The coming of Jamarra

​Patchy. Inconsistent. Prone to go missing on the big occasions. It's true: it wasn't much of a year for the Bulldog Tragician Blog.

In fairness, it was a forgettable enough season...if it weren't for the umpteen ways that it was extraordinary. I don't think I was the only one, who watched our matches with a certain detachment. The losses were mere irritants; they rarely cut deep, as they do when you've been riding every kick, mark or fumble; neither do I have a vivid sense of any of the wins, which have slipped remarkably quickly from my memory bank. Is it fair that I vaguely recall them as workmanlike rather than enthralling?
 
Actually, the strongest emotion I felt all season was when Richmond won the grand final. The Tigers have grabbed three of the last four flags since our 2016 premiership - the one that was going to change everything.

The Tigers in fact have what we conspicuously failed to do. After their breakthrough flag in 2017, success has built relentlessly upon success. In contrast, we're at risk of a new chapter in the Bulldogs' long story of sliding door opportunities missed, roads less travelled; one entitled: 'How we blew the chance of a Bulldog Dynasty.'

Bleak enough thoughts, but they were easily discarded during the grey drudgery of the Melbourne lockdown. When footy burst back into my consciousness again, it was however in the most unwelcome of ways.  First, what seemed ludicrous speculation; then the headlines; then the confirmation. Another of the sadly decreasing number of premiership heroes wanted out. Josh Dunkley announced he wished to break his contract and leave our club. It got worse - his preferred destination was with our traditional foe the Bombres.

It was disillusioning, it was heartbreaking. It was tasteless and tacky too.

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