Melbourne 2016 pre-season

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3km Time Trial results from Princess Park yesterday:
1st - Tom McDonald
2nd - Jack Grimes
3rd - Nathan Jones

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MELBOURNE rookie Mitch White led the charge of the Demons’ young brigade in Wednesday’s 3km time-trial at Princes Park, with club officials rapt to see the next wave of players stepping up to the plate.

White, 19, has played just one game for Melbourne, having lined up in the Demons’ final round win over Greater Western Sydney last season.

He finished a respectable fourth in the time trial, won by Tom McDonald who was closely followed by Jack Grimes, with impressive performances coming from the likes of Oscar McDonald, Billy Stretch and Alex Neal-Bullen â€" all of whom have played 11 games or less for the club and either ran or were close to personal best times.

Fitness boss Dave Misson said seeing the likes of White and his comrades put every foot forward this is one of the biggest positives coming out of the preseason thus far.

“Mitch has really taken on what we call a rookie mentality â€" he’s working really hard in the off-season and has come back and demanding a spot on the list,” Misson said.

“That was the thing. The older guys still ran, but a lot of the young guys really stepped up and it’s good to see that they’re not happy sitting back and saying ‘well, I want to play in a couple of years’.

“They want to play now, so that’s great. They haven’t rested on their laurels â€" they’ve really improved this pre-season.”

Skipper Nathan Jones is back in full contact training after recovering from off-season neck surgery, and while Misson admitted that Christian Petracca’s latest setback â€" a broken toe that will see him sidelined for four weeks â€" is a frustrating one after 12 months on the sidelines after a knee reconstruction, the club is trying to keep its expectations in check to avoid disappointment.

“We were trying really hard ourselves not to get too excited (about Christian returning),” he said.

“We’ll have to cool our heels a little bit.”

[Holz]

still suprises me that Tmac is the best runner at the club. But i guess blicavs is the best runner in the afl or second to dangerman

Omac i reckon will be a beast

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By the sounds of it, Grimes and Jones were pretty close to him. But, I'm sure he could burn them off if he wanted.

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HERITIER LUMUMBA â€" No.8

Date of birth: 15/11/1986 (29 years old)
Height: 188cm, Weight: 88kg
AFL debut: 2005, MFC debut: 2015
AFL games: 218 (Collingwood 199, Melbourne 19), AFL goals: 30 (Collingwood 28, Melbourne 2)
Position: Defender/midfielder
Recruited: Ross Moyne (WA)/Collingwood
Drafted: 2005 NAB AFL Rookie Draft (No.20); 2006 rookie elevation; 2014 NAB AFL Draft traded by Collingwood for Mitch Clark
Honours: Collingwood premiership side 2010; All-Australian 2010; Collingwood pre-season premiership side 2011

“‘H’ continues to bring energy and enthusiasm to the club, despite being in rehab due to off-season surgery on both ankles. Although it’s tough when you’re in rehab and you can’t do much, the players love having him around the club â€" whether it’s in meetings or on the track. He’s in a really good space at the moment and I reckon his second year is going to be really exciting.” â€" Paul Roos

OSCAR McDONALD â€" No.28

Date of birth: 18/3/1996 (19 years old)
Height: 196cm, Weight: 82kg
AFL debut: 2015
AFL games: 2, AFL goals: 0
Position: Tall defender
Recruited: Edenhope-Apsley (VIC)/North Ballarat Rebels (VIC)
Drafted: 2014 NAB AFL Draft (No. 53)

“Oscar has probably been a little bit inconsistent. Sometimes when players come into their second year, they know what to expect, but it’s just hard to concentrate all of the time. His good stuff is really, really good and he’s been pretty consistent with his running. Oscar finished off the 2015 season in the seniors and it’s pretty exciting to think what he can deliver for the club.” â€" Paul Roos

