Years ago, fresh off a long stint in England and too wet to deal with a man like Denis Pagan, I contacted the then Carlton coach with a view to writing a book about him and his club. Denis was open to the idea. “Let’s try to make this go away, son,” he told me. The next day, sorry, one of his players was sacked after turning up for training in a chaotic and enthusiastic state. “I’m sorry, son,” Pagan said. “Let’s put that book idea aside.”
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History is written by the victors. But football is mostly about losing. Approximately 17 clubs leave in disappointment every season. It’s about being cut, shunned, shopped and retired. For the most part, no one makes documentaries about football’s losers. No such impressive feature film has been released about the West Coast’s 2022 and 2023 seasons. Only when you win a flag can you tell your own story. When you’re a club as big as Collingwood and have a digital media team that publishes higher quality content than the home broadcasters, you can tell your story in theatres.
It’s the same with Take the Steps, released on Wednesday. It’s already a well thought out story. Craig McRae has topped his entire playlist in the MCG stands ahead of the Boxing Day Test after falling short in 2022. “If you don’t do the work and take the necessary steps, you’re going to sit here for finals,” he tells them. This becomes their mantra all season long. They even build a staircase, and with each win the best player is chosen to spray paint a new step. They build a pedestal for all three finals, which they win by the skin of their teeth, only to be beaten by the player of the day (Bobby Hill, twice).
Football clubs love a theme and a hook. In a contest seemingly designed to be equal, having that hook, whether cultural or spiritual, is crucial. In 2007, Max Rooke from Geelong found an old bottle made from animal skin in an African second-hand shop. He gathered his teammates and asked them to write down their dreams and goals. He then lit a candle, set the papers on fire, poured the ashes into the bottle and sealed it with wax. Years later, echoing George Costanza in the Opposites episode, he said, “This was our religion.” “It was incredible.” The Cats have barely lost a game in four years.
Pagan style men are probably thinking, “What an old rope.” “Collingwood didn’t win the flag because of some ridiculous rule; they won because they had the best young player in Australia, a committed backline, an active fan base and some good luck from the referees and the court.”
But this documentary touches on something else, something that goes far beyond old-school thinking and home organizing. It is noticeable how relaxed and free from the obstacles of the past the entire organization is, from the coach to the rookie players on the list. The club was tightly wound in the final years of McGuire’s presidency. They’re so loose now that they’re starting to get annoying. This is the pillar of their communication. They’re talking to their members, but they’re also talking to the other 17 clubs. “Look how happy we are,” they say. “We’ll get Beau McCreery’s mother to address us, then we’ll go out and beat you to dust.”
If I had looked at my stop in the center square and seen Jordan De Goey and Nick Daicos meeting with Scott Pendlebury, I too would have been slack. Indeed, some of the iso-images of the final period of the grand finale, and especially the role of these three men, are truly extraordinary. You can hear the ball on De Goey’s boot as he gives the Pies the lead.
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Still, this is the winner’s cut. We don’t hear from a dejected John Noble, who was left out on the eve of the final. We are spared the horrific images of Jeremy Howe’s injury, which required four surgeries or “breakdowns” in 11 days. But there are those who emerge. For all his clunky jokes, McRae is a competitive animal and a Leigh Matthews man at heart. Yet he has a remarkable ability to turn that around and connect with his players and fans. This brings to mind something Jonathan Liew wrote about Ange Postecoglou: “What fans desire above all else is a sense of belonging, a helm and an emotional stake in a game that has largely abandoned them.”
And there are heartfelt, unexpected moments, too. In the underground MCG car park after one of the most tense preliminary finals ever played, Darcy Moore is completely incoherent and on the verge of tears. This is the same young man who made an excellent speech thanking veterans on Anzac Day. He can barely put two syllables together right now. “That was awful,” he muttered at last. “If we do this next week, I’ll probably die.” At Collingwood they pride themselves on pulling themselves together and getting through the bad moments. McRae calls it “turning on the windshield wipers.” The captain exhales, laughs, and somehow manages to return home. Eight days later, his father gives him the championship trophy.