Regrets are an inevitable part of life. They come with the territory of breathing and are a part of the unwritten deal we all sign for the right to exist.
Although some contrition can feel enormous – such as the misery born when a relationship breaks down or after committing a far more criminal act – others are forgotten in the blink of an eye.
In terms of the unpredictable game of football, there are a plethora of scenarios that have made or broken careers.
What if your side had picked a different player from a certain draft?
What if your star spearhead had kicked straight when it mattered?
What if the bounce of a Sherrin was slightly more predictable?
Well, for fans of every creed, we have sought to answer the question that has rankled you for years and kept you up at nights for far too long.
We can't promise that we won't open old wounds, as let's face it, that is the entire point of the exercise.
PART ONE: Adelaide, Brisbane Bears, Brisbane Lions, Carlton
PART TWO: Collingwood, Essendon, Fitzroy, Fremantle
PART THREE: Geelong, Gold Coast, Greater Western Sydney, Hawthorn
PART FOUR: Melbourne, North Melbourne, Port Adelaide, Richmond
However, if we can help you find closure by looking at the facts and asking what would have happened had the doors slid the other way, then we have done our job.
As always, feel free to critique our traipses, as we are tipping some of you are unlikely to enjoy some of the conclusions we have drawn.
With the first four instalments now behind us, here is final entry in a series of the game's greatest ‘what ifs' since 1990.
If you have been following this series, you will well and truly understand the premise of these jaunts down memory lane.
If you have been following the game, or the Saints, for any extended period of time, you will also know that there is absolutely nowhere else I can place my scalpel when it comes to the lads from Linton Street.
Although some of the moments I have previously dissected and surgically altered in the first four additions of these entries have had reasonably large impacts on clubs, one cruel bounce of the Sherrin in late September of 2010 has possibly the largest, and clearest, ramifications of them all.
Had the ball bounced up and into the waiting arms of the polarizing Stephen Milne, then the club's trophy cabinet would have been altered and the Sinner's incorrigible narrative of despair would have ceased.
There is almost no denying this.
Irrespective of the fact that it is unprofessional for a scribe to divulge their allegiances, it is here that I must tell you that for almost the entirety of my life, I have prayed at a red, white and black alter.
Although this may skew some of your views, or lead you to believe that mine may be too, I have only alerted you to this point so as to allow for full disclosure – and for some of you to potentially revel in my pain, considering I have prodded at your wounds wantonly of late.
Despite the fact that I have essentially answered my own question within the space of 150-words, I'll pull my socks up, tuck in my bottom lip and attempt to show you how I came to this popular conclusion in the least biased way possible.
However, due to my footballing fidelity, you will have to indulge me at least a little bit.
SEE ALSO: What if Mark Bickley never farted at half-time of the 1993 Preliminary Final?
Still, if your patience is wafer thin already, feel free to click through and find out how the Eagles had rights to the 2005 flag.
Heading into this finals series that is now over a decade in our collective rearview mirrors, the Ross Lyon led Saints had weathered a summer of discontent before surging back into the September action after completing the home and away season with a 15-1-6 record.
Whilst they were unable to repeat their barnstorming form of 12-months prior, the third-placed Bayside boys proved good enough to return to the season's decider after knocking off the Cats and Dogs before their date with destiny against the table-topping Magpies.
In spite of just an eight-point ladder gap between the two warring sides throughout the season's on-field plot, Collingwood and St Kilda were further than just a mathematical distance apart that season, as the Saints were able to compete with their rich rivals despite financial austerity and a home that was eventually, and inadvertently, sans a roof.
Now, even though this can often be completely inconsequential to what takes place within the oval's boundary line, it does help develop a contemporary David versus Goliath narrative, and who doesn't love one of those?
Unless you've been living a microbial life under a rock on the dark side of Mars, you will know that this clash that is under examination ended in a draw – only the third occasion in the then 113-year-old competition's history.
If not, welcome to the world.
Although the ending has been spoilt for any extraterrestrial visitors, I'll quickly bring you up to speed on how this impasse came to pass.
Once the Sherrin was placed into the turf by umpire Brett Rosebery to start the game, and it bounced predictably upwards, it only took a fraction of a minute for the miniscule number of punters who backed Goliath's Darren Jolly to slot the opening major to begin their collective sprint towards the TAB teller.