TOM McDONALD â€" No.25

Date of birth: 18/9/1992 (23 years old)
Height: 194cm, Weight: 92kg
AFL debut: 2011
AFL games: 82, AFL goals: 7
Position: Key defender
Recruited: Edenhope-Apsley (Vic)/North Ballarat Rebels (Vic)
Drafted: 2010 NAB AFL Draft (No.53)
Honours: Third Best and Fairest 2012, 2015; NAB AFL Rising Star nominee 2012

“Tommy’s a professional. He comes back in great shape every year. He’s really building his body up and he continues to work really hard on his craft. The big thing about Tommy is that he wants to be a very, very good AFL player.” â€" Paul Roos

[T Dog]

C'mon Oscar, get up there my son.  8)

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Chapter 1: Casey Fields - 8 January 2016

Being where Ancient Demon and Proper Gander travel to enjoy adventures in Cranbourne East or some other pointless place and recognise Nathan Jones by his legs...

So WTF is a Casey when it's at home anyway? Google maps says we are going to Cranbourne East, not bloody Casey - which seems to be a regional concept rather than a suburb as I had previously imagined - and Sat Nav Emily (English UK setting) is now substantially pissed off with the Ancient Demon who refuses to drive on "that sod of a bloody Dandenong Road" but instead travels his own whimsical route via Seaford, and with an exciting stop at the noted tourist attraction which is the Mordiallic oval where Ancient completes a quasi-religious ritual by kicking a replica (at the fifth attempt) of his goal-after-the-siren against Port Melbourne in about 1905 or thereabouts. Good thing we allowed generous time for travel - my initial idea being coffee en route - ultimately aborted because after an hour and a half of Sat Nav Emily pleading with Ancient to perform a U-turn everywhere we went, my nerves were sufficiently frayed for an elite training session without further stimulants.

We park next to an L-plater (Weideman perhaps?) and proceed to oval-side to observe stop-start sprints in cone-marked lanes. Immediately impressive is Dean Kent, who is fast at the burst and quick and controlled on the turn which is exactly what you want to observe in a bloke recovering from hamstring surgery. Bugg and Melksham look pretty nippy too, as does Watts in his graceful leggy-blonde manner. Mitchie is working his footpads off, but then you would in his position I suppose.

Warmup and stretches completed, the largest group are drilled in the insane square of cones, two man dash on the diagonal to dance past each other in the centre. I get exactly 10 seconds into reflecting how much quicker and nimbler the group look since I last observed this pure lunacy, when a burst of demonic laughter erupts as a bearded bloke at full tilt slips and completes a two-meter-horizontal-arse-abseil on the turf. His cap falls off and I'm confused because Gary Ablett Jr seems to be now training with us. And has also been appointed Captain, judging by T-Mac yelling "nice one Skip" and similar. But bald-and-bearded breaks his death slide with a pair of thick, blue-tattooed tree stumps and I realise that one N Jones is now sporting a decent beard, presumably by way of compensation. Or possibly to confuse the shower out of Gold Coast.

A quick stocktake - quality assured at a later juncture - notes a pretty good turnout with the only absentees being that dipstick basketball head idiot Petracca, Neville Jetta (concerning) and Lumumba (whatever). And Paul Roos come to that, who has probably had a nice sleep in and a latte at a more fashionable compass point then wherever we are. I took a while to identify a random 'Who The **** Is That?' (Hunt). WTFIT Hunt is an interesting proposition as has a good turn of speed and decent hand and foot skills, but will probably need to get faster still, or bigger. Either could work in theory, but his body is comparatively young and slight at present. Will watch with interest if I remember not to spend 2016 drunk like Crimson Asure.

So we circle the oval seeking adventure. Beauty of an oval BTW. Casey is a terrific looking setup and an excellent AFL venue in all points other than its location at the centre of a Sci-Fy film noir moonscape. There is a decent throng of local observers, a good 20 percent viewing from the inside of prams which promises well for the next generation of lucky barbies who never watched a demons match in 2013.

Crossey is overseeing a pod of lesser forwards, Pedo/Dawes/Frost doing some running marks, some snaps and some set shots. All looks okay to good since Dawes has brought along his elusive marking hands on this occasion - with significantly better accuracy and intensity then pre-Christmas - albeit occasionally punctuated by a family friendly **** from Pedo or Frost as they mongrel something and then peer suspiciously at the responsible foot as if confused as to its ownership.

