Author: Nat Webster

Is there anything more frustrating than hearing someone say, “it’s just a game”? Because for many of us, it is something far greater and more precious about that. We live it and breathe it and study it and feel it like almost nothing else. Your team wins and you’re the king of the world – lose and it’s a week of heartache and ribbing from friends and colleagues (and family if you’re truly unlucky). I’ve started this blog because there are few things I like to talk about more than AFL and I have some really great friends. I also wanted a space to record essays, thoughts or photographs about our great game. My aim is to publish some of my friends’ observations about football and my own thoughts on what’s happening in the AFL - I generally write up my thoughts on the Port Adelaide game each week and the interviews with friends are all published in a first person style. I also wanted to have an online space around AFL that wasn’t the arguing idiocy that forums can devolve into, the incredible bias of Facebook pages, Supercoach anything, or purely match review style pieces. I wanted posts that are interesting to read on a theme or issue and I’m always infinitely keen to hear other people’s opinions when they’re delivered in a thoughtful manner. Some quick information abut me – my name is Natalie, I'm from NSW, I live in Melbourne and I’m a Port Adelaide supporter. A proud Port Adelaide supporter, I should say. I’m also the black sheep of my family as they all follow the Sydney Swans, though consequently I do hold the Bloods very close to my heart as well. I grew up in country NSW watching rugby league and rugby union and we were horrified at the idea of this “aerial ping pong” business until Sydney made the grand final in 1996 – first game I ever watched was the Brisbane Bears v Essendon final that year while I was studying for my HSC. I decided to go with the new team Port Adelaide in 1997 and the rest, as they say, is history.

What we’re talking about this week – Round 5.

Mick_Malthouse-628

So here’s something new I’m adding because there’s always a lot of things that are topics of discussion for me and my football loving friends, however they don’t always warrant or inspire a whole post.

1. Clarko’s shove: By the time I started eating breakfast on Sunday morning footage had emerged of Hawks coach Alastair Clarkson shoving a mouthy drunken ‘fan’ following his side’s loss to Port the night before. The ‘fan’, who turned out not to be a Power supporter, took advantage of Clarko’s short fuse and got up in his face carrying on about the loss. Let’s be clear – the ‘fan’ is an idiot. However an AFL level coach should know far better than to react that way and the Hawks’ initial response was disappointing. There’s no behaviour that warrants an assault in retaliation and it wasn’t that surprising that Hawthorn did a 180 in its position 48 hours later. I was pretty much unaware of Clarkson’s very long rap sheet when it comes to losing his temper but not surprised. Caroline Wilson wrote a really great piece that pretty much says everything I want to.

2. Mick’s record: Mick Malthouse breaks Jock McHale’s 714 game coaching record this week when Carlton take on his old side Collingwood. While it’s gotten a lot of media coverage in the past few days, I don’t think football fans are treating it as reverently as they possibly should because Mick’s just given everyone the shits this year. Routinely snappy and surly in interviews, he’s not the kind of guy fans of other teams barrack for. Which is a bit sad but hey, you make your bed…

3. John’s comment: Aren’t the words, “I don’t recall” just code for “I was too pissed to remember”? 3AW breakfast host John Burns said the latter when confronted with allegations he called Richmond payer Bachar Houli a terrorist at last Friday night’s game. He since apologised but hasn’t been able to remember what he apparently said.

4. Port’s win: Yeah, this one was probably just me. But in my defence I did talk about it a LOT.

5. Matt De Boer’s chest: Oh, that was just me again? Really? Nearly 8000 likes and over 500 comments on Instagram – mostly from savvy female fans tagging mates – would beg to differ. Highlight of the week.

“If you’re not nice to that little kid then no, you’re done.”

clair

I worked with Clair White for well over a year before a Facebook photo made me realise she was actually a Sydney Swans supporter. What a missed opportunity that was and we could have spent months talking about how good Kurt Tippett looks in a red and white jumper these days. She’s also one of the few people I allow to message me about football on game day because she’s always respectful, though her reputation recently took a hit when she told me she thought Nat Fyfe was good looking. The other week she was on a late shift so that made Clair the perfect person to harass and actually, you know, talk to my friends about what they think about footy.

Name: Clair White

Age: 23

Recruited from: The Yarra Valley

Occupation: Media Officer (after being promoted off the rookie list)

AFL team followed: Sydney Swans

All time favourite footy moment: “Leo Barry you star!”

“I go for the Sydney Swans football club. I go for them because I didn’t have a choice in the matter. My dad went for South Melbourne and now I go for Sydney. That’s really about it. He started going when he was younger and it was thrust upon me. Everyone goes for Sydney (in my family) by blood or by marriage – my mum went for the Bears and now she goes for the Swans.

