Would it be possible for the Fremantle Dockers to finally break the premiership curse?

I was just informed by my daughter that Fremantle has the potential to “win it” in the Australian Football League (AFL) season, which will begin in a couple of weeks. Given her early age, I refrained from detailing the curse that I have come to believe plagues the club and will most certainly prevent us from receiving a flag this year as well as in all of the years that will follow. I did not solicit her prediction, and I do not understand where it originated.

Instead, I forced myself to face my pessimistic outlook and reflected her positive outlook. It would be inappropriate for me to have The Chat with her about the Dockers and the sad submission of my fandom because she is still too young. It is true that my daughter has experienced disappointment; but, her encounters with it have been relatively insignificant up until this point, and she is blissfully oblivious that it may become a status that she maintains permanently.

Despite the fact that this will alter in the future, she continues to stay in her lovely castle of innocence for the time being, naive to curses, ligament injury, and the gradual decline of athletic symbols. Unaware of the failures that occurred during the fourth quarter and the pledges that were retracted.

For me, the 21st round from the previous year is still a recent memory. Our match against Essendon was taking place at the MCG, and with approximately fifteen minutes remaining, we had a commanding lead. Although there were only three matches left in the regular season, we were now ranked third on the “live” ladder. A berth in the top four appeared to be possible, if not guaranteed. Given that I was surrounded by Bombers supporters, my enthusiasm might have come seen as annoying.

and before its time. With Alex Pearce, Sean Darcy, and Josh Treacy all suffering injuries, we were unable to win that game by a single point, and we went on to lose the other three games as well. Overall, we were unsuccessful. The use of the phrase “live ladder” is sad; nonetheless, in the final quarter of that afternoon, we were in third place, and yet we would end up being in tenth place for the season.

The match against Essendon left me feeling humiliated and dejected, and I strolled across the city. Because I was experiencing a period of self-pity and bathos, I decided to halt in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, which is a stunning location, and I projected my resentment onto it. When I was sitting in front of the church, I couldn’t help but think about who Freo’s counterpart may be, assuming that they did in fact have one. The church is named after the patron saint of Ireland.

The team is loaded with talented individuals, and the expectations are high, which is a situation that I find to be really unsettling. As a result of my pessimistic and pessimistic fatalism, I have a tendency to view lofty expectations as a gorgeous rug that we will surely cover with excrement.
Things that are both sad and unreasonable, and I am envious of my daughter’s castle. It was an odd season in that we finished where we generally finish, which is in the middle, outside the eight, and yet we ended up there after a season that showed a great deal of potential. When compared to a season in which mediocrity is almost always present and our eventual, middle-of-the-road position is completely expected, this appeared to be much more brutal.

The team has a lot of qualities that make it appealing. A captain named Alex Pearce, about whom ballads will be written one day, is in charge of the defence, which is ferociously uncompromising and headed by Pearce. We have added the talented Shai Bolton to the already talented midfield, which is already quite talented. And then there is our front line, which has been a weakness for a considerable amount of time but is now being strengthened by the rising abilities of Treacy and Jye Amiss. The athlete Michael Frederick, who must be one of the most captivating players in the league, does not receive nearly enough attention in the media.

To tell you the truth, the team is loaded with talented players, and the expectations are great, which is a situation that I find to be really unsettling. As a result of my pessimistic and pessimistic fatalism, I have a tendency to view lofty expectations as a gorgeous rug that we will surely cover with excrement.

My pessimism is more centred on our ruckman, Sean Darcy, and it is in his hands. Legend has it that he was born in elfin mud to oak trees, in addition to being a physical freak. Darcy is a huge specimen who is dominating in taps. He stands at 203 centimetres and weighs 110 kilogrammes. However, the internal framework that is required to support his bulk is frequently taxed despite his dominance. We need the big guy, but the fact that he has suffered a string of injuries and seems to have a hard time getting back into shape is something that disturbs me.

Does it bother me? Not at all; it horrifies me. In order for the prophecy that my daughter made to come true this year, we will require a robust oak-man in all of his lumbering brilliance. There is also the subject of Nat Fyfe and Michael Walters, two undeniable legends of the club, for whom the sun is setting. Both of these individuals belong to the club. The utilisation of Walters as a dynamic sub makes perfect sense to me; but, the question of how to make use of the talent of an elderly and frequently sickly Fyfe is still unaddressed. During the previous year, there were flashes of brilliance in the midfield, but fairly frequently, he appeared to be too slow and seemingly baffled by the eclipse of his talents. Over the course of the past few seasons, his role and even position have been subjected to a variety of experiments, with diminishing returns. Having said that, there is something about Fyfe: he possesses a ferocious and frightening determination that, in my opinion, can still impact a game or two when it is occasionally combined with a healthy physique.

Am I a positive person? That is the emotion that I am attempting to repress with all my might, is that correct? Do I have an excessive desire to bolster my pessimism and bring about a cynical resignation? I am, without a doubt. My daughter could be onto something, and this year might be the year when Fremantle finally defies the curse, which is of unknown origin and enigmatic in its transmission, but it is still a curse nevertheless. This is because the terrible fact is that I am optimistic.

Enquiring about his emotions, I questioned a friend. Considering that Nick Allbrook is a fellow Freo freak and a former guitarist for Tame Impala, I am confident in asserting that he is the only individual who has ever performed on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon while wearing a Dockers scarf (in vintage colours, too: purple, green, and red). There was also a time when he recorded a cover of our theme song, but I have never listened to it because I have an allergy to the original musical composition.