Trengove is being tortured with endless sprints to stopwatch and seems to be holding up well. Dean Kent has moved from sprints to multiple loops of the oval at a 'building aerobic capacity' click. Likewise, Bernie Vince is pounding recalcitrant-looking laps with finger cast still in place. Confusingly, I think he looks fitter and lighter on his feet but the Ancient Demon sees no difference. Neither of us mind particularly, since he has always possessed the capacity to run out four quarters most games with a smile as though sprinkled with fairy dust so is the type of fly off seat of pants guy I tend to embrace. I didn't actually embrace him, it seemed not the right moment.

In the centre is a group (rotated throughout the session) doing hit outs, with vests defending and non vests attempting to extract and send the ball to goal fast fast fast. Big Maxi Gawn wins virtually every tap over Spencil, as you would expect, but the Spence gets a few points for removing the tragic beard he was experimenting with before the break. It's a much tougher looking training regime in January and bar Maxi it is difficult to pick a star, though I'm confident we can put up a competitive and enthralling match against ourselves should the AFL decide during the season that this would be a profitable adjustment.

I need to prod something on the stove, but will return later to post about my enthralling conversation with Dean Kent, Jack Watts bag of goals and anything else I recall.

In parting, I did spend more time than I should scanning the area for a police box, since I had a strong inkling that a meeting between the perennially grumbling Ancient Demon and Dr Whoooooo is best avoided.

And in closing (temporarily) has anyone noticed that Kennedy is seriously short? He is. Short, I mean. Seriously.

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Best report ever?

Most entertaining at least :P

[tbagrocks]

As long as big Maxi doesn't remove his beard!

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Found a few little bit interesting in this little report.

As it is a training thread, after speaking to the coaches and the players, and in line with Jack Viney's recent comments, everybody seems to be finally on the same page, the focus at training is sharper, the communication is clearer etc etc, McCartney has gone to another level this year (the players love him), you can see the development happening in front of your eyes

Another comment from the players, we have 40+players on the list, whoever is fit and in form will play and they all want to accept the challenge

And if Hulett can play in a game as good as he shows at training, he is my pick for the smokey this year, he is super aggressive and has the size already to go with it

Other good signs Hunt and Kent basically doing every session, like having 2 new extra recruits, one bit from training a week or so back, Ben Kennedy who is renowned for his speed tried to burn Hunt off, Hunt had him in about 10 metres

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^^ Love hearing those ones! ^^

Fills you with a bit hope  :)

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Had to laugh at this though.

Me leaning on fence........

McCartney to players "which bit of stay of out the f*****g corridor don't you get"

McCartney to me "a bit of constructive development there"

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Had to laugh at this though.

Me leaning on fence........

McCartney to players "which bit of stay of out the f*****g corridor don't you get"

McCartney to me "a bit of constructive development there"

Haha  ;D

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So training rituals look harder, meaner and substantially more as though they could lead to a match that the Demons could theoretically win. In fact, the main group are working a firm skeleton of match play, with players in positions for moving the ball forward, and mad dashing to create a forward press once the ball reaches the forward line.

It's white vests against green vests, with Simon Goodwin and the coaches chorus screaming for each player to run to meet the kick / handball and move the ball forward somewhere in the region of instantly. Fortunately, Jones' Gablett beard doesn't appear to have sapped his strength in any way. The whole group looks reasonably precise and hard but Jones is rock solid both with accuracy and decision making. Jack Watts, if anything, is the team superstar which, if you disregard a history which includes brain fades and a somewhat fastidious aversion to the hard tackle, shouldn't surprise. He is the most natural kick of the whole team and his best work has always had me admiring of his quick hands. Today he adds near perfect composure to finding the available man to move the ball forward to with a pinpoint pass and I'm allowing a fantasy of a breakout year, AA nomination and Brownlow contention to creep into my mind.

