Each November, the AFL trade period opens not with deals but with declarations — a choreographed ritual of bluff and positioning in which clubs, players, and agents establish leverage before the real pressure arrives. This year, Collingwood's financial strain has made the theater unusually visible, as contracted players find themselves unwanted by the very clubs that signed them. Contracts, once the foundation of professional obligation, have become instruments of negotiation rather than commitment — a shift that reveals something deeper about the relationship between institutions and the indi
AFL Trade Week One: Posturing and Bluff Before Real Negotiations Begin
Contracts are useful mainly for securing home loans; anyone can escape them whenever they choose.
Why does the first week of trade period feel like theater?
Because there's no deadline pressure yet. Clubs can afford to bluff. They make demands they know they won't hold, and players can hedge without consequences.
But some of this is real, isn't it? Collingwood actually is trying to move Treloar and Cox. That's not posturing.
True. But the way it's being done—the public statements, the back-and-forth—that's theater. The actual negotiation happens when someone has to make a real decision.
What changes next week?
Time. Deadlines. External pressure. Clubs can't afford to wait anymore. Players have to commit. Agents have to close deals.
How much of what we're hearing this week will actually matter? Will any of these opening positions hold?
Almost none of them. Essendon's asking for Pick 8 for Saad now. They won't get it. Geelong's being rigid about Cameron. They'll move eventually.
So fans shouldn't take any of this seriously?
Not the specifics. But it's worth watching because it shows you how clubs value players and what they're willing to do to move them.
The piece mentions that contracts barely matter anymore. Is that actually true, or is that overstated?
It's true in practice. Players can force moves. Clubs can push players out. Contracts are more like suggestions now.
What happens to someone like Treloar if he refuses to leave?
He stays and plays for a club that doesn't want him. It's awkward, but it's possible. Papley did it in reverse—Sydney forced him to stay and he had a great year.
But that's rare. Most players don't want to stay somewhere they're not wanted.
Exactly. Which is why Treloar will probably move, even though technically he doesn't have to.
Le Pouls
- Collingwood is quietly dismantling its own roster, pushing contracted players like Adam Treloar, Mason Cox, and Tom Phillips toward the exit to relieve mounting wage pressure.
- Treloar, with five years and roughly $750,000 remaining on his deal, was told three weeks ago to find a new club — a bewildering position for a player who believed his contract meant security.
- Across the competition, contradictions multiply: Fantasia tells Essendon he wants to stay while reassuring Port Adelaide of the same; Geelong and GWS have barely spoken despite publicly claiming to negotiate.
- Essendon's Adrian Dodoro is demanding top-end picks for multiple players, staking out maximalist positions that everyone expects will soften as the deadline closes in.
- The real inflection point arrives next week, when time pressure strips away the posturing and forces clubs to either close deals or walk away empty-handed.
Each November, the AFL trade period opens not with deals but with declarations — a choreographed ritual of bluff and positioning in which clubs, players, and agents establish leverage before the real pressure arrives. This year, Collingwood's financial strain has made the theater unusually visible, as contracted players find themselves unwanted by the very clubs that signed them. Contracts, once the foundation of professional obligation, have become instruments of negotiation rather than commitment — a shift that reveals something deeper about the relationship between institutions and the individuals who serve them.
The opening week of the AFL trade period is less negotiation than performance — a ritual of ultimatums, hedged commitments, and strategic silence that all parties understand to be preliminary. Clubs announce positions they may not hold. Players avoid burning bridges. Agents circulate names. The posturing is not dishonest so much as structural: it exists to establish leverage before the real pressure arrives.
No club has made this dynamic more visible than Collingwood, which is attempting a controlled offload of high-salaried players it can no longer afford. Adam Treloar, informed three weeks ago to seek a new home despite five years remaining on his contract, finds himself in the disorienting position of being shopped by his own employer. Mason Cox pushed back publicly on social media even as Collingwood floated his name to rivals. Tom Phillips, who resisted a similar move last year, now appears more open to departing. All three are casualties not of poor performance but of salary commitments that have become inconvenient.
Elsewhere, the theater runs on schedule. Orazio Fantasia has apparently pledged loyalty to two clubs simultaneously. Carlton quietly expects to land Adam Saad through the pre-season draft without a formal trade. Geelong and Greater Western Sydney have spent two days in nominal talks over Jeremy Cameron while achieving almost nothing — each side waiting for the other to move first.
