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In a contested situation, he reminds me of the guy who pretends to help clean up at the end of the party, moving just enough chairs and tables so as to not seem discernibly superfluous.
Crummy metaphors aside, there are 99 problems at Carlton, and Bryce Gibbs comprises at least 12.
See, what we don’t lack is limited players. The dynamo Jason Tutt runs his tiny legs off but can’t kick over, or into, a small pile of canned goods.
The athletic beast Liam Jones tears the game into 60 different pieces for the first minute, then crumples.
The rest are largely of a similar vein, crippled by either youth, old age or a comprehensive lack of ability. Which is fine. I don’t begrudge them.
We’re rebuilding. Have been, but haven’t been, for forever (if you know what I mean). Got to lose some games to lose some more games etc. Ask any St Kilda supporter about the interminable cycle of self-inflicted pain and they’d probably give you some surly answer about miserable life decisions.
My gripe, which burns into my very being, is that Gibbs isn’t one of these limited players that infest my once proud and successful club.
Rather, he’s conditional.
Gibbs chooses the contests to engage in when it suits him. Which again is fine, he was traditionally an outside midfielder, but we can’t afford to have the luxury of outside mids, so we turned him into a perfectly uninspired and kind of delicate inside-ish mid.
But if there was a documentary on the career of Bryce Gibbs, it’d be called ‘The Makings of a Murderer’, because when he gets the ball in any modicum of space he mostly butchers it like a, well, butcher. Just bombs it as far as he can for poor Levi Casboult to jump at. Lower your eyes!
‘Mostly’ is the key word in the above paragraph, because when it suited him he excelled at hitting targets. Maybe he was enabled by evergreen and evermean Jarrad Waite presenting to him, or perhaps the ever-elusive contract extension inspired him – who knows?
So, who do I blame for the mediocre-and-declining-except-for-that-one-excellent-year-when-he-was-seeking-a-new-contract career of Bryce Gibbs?
Not really sure.
Dennis Pagan probably gets a fair slice of the blame for letting him rot in the back pocket while thrusting him in the leadership group. Blame might also go to the collection of injuries he has suffered hampering him more than we know. If that’s the case, sorry Bryce, credit to you for running out each week like a champion.
A lot of the blame must also be apportioned to the omnishambles that has been the Carlton Football Club for a substantial period of time, probably cruelling his development.
Mainly though, I blame myself for engaging in the hype. Starry-eyed by the prospect of the smooth moving, crisp kicking, silky and super intelligent midfielder that I have believed Gibbs to be for however long, I thought he’d be swell. However, glimpses aside, he was never those things.
So should Carlton, the aficionados of the trading table, wipe our hands clean and let him at the mercy of the City of Churches?
With my substantial power and influence – for may this article have far-reaching claws – I say no. I keep the faith in you, Bryce. Arise! Read my petty and vindictive article and lift like a spectacular tree from the earth.
In conclusion; learn how to kick Casboult. Jesus Christ, it’s not that difficult.
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