I feel like I’m too far gone now and I don’t want to be one of those “flip floppy” supporters who just change when the mood strikes. I had a friend who went from Essendon to Carlton when Dale Thomas got there because she thought he was good looking – that’s not a good enough reason for me to change teams. I like the Swans because I think they’re a good club. They’re a nice club. Everyone likes the Swans. They’re like, just the nice guys of the league.

I call them the Bloods sometimes. They still have SMFC on the back of their jumpers and I think that’s important to keep. Sydney people are probably like, “Screw that, it didn’t work in Melbourne and that’s why they came here and look how good they’ve been.” But we gave them their start and it’s important to recognise that. That’s why I go for Sydney, because they were South Melbourne once and our family wouldn’t be the only one that’s like that.

I went to the football for the first time I reckon at Telstra Dome. Or maybe Colonial Stadium was what it was called back then. It was when it was brand new and I would have been maybe about nine or 10. I had a colouring book because I couldn’t stay focused the whole time and we were up in the heavens of Colonial Stadium because it was so steep. There was a lady in front of me and every time Paul Kelly came on she’d be like, “Come on sweetheart! Come on sweetheart!” and it was so cute. So I had the colouring book, the lady and then I had the Footy Record. To get me interested and keep me watching, dad gave me the Footy Record and I was given the task of recording who gets the goals. So now to this day I will get a record. I compulsively fill it out and I cheat the system now because I have an app on phone to check, but I have to leave the ground with the Footy Record all correct. I bring them home and keep them for a while until I think, “Why do I have this?” and throw them out. But they do go home with me.

I feel like I’m bad luck when I go to games. I’ve seen the Swans win in person maybe only two or three times. I’m terrible luck. I go as much as I can because we’re an interstate team so we don’t have heaps of games here – last year I think I missed one of our Melbourne games. As I’ve gotten older it’s been easier to go but I’ll go to other games as well, not just Swans games. Mostly I try and recruit someone who goes for the Melbourne based team and go with them, otherwise I’ve got my sister or one of my best friends is like a Switzerland and will go with whoever, for whoever, whenever. It’s good when you go and you see all the other red and white people there. I remember distinctly being in primary school and having a footy day and everyone’s in black and white or black and red and I’m the only one in red and white. There’s a photo of me in a white polo shirt, red shorts, white tube socks and a red scrunchie. I reckon I was the lone Swan. It was terrible. I remember this one boy who went for St Kilda – who now goes for Gold Coast, which is questionable in itself  – saying to me, “Why do you go for an interstate team?”. For so long it felt like that was gnawing away at me and then we got really good so I was like, “Ha ha ha ha ha”. It’s been a labour of love but we got there and now we’re doing alright.

I don’t mind watching with other people. I do like watching with my dad, mostly just to laugh at how loud he gets, knowing full well no one can hear him and that most of us don’t really know what he’s yelling about anyway. Even though I’ve been brought up around footy I’ve managed to get to 23 years of age without knowing all the specifics of the rules. I played netball when I was younger and when you’re in it, you know everything. My mum came to watch me play netball for 12 years and could not tell you a single rule. She did it because she said it kept her less stressed. If she didn’t know the rules then she couldn’t get upset. I’ve taken a similar approach to football – I know if something looks wrong and I’m like, you can’t do that. You can’t grab that guy around the neck, that’s bad. Or hold that ball while he’s holding on to you. I’m a big “BAAAALLLL” fan but I’m not much of a sledger. My dad’s a big, “Open your eyes!” while I’m more of a “Pfth. Pfth. Oh. Pfth.” That’s about it, I don’t get too emotional.

I haven’t been to Sydney to see a game. I know. I was actually in Sydney last year with some girlfriends when the Swans had their family day and I was like, “Guys, we gotta go” and they were like, “Noooooo!”. I haven’t been interstate for any football – I’ve seen so many at the ‘G and Etihad. I have a friend who goes for the Pies and he always goes up to the game up there and they always beat us. He messages me and I don’t want to talk about it. It’s really depressing.

I’ve cried at home watching the football but I haven’t cried at the football. I cried in 2006. I’ve been yelled at by people when I used to work at Etihad in the bars and food outlets. There’s a lot of pressure on pies and beer at the football and as a 16-year-old, if you don’t have cold beer then you’re getting an earful. It’s nuts. I have cried in those halls of Etihad while going to get change or ’cause I’ve run out of water or whatever. It’s intense and it’s interesting to see the demographics between games. If you were working a North Melbourne v Melbourne crowd, it would be different to  working a Carlton v Essendon game. The different people that the different clubs bring, and the different vibe the supporters bring. It’s such a cultural and human experiment watching all the supporters interact. There’s also the difference between a footy crowd and a soccer crowd and their different actions are super interesting too.

