We were in control of the game at the start of the last quarter, all that was needed was a strong five or ten minutes and it was ours. Healesville had entered the competition aiming to win it, and their intentions after three quarter time had evidently not changed, as they slotted the first goal of the quarter.
A mighty roar went up from the our opponent’s supporters, and a player on the ground bellowed, ”They’re shittin’ themselves. Another one here, boys. They’re shittin’ themselves!”
Within a minute we had slotted the next goal and, I can’t speak for my teammates, but reality dawned on me. We were going to win the premiership. Except, inexplicably, it didn’t seem real. I think my brain was battling two certainties. I’ve played and watched a lot of footy, and I knew without any doubt that the game was done. The result was in. Alternatively, I was also aware of the concrete reality that I, Greg Gibson, was destined to never win a flag.