Underpinning all of it is a quiet truth about contracts in modern football: they constrain but no longer control. Players have walked from deals with years remaining; clubs have subsidized departures to move on expensive commitments. As one player manager put it plainly this week, the contract is a starting point, not a ceiling. Scott Pendlebury noted years ago that contracts are most useful for securing a mortgage — the observation has only grown more accurate.
The genuine negotiations will begin next week, when deadlines transform posturing into decisions. Until then, the competition's 18 clubs are engaged in something closer to theater than commerce — necessary, ritualistic, and understood by everyone involved to be exactly that.
The first week of AFL trade period is theater masquerading as negotiation. Clubs issue ultimatums they may not mean. Players hedge their bets. Agents float names to multiple teams. Nothing much actually happens, and everyone knows it.
This is the annual ritual. If you're Greater Western Sydney, you announce you'll keep Jeremy Cameron and Jye Caldwell. If you're Geelong or Essendon, you counter that you'll simply acquire them through the pre-season draft for nothing—no negotiation required. If you're Cameron or Caldwell, you stay quiet and don't burn bridges with either club. The posturing serves a purpose: it establishes a negotiating position before real pressure arrives. But in these opening days, it's mostly noise.
Collingwood has become the week's most visible case study in this dynamic. The club is attempting to move multiple high-salaried players—Adam Treloar, Mason Cox, and Tom Phillips among them—in what amounts to a controlled fire sale. Treloar, who has five years remaining on his contract, was told three weeks ago to find another club. His bewilderment is understandable. He remains under contract, yet his employer is shopping him to rivals precisely when his wage obligations spike, reportedly around $750,000 across the remaining deal. Cox took to Twitter to push back against his own club's efforts to move him, even as Collingwood was simultaneously floating his name to other teams. Phillips resisted a similar push last year but now appears more receptive. All three are casualties of their own salary commitments—expensive players at a club suddenly unable or unwilling to afford them.
Elsewhere, the theater continues. Port Adelaide's Orazio Fantasia tells the Bombers he wants to return in 2021, while simultaneously assuring Port that he's committed to staying. Carlton expects to land Adam Saad through the pre-season draft, just as it did with Jack Martin. St Kilda threatens to walk away from the Brad Crouch deal if Adelaide matches their offer, then Adelaide spends more than 71 hours debating whether to do exactly that. Geelong, holding three first-round picks and more flexibility than any other club, has been immovable in discussions with Greater Western Sydney over Jeremy Cameron. The Giants say Geelong won't take their calls. Geelong says GWS should email an offer first. By most accounts, neither side has achieved much in 48 hours of supposed negotiation.
Essendon's Adrian Dodoro has earned a reputation as a ruthless operator, and his opening demands reflect it: Pick 8 for Adam Saad, more than a second-round selection for Fantasia, and a future second-rounder for Caldwell with no movement. One club executive told reporters it's as if Essendon doesn't just want to win every trade—it wants to dominate them. But this is the nature of the exercise. Clubs are entitled to ask for the moon in week one, knowing they'll negotiate downward as deadlines approach.
Contracts, once the bedrock of professional sport, have become almost ornamental. Scott Pendlebury observed in 2016 that contracts are useful mainly for securing home loans; anyone can escape them whenever they choose. The evidence supports him. Tom Papley tried to leave Sydney with four years on his deal; the Swans held firm and he thrived. Lachie Neale requested a move from Fremantle with one year remaining. Melbourne traded Jack Watts and subsidized part of his salary with two seasons left on his contract. Hawthorn persuaded Jordan Lewis and Sam Mitchell to seek opportunities elsewhere in a move that initially damaged both players. Joe Daniher discovered that being contracted creates friction but barely slows the process. A player manager told reporters this week: "If we want to move him we will. Don't worry about the contract." The statement captures the current reality. Contracts constrain but no longer control.
The real negotiations won't begin until next week, when time pressure collides with external expectations. Clubs will suddenly become flexible. Agents will sharpen their pencils. Players will make final decisions. By Thursday night of next week, every club will be celebrating an "excellent" trade period on its website. For a brief window, all 18 teams will claim victory. The same blind optimism will resurface on draft night. But until then, this is posturing—necessary, ritualistic, and ultimately inconsequential. The actual work begins when the clock starts running down.
Citations marquantes
If we want to move him we will. Don't worry about the contract.— Player manager, speaking to reporters
The only thing contracts are good for are home loans when you go to the bank because anyone can get out of them whenever they want.— Scott Pendlebury, 2016