My favourite day at the footy probably isn’t anything to do with the actual football. When I was in first year at uni I did a week’s worth of work experience at AFL House due to constant pestering of their Communications Director. When I was there they said just let us know if you want tickets to anything and I got tickets for my family, as well as my aunty and uncle who go for Melbourne, to a Swans v Melbourne game at the ‘G. We got these tickets and they were nice seats because they’re corporate or whatever and being there with them – we got trounced by the Dees and you don’t want that to happen – but it was great. I can’t be sad at the football. I like being there. It’s the same if you go to something like a concert and you know you’re there with people you have something in common with, I find it really fun and you can’t be sad. You can be really angry, but you can’t be sad.

nails

In 2005 when Sydney won the grand final I was at home and both those years, 2005 and 2006 I was so nervous. Though as much as I do love football it gets to about halfway through the second quarter and I do lose interest for a while. I lull. When it gets to fourth quarter I’m all there though. I was really angry we didn’t do anything more exciting when they won in ’05 – there wasn’t a big crowd at our house so we couldn’t all hug, it was just my family. I’d just turned 14 so there wasn’t much I could do; I probably just went back to watching TV. In 2012 when we played in the grand final I made cupcakes, red and white and decorated. I made a bet with my dad, who didn’t think we’d win, that if we won I’d get to paint his nails red and white and he had to wear them to work. So we won and I alternated nails red and white and then did dots on the nails. I think I was more excited about that than the actual win. It was awesome.

I don’t want to talk about last year. I think the thing I didn’t want the most was to have to come in here and look at Carla, my Hawks supporting boss. Last year… was terrible. It’s like we forgot why we were there. Or how to play football or what a football was or how to function. It was bad. It was bad and I think because it was Hawthorn it was even worse.

I am quite fickle with favourite players and I have a soft spot for different players for different reasons. Adam Goodes holds a dear place in my heart because I feel like he’s a attached to a golden era of the Swans and many of those players have now left or retired.  He’s great and I think he’s really good for our team off the field as well. I think he’s a good leader. Luke Parker – very good, Teddy Richards – am a fan, Mike Pyke – token Canadian and do love him. I was a big Ryan O’Keefe fan for a long time until he made it clear he wanted to move back to Melbourne and I took that as a personal affront. I was like, “No we’re done. No Ryan, no. We’re done.” And I was a big Tadgh Kenneally fan for a long time with his little jig.  I’m really not that picky though.

When I found out we’d spent that obscene amount of money on Buddy I was very emotional and I didn’t like it. I’ve gone now from not liking it at all to liking Buddy for three hours a week to being OK. He seems to have mellowed out a lot and I don’t know if that’s because he is in Sydney and I don’t see him all the time or because he has really grown up. He’s engaged now. But I was very nervous that Buddy was gong to unsettle our team and he’d be a bad off field influence. He probably has been and I just don’t know, but they haven’t imploded yet so he can stay until we get our money’s worth. So, for like the next 25 years…

I will take a dislike to a player if when they win the grand final they aren’t nice to the kid that gives them the medal. Like with Tadgh Keneally, he did his jig but did the jig before high fiving that little kid. And even though I’d liked him for seven years that did take away some of the love. If you’re not nice to that little kid then, no, you’re done.

My creepiest moment was during that week at AFL House and they had some kind of big team, maybe a world team and Michael O’Loughlin was there. I was kind of excited because that’s Micky O and he’s kind of a Sydney legend. But then I lost my absolute shit when Bobby Skilton walked in the door. I lost it. He’s like this tiny little old man now and I couldn’t even talk. I was trying and I couldn’t ask him for anything, I couldn’t do anything. I was just in full Bobby Skilton meltdown mode.

I have a jumper but I don’t have a number on my jumper. I think that reflects my fickleness regarding favourite players and I can’t do it. I have a scarf that’s probably from that first bloody game at Colonial Stadium. It’s pretty gross and it’s got my name that mum stitched on to tell who’s is who with my sister and me. And I’ve got a beanie somewhere, one of those old ones with the logo and the pom pom on the end. I don’t know where it is though.

clair and sister ali

I have a soft spot for Melbourne. They would be my second team out of all of them and it’s like, “Why do you pick the struggling youngest child?”. Or oldest child as it may be. I liked them before Roosy and a lot of my extended family go for Melbourne. I like the tradition and I just feel like Melbourne seem important. I don’t know why. And then there’s the Jim Stynes of it all and you get all emotional, plus they were almost broke then they’re not broke and you’re like, “Yeah you can do it!”. And they suck all the time. When Roosy went there it felt like the stars were aligning. I was very sad when he left the Swans but now I like John Longmire so I don’t mind as much.

I would give Tasmania a team. I reckon they’ve earned it. Hawthorn can’t just be getting all the love from Tasmania, they’ve had enough. No more for Hawthorn! There’s no real team I have any big issues with though there’s some teams I like less than others because I associate them with people who I don’t like that barrack for them.

