My daughter’s boyfriend plays for Greater Western Sydney. There, I’ve said it.

My daughter used to be a Richmond member, just like me. Despite a series of entreaties from the club and from her distressed father, she allowed her membership to lapse. Her allegiance has changed and she often travels to Sydney to watch the GIANTS in action.

This brings to mind an unfortunate incident from my childhood. My younger sister was a dancer and joined the Bluebirds, Carlton’s much-maligned troupe of cheerleaders in the early eighties. She, of course, defected from the Tigers to the Blues.

Today my family, sans one daughter currently touring Europe, attends Richmond’s clash with GWS at the MCG. We separate at Gate Three. My son and I take our places in the Richmond members’ section while my wife and daughter head for the seats provided for them by GWS.

I strongly suspect that my wife is barracking for the GIANTS.

Back in 1998 before Richmond met Melbourne in a match which the Tigers had to win in order to make the finals I was talking to a friend on the phone who happened to be an official with the Demons. He informed me that David Schwarz, their gun centre-half-forward, was carrying an injury and wouldn’t be taking his place in the selected side.

He probably assumed that what he was telling me was confidential. As soon as the call ended I was on the phone to Richmond’s Team Manager, Shane O’Sullivan, to provide the intelligence. In the end it made no difference, as the Tigers went down by 76 points and finished ninth again.

When the young GIANT communicated with my daughter on Skype this week I innocently asked him whether the GWS brains trust had something interesting in mind to counter the rampaging Tigers, fresh from a mighty victory over the Westies’ crosstown rivals in the previous round.

Sensing my eagerness, he was having none of it.

“If we do”, he replied, “I wouldn’t be telling you!”

He has me worked out. He did, however, allude to a plan they had in mind to limit Richmond’s transition into attack.

GWS looks terribly vulnerable in defence. Phil Davis, Joel Patfull, Tim Mohr and Nick Haynes are on the long term injury list. And like the Lost Boys in J. M Barrie’s Peter Pan, they really need a mummy, or in this case, stricken ruckman Shane Mumford, to be truly competitive.

Victory looks assured for the Tigers.

It’s a chill winters’ afternoon in Melbourne and it suits the prevailing mood of the football community. The shocking nature of Phil Walsh’s death has left a pall on the weekend’s proceedings. It’s disconcerting, yet appropriate, that the players enter the arena without their theme songs.

What unfolds is not what Richmond supporters expect. Second-gamer Tom Downie battles manfully against Ivan Maric in the ruck and the GIANTS’ midfielders shark a fair number of tap-outs that were not intended for them.

Riewoldt always looks dangerous in attack, despite being double or triple teamed, but receives little support from fellow talls in Vickery and Griffiths. The GIANTS flood Richmond’s forward line and apply pressure to the Tiger playmakers. The patient, measured approach which the Tigers have utilised so effectively in recent weeks fails to bear dividends. It takes 26 minutes for Riewoldt to open Richmond’s account.

The visitors keep their noses in front in a low-scoring slog and the rage of the home supporters begins to fester. This was meant to be a percentage booster. They blame the umpires for their predicament. Richmond briefly grabs the lead in the second and third quarters but the GIANTS quickly seize it back. Goals to Palmer and Smith hand the GIANTS a 15-point lead at the final break and Richmond is in a state of emergency.

Hardwick is red-faced with anger in the huddle. He forcibly jabs a number of players in the chest. The Tiger fans respond to their coach’s urgency by loudly urging their men to get out there and win it.

Riewoldt goals, Cameron responds. Richmond still trails by 14 points at the five-minute mark and are probably one major from irredeemable disaster. Spurred on by the rabid yellow and black hordes, the Tigers keep coming.

Edwards bursts out of the centre and bombs a beauty. Cotchin levels the scores at the 14-minute mark. But the misses keep coming. Lambert and Miles shank their kicks from point blank range, adding to wasted shots at goal by Deledio, Cotchin and Vickery in the third quarter. Frustration abounds.

At the 19-minute mark the Tigers stumble into the lead. Vickery snaps another from the square and Lobb somehow replies for the GIANTS despite his wildly stuttering approach. Then with 28 minutes gone Edwards marks strongly and nails the sealer from 50. Jubilation!

Somehow Richmond has managed to win despite trailing for most of the afternoon. They score four of the last five goals of the game. GWS were brave, but unable to run the match out against bigger-bodied opponents in the heavy conditions.

Jack Riewoldt appears to take the lead in the huddle after the game in which the players combine to pay tribute to Phil Walsh. On the following day I ask my daughter’s boyfriend whether the GIANTS’ secret plan was the reason they fell only nine points short of a stirring upset. Still he chooses to block my feeble attempts at disclosure.

I take another tack and ask him what Riewoldt said in the huddle. Now he is more forthcoming.

“He said we should all go home and tell our families how much we love them.”

I suppose that’s the information I really need to hear.

More GWS stories, and other fan-writing can be found on the GIANTS page at www.footyalmanac.com.au