Just under 13-minutes later, the Pies - thanks to a genuine canine crossbreed off the boot of Dale Thomas - rung up another six-points to stretch the margin to 19-points. At this stage, the Saints' clash jumper clad backs had begun to become one with the proverbial wall.
With the pain of the year prior's loss still burning within them, Lyon's men fought back into the contest. However, had Travis Cloke's tie not tightened in the shadows of half-time, then their efforts may have been for naught.
The perpetually wayward Collingwood big man sprayed a pair of straightforward attempts that would have tucked the Saints in tighter than your mate who phantoms when it's their shout at the pub.
SEE ALSO: What if Nathan Buckley stayed a Bear?
Given an opportunity to continue striving for redemption, a superhuman Hayes, a red-hot Riewoldt, a god-like Goddard and a geographically shifted Gilbert dared St Kilda's loyal band of bruised fanatics to dream again.
As someone spurned many times before, I remember still requiring further salesmanship as the game inched its way to the end of the third stanza.
Still, it wouldn't take long for me to be fully swayed to clutching my chequebook at the ready.
Following Hayes' goal from uptown and Milne's steady set shot to start the fourth term, the league's perennial underachievers had dragged the game back to within touching point of parity. Yet, it would take the first of a pair of betraying bounces to square the ledger for a first time.
With the ball loose inside his side's offensive arc in 19th minute of the closing quarter, St Kilda skipper Nick Riewoldt snapped across his frame and sent the ball tumbling towards the open Ponsford stand goal mouth.
The ball bounced predictably onwards and then onwards again before, in its infinite wisdom, deciding to sit up long enough for Riewoldt's opposite number, Nick Maxwell, to scrape his fingertips across its leather before it crossed the chalk.
In Christian theology, Christ was deceived three times by the time the rooster crowed.
In a footballing sense, the Saints would be sinned against only after the ball had hoodwinked them twice before the siren blared.
After Goddard's famous climb and goal had cabinet makers pitching their services to the Saints' brass, and Cloke eventually kicked one even he couldn't miss, the cock-a-doodle-doo eventually came for Milne.
With just shy of half-an-hour elapsed, Hayes once again found the footy in his hands. Instinctively, he – like his skipper before him – threw the ball on the boot and hoped for the best.
Ironically, the ball landed on about the same patch of grass that Barry Breen wobbled his famous behind through from 44-years and one-day prior. However, the result would not elicit the same jubilant celebrations from the minority of Saintly backers in the attendance.
SEE ALSO: What if the AFL allowed the Lions to play a home Preliminary Final in 2004?
Hayes' kick made a beeline to the only two players inside forward-50 for the Saints – Collingwood's Ben Johnson and his direct opponent, Milne. The latter edged the former under the football after it had turned like a Shane Warne leg-break with the first bounce. Although it appeared certain to fall into his arms, the Sherrin spun akin to SKW's wrong-un and tumbled through the same posts as Breen's effort for an identical score.
With only seconds left to play in the Grand Final, the scores were tied at 68-points apiece.
From my vantage point, I instantly thought that Milne could have made the moment his.
Plenty of others shared my viewpoint then, with some ardently maintaining their stance to this day.
Still, the man that had a best view of just how unpredictable a football can be sees it differently.
“I had him [Ben Johnson] cooked, but it [the ball] was five metres away from me and I couldn't have dived for it,” Milne told documentary maker Peter Dickson in 2016.
“So, that's why I let it bounce.
“If I could have got it, I would have got it – obviously.”
If we take the small-forward at his word, then a St Kilda victory during regular time appears to have been an impossibility in reality.
However, we're not here to deal in real world matters.
Without delving too deeply into the mechanics of just how incalculable the bounce of a football can be, I'll just briefly surmise that unless you own the innate ability to speak fluent 'Sherrin-ese' like Kevin Bartlett or Anthony McDonald-Tipungwuti, then you, like several generations of Australians, have likely been made a fool by the oval object.
Still, what if the Panasonic branded pill had sat up on its point rather than spun viciously like a Beyblade?
Had Milne waltzed into the open goal with ball in hand and slammed the it through the big sticks, there are two certainties that would have occurred within the space of the next two-minutes.
Firstly, you can be sure that the man affectionately referred to as ‘Yapper' would have mouthed off to the Collingwood cheer squad, and secondly, the siren would have signaled just the second premiership for the country's 19th oldest football club.
As sweet as this daydream has always been for me, another question that is worth posing is what would have happened had extra-time been allowed?
