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Marking the publication of The Footy Almanac 2009 — which features the AFL season as reviewed by a 128-member team of writers, poets, teachers, lawyers and  taxi drivers, among others — we asked readers to submit their own special moments from the outer. Here are five of the best.

1. Sledge city

ROUND NINE: NORTH MELBOURNE d FREMANTLE, ETIHAD STADIUM

IT'S SUCH an intimate crowd that every sledge zings around the insides of Etihad Stadium like a burst balloon, finally settling on the shoulders of its target like the weight of the world. ''You've got the hands of a digital clock, Thornton!'' And sure enough, Thornton pushes the kick wide and the collective sigh is enough to shatter the confidence of any football purist. But the crowd is far from delusional about where this game sits in the pantheon. Fact is, it's nowhere near the pantheon. It's actually sitting about two rows back from the pantheon alongside ''slogs in the rain at Cararra'' and any future match involving Karmichael Hunt. This is a battle between two teams terrified of taking the initiative - the Dockers away from the comforts of the Purple Haze and the Roos struggling to scratch together any sort of momentum under the crumbling Laidley regime. Fremantle flirts with the four points as a bartender would a drunken suit. Pav is everywhere and the Roos are seemingly well short of class and industry. But with the win in sight, the Dockers stumble and North surge. There is a strange kind of calm that overcomes a Fremantle supporter in the final minutes of a tight contest. While the rest of us shift to the edge of our seats, the Dockers supporter to my right maintains the composure of a neurosurgeon. Apparently it's a symptom of countless unsuccessful away trips when he has dared to dream only to wake up bruised, battered, alone and suddenly a long way from home. North by 13 points.

- Daniel O'Sullivan

2. Itch to scratch

ROUND 14: WESTERN BULLDOGS d HAWTHORN, ETIHAD STADIUM:

I'M 77. When I stand for a while my back hurts. When I sit for a while I itch. So I don't go to the footy much any more. But the Bulldogs had a gig for life members at Doglands prior to the round-14 match against the 'orrible Hawks, so I was in like Flynn. I've given up the piss (back/itch) so didn't hang around for hospitality when the ball was bounced. Great seat on the centre wing - how long has this been going on? The score: 9.6 to 0.2 at quarter-time. 13.10 to 0.4 at half-time. It was better than the best day ever at the Western Oval when we held Carlton to zero goals until time-on in the last quarter. No wind, no mud and the most exquisite hand and foot skills I've seen in three-quarters of a century. I left early in the last quarter because I didn't want to spoil the memory of the first half. I knew it couldn't get any better. Now I can't wait to read Almanac's view. It will tell it in a way that brings back every tingle. And no itch.

- Noel Delbridge, Brighton

3. The look

ROUND 17, GEELONG d HAWTHORN, MCG

DEAR Jeff Kennett,

I wish to apologise for my involvement in the round-17 loss to Geelong. As a decade-long member of the Hawthorn Football Club, I should have known better. It happened early in the final quarter, moments after Brent Guerra kicked truly from between the boundary line and obscurity. We were 28 points up. The crowd were singing. Flags were flying. And in the heat of battle, I lost my composure. Without thinking, without fear, I turned to my mate and surrendered my grip on reality. We were sitting on the wing at the time, 10 rows behind the interchange bench. With the buzz of the MCG surrounding us, we locked eyes, exchanged glances and in a single moment of madness, I gave him ''the look''. You know the one I'm talking about. The one that knows all certainty; the one that sees into the future; the one that makes you look like you're nodding when you're not. That's right: the one that says: ''We're going to win.'' How could I be so wrong? As I turned back to the field of battle - my ocular daggers unsheathed - I realised too late that one of our players must have seen me. It's the only rational explanation for the events that followed. He must have peered into the crowd at the exact moment I gave my mate ''the look'', thus embedding a virus into his psyche which quickly infected and immobilised the entire playing group. For this, I am deeply sorry. Maybe one day we can get together and watch a replay of the 2008 grand final. Looking forward to hearing from you soon.

- Brad, North Balwyn

4. Family sighs

QUALIFYING FINAL: COLLINGWOOD d ADELAIDE, MCG

WE ARE a multidenominational family. Four persons - four different teams with varying degrees of passion devoted towards the team. Most passionate is Deborah who, needless to say, barracks for Collingwood. My first love was Essendon, although I have been known to support Footscray when they're on song. Deb thinks I'm anti-Magpie and everything I say is predicated towards their demise. After 1990 she cried, got a Magpie tattoo on her behind and promised to name our next child Anthony Darren. The Crows are on fire and I'm the greatest moron at the G, drawn to the Crows by a first quarter that should have sewn the game up. She said the umpiring was questionable and that blond bloke from Adelaide was getting everything! By half-time the Pie brigade was ready to evacuate the ground and I'm still a bad smell! Mick must have served it up at the long break and the Pies emerged from their bunker like a real footy team and they even started to play like one! Three-quarter-time overall scores are in equilibrium. Equilibrium in scoring prevails in the final term and at the final siren which is greeted with joyous rapture - everyone singing in tune and I'm a decent sort of bloke. Funny how a free kick at the death to your side can change one's perspective of life!

- Bob Speechley, West Brunswick

5. On his own

GRAND FINAL: GEELONG d ST KILDA, MCG

THE RAIN arrives as we climb the stairs to the MCG. Despite the season's ups and downs there is an inevitability to this. I am thinking, we have always been walking up these steps on grand final day. Bryn and Evan are brothers. They see things on the ground that I don't. They are always two moves ahead whereas my talent is for the bleeding obvious. Together we are invincible. The Cats get off to a good start. Max Rooke dumps Clarke in a ferocious tackle and goals. Rooke embodies something about our club, but it's hard to say what. It's there in his soft, brown eyes; something spiritual, yet pleasingly thuggish. The game is a car crash. Hard to take your eyes off. Many times we look in danger of being blown away but we hang in there, just. In the third quarter Riewoldt sees Harry Taylor sitting on his right shoulder and turns the other way for a sight of goal. He gets crunched by Scarlett. I saw that one coming. Late in the third, for 10 awful minutes, scores are tied. Time-on, last quarter, they are level again. Geelong chants roll around the ground. The sun breaks through, and I have a sort of revelation. Johnson, who's been crap all day, gets the ball, and looks up the ground. But I'm not looking at him. I'm seeing Ablett, all on his own in the middle, and my voice gets lost in the roar as everyone else sees him too.

- Greg De Vere, Brunswick