I really didn’t like Matthew Lloyd when he used to play because he as annoying. I don’t like Ryan Crowley because I think he’s a bit of a douchebag. There’s some funny guys, I think Dane Swan is hilarious and I could listen to him talk for ages. I think Jimmy Bartel is funny because he’s quiet, he’s quiet-funny. I like Pav. I love Joel Selwood, oh my god yes. I was a big Jack Trengove fan from Melbourne. He hasn’t played for a year and a half though because he’s got a bung foot.

I do follow a lot of sports journos and a few players on Twitter but I get sick of the players tweeting annoying stuff like their holiday to Bali. I don’t care. I watch bits and pieces on the Footy Show and the news, pre game stuff and I also have the Footy Now app on my phone.

I like the politics of sport. I would like to work in that space one day and I think it’s interesting to look into how clubs function. I’m probably more interested in that than I am in stats and that kind of boring crap.

The best thing about the football is… anything that can unite people like that, where you can take four hours out of life and just be at the football. There’s no pressure. But at the same time, something that is literally as simple as some men kicking a ball through some sticks will stop this town. Even at work I have to be ready – if James Hird quits his job tomorrow then I’m getting nothing in the paper because the first dozen pages are going to be about Hirdy. The best thing about the footy is that you can just be at the footy, you don’t have to worry about anything else.

Sydney will make finals this year but I don’t think we’ll win. I reckon at the end of the home and away we’ll be maybe fifth. I reckon we’ll get later into finals but I don’t think we’ll finish at the top. We have just dropped the bundle before. I’m very sceptical and I’d rather aim my expectations low and be surprised rather than bitterly disappointed.”

Lest we forget.

Adelaide Oval

It started last year as a very loose sort of plan; my Hawthorn supporting friend and colleague and I saw the 2015 AFL draw and thought it would be great fun to road trip to Adelaide when our sides played. The atmosphere at Adelaide Oval had been so hyped that we were keen to experience it for ourselves and being two people with a very similar outlook on football, I knew the trip would work because we’d get along win, lose or draw. However something slightly unexpected happened – she fell pregnant. Which meant that our planned night of fun and frivolity in the City of Churches was going to stay just that, a plan. It would have to be next year when we could both enjoy it to the fullest.

(Yes, I know pregnant people can travel and watch football. More to the point though they can’t drink 30 schooners of Coopers on match day, which is probably the most important facet of any footy trip.)

To be honest I’d all but forgotten about travelling to Adelaide because it seemed so unlikely. A couple of times I reflected on how good it would have been to be there on ANZAC Day playing last year’s premiers but I never took it any further. Then I went on leave for a couple of weeks and a few days before I returned to work I called up to get my shifts. Nothing out of the ordinary until the voice on the other end of the phone said, “Oh and you’ve got a three day weekend over ANZAC Day as requested.” Huh? And then it dawned on me – I’d actually requested the time off months ago because I’d been worried someone else would ask for it off and I’d miss out. Then our trip had been shelved but I’d never bothered to change my request.

How do you like them apples?

I think I only took an hour or two of consideration before coming down firmly of the opinion that I should go, solo if needs be. This was too delicious a piece of fate for me to sit at home. I checked the Ticketek website and sadly the membership ticket allocation was exhausted, however I could still get a general admin ticket for around $40. I had a Jetstar voucher from a previously cancelled flight and there were plenty of options still available for under $200 return. Accomodation looked easy and again, under $200 for two nights. Bang, bang, bang, done. Adelaide here I come.

I went to the Port Adelaide v North Melbourne game at Etihad in round 3 and after I posted a photo on social media from the game, another Hawks supporting mate left a comment on it saying something along the lines of “See you next week and I’ll be in Adelaide to watch.” Seriously, fate again. This mate and I had a highly memorable night out on the drink in Athens last year while we were travelling so there were definite priors. I let him know I was heading along too and given he was a bit of a fourth wheel with a close-knit trio, he was more than happy to have extra company. We made plans to catch up on Friday night and set about depleting some of the city’s stocks of Coopers.

Both of us were incredibly excited to experience Adelaide Oval because it’s been hugely talked up as the venue with the most sensational atmosphere in the AFL over the past few years. Though I’ve been to Adelaide a few times to watch Port play, I hadn’t been for a few years and I’d never been to the ground to watch the cricket. I wanted to hear that roar and sing Never Tear Us Apart with all my people. I wanted to march over the footbridge and be in the majority for once. I just wanted to see what it was like. The fact it was ANZAC Day and that Port were playing the 2014 premiers just added to that sweet sense of expectation and I was beyond excited.