For a conclusive answer to this, I'll allow a pair of names who combined for 50-disposals on that fateful day to tell you, rather than subject you to further ramblings from someone who consumed their body weight in tobacco instead.
Despite missing out on the first of two Norm Smith medals to the voiceless Lenny Hayes, Brendon Goddard's 18-kicks, 13-handballs and two-goals during the drawn decider should have, in the eyes of many, seen him claim the honour over his former skipper.
Yet, I'm fairly certain the former number one draft pick would have exchanged it in an instant for a premiership medallion – something he is certain would have been his had the game have continued after every skerrick of regular time had expired.
When asked point blank about this view by Dickson during the documentary 'The Final Draw', Goddard was typically unabashed in his response.
"Another 10 [minutes]? Well, we win," the former Saint and Bomber claimed.
"Another 30-seconds and we win."
Scott Pendlebury – the man who would eventually claim the second Norm Smith on offer in 2010 – begrudgingly held a similar view.
"Another 10-minutes and I reckon they would have probably held up the cup," he admitted.
So, there it is from the mouths of two champions that grew up less than an hours drive apart from one another in country Victoria.
Had any other timeline played out other than the one that eventuated in reality, then for the first time since a pot could be paid for with shrapnel and pubs closed at six, Saints fans would have had a trophy to toast.
But what would it have meant in the aftermath? Would the good times have continued to roll for the Moorabbin men?
SEE ALSO: What if the Bluebaggers were never caught with brown paper bags?
Even had the cup been claimed in 2010, once the mass hangover had subsided in Melbourne's south eastern suburbs, a grim reality would have set in.
Heading into the 2011 season, then St Kilda coach Ross Lyon had a list of 46-players at his disposal. Of this catalogue, four-players had laced the boots on less than 10-occasions and 12 had never played a game of AFL football at all.
Alarmingly, this latter group would only ever combine for 116-games whilst calling St Kilda home - an average of 9.6 matches per head.
As previously stated, St Kilda's financial status could never misconstrued as being it's strength. And according to the then captain of the ship, neither could their optically non-existent recruiting and development teams.
"We had appalling facilities," former CEO Michael Nettlefold stated in 2016.
"[We had] no development program [and] virtually no recruiting program.
"We didn't have the funding [or] the finances to actually have any decent structures in those places."
Having bombed out in an Elimination Final in 2011, the gap between St Kilda and the teams at the peak of the ladder had begun to widen, as had the chasm between the most experienced and inexperienced names on the club's list.
Many haloed clad fans believe this is why Ross Lyon eventually upped and left the club at the cessation of 2011.
As the club was caught in a perilous position of missing out on multiple premierships, dealing with the fallout of salary cap mismanagement and operating without a battle hardened coach at the helm, it was little wonder why the Saints once again slipped into the cellars quickly after the 2010 Grand Final replay.
If this unhinged trip has taught you anything – apart from that fact that I am obviously incapable of moving on from this scene set over a decade ago – it is that even if the ball had sat up for Milne late in the drawn decider, the Saints still appeared to be living on borrowed time at the ladder's tip.
The cash strapped Saints went for an ‘all or nothing' approach in the Lyon era and were eventually left with empty hands – just like the rookie draftee from Essendon's reserves that was denied his shot at glory.
Still, had it paid off at least once, you can be sure that there would still be some sore heads and bloodshot eyes amongst the Saints' congregation of loyal followers.
In the third instalment of this series, I spared Geelong fans a tale of woe. However, having decided to pick at a scar that was once a vicious scab, my benevolence towards the Kardinia Park club has now evaporated.
Should you utter Nick Davis' name in any public house from South Melbourne to Sydney and as sure as night leading into day, you will be met with a shrieking retort of someone channeling Anthony Hudson.
Yes, we all saw Davis swoop at a stoppage in the dying stages of the 2005 Semi-Final against the Cats, and yes, none of us believed it then either.
Prior to the 9th of September 2005, the former father-son pick who began his AFL life at Victoria Park had failed to set the footy world on fire. Since debuting for the Magpies in Round 1 of the 1999 season until the Swans Qualifying Final loss to the Eagles in '05, Davis had laced the boots on 127-occasions and had slotted 171-majors at a rate of 1.3 per game.
Sure, these numbers were serviceable, but said adjective was abolished and replaced with heroic from the ninth minute of the Semi-Final onwards.
