At this time of year there’s usually a story along the lines of “is this the most important game in the history of the Gold Coast Suns?” It’s often trotted out for Collingwood’s annual mid-winter trip, probably because it’s one of the few times they get a half decent crowd. Gold Coast’s problem, among many, is that this Collingwood side treats every game as a matter of grave importance. The Suns are more inclined to pick and choose.
There’s no real enigma to the 2026 version of the Pies. Their list is lopsided. They have significant limitations on every line. They have a few plodders up front and they’re patching holes down back. But their commitment is unconditional. They show the opposition exactly where they stand. If their opponent has any holes, any flakiness, any lulls, the Pies will exploit it. Few teams get more from less.
Their latest win will be remembered for Brayden Maynard going the tonk with pretty much every listed Suns player, and for copping a $5,000 fine under the AFL’s nebulous ‘crackdown’ on umpire contact. Maynard is a footballer who comes with a 10-page disclosure, a player whose head, gait and very being screams imminent confrontation. But he’s a player Collingwood supporters love, and Damien Hardwick would give his right leg to have at his club.
Earlier this year, under the roof at the Docklands against GWS, Maynard executed a late, low, lunging spoil that cannoned into the crowd. His teammates rushed over to celebrate it, like NFL defensive linebackers celebrating a sack. There were so many similar moments on the weekend. But it will be remembered for the nasty hit he copped from Ben Long, the sort of punch the AFL treats with considerably more leniency than accidental tackles.
Long presents as someone who’d be able to handle himself in the boxing ring – one of the few Suns players with a bit of mongrel in him. Maynard has an almost Dermott Brereton-esque thirst for revenge on the footy field, and he ran around for the next hour like Long had set fire to his house. The ever-helpful Derm chimed in the next day on the Sunday Footy Show, when someone had the temerity to suggest that retaliation is no defence. “I’ve always thought it should be,” Brereton replied. “This is a game for robust men.”
All nonsense aside, few would deny that Maynard plays a robust game. With a bung shoulder and possibly a bruised rib, he laid nine tackles. In contrast, the Suns had 15 players who had a single tackle or none. Collectively, Collingwood laid 32 more tackles. Stats like that can often deceive, and can flatter the team that’s second to the ball. In this instance, it was an indictment on the home side.
As always with the Suns, they kicked their goals in three-and-four minute clumps. The best of them made Collingwood look second rate. At one point, Christian Petracca banana kicked a preposterous goal from nearly 50 metres out, one of the lowest percentage things you can do on a footy field. They look irresistible at moments like that, like a team whose sheer talent will eventually overwhelm their honest, but limited opposition. But it never happens. It’s the same story every week, and every season.
As has been the case in every one of their six losses on the trot, they weren’t dreadful. They had patches where they clearly looked the superior team. But they’re not a team that’s prepared to go down the well. At one point in the second term, Jeremy Howe dove two full body lengths to smother and thwart a certain Suns goal. There was no-one on the Gold Coast team, most of whom were more than a decade his junior, who were prepared to do things like that. The Pies lunged to halve contests, sprinted back to keep their defensive shape, and did the dirty work and unrewarded running. There was little evidence of that from the Suns. The only time they seemed fully engaged was during the half-time brawl. “At the end of the day, boys will be boys,” was Hardwick’s offering on the melee.
After the game, Maynard was covered in welts and scratches, and seemed to have sustained harm to most vital body parts. “If you are going to come and hit me cheaply, you are going to get some back,” he told Alastair Lynch. “It genuinely means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Lynch asked. Maynard seemed taken aback by the question. He took his first deep breath in three hours. “Well if you love the game mate, everything means a lot to you. We did it for the jumper, we did it for the fans. It’s a great team to be a part of… bloody hell.”
Bloody hell indeed. Brayden Maynard is no Alex Ferguson but it was a good snapshot of how much it meant, of how much he’d given, and how this club teetering on football’s cliff keeps fighting. After all, who could have taken it seriously if a Gold Coast Sun had said words to that effect?
