The AFL is an anomaly amongst ball-sports worldwide. With the exception of the unique scoring system in tennis, most sports operate on a simple basis, the team that scores the most times wins.
But with a two-tiered scoring system, six points for a goal and one point for a behind, the AFL is an exception to that very simple rule.
Thus we have a very unique set of circumstances that confront us. Of the 45 matches played in the 2012 AFL Premiership season, the team with the lesser number of physical scores has won six times. Twice more sides have been locked on the same number of scoring instances at full time, yet the result has not been a draw.
It is a strange concept to understand, and one that is worth analysis. In theory it is not as simple as blaming inaccurate kicking, as a number of scores are concessions by the defending team, but it in actuality it can be as simple as that.
Playing in the AFL is not an easy task. There is enormous pressure and physicality involved in every moment. The athletes are elite. Most of them are physical monsters. Six-foot at a minimum, few less than 80kg, and yet they are astonishing runners, with the ability to run repeat 100-150m bursts at top speed over 100 minutes, covering beyond 16km in total.
This is not to mention the physical aspect, featuring high-speed body clashes, powerful wrestling, grappling, and tackling of strong, yet nimble men.
These athletes spend months preparing themselves physically to cope with all these aspects of the game. On top of that there are the tactical aspects. Coaching staffs spend hours drilling zones, presses, stoppage scenarios, offensive and defensive set-ups.
The hours spent drilling these aspects of the game at training are all for one common goal, and that is to win games. Coaches, players, commentators, and scribes file through mountains of stats to analyse these games. Those stats that carry the most weight are contested possessions, score involvements, inside 50s, and defensive rebounds.
Yet what is the point of hours upon hours of drilling to set up scoring opportunities only to be wasteful in front of goal when you get there?
Why should Richmond bother winning a contested ball on tired legs, spread well, hit targets, and find their forward, one-out, only for him to miss a set shot to put his side in front with less than four minutes to go against West Coast on Sunday.
Why would St Kilda, a week earlier, bother to win 15 more contested possessions than Fremantle, and send the ball inside 50 on 12 more occasions only to lose because they kicked 11 goals from 24 scores, to Fremantle’s 14 goals from 22.
It begs the question, why is the most vital skill in the game, the ability to maximise scoring from the opportunities you are presented, one of the least important factors to football clubs. Why do coaches continually say “we’re giving ourselves opportunities, and that is the pleasing thing,” when their side has had more chances than the opposition and lost? Why are the excuses of pressure and fatigue thrown up every time a player misses at a crucial juncture?
England World Cup winning fly-half Jonny Wilkinson never made those excuses. He never had to. The man spent hours every day practising his goal kicking, in rain, hail, or shine, for the one moment he needed it. His faultless boot carried England to the 2003 World Cup final, and single-handedly got them to extra-time, and when the moment arrived to win the Cup he did not let them down. And that simply comes from work ethic, and a trust that he’s done it a thousand times before in training.
“I want to use every moment when I’m out there whether training as team or individually. Every run, kick, pass or communication should hold meaning. You should aim in every situation to replicate that match situation.” Wilkinson said.
Tiger Woods is another example. NBC golf commentator Dan Hicks immortalised Tiger’s birdie putt at 18 at the 2008 US Open at Torrey Pines with the famous line “expect anything different?”
Woods dropped a 12-footer that bounced and bobbled from left to right down a slope to force a play-off with Rocco Mediate, a play-off he won to claim his 14th major title.
We expected Woods to make that putt because he expected to make it. There were no excuses lined up about the state of the parched green, the soreness of his knee, the unjustness of the world had the putt lipped out. Woods never contemplated it. Why? Because he hit 100,000 putts just like it in the years leading up to that point. At his zenith, Woods would stand on a putting green at the end of a day’s practice and hole 100 six-foot, breaking, putts in a row. One-hundred in a row, without missing. Is it any surprise he made the one that mattered? Are there any AFL footballers out there making 100 set shots in a row before leaving the training track every day?
You would suggest not. Hence the competition after five rounds is collectively operating at 51.76 per cent in front of goal and no team is above 60 per cent.
What about other sports? The 2011-12 NBA leading scorer, Oklahoma City Thunder forward Kevin Durant, had a season field goal percentage of 49.6. Field goal percentage is number of baskets made from number of attempts put up. That is comparable with the AFL, only the goal Durant fires at is a ring 45cm in diameter, as opposed to 6.4m wide and infinitely high. Put Durant on the free-throw line, the AFL’s equivalent of a set shot, and his percentage sky-rockets to 86.
Durant is the best in the league, but there is a reason why he is the best. Aside from his remarkable, natural, athleticism, he is meticulous in his shooting in practice, as the majority of NBA players are. That is how they make their living, from scoring.
No surprise then that with 3.5 seconds left in Game One of Oklahoma’s first playoff series with defending champions the Dallas Mavericks, Durant made a fade-away jump shot for two points to steal a 99-98 victory. There was some luck involved, with the ball taking a piece of the rim, and glass, before dropping. But as golfing legend Gary Player said “the harder you work, the luckier you get.” Few work harder than Durant, hence he makes a shot at a key moment that undoubtedly he has made thousands of times before.
No sportsman is the best in the world without working harder than the rest. No matter how much natural ability you possess, it will fail you without practising basic skills on a regular basis.
Goal kicking is a basic skill, and the most important skill in Australian Football. It is pointless to spend infinite hours on structures, and set-up, and zones, if you cannot complete the most important, oldest, skill in the game, kicking goals. Losing a tight game, having scored more times than your opponent, is about as worthwhile as losing by 100 points. It has happened six times already this season. West Coast, Geelong, and St Kilda have all lost Grand Finals in the same manner across the last seven seasons, whilst Collingwood were fortunate to escape with a draw in the first Grand Final of 2010.
You just wonder when teams will learn.
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