However, had it not been for a stirring speech from his skipper, the then 25-year-old could easily have been cast in the role of a villain instead.
With the Swans trailing by just shy of three-straight kicks at three-quarter time of the aforesaid clash against the travelling Moggs, the hopes that many red and white backers held of breaking the then longest premiership drought in AFL/VFL history were fading fast.
With less than three-minutes gone on the clock in the final term, these dwindling dreams appeared to have well and truly gone down the drain.
SEE ALSO: What if Brayden Maynard had been paid a free kick in the 2018 Grand Final?
Davis, who had been named by Paul Roos to line-up in the forward pocket and who at that stage had only troubled the scorers with a pair of behinds, started the final stanza alongside Geelong defender, David Johnson. But after allowing the bald Cat to waltz the length of the ground and to extend the margin to 23-points, Davis, and his Swans, looked more like dead ducks.
On the Channel Ten footage from the night, as Johnson is surrounded by celebrating teammates, in the corner of the screen, viewers can see a muddied Brett Kirk jogging towards his defensive arc. His target? A sheepish looking small-forward in the number 2 guernsey.
In a 2011 interview, the forward who had refused to defend spoke about how his skipper had helped lift his head following his lethargic brain fade.
"He [Kirk] wasn't happy," Davis explained.
"There was a miscommunication between Lewis [Roberts-Thomson] and myself and I buggered it up.
"My man kicked a goal and 'Kirky' came and had a word gave me some words of encouragement and they obviously worked."
With the Swans, at that stage, trailing by just shy of four-goals with less than that many attributed to them the old SCG scoreboard, the time for a comeback was, as they say, of the essence.
After a rushed behind for the Swans a minute after Johnson's jaunt and a further handful of minutes elapsing, Davis, a man with plenty of finals experience, rose to the occasion and pulled his magic wand from his red ankle warmers.
As the clock ticked and the Swans remained stagnant, the Channel Ten commentary team began discussing the enormity of the task ahead of the harbour city side. Risks were said to be required, but according to the curmudgeonly Malcom Blight, the home side was incapable of adapting their style that late in the game and that late in the season.
SEE ALSO: What if Essendon never contacted Stephen Dank?
With the ball lodged on the right side of the slashed arc at the Randwick end of the Cricket ground, Blight launched into a tirade.
“I reckon you've got to do something radical now,” the two-time premiership coach began.
“I reckon you've got to throw Tadgh Kennelly on to the ball…probably Leo Barry. Just change the team around. Change the mix in the middle.
“You have to pick up four or five goals. The way they're playing, they're not going to do it this way.”
Although the South Australian superstar's statements originally appeared salient, they would prove unnecessary, as a Reebok booted local silenced Blight's mustachioed mouth with his first major of the night from Row F of the Churchill Stand.
Such was the brilliance of Davis' opening goal; Blight's befuddled terseness was u-turned into laughter almost instantly.
One down. Three to go. Sydney still 16-points behind.
Following a Craig Bolton behind and yet another handful of tense minutes erased before the siren's call, Davis again bobbed up on the end of Ryan O'Keefe floater inside 50. After lining his body up and running through a set of Ballet like warm-ups, the former second-round draftee slapped the Sherrin half-way up Yabba's hill and snapped the near 40,000 spectators from their slumber.
Two down. Two to go. The Swans still nine-points adrift
In the aftermath of this set-shot, those that were glued to their TVs were afforded their first glimpse of what is without doubt one of the most prophetic sporting banners of all time and one of the finest displays of foreshadowing during a live television broadcast.
Although he was only half-way there, and the Swans supporters were still living on a prayer, previously gnawn finger nails were once gain placed between clenched teeth, as a further 10-minutes ticked off before Davis returned to centre stage.
Between 1916 and 1987, the NSWRL held more than 50 of their Grand Finals at the SCG, and despite the fact that the Steeden had been switched for a Sherrin on this night, the series of tackles, fends and grapples that broke out across the oval from both sets of short-sleeved men would have made names like Arthur Beetson, Tommy Raudonikis and ‘Crusher' Cleal proud.
Still, it would once again take a man that converted from said code as a youngster to end the impasse.
