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Carlton fans would have been forgiven for thinking they’d seen this movie before.
A white-hot start featuring slick ball movement, a dominant midfield and perfectly weighted passes to leading forwards. A half-time lead to reflect it. And then, slowly but surely, a wresting away of control until, sometime in the last quarter, the Blues find themselves faced with an opponent seemingly running all over the top of them.
With a little under half of the final term at the MCG remaining, St Kilda looked set to inflict the Blues another one of those losses that have become a trademark in the opening stages of 2025, by virtue of a pair of quick goals, territory dominance, and the Blues once again going into their shells when faced with a rival with the momentum.
Ball movement had slowed to a crawl. Set shots were being squandered on the rare occasions they actually managed to get a look at the big sticks. And the Blues’ Achilles heel for over 12 months now, conceding scores from forward 50 stoppages, had just reared its head at the least opportune time.
It seemed only a matter of when and not if the Carlton backline, so stoic and measured all evening, would crack, as it did late against Richmond and the Western Bulldogs, and in the third quarter against Hawthorn and Collingwood.
It seemed only a matter of time until Carlton went full Carlton.
This is the story of how they didn’t.
The first sign that tonight would be different came in the moments following Mattaes Phillipou’s goal to reduce the Blues’ lead to three measly points.
When Mitch Owens won himself a ruck lottery free kick at the centre bounce opposed to Tom De Koning, the evening’s dominant ruckman, it felt symbolic.
Yet when his long kick to the edge of 50 came to ground, leaving the ball in dispute, it wasn’t just the Blues who won the footy back, but it was them who launched a counterattack so uncommon of them in such situations this year.
Central to it all was Cooper Lord, playing the tenth AFL game of a career which has seen five of them start as the sub and a further one end as being subbed out.
It’s him who receives a handpass from George Hewett and, rather than follow the Carlton copybook this year – either go backwards or sideways to a free, unthreatening teammate or hack the ball aimlessly forward – he chooses to be bold. To run and carry. To unlock opportunities.
His run is only worth four steps, but it’s enough time for him to take stock of what lies ahead of him, so when Lord goes to kick, it’s not for territory – it’s to a man.
And a sizzling pass it is, too, to a leading Charlie Curnow – and just like that, as the camera pans out, it’s clear just what impact that single accurate kick has had. Because the Saints, having hoped for further pressure on the ball carrier to blast one of those high, hopeful balls they’re adept at mopping up, are suddenly scrambling to fill spaces that are opening up every way they look.
Curnow’s kick finds Harry McKay, in an acre of space some 75 metres out from goal – too far out to be any threat. His problem, though, is only Corey Durdin lies ahead of him as an option to pass to, and he has a Saint breathing down his neck.
As McKay, waits, assessing his opportunities, you begin to think the Blues have bottled it again, with players from both sides streaming back inside 50, Carlton numbers to try and present options, Saints to clog up the gaps. Making it worse, he ignores a screaming Ollie Hollands at half-forward, in the sort of space where he could have run to 40 and had a shot under minimal if any pressure.
Yet once again, the Saints have assumed that a long, high ball is coming for them to defend. They have left themselves vulnerable to McKay going for the pass.
Just as Lord had done moments before, McKay’s kick finds its man – Lord again, having sprinted forward following his kick to Curnow, and then doubled back to lead up at his teammate. With the Saints defending the space 35 metres and closer to goal, it’s a smart choice; but does he have the distance?
Here’s another distinction to the Blues teams of earlier this year: when the flashpoint of the match presented itself, Cooper Lord did not miss.
Carlton have their breathing space back. The Saints’ momentum has been halted. And all of it with brave kicks, targeted passing, and an intelligence St Kilda didn’t seem to expect.
These last few minutes are chock full of clutch Blues standing up when it mattered most. Adam Saad catching the hitherto uncatchable Nasiah Wanganeen-Milera with a crunching tackle to deny him the chance to use his lethal right boot. Saad again coming up clutch to make up ground and spoil Hugo Garcia at half-back, with the Saints trying to make a fast break from a kick-in.
And perhaps my favourite, Jesse Motlop, among the most maligned of all Blues, keeping his nerve amid heavy traffic at half-back with a little over three minutes on the clock, giving himself the time to assess his options, and lacing out Elijah Hollands with a 30-metre bullet pass to retain Carlton possession when it seemed like the Saints’ pressure could overwhelm them.
Were there mistakes? Absolutely. But this was a team also learning from their blues, so to speak.
With four and a half minutes to go, Will White, another Blue in the fledgling stages of his career, blazed horribly with the Blues running forward and Charlie Curnow leading up at him, panicking in the heat of the moment and bombing aimlessly as long as he could, with Jimmy Webster getting back for the easiest of intercepts.
Two minutes later, and White could have done the same thing after receiving a handpass in space on the edge of 50, either to hit a hot spot beginning to teem with Saints or even to go for goal himself with the square vacant.
Instead, he lowers his eyes, and with a precise pass to draw his man to the footy, hits up Harry McKay in the forward pocket.
McKay, naturally, nails the killer blow, the most fitting conclusion of all to Spud’s Night given his much-publicised struggles with mental health this year.
All the while, it was the Saints making errors: Max Hall cruising to 40 under no pressure and missing the chance to cancel out Lord’s goal, Liam Stocker coming off second-best in a clash with Motlop that saw the Blue keep his feet and the Saint go to ground, Jack Macrae spurning the team’s best kick, Jack Sinclair, and instead missing a tough pass inside 50 with the Blues’ defence vulnerable out wide.
And all the while, moving the ball painstakingly, switching from side to side desperate to find something, when all the while time was ticking down and the Blues’ defence gearing up for the inevitable long ball to a pack.
Those were mistakes Carlton once made in the pressure-cooker of a match going down to the wire. It was as if the Blues were staring into a mirror at their past selves.
Perhaps they will again, and avoiding a collapse against the Saints will only prove to be an outlier amid further chokes, collapses and other disasters for a team whose supporters have endured plenty of both in the 30 years since their last premiership.
But big things grow from little things. Paths forward start with baby steps.
And it’s hard to not see how the Blues played in those final ten minutes when hope seemed to be ebbing away, their refusal to go into their shells, the courage to seize back the momentum, their calm kicking, either for goal or to a leading teammate, and not think a corner may just have been turned.
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