White vests are getting the ball over the defenders to a lurking Garlett, who finishes with a series of cheeky manoeuvres with matching grin. I watch this for a bit before switching sides to stand behind the green vest 50 where I'm having to leap to each side frequently to avoid ANB goals. There are no nets at this end so I'm scrambling around on fetching duty for a good while and managing to persuade myself that I am an essential component of training and critical to future success.

Ancient Demon joins me - he came over to identify Nibbler (confusing from a distance because the off season has seen some solid work and he is noticibly bigger and stronger looking). The interruption takes my eye from the ball and I'm instantly clobbered by another ANB rocket, the architect of which trots over to say 'sorry' and I say 'no sweat' which was exciting stuff that further convinces me that I have a semi-official status amongst the playing group.

Dean Kent has paused for a breather and a stretch from his solitary run of the perimeter, and we are admiring his impressive surgery scar as he wanders over for a chat. I'm instantly entranced by my new best friend, though slightly confused owing to my tendency to assume everyone more or less resembles their avatar so I feel a bit as though I'm talking to NG69. Ancient is especially excited as a mad Kent fan (picked him out as gun-in-the-making years back so now feels a kind of investment in his future). Kent seems a lovely bloke - even appearing interested in Ancient Demon's potted history that he launches into, complete with showing him some freckled and wrinkly knee-reco scarring from dodgy surgery in the 70s. So now we're in a scar-off competition which leaves me out (my ANB head knock not blossoming into a bruise until this morning). We learn that Kent's leg is going very well, but he's taking it easy that day as precaution after a hard week which included the time trial. Kent says he came in the group that ran "eleven something" whereas Tommy MacDonald ran just over nine. This makes T-Mac a "bloody mad barbie - he is insane" and Kent is going to leave that side of it to the mad blokes and work on sprints. So good lucks are exchanged and Kent jogs off away across the oval, into the distance and out of my mundane and simple life where I am unlikely to experience such thrills again.

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With a few stop starts, and gatherings for stretching and coaches feedback ("excellent, Wattsy" being audible from the boundary) the main group continue with pressure and tackling building steadily at each restart. Players are still required to move the ball forward at lightening speed, but doing so becomes more challenging as the defensive skills are brought into play. A cheer emerges when green team T-Mac takes a huge screamer (who was that Howe guy anyway? I forget now) to outmark a white team Salem on the boundary. Salem stores this up for no more than a minute before taking the opportunity to tackle Tommy fully to the ground. They are both pissing themselves laughing and a random coach sounds disapproving, so I'm not certain risky tackles are wholly approved in this round of training, but it collects applause from the players and Salem takes a goof bow.

I notice as I did on previous occasions that Jack Viney spends each rest stop practising kicking on goal - I read somewhere that kicking accuracy is a focus for him during the summer as a weaker part of his game. He looks pretty decent today, albeit in a non-pressured training environment, and I'm excited by the idea that he could build his skills in the manner that Biffinator's spud, Nathan Jones, has done over his career.

The players who appear to be on limited contact are grouped on the southern side of the oval where the drills are similar but lower pressure. This gaggle consists of the brand new baby Demons plus WTFIT Hunt, Brayshaw and vandenBurg. Those are the ones I recall, anyhow. They don't look too shabby either. WTFIT Hunt really is quick, there is lots of encouragement for the new boys and Oliver even breaks past Brashaw for a run and bounce before kicking a goal from 40 or so. VandenBurg looks seriously impressive in build though has gone for the t-shirt rather than singlet look for the Casey audience. This doesn't disguise his frame, more just makes him look as though he is housing a family of mobile ferrets under the straining fabric. Hulett is interesting - his body does look AFL ready - not a squooshy bit to be seen. He and Brayshaw seem to have bonded and are the class clowns, which is good because either looks capable of a menacing sledge if it seems indicated - you need a few of these extrovert types in a group.