Despite the fact his father Craig had played 163-games of top-flight Australian Rules Football, Nick Davis grew up playing Rugby League. Whether or not he had proven adept at swatting defenders away as a junior is unknown, but enroute to his third major in 17-minutes, the man who was in as form as warm as the colour of his shorts fended Geelong's Darren Milburn like ‘Joey' Johns and slapped the Sherrin through in a similar vein to the notorious toe poker, Eric Simms.
Three down. One to go. Just three-points the difference.
Until the club's Preliminary Final win against Essendon in 1996, Melburnians had shown a propensity to snub their noses at those who filled the stands in Sydney, with many believing that those that had made their way through Moore Park and around the Kippax Lake were a different breed of barracker to those that used to stand beside the reservoir in Albert Park.
Yet, as the timekeepers readied themselves to put an end to the contest, even the routinely tame Member's stand was rocking like the pit of a Pantera gig.
Lounge room audiences were also thrashing due to commentator, and current match review officer, Michael Christian reaching his audible zenith as time continued to amount beyond the then customary ‘five-minute warning'.
SEE ALSO: What if Nauru never called in their loan from Fitzroy?
Not content just to come close, Davis' teammates continued to mirror his intensity and thirst for victory, whilst conversely, the Cats had started to wilt dramatically.
With yet another chunk of the time being chewed, those that were backing the Swans - or the narrative - that night were once again forced to chomp towards their cuticles. Nevertheless, these punters were spared an exorbitant manicure bill when Jason Ball reefed a tap down, Davis delivered for a final time and Anthony Hudson's voice broke despite doubting his eyes.
Siren. Swans by three-points.
Should you look, you will find larger comebacks in the annals of Australian Rules Football, but you won't find too many where the conductor also played every instrument in the orchestra. Nick Davis' one-man-band effort nearly 16-years ago set the Swans' benchmark for the remainder of that drought breaking September.
But what if he had snapped a string? What if a reed was ruptured? What if his baton was bent?
Having single-handedly eliminated his side's deficit in the space of exactly 20-minutes, Davis deserves the space he owns in every Sydney fan's minds, yet would the narrative have played out as it did in reality had it not been his direct opponent that stretched Geelong's lead early in the final term?
Had it not been David Johnson that delivered what originally appeared a knock-out blow to the Swans chances of survival and advancement, Sydney's co-captain, Brett Kirk, would have never felt compelled to stride towards Davis and provide what could well be his second most impactful speech of all time.
Had it been Mooney, Ablett, Chapman, Gardiner, Playfair or any other name wearing blue and white hoops that night that had split the sticks, would Davis have felt compelled to do a Bachman-Turner and switch into overdrive?
Despite holding nothing close to empirical evidence, my belief is that he wouldn't have, but as he did, we all bore witness to the fact that he could.
SEE ALSO: What if the Dockers had kicked straight in the 2013 Grand Final?
If Davis had either loped through the remainder of the contest or completely gone into his shell, there appeared to be less than a snowflake's chance in hades that Sydney would have claimed victory that night. Even if he had timed his run off a slight delay, the now 41-year-old's efforts would have likely been in vain.
Should any of these scenarios have played out instead, Sydney's silverware dry spell would have extended in to at least a 73rd year.
But which club would have had their name engraved on the cup instead?
Had the siren sounded with the Cats toppling the home side, they would have progressed to play St Kilda at the MCG the following week. With a 1-1 record against the Saints that year, the boys from the pivot city could have felt content in the knowledge that the job was not beyond them.
Still, having been swept by the Moorabbin men just over a month prior to the tune of 41-points, punters would have likely been backing Grant Thomas' side to continue the trend after enjoying a week off.
Should the Saints have overcome their Preliminary Final hurdle that would haunt them for a further four-seasons in reality, they would have faced the Eagles on Grand Final day.
History suggests that John Worsfold's side were destined for late September success at some stage, and with the wood over the Saints that season, had Davis failed to deliver in the Semis, then West Coast's inevitable celebrations would have taken place 12-months earlier than in truth.
However, as is known, Nick Davis came to save his side, so the Eagles were made to wait.
As a supporter of a side that is the current holder of an inordinately lengthy premiership drought, the last thing I want to do is to continue stirring up any previously long-suffering bloods diehards.
However, like a punter ordering the last dim sim in the Bain-marie after a night on the tiles, I have gone against my better judgement, and I am more than prepared for the world of pain I am about to enter.
Those that prefer reality will know that when the final siren sounded at the Melbourne Cricket Ground on the 24th of September 2005, 72-years of confusion, contusions, displacements and devastations for red and white barrackers were eased in an instant.