As someone who comes from the country I have a real appreciation for our smaller cities. I think often those who are born and bred in Sydney or Melbourne tend to poo poo them as being provincial and dull, often without reason. I’ve had a cracking time every time I’ve visited Adelaide and I think it’s an immensely underrated city. On the Friday night as I walked along Wakefield Street, the remnants of the rain glistening on the streets and the light quickly fading from the sky, all I could think was , “I love this city.” There was such anticipation, both for the night ahead with new friends and old and for everything the weekend was going to bring. It was a beautiful feeling.

On game day I woke up early, had a good breakfast to wipe away the memories of the previous night’s drinks and went for a walk through town. I was meeting an old colleague and her husband for lunch (and let’s be honest, more drinks) at a pub in North Adelaide and I had some time to kill. I’m a big believer in signs and as I waited on North Terrace for the tram, the Port Adelaide branded one rolled up. Now there’s a piece of serendipity. I headed down towards Parliament and got off to walk up King William Street watching the majestic Oval rise up out of the damp green lawn on my left. Everyone was in good spirits; young men in suits wearing their grandparents’ war medals, service men and woman fresh from the morning’s march, footy fans getting ready for the game of their lives. The city just felt good. I stopped to snap photos of the Bradman Statue and the Cross of Sacrifice Memorial Garden, then kept walking past St Peter’s Cathedral up to where I was having lunch. My friends walked in and the next few hours were spent in happy reminiscence and discussion of the match ahead. It was a great day already and the game hadn’t even started.

We all headed to the ground together early and they gave me the full match day experience and a tour around Adelaide Oval. We watched the supporters stream over the footbridge from the CBD, had our photo taken by the club photographer for their Facebook page, I bought a footy record from their son, then went inside so I could buy one of the special ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ club scarves that are only available here. It was nearly two hours before game time so I thought it would be easy for me to find a good seat and settle in. I was very nearly wrong – almost all the general admin seats had been taken so luckily I was alone and could slip into the solitary seat left high in the rafters of the very last bay in the Eastern Stand.

What a view though. Adelaide Oval is just gorgeous, a picture postcard of a ground that has been renovated to perfection. The facilities are incredibly modern and easy to access, yet the exterior retains the charm it’s long been known for. I loved it and I reckon it’s the best ground in Australia to watch AFL at (and I’ve been to them all, bar Darwin and Gold Coast). Watching the defence team take on the emergency services team in the warm up I was struck by just how good a surface it looked to play footy on. I couldn’t wait.

Everything about the pre match lived up to my expectations. They had a club great come on to kick a ceremonial first goal and got the crowd going with songs and clips on the big screen. ANZAC Day laid another layer of ceremony on it and it was wonderful to see the teams run through the joint banner together then line up on the field for the Last Post. I was talking through the week to a couple of friends about ANZAC Day and how with five games of football being played on the day this year there had been talk of it becoming commercialised. I don’t necessarily think that’s the case at all and I think both the AFL and NRL have had a big hand in continuing the broader awareness of ANZAC Day, it’s stories and what the sacrifices made 100 years ago mean for us today. That dawn ceremonies and marches continue to be well attended decades on shows the reverence people have for the ANZAC spirit and I don’t think you could understate football’s part in that. During the pre match they showed the names of those who had played for Port Adelaide and Hawthorn as well as serving in our armed forces, while Port’s jumpers had the names of over 100 ex players who served printed on them. I love ANZAC Day, I always feel like it’s the real Australia Day, and to be preparing to watch my football team play in such a huge game was an incredible feeling.

I think the best way to describe the first quarter was shocking. I can’t remember seeing such an amazing quarter of football from Port Adelaide in a long time and to do it against Hawthorn was almost incomprehensible. Goal after goal after goal – we just looked so slick and Hawthorn looked like they’d brought the Box Hill Hawks over. Schultz, Wingard and Monfries couldn’t do a thing wrong and Boak was so tough in the centre clearances. Ryder held his marks and Lobbe’s return lifted the side to new levels. Every repeated mistake we’d made over the past few rounds was wiped away as we continued to kick well and hit targets. Port went into the first quarter break with 50 points already on the board and when I stood to clap the break I was still in shock that this had actually happened. We were down Gray and Wines but somehow we’d manage to lift ourselves, to rise to the enormity of this occasion.

This is what we can do. This is how we win. This is the way we play our game.

This could win us a premiership.

The second quarter brought more of the same and we out-scored Hawthorn yet again. So far there were no marks on my hand of nervousness but I’ve been around long enough to know we hadn’t heard the fat lady sing just yet. My phone was buzzing with messages from mates who couldn’t believe the score and there were posts all over my social media. I mean, Port Adelaide are good – we only the missed the grand final by three points last year – but are we really this good? Are we a 50 point better side than the back to back premiers? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet.

