I lost a bet to Adelaide Docker, and this was my punishment

Many parallels can be drawn between Star Wars and the AFL. Both have enduring histories, epic rivalries and powerful entities orchestrating perfidious acts; but above all, they’re enriched with heroes and villains we love or hate.

The latter is a matter of perspective. Ross Lyon, for the better part, is a villain in our world. He is the former apprentice of Darth Roos, a despicable coach who brought negative football to a new level. Emperor Demetriou once described his game style as unattractive — a euphemism for bloody awful.

Our story starts here though: a swashbuckler named Disnick, akin to Han Solo. Unlike the great man, who won the Millennium Falcon in a card game, Rick lost in spectacular fashion during a ‘battle of wits’ with Roarer AdelaideDocker.

It was an utterly stupid bet involving the whereabouts of one Nate Fyfe in 2018. Rick tried bluffing our young Padawan, but he didn’t fold. Jedi mind tricks — ‘this is not the Rick you’re looking for’ — continued to fail in the proceeding weeks.

Rick had two choices: be cast into the Pit of Carkoon and slowly digested over 1000 years or endure the pain of a Swans match wearing Fremantle attire.

It was a tough decision, but Rick decided upon the greater of evils, a true act of acceptance: Purple Haze apparel his punishment would be.

Rick of course is not a Swans fan, a Cats man at heart. Before heading off, he’d drape his Ewok around his neck, reminding him of the good times. Dark hours would lie ahead, for the journey to the SCG would be a perilous one at best.

(Rick Disnick)

After spending the morning consoling with his wife, fate was set in motion. Rick’s better half wanted to drive her car, but he knew better. One thing he could control was the ground clearance of their vehicle. He decided on his fully armed and operational battle station; a weapon capable of destroying entire planets along with any feral Swans fan that chooses to get in their way.

(Rick Disnick)

Today’s match would pit Lyon against another former apprentice of his quondam mentor, Darth Horse. The aesthetics of his game plan too have been questioned in the past, with a recent lack of reverence shown by the greatly hallowed, Leigh Matthews.

Horse was unperturbed by such rubbish — the dark side of the Force is far more powerful! That annoying little Jedi known as Clarko makes us think otherwise, an angry little man, similar in stature to Master Yoda.

He’s become truly gifted at straddling the boundary of good and evil. He renovates coaching boxes, belittles journalists and force punches fans that dare get in his face, yet never succumbs to the dark side.

Only through witnessing his football can one truly understand how powerful Clarko has become; procuring imitation coaches at a rate not seen since the Clone Wars.

Clarko’s clones now amount to no less than six coaches within the AFL ranks. The Force pendulum has swung completely off axis. Luke Beveridge, Brendon Bolton, Leon Cameron, Chris Fagan, Damien Hardwick and Adam Simpson are nothing more than pawns in his greater goal to conquer the AFL world.

While his powers replenish his Jedi Knights can only keep the dark side at bay for so long, for Hardwick and Beveridge are no Jedi Masters. More likely they’re an aberration in the Force: the greatest one hit wonders since Rick Astley, or at best, The Proclaimers with two.

Every year the AFL coaches are invited to McLachlan Manor to discuss the state of the game with the Emperor. It’s primarily about eating lavish caviar and listening to what the Emperor wants, more than what the coaches think.

One thing is for certain though: Ross always receives ‘that’ look from Emperor while the other 17 guests hold their breaths.

(AAP Image/Julian Smith)

This year, McLachlan’s butler reported serious hostilities coming from The Great Banquet Hall as the Emperor, once again, tore pages from Darth Lyon’s shitty playbook.

“You’re ruining my game,” said McLachlan sternly. “I will not have you play ugly, negative football under my watch!”

“Look your majesty, that guy called Horse, and your new best friend Beveridge, play just as appalling footy, but I don’t hear you wailing about it. Think about it!”

“But Sydney have Buddy… Buddy is awesome,” McLachlan mumbled.

“This is true, but the Bulldogs scored exactly the same in 2016 and 2017 as my minor premiership team in 2015.”

“Yes, but the Bulldogs play an exciting brand of football,” said McLachlan abruptly.

“Who told you that? David King?”

“As a matter of fact, he did,” McLachlan confidently replied.

The validity of this information is questionable, but we must acknowledge the many waiters who died bringing us this information.

Darth Lyon has surely been rocked by these events. He has produced some of the most harrowing football this year, the likes of which have not occurred since the dark days of Mark Neeld at the Demons.

Unfortunately, more of the same would be bestowed upon our resident AFL fan, Rick Disnick.

Arriving at the ground unscathed, he cautiously secured his seat amongst the latte-sipping horde. A few heckles came his way, but nothing our swashbuckler could not handle.

The first quarter was a training drill. Rick took more marks behind goals in the first 20 minutes than any Freo player for the entire match. Wave after wave of attack saw the scoreboard tick over at a rate of knots never seen before. He was truly stunned.

The second quarter was no better, with the nearby crowd taking bets on whether Freo would make double digits by halftime. It was not to be. To make matters worse, Rick was sitting next to three of the Swans’ biggest fans.

There was little he could do, but turn on the charm.

(Rick Disnick)

Surely the second half could be no worse. It was. The Dockers would resemble a Harry Potter premier… witches hats aplenty.

Ross Lyon’s Dockers were flogged by over 100 points by the final siren. Rick’s humiliation was complete.

(Rick Disnick)

The journey home was a humbling one indeed, but a stark reminding of how painful it must be at times to follow such a battered club.

Rick’s Burmilla eagerly awaited his return. It’s no secret: she hates the Dockers. It was rather fitting that Fyfe’s top would end up in the bottom of her litter tray.\

(Rick Disnick)

Despite the deplorable football that Darth Lyon has dished up in 2017, it’s highly likely he’ll be the only coach who can bring balance to the Force.

Clarkson will rise once again with few challenges to counter his attacking football. Darth Horse is no match, nor the countless clones and one-hit wonders of our world.

Rosco has the resources at his disposal like very few clubs can offer. In 2015 alone the Dockers spent more on their football operations than any other club. Financial power, coupled with impending genius, may well lead to a dynasty of darkness enshrouding the AFL landscape.

More importantly, this is a club with emphatic resilience — a club that received nothing more than a kick in the guts and a boot on its throat from the very beginning.

There’s one final piece to Rosco’s puzzle: A team he can truly call his own. He’s inherited accomplished teams from incompetent coaches in the past, but wasted time fixing their mistakes.

He now has the chance to build his own Death Star from scratch. A team so powerful it will shake the gates of Heaven.