But as has been repeatedly stated within this series, sometimes alternative timelines are much more fun to navigate. And in the case of West Coast, that can end up more profitable too.
Those of us who witnessed that day's events unfold may have seen Sydney defender Leo Barry levitate across a pack of players to grab the Sherrin during time-on and then proceed to shake down thunder from the afternoon sky.
Still, what may have escaped many was the fact that for Barry to take not only the deciding mark but also his place in footballing immortality, it was necessary for one of his bloods brothers to clip the wings of a high-flying Eagle first.
Following his grab, and then eventually the siren, ‘Leaping Leo' was mobbed by a bank of Swans, but interestingly, the first man to meet the Swans' saviour did so with red hands.
SEE ALSO: What if 'Bomber' Thompson was shown the door at the end of 2006?
Should you study the now famous image below, you will see a pack of six-players clad in the uniforms of two-teams. You will also bear witness to not only the Deniliquin born defender mustering an eyes closed assault on the leather but you will also notice an infringement on the right side of the contest.
Tadhg Kennelly started out his secondary career as an AFL footballer in 1999 after trading a spherical O'Neill's ball for the oval shaped Sherrin. The man from Country Kerry would be forced to wait a further pair of seasons before making his big-league debut due to the time it would take to truly adapt to the pace, the tactics, the positioning and the rules of his adopted code.
However, by the dawn of Grand Final day in 2005, Kennelly had laced the boots for the Swans on exactly 100-occasions, so even though he was forced to learn on the run during the early years of the new millennium, he would have had more than just a fair idea of how to conduct ones self in the congestion of a marking contest by 2005.
According to the AFL released document ‘The Laws of Australian Football', the Irishman's clenched right hand had the ability to loosen his club's grip on the premiership trophy.
Still, should you turn your eyes to rule 17.5.2 in said document you will find that although Kennelly fell foul of the law after ‘holding or blocking an opposition player', the former Gaelic footballer did initially pass the open-ended spirit portion of the ruling – something that seems wildly incongruous.
In the words of the document, Kennelly was permitted to enter the aforesaid contest due to holding the sole objective of spoiling West Coast's Ashley Sampi from marking the ball.
SEE ALSO: What if Ablett's shoulder remained intact in 2014?
Many believe that Australian Rules Football's plethora of rules and regulations that remain both ambiguous on the surface and at depth appear as such due to the Irish roots of the code's creators, and with the transgressor in this instance holding compatriot status, it certainly adds a Kelly-green tinge to the narrative.
Despite this, as the then 24-year-old held a fistful of the Eagle's forward's guernsey, a free-kick within Sampi's forward arc could, and possibly should, have been paid.
Now, most footballing fans abide by the colloquial belief that umpires tend to ‘put their whistles away' during the dying stages of tight and meaningful matches, but what if the umpire on the spot had blown his whistle and stipulated that Kennelly had in fact been at fault?
Had the man in white – in this instance, Scott McLaren – who was placed on the correct side of the contest had used an eagle eye and extended his left arm out, Sampi would have become the first player in AFL/VFL history to attempt an after the siren shot for goal to win a premiership.
Before we delve further into this flip side of the coin storyline, it would first prove salient to flesh out the backstory of the man that could have proven the Swans' primary antagonist 17-seasons ago.
Having been taken with the sixth pick of the 2001 ‘Super Draft', it was clear from the outset that the West Coast Eagles held Ashley Sampi in high esteem. Although the Western Australian livewire would rise to unparalleled heights in 2004 to claim himself a new car, by time-on in the next season's decider, Sampi was yet to repay his club's faith.
2005 had seen the South Fremantle product slip in almost every measurable statistic from the year before. Not only had Sampi found the football at an average of 9.1 times per game that season (down marginally from 9.3 in 2004) but his potency in front of goal had fallen off the proverbial cliff.
In his first three-seasons in the league, the Trinity College scholar had recorded yearly tallies of 2.1, 31.18 and 32.15 when shooting for the big sticks. However, by the time the day that is currently under the microscope had arrived, Sampi had produced 20.24 across 18-appearances – a total he would not add to in reality.
SEE ALSO: What if the Giants landed 'Buddy' at the end of 2013?
Across the four-quarters of the 2005 decider, the at times silent Sampi had produced eight kicks, one handball and his scorebook had remained unmarked.