The third quarter wasn’t high scoring and Hawthorn started to get the better of us. Then in the fourth quarter all that free running and dominant attacking by the Power was forgotten as we mentally switched to holding the lead rather than winning the game. The Hawks kept fighting back though and added five goals to their tally while we scored only a solitary point. All the Hawthorn fans around me lifted and I sat, quietly rocking in my seat and muttering “Come on boys, kick me a goal” like a prayer to be heard by the football gods. Nothing feels so long as a fourth quarter when you’re trying to hold the win and it was impossible to tell how long there was left at any given time. So I rocked and muttered and prayed and hope and somehow, just somehow, we did it. Few things have ever sounded sweeter than that final siren, eight points up. I stood and punched the air.

Boak was awarded the Badcoe Medal for the best on ground and while it was a deserved win, I think the biggest difference to the Port team was Lobbe. His work rate in the ruck and his ability to consistently tap to players is one of the cornerstones of our game. The first three weeks where he’s sat out injured highlighted just how much we need him. It was pleasing to play like we did without the star power of Gray and Wines and I think that will hold us in good stead. But if the win showed Port anything, it was that we can match it with any team on any given day. All we need to do is believe in ourselves and back ourselves in.

I stayed for a few rounds of the team song, took a few more photos then filtered out of the Oval with the 50,000 others who’s attended. I’d arranged to meet the Hawks quartet at the Exeter Hotel on Rundle Street and I took my time getting up there, instead soaking up the excitement a home town victory on a day as special as this one brings. These are my people; you just don’t get this feeling in Melbourne. After one beer three of them cried off and it was left to me and my mate to figure out the intricacies of the South Australian glass system (apparently a pint is a schooner and a schooner is a pot/middy) as we ordered “just one more drink”. We talked about footy and work and travel and life. It was 2am before we thought it might be a good idea to head back to our respective hotels and beds and as we parted and I started my walk back through the Rundle Mall I realised what this feeling was: happiness. Here I was in this great city, after watching one of the best home and away wins I’ve ever seen, at the best ground in Australia no less, with friends and many beers drunk. Life, and footy, doesn’t really get any sweeter than that.

Travis Boak hug

All for one.

all for one

Two of my Hawthorn supporting friends have run a very funny footy podcast for the past couple of years. While it’s clearly Hawks focused, they tend to get in a ‘not so special’ guest to represent the opposing team each week. I first got a run because I was the only Port Adelaide supporter Rob and Paul knew but now I’d like to think I get asked back because I’m so hilarious and knowledgeable.

In any case, it’s worth a listen even if you’re not a Hawthorn fan because they always talk quite broadly about footy and it’s a crack up. This week you get the added bonus of me so there’s never been a better time to join in.

You can download the All For One podcast via iTunes or listen at their website, otherwise they’re worth a follow on Facebook or Twitter.

On the board.

IMG_3733

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. The team I hate most in the AFL is North Melbourne. I hate their ‘Shinboner Spirit’ bullshit, I hate their grubby way of playing, I fucking despise Boomer Harvey. I’ve hated them for many years now and that feeling really shows no sign of abating. Forget Collingwood, Essendon or cross-town rivals Adelaide, the Kangaroos is where it’s at for me closely followed by St Kilda (but that’s a story for another day).

I read somewhere today that no team in the past 20 years has won the grand final after starting the season 0-3 so it appears last night was a handy time for Port Adelaide to grab a victory. We also haven’t beaten North at Etihad in 10 years so to say Port were up against it isn’t unrealistic. To win by eight points isn’t completely comforting but I’ll take it, especially the mini come back at the end.

I went to the game and I will make a couple of initial points. Firstly, I have no clue how to dress for the weather some times. I know the roof was shut but it was still freezing and ballet flats just don’t cut it. That’s a note to self if ever I read one. Secondly, at one stage they flashed up on the screen that it was awesome that just over 8000 North Melbourne fans had shown up to the ground to watch. They must be kidding themselves, that’s a disgrace. Almost that many Power supporters showed up so I can’t see that being a stat to be proud of. Finally, to sit with my people I would have had to upgrade my Victorian membership pass to a ground ticket even though the majority of the stadium was empty. Seriously, you’d get more people at the Yackandandah Show. So there’s a heap of vacant seats everywhere but I had to sit in the nosebleeds because I wasn’t eligible to join with my supporters. I get it but at he same time when games are two-thirds unoccupied then it would be good for the AFL to look at being lenient around this. It’s not all about the hashtag cash.

Anyway.

I think any time you attend the game the nervousness level goes up by 1000 and already this season I’m finding it hard to keep a lid on it. One thing I am terribly sick of is neutral supporters saying how great the Port Adelaide games have been to watch, especially this one and the game where Fremantle beat us. No, they weren’t great. I’m emotionally frazzled and worn down. My hand of nervousness is bruised and ripped to shreds from two hours of digging my nails in. Just once I’d like to have a game where we come out and comfortably beat the other team so I can simply enjoy a game of footy. None of this nerve-wracking stuff thanks fellas. At least this time Port managed to get the win though we definitely weren’t certainties, even right up to the bitter end. A quarter of footy has never felt so long.

