One was a folk-hero, the other a fire-cracker. They climbed to positions of power in the 1980s, the more senior man quickly making his mark and ruling the roost. It would be early in the next decade that the younger one of the pair followed him to the top. Each was possessed of an outsized ego. With time it was expected both would mellow, but apparently not. Clearly, old rivalries remain alive and well. Suddenly, unexpectedly, these veterans are at each others throats.

No, this isn't Bob Hawke and Paul Keating; it's Kevin Sheedy and Mick Malthouse. In a curious outburst in last weekend's Sunday Herald Sun, Sheedy questioned Malthouse's ability to get a team across the line at the end of September. He argued that Mick's two premiership victories were achieved only through inheritance, in the form of a gilt-edged West Coast playing list in the early-‘90s.

It's a criticism that attacks the veteran Collingwood coach at his one vulnerable point. The fact is his only premierships in more than a quarter of a century of coaching came in 1992 and ‘94. He hasn't won one in the last 15 years, spent at the two best-resourced AFL clubs in the land. Once again, the place Malthouse occupies in the overall scheme of things-coaching is on the agenda.

His record is one of the more intriguing among all who have managed teams from the sidelines. The extraordinary longevity of 26 completed seasons, coupled with the consistency of 17 times in the finals, assures him elevated recognition. Yet the scarcity of ultimate success leaves him behind the acknowledged greats.

So, how do we judge Malthouse? And should the raw flag-count truly be the final arbiter when we consider the achievement of these men who seek to drive their teams to success? Surely there are other important performance criteria.

Well, Jock McHale and Norm Smith, who won an unrivalled eight and six flags respectively, are the only Legends of the Hall of Fame selected purely on their coaching achievements. When it comes to formalised judgement, success clearly counts for a lot.

In the post-Smith era, Hafey, Barassi, Parkin, Jeans, Sheedy, and Matthews all won four. No one would argue about that lot deserving the "great" tag. "Kanga" Kennedy won three. Ditto. Next there's a large group, including Malthouse, Pagan, Blight, Joyce, and Thompson, with two. Joyce won't be remembered as a great; Pagan and Blight ended sadly at struggling clubs; "Bomber" may yet achieve higher status. Then there's Mick. And he's had a considerably longer go at it than the others.

A second important measure of coaches has to be the extent to which their methods influenced the game. In the modern era, Barassi brought the run-on, attacking style that defined the 1970s. Hafey and Kennedy were ahead of their time on the matter of physical preparation. Sheedy brought flexibility. Jeans preached defensive emphasis.

Malthouse scores heavily here. He could be described as the father of two important facets of the game we see today: all-field defence and deep, rotating midfields. His West Coast Eagles, in their best years, strangled teams across the ground with a method that would become increasingly familiar. It wasn't pretty but it worked.

This was also the first team that rendered positional names a virtual irrelevance. To put a fine point on it, a ruckman, full forward, full back, and a bunch of mid-fielders became the norm. Later, Malthouse would seize upon the capacity of the interchange bench to derive maximum advantage from such a set-up.

The final criterion of coaching greatness must be longevity and here, clearly, Mick passes with flying colours. This gives him two strong scores and one not-so-strong. And the not-so-strong is in the least negotiable category.

You can argue all you like about winning not being everything, but isn't it what every team and every coach strives for above everything else? Influence on the game, deriving the maximum from a group, consistent results, development of individual and collective skills, even development of young men ... they all count. But, when it's all said and done, not as much as flags.

Malthouse's flag-rate - one every 13 years - is not high. Matthews' win rate was one every five years, Barassi one every six, Sheedy one every seven.

If Mick's Magpies pull it off this year, the judgement becomes easier. If he could snare two in these twilight years, it's all over. Until then, though, the jury must remain out. And like Hawke and Keating, Malthouse and Sheedy might just go on entertaining us for a bit longer yet.