However, with a seasonal mean of producing a scoring shot every three-and-three-quarter possessions, optimistic Eagles backers would have claimed he was due.
With West Coast sitting four-points in arrears of their eastern seaboard rivals by the time that McLaren could have awarded Sampi his redemptive shot, only a goal would have seen the result altered.
Still, with a conversion rate of 45.45% for the season in shots that registered a score, it would have taken a fortuitous flip of a slightly weighted coin for the blue and gold guernsied forward to have claimed the cup for his side in an analytical sense.
But as said attempt at goal would have taken place from around 30-metres out from the Ponsford end goals, and on an exceedingly favourable angle for the right-footed Sampi, I would have backed the previously ineffective Eagle to have stolen Sydney's drought breaking prize.
SEE ALSO: What if Jason Dunstall didn't insist on Alastair Clarkson's appointment?
Some may argue that the Sampi's odds of splitting the sticks would have diminished further due to the pressure that he would have been placed under, but the then 21-year-old had cold-blooded form when it came to securing positive results for his side once sirens had sounded.
In Round 11 of the 2003 season, a then teenaged Sampi, sporting a set of tight cornrows, slotted a goal after time had elapsed in just his 14th game of AFL football.
Yes, this goal may have been to tie a game rather than win it.
Yes, there was no trophy on the line that day.
And yes, said shot took place incrementally closer to goal in front of a parochial home town crowd.
But as he held a 100% strike rate from such a position by the time he would have stood at the top of his mark in 2005, my stance in backing him to alter history has only become further entrenched.
Across the length of Ashley Sampi's career – 2002 until 2006 – West Coast and Sydney met on 11-occasions with the ledger standing at 6-5 in the Perth side's favour.
Across these contests, the average winning margin sat at a meagre 16-points per contest, with both sides claiming flags at the expense of the other
However, had Scott McLaren decided that he had absolutely no desire to ever venture into South Melbourne or pockets of the harbour city ever again, this 50-50 split in late Septembers of years gone by could have become much more one-sided.
I am sure that my decision to expound on this possible plotline could realistically see me barred from multiple establishments within the 3205 postcode, but the cup still remains yours, Swans fans, as there is quite literally nothing more I, or West Coast fans, can do apart from hypothesize.
As a side that has never finished any of their 96 top flight seasons as minor premiers, and one that has only managed to past the post first on just a pair of occasions, the Dogs, and their loyal fart of fans, have become well acquainted with the dimensions of the competition's cellar.
Yet, after a 1996 season that became famous for a coaching spill, the possibility of yet another staved merger and their replacement coach publicly announcing that near enough being celebrated as good enough was enough to make him sick, Footscray shed their suburban title and entered 1997 as the Western Bulldogs.
Having finished above only the ravaged Roys the year prior, dreams of September were hardly likely to be commonplace as the rebranded club commenced their Ansett Cup campaign against reigning premiers, North Melbourne. But by the time the bye had arrived in late June, spirits at the Whitten Oval were as high as their ladder footing.
Despite dropping their opening game of the season in heartbreaking fashion to the Dockers at Princes Park, the Bulldogs had won eight of their next 11-matches to sit a game clear atop the AFL ladder.
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Although the Dogs' fortunes would eventually dip between late July and early August, they bit and roared their way through the regular season's final month to earn both a double chance and a date with the Swans in the Qualifying Final.
Following masterclasses by midfielders Scott West and Leon Cameron, and a tidy day in front of the big sticks from James ‘Captain' Cook, the team of the West had booked their first Preliminary Final berth since 1992 after smashing the Swans by just shy of six-goals.
Their opponents following a week off? The fourth-placed Crows.
While a ticket to partake in the festivities of the last Saturday in September had alluded the Dogs for over three-decades by that stage, the postie charged with cycling up and down the aptly named Barkly Street in the mid-90's appeared likely to be carrying precious cargo by the time the siren had sounded for half-time.
With West once again finding the Sherrin at will, Cook's mainsail as full as a harvest moon, the scoreboard showing them more than five-goals to the good, the Terry Wallace led club appeared destined for the big dance for the first time since the Berlin Wall was erected.
Whether complacency crept in as they tucked into orange wedges in the bowels of the Southern Stand, I'm not sure, but across the perennially referred to premiership quarter, the Pups were outscored 4.4 to 3.1 by the careering Crows.