I love the way Port Adelaide play – we take risks and we’re exciting but it hasn’t totally come off this season so far. Even during last night’s game I watched us make the same mistakes that have proven costly in our first two matches. We kicked poorly and struggled to hit targets. Our favourite thing at the moment seems to be to kick to a free opposition man or a three-on-one contest which does us no favours and stops our run. I’m all for taking the game on but other teams seem to have figured out how to shut us down and take us on instead. Port doesn’t have the element of surprise any more – other teams know we’re good and head into matches ready to play. I’m also not convinced that the weight of all those expectations isn’t having an impact.

I thought Pittard was spectacular last night and totally deserved his goal. White, Monfries and Broadbent stood up and I also thought Ryder started to show a bit of what he can do. Cornes was rested and that worried me but in Ken we trust and I have to accept the great man’s decisions. Wines’ hand injury will have some kind of impact and we still miss Lobbe. Schultz’s kicking was magic. Overall though, Port look a bit tired already. My brother raised this in the off season that he was unsure about the impact all this high intensity training would have on the team and I hate to say he may be right. We don’t seem to be able to run out games like we did over the past two years and we struggled to man up across the ground in the final half. Port has the toughest draw in the AFL this season – Freo, Sydney, North, Hawks to kick off, all 2014 finalists – but to win the flag you’ve gotta beat the teams. No excuses.

Port take on premiers Hawthorn in Adelaide next week on ANZAC Day and I’m lucky enough to be going. (That will probably raise the nervousness level to 10,000.) While I’m not confident we will notch up a win, anything is possible and I’m super excited to check out Adelaide Oval and be part of the whole pre-match experience. I particularly can’t wait to be with my people and sing Never Tear Us Apart. A mate who supports Hawthorn is also heading over so there’s plans to catch up for 68 schooners of Coopers afterwards – win or lose it’s going to be a cracker. I’ll get my Hawthorn voodoo dolls out this week for sure. Carn the Power!

 

A guide to footy fan etiquette.

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In 2004 I was chased out of the SCG by an irate AFL supporter. St Kilda had won 10 in a row to start their season, a record breaking streak for the club, and everyone was on a high. The bandwagon was well and truly full up. The team headed to Sydney to take on the Swans and my family decided we’d drive up from Goulburn to watch.

I remember a few things from that day – it was beautiful and sunny and we were sitting somewhere in the vicinity of the Doug Walters Stand. The group included me, my dad and my brother Paul. Riewoldt took an absolutely magnificent mark for the Saints, a gutsy dive with no respect for his personal wellbeing. The kind of mark people talk about for weeks afterwards because it’s just that good. Sydney got up though and from probably mid-way through the third they looked like they would win easy.

As I’ve matured over the years I like to think I’ve learned to shut my mouth. But as a 25-year-old whippersnapper, egged on by my brother who is one of the wittiest people I know (and six foot six so can get away with saying what he likes), I decided to line up a Saints supporter and have a crack. There was only a few minutes to go but already the St Kilda fans were streaming out of the ground. “Ask that bloke, ask that bloke,” my brother kept saying over and over as fans passed us. I finally spotted a youngish man in the yellow alternate strip and bailed him up.

“Excuse me mate, are you able to help me? I’m lost. Can you tell me where we’ve parked the bandwagon?”

Needless to say old mate didn’t find it funny. In fact, he didn’t even find it in the same postcode as funny. He started yelling at me, telling me I was a disgrace and how dare I have a go at his precious team. Sydney weren’t even much good he was screaming. And by screaming, I mean screaming. Loudly.

My family were absolutely useless and took off laughing as soon as he started to respond. The final siren went and in an effort to placate him I told him to calm down, I was only kidding and anyway, I was a Port Adelaide supporter not a Swans fan. It didn’t make a shred of difference and as I tried to blend into the red and white crowd and move out of the stands, he followed me, walking along the top row and continuing to abuse me while I walked the path below.

I honestly wish I could tell you I stopped baiting opposition supporters after that but I didn’t. I still love rolling out the old “Excuse me mate, you’ve dropped something back there” and when they ask what, I say “your wooden spoon.” Works a treat when you flog a lowly ranked team but a Carlton bloke nearly belted me once so I cut down on that too and save it for special occasions.

Despite all of this ‘humour’, I rarely find anything funny about being a football fan. It’s never been just a game to me – it’s a way of life. Win and you’re on top for the week, lose and get ready for the week from hell. I love almost everything about AFL. Want to know why I take all my big overseas trips in October? Because ain’t no way I’m missing the AFL finals series. Seriously. Grand final day is like Christmas but better. I’m definitely not as full on about football as I was maybe even five or six years ago and I think I’ve learned to mellow out quite a bit (and cough find some other hobbies cough). But I do love it so very much.

