The problem with lies is no one believes you when you tell the truth

But what the confluence of stories on Wednesday reinforced was the idea that Melbourne this year have been unable to remove themselves from being the story.

From Angus Brayshaw’s medically enforced retirement, to Joel Smith’s alleged drug use and trafficking charge by Sport Integrity Australia. From Oliver’s aborted trade, hospitalisation and absence from the game, to the former president and club doctor re-emerging as the basis for Wilkie’s parliamentary tub-thumping, the summer has revolved around the Demons. And little of it is football-related.

Now it is leaching into their season.

It’s often said that off-field matters do not distract coaches and players from their jobs. That is nonsense.

How much time would the coach and administrators have spent discussing Wilkie’s claims and forming a response? That was time they were not working on football matters.

How much time over the past two years has the coach, executive and now playing leadership spent mired in dispute with its former president and doctor?

In pure football terms, Melbourne should contend again for the flag this year. One of the big misgivings for that is not only their ball use up forward but the destabilising impact of a summer and now autumn of discontent.

What will trouble Melbourne fans most is more likely the idea Oliver has a hand injury than comments in Parliament.

That players in the care of the club doctor for drug use, or who self-reported drug use, were tested before being allowed to resume playing was already known. What wasn’t was that they might do the testing just days before a game.

Further, it was claimed doctors lied to coaches and then to fans to cover up the reason the player was withdrawn. Due to the confidentiality of the voluntary illicit drug code, it’s difficult to work out how it could be otherwise. This doesn’t make being lied to better.

Clubs routinely lie, especially about injuries. The difference here is that the doctors were allegedly lying to coaches about the reason for a player’s withdrawal.

This might be true, but it is doubtful the doctor was the only person aware of the true reason a player was removed from a match, confidential policy or not. If the doctor is the only person aware of a player’s drug use, would it not surprise and alarm a physio, for instance, to discover the player they were treating suddenly had a physical injury forcing them to withdraw? Would senior coaches – famously micromanagers – not privately ask what the issue was when told by the doctor it was personal reasons? There are rules and protocols, and then there’s reality.

Imagine, after the club’s former doctor said clubs lied about injuries to withdraw players with drugs in their system from playing, what conclusion would be drawn if in the coming days Oliver’s injury turned out to be a little worse than first expected. Imagine if it was serious enough he was withdrawn from this weekend’s game.

There have already been as many stories and theories about Oliver’s whereabouts this summer as there have about the Princess of Wales.

Were media not at training to see the incident, would anyone believe the player, the coach or the club when they said he had a genuine finger injury?

This is a problem with the confidential nature of the AFL’s illicit drugs policy. It has unintentionally damaged other players.

When it is accepted publicly that clubs lie about injuries to cover for players who are taking drugs, or with drugs in their system, pulling out of games casts doubt on players with legitimate injuries or non-drug related personal issues.

That is the problem with lies. No one believes you when you tell the truth.

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