T HE "for sale" sign that was draped around Hamish McIntosh for two days has been taken down. An attractive property, with size and a good finish, the Big Mac received no serious bids.
Jamie Charman, another luxury big unit, didn't draw a single bid either. He was for sale on the quiet. The Brisbane agent let it be known that "Charmo" was available for "the right price", but no one raised a hand.
Daniel Kerr, a prestige Perth vehicle that might drive the buyer up the ladder, was available for two first-round picks — a tag that saw him passed in. The Eagles have since decided to keep him.
Alan Didak was not up for trade, Collingwood insisted. Definitely not. Well, he might be if someone offered "something extraordinary". Nothing special — say Port Adelaide's pick four — was forthcoming. "Dids" is not moving.
Ryan O'Keefe put himself on the market. Only one prospective buyer has emerged, the Hawks. They can't pay more than $400,000, well short of Ryan's reserve. He will have to decide whether he's willing to play for a great team for less, or he could be stuck in Sydney.
What is going on here?
There has been a crash in the sub-prime player market. Players are worth less than dot-com shares. In terms of value, North's three tradeables (McIntosh, Daniel Harris, Corey Jones) are heading south. Corey Jones has depreciated more than the Dow Jones.
Judged by the lack of buyers, the players on the block are truly a bunch of all-ordinaries.
Conversely, draft picks have never been so valued or precious. They are hyper-inflated. A player who might have been worth a first-round pick 12 months ago isn't worth pick 28.
It is remarkable that McIntosh, a 24-year-old, high-calibre ruckman entering his prime, isn't deemed worth a top-10 pick.
Fear is driving the crash in the value of one commodity — seasoned players — and giving draft picks, which are really a speculative stock, the cachet of government bonds. They're the safest investment. So the market says.
Clubs are fearful of the impact of the Gold Coast and Western Sydney "franchises". These new teams will consume many of the draft picks over the next five years.
The humble draft pick, even nondescript second rounders, have turned into crown jewels that must be protected. Once clubs threw them away like confetti, now they're desperately clinging to the opportunity — that's all a draft pick is, an opportunity to select a teenager before another club — to be part of "the last uncompromised draft".
If the AFL, the game's answer to the central banks, has "created" the hysterical draft inflation by its decision to invent two new teams, other less obvious factors have exacerbated the crash.
One is Hawthorn. Another is Geelong.
These teams built premiership teams via draft picks (and champion father-sons), not by rapacious raiding, or topping up with mature bodies. Hawthorn did bring in some seasoned players en route to its 10th flag. Brent Guerra, Stephen Gilham and Stuart Dew were giveaways — they cost the Hawks almost zilch.
Since everyone follows the leader in the AFL, the rest of the competition is aping the Hawks and Cats. Ironically, those clubs might be heading in the other direction. The Hawks are willing to part with pick 16 for O'Keefe, who turns 28 next year; the Cats may snare Andrew Lovett if Essendon is willing to pick up the tab.
The fact that Hawthorn and Geelong are seen to be miles ahead of the pack means few clubs — almost none, actually — believe they're "one or two" players away from a flag. If you cannot win a flag in 2009 or even 2010, there's less reason to buy a 26-year-old. (Note that the players receiving most interest, for example Robert Warnock, are young).
The Bulldogs might have been the exception. They could have given away their first pick for a key forward. But that pick was spent on father-son recruit, Ayce Cordy. So they, too, are stuck trying to sell a mid-range player (Farren Ray) into a bear market.
No one wants to part with even moderate draft picks for average players who want out. No one is bursting to get Mark Seaby, Ray, Rhyce Shaw et al. Normally, these guys would be the steak knives that help facilitate a major deal. But there aren't any major deals. So they wait by the phone.
Come the Friday deadline, doubtless, there will be a liquidation sale, when the unwanted will be traded for pick 101.
That's called panic selling. It happens when you can't find a buyer.