Common sense was quickly lost in the chaos of the Launceston siren debacle, as Martin Blake recounted in the aftermath of footy's day of drama.

I DIDN'T hear the siren. Sitting high up in the press box in the grandstand, and behind glass, I don't believe any of the journalists covering the game heard it.

To begin with, it was too quiet, so pathetically inaudible that comment was passed in the box earlier in the day about the danger of a close finish. Aside from that, the crowd was making a din, as you would expect at the end of a close game.

The problem was caused by the siren, which is clearly inadequate. That the authorities in Launceston were told by the AFL some time back that it was inadequate, as now emerges, will scarcely please Grant Thomas or Chris Connolly and does not reflect well on anyone involved. It is amateur hour.

What we did see immediately was that the Fremantle players were celebrating as umpire Mathew Nicholls prepared to effect a ball-up in the forward pocket at the 29-minute mark. The assumption was that they had heard something, even if we could not hear it behind the glass of the press box.

But when umpire Nicholls appeared to be engaging in debate with Byron Schammer and Des Headland, I knew that he had not heard the siren. Instinctively, I looked to my left to see if any of the other umpires were approaching, perhaps having heard it.

And as I looked, I saw Hayden Kennedy, the non-controlling umpire and one of the best in the business, running at close to full tilt from centre half-back towards the centre. Going by body language, it appeared to me that Kennedy had heard something and was about to stop the game.

But Kennedy stopped in the centre, looked towards the timekeepers' box and cupped a hand to his ear. It was as though he was unsure if he had in fact heard the siren, and was looking for confirmation from the timekeepers. In other words, another blast on the siren. But again, I couldn't hear any siren.

The scenes that ensued were among the most shambolic I have seen in football. Fremantle players gathered around Nicholls imploring him to stop. Ideally at this point, he would have been calm enough to stop play for a moment and check with one of the other umpires. Common sense would have suggested this. But under pressure, Nicholls ploughed on with the bounce, St Kilda cobbled a behind and the rest is a piece of history.

We descended on St Kilda's rooms first, by arrangement with the clubs. The Saints had the earlier flight out, and hence wanted to complete media commitments quickly. This would prove to be important, for when the half a dozen journalists bailed up Thomas in the dressing rooms, he had no idea that Fremantle was planning to protest. None of us knew, because we had not sought any reaction from the Dockers at that point.

Thomas was supercilious and unstatesmanlike, canning the umpires for losing control, shrugging his shoulders and saying that he had given up trying to work them out. This would come across as churlish, for everyone who watched the game knew that in scraping a draw, St Kilda had been lucky. When Malcolm Conn of The Australian asked him if he believed St Kilda had actually drawn the game, Thomas laughed out loud. The result, said Thomas, was one thing that was obvious.

Yet he must have known at that point there was a chance of a protest. Any football person would have known. The St Kilda coach is under intense pressure, and he showed it at this moment, for it is hardly a good look for the players - let alone the supporters - to see their coach laughing and shrugging his shoulders at a difficult situation. It's his job to deal with the cards presented.

Connolly, of course, is under the pump as well. Like Thomas, he is a coach without the team success that gives you money in the bank in the pressure stakes. His every move is scrutinised in Perth. And he was filthy, to say the least, about what had happened.

When the journalists found him in an ante-chamber in the Fremantle rooms, he began by asking us what we thought of the finish. Two journalists said they felt the club had been wronged. I wasn't one of those. I was aware of the rule that states that the game is not over until the umpire acknowledges the siren, as I'd come across it before. I still think that is a big barrier for the Dockers to overcome as they fight to extract the victory, even if the moral aspect is another story.

Connolly spoke his mind in an articulate way. But again under pressure, he was silly when he claimed that in St Kilda's shoes, he would hand over the points. He ought to have stuck to what he and Fremantle felt about it. It's not for him to second-guess St Kilda's attitude.

At these times football people can say odd things. Cameron Schwab, the Dockers' chief executive, tried to link the finish with the Jim Stynes incident in the 1987 preliminary final, when it has no parallel. Schwab was asked if he could recall a similar situation, and he immediately said that yes, he was at Melbourne when Stynes' run across the mark, and 15-metre penalty after the siren, cost the Demons a spot in the grand final. But there was no dispute on that day about the timing of the siren, which is the whole issue here.

No reaction was available from the players. By the time the journalists covered the press conferences of both coaches, the St Kilda players had disappeared to their bus and back to Launceston airport. Fremantle would not allow any players to comment, although there was one interview done by Josh Carr in bizarre circumstances. The Dockers allowed Carr to talk, but would not permit him to canvass the end of the game.

Hence three reporters spoke to Carr knowing that he was at the heart of the story but with no chance of extracting his views. Such is the level of control exerted by clubs nowadays.

So what was expected to be a quiet game in the southern state - two games in Melbourne would surely assume more importance on the day - turned into a tumult. By the time the journalists finished filing copious words on the events of the day, virtually all the security guards had gone and darkness had well and truly fallen. Lock the doors on your way out, they told us.

For what it's worth, I don't see how the result can be changed unless umpire Hayden Kennedy heard the siren, which I suspect he did. The siren at Aurora Stadium - and possibly at other grounds - needs to be replaced. Either that, or the umpires need to be wired up so that they know exactly when time runs out. Wouldn't that make some sense?