Sleepless nights, awkward texts and cheap shots. This is the psychological warfare of the ‘revenge game'

Sydney Morning Herald

21-05-2025

For Smith, this has been a month in the making – ever since his post-match interview in round eight sparked public responses from his former captain Marcus Bontempelli and coach Luke Beveridge. It's left fans and players alike poised for the clash they've been waiting for.
Playing against your old club stirs up a storm of emotions: old friendships, unfinished business, and the strange discomfort of lining up against people you used to train, laugh and go to battle with every week. Even a well-meaning text from an ex-teammate during the week can make you pause – is this genuine, or is it the start of some psychological warfare?
For some, the match is about making a statement – especially if the exit wasn't clean. When that's the case, the pressure to perform is huge. You want to prove your worth to those who made it difficult for you. If you play poorly, it can feel like you're conceding that they were right to let you go.
But if you left on your own terms, the goal shifts – it becomes more about showing how much you've grown and evolved at your new club. There's a bit more freedom in that.
It becomes more than a game – it becomes a reckoning. You want to remind them what they've lost.
But that emotional weight can either fuel you or completely unravel you. Patrick Dangerfield showed what it can look like when you harness it: 33 disposals, 22 contested, 11 tackles, and a match-turning performance against his old side Adelaide in 2016.
Jason Horne-Francis has shown the other side – how emotion can still boil over even in the second or third clash with an old team. Just a few weeks ago, we saw him in a fiery exchange, needing to be dragged back by Ken Hinkley during round seven against North Melbourne.
And it doesn't stop with players. Sometimes, it's about coaches too. Just look at Damien Hardwick. That round six win by Richmond over in-form Gold Coast wasn't just a result – it was a message.
Emotions run deep when you're playing against someone who once led you. That rivalry will linger for years.
Personally, I'd try to feel the emotion early in the week, then park it a few days out from the game. If it seeps into your performance, you start overthinking, trying too hard, forcing plays – and that never ends well.
You've got to stick to your process and channel the energy the right way. But not everyone plays like that.
Smith seems to welcome the hysteria – he thrives on it. He plays how he lives: moment to moment. He's poked the bear for weeks now – or in this case, poked the Dog. On a day when the spotlight is already glaring, he's invited even more attention. It's risky. But that's where he plays his best footy.
Tactical familiarity cuts both ways
You know their system – but they know yours. When you line up against your former club, you're not just facing opponents – you're facing people who know you intimately as a footballer. They've seen you at your best and at your worst.
They know your strengths, sure – but more importantly, they know your habits under pressure. They know how you move, how you move at stoppages, how you set up behind the ball, and what you default to when you're gassed.
It can make you feel like you are vulnerable and exposed. You often feel like a target – not just physically, but tactically. They might push half a step wider, knowing you like to weave through traffic. They might delay a press because they've seen you hesitate before kicking the ball. It's personal – but it's also smart footy.
But there's opportunity in that. You've been inside their walls. You've sat in the same team meetings, studied the same opposition clips, listened to the same game plan drilled into you for years. You don't just know how the system works – you understand why it exists.
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Bailey Smith might hold a crucial piece of the puzzle on Thursday night. After years inside the Bulldogs' inner circle, he knows the setups, the terminology, the triggers that drive their ball movement.
You can guarantee some of that intel has been passed along to Chris Scott and the Cats' midfield group in meetings or even quiet conversations during the week.
If Smith can keep his head clear and control the emotional noise, that inside knowledge could be the difference. It's not everything – but in tight contests, those one or two-per cent edges matter.
Fan reactions
Crowd dynamics in these kinds of games are electric. You don't just hear the atmosphere – you absorb it. Every clap, every boo, every quiet murmur feels magnified. It's not just a regular match for the fans, and they make sure the players know it.
Some players return to old clubs and are greeted with warmth, a nod of respect for years of service.
Others are met with hostility, even hatred. Often, it depends on how the departure unfolded. If you joined a rival or left under tension, that respect can quickly disappear.
That kind of reception cuts deep. You spend years putting your body on the line for a club – playing through injuries, connecting with fans, giving your all – and then with one decision, one trade, it can all feel undone.
Fans are quick to call for loyalty, but the same standard isn't always expected from clubs when decisions are made behind closed doors.
The emotional impact of that reaction can weigh heavily. Even before the first bounce, it can drain you – especially if you try to ignore it.
You tell yourself it doesn't matter, but deep down, when familiar faces in the crowd look away or jeer, it stings.
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That's why it helps that Bailey Smith will step onto GMHBA Stadium on Thursday. He'll be backed
by a Geelong crowd that's mostly on his side. If this game had been at Marvel Stadium, the reception might've been brutal. The noise would've been louder, the boos sharper, and the emotional load much heavier. Having some crowd support, even if it's not overwhelming, makes a difference in a game like this.
Maybe that's why Smith has been so comfortable poking the Dog in the build-up.
Maybe the safety of the home crowd gave him the freedom to stir the pot a little. If so, he's about to find out if it was worth it.