Not participating in group drills are each of Pedo, Frost and Dawes, though all three spent time on marking and goal practice. They also spent a good hour running - sometimes on the perimeter and sometimes in timed sprint training which looks fiercely exhausting as goes seemingly for ever and only permits a few seconds rest at the cone marker. Not a problem for Daniel Cross - who is running alongside each in their turn and displays no symptoms of utterly knackered that I can discern. If he can disguise himself as Terlich somehow he looks an excellent rainy day depth option for 2016, and there is no ceiling on the value of the example of work ethic he provides.

Sympathy vote for a slog of a session goes to the towering rucks who are never allowed to stop but are pounded with clearance training, scooping balls on the run, assaulting a bag and thanks to a sadist coach some running, tackling with press ups thrown into the mix for good measure. Gawn looks very good indeed - smoother in motion then the gawky Spencil. In fact, I notice that Big Maxi looks less like the pantomime horse he has in the past sometimes resembled (I sometimes used to wonder if his size demanded two independent brains to function, and getting them to agree a strategy at a given moment presents a challenge).

At the hour-and-a-half mark trainers are planting a sequence of yellow metal man silhouettes at points that look intended to me as the man on the mark. "Ah, they represent the man on the mark" says the sage and Ancient Demon, so he was well worth bringing along - as well as the small fact that I don't know how to drive. All Demons in now for some set shot practise, where I watch Jesse to see if the skips are still in place. They are, and his kicking is utterly reliable today so he can breakdance his run up for all I care. He's pretty close by where I'm standing and while I am somewhat reeling from the gale of charisma, he looks up and meets my eye for a moment. It's like trying to look directly at the sun. I had to break away and pretend a re-tie of my shoelaces so intent was I not to disturb the great one. I welcomed the momentary distraction that was Stretchy and Nibbler who are trying to psych each other out kicking for goal. "Is that your ******* lead up?" yells a cheeky Stretch. "It is now, Baybeeee!" returns ANB as the ball sails through dead centre.

Jeff Garlett has hooked up with a coach for this weird but entertaining drill: at the most acute angle to the sticks and at the boundary, the two are face-to-face with a ball each drilling machine gun passes at tempo, and the coach will shout NOW and Jeff snaps, bananas or dribbles the ball he is holding for a goal - with a truly astounding, Eddie Betts type of success rate for the distance and position. For the first time I truly can see that the bounce of a ball that twists it through is not all luck of the Gods but a specialist craft, though I'm no closer to understand how it is done.

Towards the close Watts has been rounded up by a coach for a set shot contest with Hulett and the Weed. He's perfect for the task being an outgoing, friendly type around the club, and always encouraging when a teammate completes something well. That plus if you are seeking text book kicking action, you won't find a better example in the competition then Watts. They take 2 each at each marker - Hulett the least accurate at 5:5, the coach and Weed (theoretically) at 7:3 - though Watts runs forward to spoil a couple of the Weed's at goal (Weed is pretty straight but needs to build some distance). Weed is also pretty loveable - well I love him anyway. His serious face twists up in a concentrating frown in his run up, making him look a bit like a gifted pointer dog earnestly trying to follow human speech. Watts doesn't miss or look like doing so, and the Masterclass is concluded with a solo Watts kicking goals from a range of angles and the coach encouraging the newcomers to study his action. They also do some cute stuff where they get to bop about sledging and distracting the mentor of the day, but it's completely ineffective as Watts is on a fierce roll and cannot miss.

All activity eventually fades to black - with a feedback session from coaches in the middle closed out by yet more group sprints; the exception being Spencil and Gawn who are trapped for longer in the hit out, mad dash to punish a bag and push-up torture that has been devised by some mean but canny strategist that understands the value of a ruck that can go four quarters.

Best and fairest, and worthy of the 'training the house down' cliche goes to number 4, Jack Watts. Ancient Demon and me were unanimous in jumping back on the Watts train for 2016 so grab a seat before it leaves the station.

Special mensh goes to one N Jones for his general awesomeness and Maxi Gawn because of the hard slog plus I really do ******* love him. We depart quietly but well pleased, leaving behind us a twisting snake line of small children, footballs and magic markers.