After The Game With Snaps Truly - Rd 1 2025 V Geelong

It was best not to rush into print.

To reveal myself as quite so thin skinned and prickly as those Freo fans who poured onto social media to spit great gobs of disgust at the Dockers’ opening round capitulation against Geelong.

Their anger was palpable. All bruised and purple and very sensitive to the touch. Most of the blame was aimed at Justin Longmuir, who according to many was “soft, weak and not tough enough.”

And who many now believe, likes both his football, and his ice-cream, vanilla flavoured.

“He’s an absolute disgrace,” wrote Steven.

Marcello declared that JL’s only talent appeared to be as “an Olympic gold medallist in the sport of biting your nails and looking shell shocked.”

Not only did Richard demand JL’s immediate sacking, but seemingly after scratching the red raw rash – of hoping for the best and being dished up the worst – again – he was prepared to declare after just one game …
“Another wasted season already.”

Already?

After Round one?

Glenys, clearly alarmed at some overripe language and sensing good men turning a bit ugly, quietly sought to remind Richard and the Rampagers that …
“It is just the first game.”

Thank you, Glenys. For just a tiny bit of perspective in a world gone mad.

Welcome to another season of footy with me Snaps Truly.

And as we know, quite independently of that hapless, hopeless performance against the Cats, the world really has gone quite mad.

I won’t be overly political about it in coming months, I promise.

Sell your Tesla if you have one.

Punch a fascist if you see one.

And tell the Americans to give us back our first 800-million-dollar downpayment on submarines that may never arrive.

Let’s move on.

My job in season 2025 will be to give you hope and joy and belief. Something I felt for one brief moment on Saturday when the too handsome to be real, Brandon Walker earned a free kick in the backline after some sparkling sleight of hand.

“I love you Brandon,” I shouted at the television; comfortable that a 61-year-old heterosexual white man can say such things in the privacy of his own lounge room.

And then, as if our new found relationship meant absolutely nothing to him, Brandon chose to switch the ball to his left, floating it dangerously out of reach of a teammate and into the arms of someone in blue and white hoops, whose name I don’t care to remember. He goaled.
It was an horrendous car crash moment. Of which there would be plenty.

But let Richard and Cranky Colin and “bloody fed up” Mike reflect just for a moment on the reality that Brandon Walker is still just 22 years of age.

What were those three blokes good at, at 22?

Drinking beer? Not being much good at actually playing footy? Being completely witless around women?

I thought so. Ease up.

How about I spend just a moment reflecting on the only non-bruised purple patch of the match?
His name is Murphy Reid. His nickname is Bruce apparently. That was probably chosen by someone in the marketing department and probably needs to be changed asap.

Anyway, we liked him the moment we took him as a surprisingly late, early draft pick. His highlight reel was full of basketball tricks. They said, he had a good football brain.
And here he was on debut, selling the dummy to the man on the mark and kicking his first goal. And then another. And another and another. All within five or six minutes.

“Bloody hell”, I said to my wife. “Is this really happening?”

And the answer of course was yes.

For a very brief period.

Enough to breathe hope into heavy hearts. Enough to convince Grumpy Serge and Furious Aldo that maybe things were starting to click.

Which they weren’t.

And they didn’t.

And Freo lost by 78 points.

After the game, Justin Longmuir accepted responsibility for the shambles.

“I’ll put my hand up. I clearly didn’t prepare them the right way; we’ll review all aspects of our week.”

Which didn’t go down well with Steven. “What the fu*k? Are they five-year-old children going to their first day of kindergarten?”

OK Steven, that’s enough. Off to your room for some quiet time.

Come on, let’s remember there were a few positives to take from Opening Round.

Murphy Reid won a Rising Star nomination on Monday, having played infinitely better than that other Reid in the blue and yellow.

I’m a bit worried for Harley. He looks like a big kid who has been held back a year and is only interested in pushing other kids over in the playground and perhaps nicking their lunch money and girlfriends.

And yes, it was at least something to see the Harley Reids get pantsed again.

As a stout Freo friend of mine wrote on Sunday night –

“I’ve only just returned home to the news of another mediocre West Coast performance. The result gives me little pleasure.

“But just enough.”

Also on Monday, Dogga Jackson announced, mercifully through an interpreter, that he isnt going anywhere. Which was good news, although we would like him to wander into the forward line occasionally.

And thirdly, we are home to the Swans this weekend.

We will be sitting in new seats, much closer to the action and as far away as possible from the bellowing Emphysema Plough on level 5 and that miserable bloke who comes along each fortnight only because it is a condition of his bail.

I will on your behalf, promise to stay calm and composed.

So will Andy and the boys and probably kind hearted Glenys. After all, this will be just the second game.

Yours Truly,

Snaps Truly.

By our multi-talented and amazingly insightful footy scribe, SNAPS TRULY. Snaps has seen and done it all. He may or may not have been a fringe player at Fremantle. Don’t miss Snaps’ report after each Freo Dockers match here on the Shipping News throughout the 2025 season.

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