I'VE SEEN history unfold a few times from the bench.

The Doggies' hard-fought grand final victory in 2016, and the crowd-silencing 2010 draw between the Pies and the Saints were moments that highlighted the unpredictable beauty of our game.

And in years to come, I'll recall being there for a history-making match that previously would have seemed unfathomable: a season-opener with no crowd.

Like the rest of the world, the challenges of social distancing to manage COVID-19 have required innovative approaches to teamwork in the face of unknowns.

Group training has been replaced with virtual coaching; skills drills replicated without the help of a ball-projecting machine, or umpires emulating players in game-like scenarios. 

Fieldies and boundaries are completing offsite fitness sessions solo, while goal umpires find novel ways to practice agility and reflex skills for keeping their eyes on the ball.

On Thursday, the absence of a 70- or 80,000-strong crowd rendered the usually lively MCG stands an empty shell. As the start time drew nearer, even the seagulls appeared to have got the memo, with not a bird in sight.

The strangely quiet atmosphere was emphasised by the little things: No shaking of hands with fellow officials upon entering the change rooms. No AFL Records to browse team configurations. And the fact that upon seeing the bountiful supplies of hand sanitiser, my mind instantly turned to toilet paper.

On inspecting the ground pre-game, there were no tantalising smells from distant hamburger stands and coffee vendors wafting across the field during warm-up.

MATCH REPORT Fast-starting Tigers tame brave Blues in eerie opener

We noticed the nets that usually catch the ball after a shot on goal had not been erected. Ball retrievers would be positioned at safe distances to return the footies.

The cheer squad characters behind the nets were also missing. Their greetings (usually high-spirited before the white line fever kicks in!) were another standard fixture to disappear. 

Our pre-game chat acknowledged that there's a natural lift that comes with umpiring big games. Tonight would be without the tempo and rhythm punctuated by crowd interaction.

I recalled a past final at Subiaco, where the West Australian crowd was so parochial, opposition goals barely registered a response, adding another dimension to the focus required behind the goals.

With no crowd noise, the energy would certainly be different. But it would also likely expose the usually dulled sounds accompanying visual cues for detecting deflections off fingertips and glances off post padding.

Though the environment had shifted, our job remained the same. Every game for us is approached with the mindset of preparing for accuracy, shutting out external factors. Control the controllables. As one colleague put it: “It's the same job, with a different dynamic. We just accept that it's different, and we deal with it.”

A WEIRD NIGHT AT THE FOOTY What it was like on the inside at the MCG

The journey up the race, accompanied by the scent of Deep Heat and the feed through our earpieces crackling into focus, was devoid of the usual buzz of an excited stadium crowd.

It was a different type of anticipation.

No banners for the teams to run through. The volume turned up on the team songs – or perhaps it was just the normal volume, not having to compete with the surrounds.

It'd been a while since I'd had to provide a coin for the toss. But of course, that would be different, too.

The strangeness continued as I took my place in a corner of the bench, separated from others by 1.5-metre intervals.

And again, when gloved officials wiped footies with antibacterial solution at the quarter-time breaks.

Ivan Soldo's shouts to teammates from the Richmond bench bellowed throughout the stadium, where on any ordinary day they would be drowned out.

 At one stage I turned my earpiece down and observed the screen. Intensity was up. It was a bit like watching the tele with the sound down, or what I imagine it must be like for people who watch the broadcast without the benefit of hearing.

By the start of the fourth quarter, it was beginning to look like any other game of footy. The rain came briefly but heavily, followed by gusts of wind, and a late surge by Carlton. The seagulls revealed themselves and started to circle.

But the Richmond song at the final siren served as a reminder, the lyrics sounding sparse without the impassioned fans belting out “yellow and black!”.

In light of everything that was absent, it was a night that helped me appreciate footy more. Social media images and videos appearing on the scoreboard screen reminded us of the community watching from home.

Being there solidified what it means to love the game, and recognise how many of us come together in various capacities to make it great.

Umpiring groups are continuing to recruit and innovate operations to support community football games in the upcoming postponed season. Head to https://umpire.afl/ to register your interest.