fast and willing Greythorne players hunting for crumbs, there were now Roy boys to spirit the ball downfield. Dave grabbed the ball and snapped the Roys first and there was sense of pride restored. Then Noah got on the end of a pass and kicked the Roys' second. Even then it seemed a just reward for effort. The Roys added another poster from a free, and then Patrick, moved to centre half forward for the final quarter, drifted in to the goal square to kick the Roys' third. Now the momentum of the game shifted. Greythorne looked to have stopped.

The Roys had the urgency, the drive and the desire. Once more they surged forward. Fraser, inspired now, was ducking, weaving and escaping tired tackles, while Kent was playing a blinder. Dave bobbed up again and kicked his second. And then we knew it was possible, that maybe this whole game could be turned on its ear. The Roys were running in numbers, the roar of their supporters was ringing in their ears and somewhere, somehow, the Roys kept coming. Atticus took a towering pack mark and played on, sending the ball forward once more, and then Patrick worked his way in to space to kick the Roys' fifth. Scores were level: 5.2 (32) each. Could it happen? Was it possible?

For a few moments more, the game swung, as first the Roys and then Greythorne pushed for the final winning advantage.
Greythorne looked desperate and the Roys more polished, and you fancied if the Roys could mount just one more challenge a place in the grand final was theirs. But before either side could score, the siren sounded, condemning the boys to an extra five minutes each way.
Even then, anything was possible. The kids who had come on to the ground for a social kick between matches were ordered off the ground and the under 11 gold teams waiting to come on were told to keep warming up. And the next 10 minutes see-sawed like a fairy tale in search of a happy ending. First the Roys, then Greythorne, then back the other way, and then a Roys' counter-attack and then another act of desperate defence. Terry threw Will forward for some fresh legs, trusting him to pull in the big mark, but time was running out. The boys' socks were down and the speed had gone out of the game.

It was a match hanging by a thread and the boys' were clinging to the thought of one score, any score, to break the deadlock. But it never came, and when the siren sounded again the teams were still locked together.

In a moment of confusion, a league official ran on to the ground to tell the umpire that they would go for another 10 minutes. It was agony.
Terry assembled them again, without parents or bystanders, and once more delivered the message as a compelling silence settled on the ground. This was it. It had to be it. Surely there could not be another chance, another escape? And somehow in those final chaotic minutes, Greythorne pushed forward and amid the deep fatigue they conjured a point that put them in front. Once more the Roys rallied in what seemed like it must be the final effort, and the ball was deep on the forward flank but the ball would not fly straight and in that moment, as the Roys' forwards pushed with the last of their spirit and the final ounce of energy in their exhausted legs, the siren sounded for the third and final time.

It was over. It was hard to believe, that the final 17 minutes had become the final 37 minutes, in which the Roys had kicked 5.2 and Greythorne had kicked a solitary but match-winning point.

In those moments after the siren, the boys turned to each other for comfort, bereft and upset, totally spent, have given everything for what had been an incredible result. The Greythorne coach, relieved and proud, joined the Fitzroy huddle and amid some of the tears, told the boys that he had watched a lot of football over the years, but he had never seen a final quarter like that one. He knew what an effort it had been and he knew that some days go your way. Today, had been Greythorne's day. But everyone who saw that game will remember it. And they will remember how the Roys Boys refused to surrender and what started with one score, just one modest point, triggered such a breathtaking comeback that it almost became one of the great footy victories.

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