No matter though, at 22-points up by the time that kangaroo leather met turf to start the final term, surely, the damage had been done.
In spite of the deficit they faced, the previously wayward Crows began to correct themselves, with the Dogs seeming desperate to catch their opponent's disease.
After a Jose Romero poster, a Brett Montgomery miss from the top of the square and Chris Grant spurning a chance to waltz into goal, the ball fell at the feet of possibly the most pugnacious Bulldog to ever don a red, white and blue jumper.
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Despite claiming the honour of being named the best under-19s prospect in 1984, Tony Liberatore was told by North Melbourne that he was too small to ever dream of wearing blue and white stripes in the seniors.
After departing Arden Street and making the short journey west down Dynon Road, ‘Libba' was twice named as the best and fairest player in the VFL's reserves competition. Although decorated, it would take until his 1990 Brownlow medal for the 163cm terrier to truly be estimated correctly.
However, by the time that Footscray's disastrous 1996 campaign had ended, Liberatore's future with the club appeared non-existent.
In the much loved behind the scenes film ‘The Year of the Dogs' that documented the dispiriting season, the club's coaching staff could be seen discussing the merits of resigning the midfielder for another year before eventually offering him a substantially smaller deal.
Perhaps the cut-priced contract that the son if Italian immigrants eventually inked was due to the fact that there were minimal other interested parties for his services across the league, or maybe, the move was designed to spur the man who had used rejection and denigration as ammunition for retaliation.
Either way, by the time that Liberatore had plonked the ball on his boot and sent it gliding through the fading sunlight towards the Ponsford end goals, his exoneration was all but completed.
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In spite of the fact that the cherry-red ovoid appeared to drop through the big sticks and extend the perennial battler's lead to 28-points, the man clad in a butcher's coat and Panama hat only pointed a singular finger.
Was he right to do so? Not according to the pint-sized Pup, who had climbed higher than Charlie Sheen across the torso of Montgomery and into the arms of Paul Hudson. Yet, even if the Doggies were dudded, their lead still sat at just under four straight kicks with plenty of time already expired in the final quarter.
Still, as downtrodden sides tend to do, the Bulldogs collapsed to eventually fall short by two-points after Darren Jarman slotted three and a pair shared by Nigel Smart and Simon Goodwin forcibly removed their opponent's paw from the accelerator pedal.
The Dogs did had their chances through the dreadlocked Mark West and the previously effervescent Chris Grant, but as their respective kicks sailed wide and were smothered, the team of the mighty west's season was scuppered.
I know this will hurt for you backers of the Bulldog breed, but I have to ask to obvious question – what if the goal umpire had agreed with Liberatore and had signaled a goal instead?
By the time the then 31-year-old had, in his view, been short changed five-points, there was still 11-minutes and two-seconds left on the clock. Even if the ball had returned to the centre for Luke Darcy and Shaun Rehn to do battle, had ‘Libba's miss been marked as a major, the Crows would have required a goal every 90-seconds to take the lead.
Now, as was witnessed first by Bulldogs fans, and then their St Kilda supporting counterparts a week later, Darren Jarman proved himself to be a second-half wizard across that September. Nevertheless, even if Wallace's defense had continued leaking like a sieve, a goal every minute-and-a-half was almost certainly outside the realms of possibility even for him.
With this in mind, had Liberatore's luck come in on the 20th of September 1997, then so would have a pass to face the Saints in a contest that would have guaranteed rain in one of two places where arid soil and empty wells were the norm.
But would the Dogs have won?
Having finished atop the ladder that season, and having knocked off the premiers from the season before less than 24-hours earlier, the Saints would have been red-hot favourites throughout this alternative Grand Final week.
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Still, had the pain of Chris Grant's unlucky Brownlow ‘loss' been distilled and injected, and if their Round 13 form that saw them top the Saints by 17-points at Waverley was able to be replicated, then a bastardized version of a naval ditty could well have been blaring from the tannoy once the final siren had sounded.
Although Tony Liberatore could count himself wildly unlucky in the Bulldogs' final game of the 1997 season, the penultimate hurdle that he was unable to hop was cleared by his taller son nearly 20-years later.
Although Tony Liberatore could count himself wildly unlucky that a premiership medal never joined his Brownlow, Morrish and pair of Gardiners on his mantle, you can be sure that his son achieving the ultimate prize for the club where he made his name was as close to nirvana as he could hope to imagine.