One of my colleagues and best mates is a passionate Hawks fan and we often talk about footy, in particular the behaviour of fans. Our ethics in this area are very much aligned and run something along the lines of ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’. No one likes an arsehole. No one like a know it all. No one likes an arrogant prick.

So with that in mind, these are my very simple etiquette rules for football fans. Predominantly AFL but really any code or any sport could apply. Given it’s just the start of the season please feel free to put them to particular good use in the months ahead. And carn the Power!

1. If your team is not involved in the game, fuck off. Do not sit there loudly barracking for the other team, who I know you do not give one shit about, just to piss me off. If that team wins, then you have no right to carry on like a pork chop either. I will punch you.

2. The above is doubly true for people whose team didn’t even make the god damn finals.

3. If your team is playing mine, then don’t be a tool throughout the game. Don’t criticise every umpiring decision and make pointed remarks about how we’re getting all the easy free kicks. Do not cheer in my face. Do not be a cranky fuck if we’re flogging you.

4. If my team wins, I will give you a single comment involving a non committal statement such as “better luck next year” or “your boys tried hard” then I will move on. Do not gild that lily. That’s because it doesn’t matter how excited you are that your team has made the prelim for the first time in 10 years, you show the other person some respect when they’ve just had their heart broken. No one likes a wanker.

5. Conversely, if your team wins no one wants to hear patronising sentiments over and over again like “oh but you guys tried so hard, we were only lucky in the end” or “doesn’t matter because we’ll probably lose next week anyway.” No one wants your false sympathy. Shut the fuck up and enjoy your win in the appropriate manner.

6. Never ever tell me my team has got this before the final siren goes. Remember 1997? Western Bulldogs up by 30 points over the Adelaide Crows with three minutes left on the clock. Crows kick five to win in that time and eventually become the first team to win a flag from sixth position. That is your barometer right there – five goals in three minutes. If you don’t have that distance in that time frame then you could end up screwed. But also know that if you’re within that then you have every possibility of coming back.

7. People who stand up, kick the back of your seat, don’t push across into the spare seats or sing overly loudly at the footy are dickheads. And don’t you even think about talking through the anthem. Show some respect.

8. Never ever leave before the final siren. Doubly so if your team is losing and you’re in club colours.

9. There is a special hell reserved for people who call “BAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!!” every time an opposition player so much as gets touched while he’s got it in his hands.

10. You only get to buy hot jam doughnuts outside the ground if you win. You lose and you’re going home without diabetes tonight.

11. If you’re only at the sold out game because you’re an MCG member or on a corporate package then you have given up the right for people not to hate you. We will. THOSE SEATS BELONG TO FANS.

12. Finally, there is no shame in tears. Win or lose. If you win then stand there proudly and sing the song, enjoying the moment. Wave to your boys as they circle the ground to thank the fans. If you lost, take your sobbing to the toilet because nobody wants to see that shit. And if it’s your friend who’s crying in defeat then you never ever acknowledge their tears. Respectfully hand them a tissue, give them a non committal statement of tepid encouragement and a pat on the back, then go home to watch all the highlights and post them on Facebook.

PS Titus O’Reily also has some pretty spot on words of wisdom on the subject.

Tres disappointment.

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There’s two different ways to lose: the first is when you have one of those nothing seasons where wins are few and far between and losses become the norm. You’ll be disappointed to get done but hey, you’re used to it by now. The second way is when you’re carrying the weight of immensely high expectations and are completely crushed by them when your team comes undone.

Let me assure you, it’s the latter that really hurts.

It’s an exquisite kind of torture when all your family support the one AFL club and you are the only one who doesn’t, then their team beats yours. Being born and bred in NSW I have a lot of love for the Syney Swans except for one or two days a year when I find them (and my family) utterly intolerable. It’s been especially difficult given Sydney have proven themselves to be something of a bogey team for Port Adelaide and regardless of our respective fortunes, they always seem to beat us. I’ve gotten used to copping a hammering from my brothers in particular but let me promise you that it never stops hurting. Or being really fucking annoying.

Tonight’s 48-point loss was bitterly disappointing for a few reasons. The first is those expectations I mentioned and the fact Port have been considered almost THE premiership contender for this season. To start the year 0-2 isn’t what we wanted or expected. I kinda thought we’d have two wins under our belt by now and be the talk of the town. The second is that tonight was our first game at home at Adelaide Oval and clearly we hoped our vocal supporters would play the role of the 19th man and cheer us through to a win.

It’s also hard to watch your team lose by making the exact same mistakes they made during the last loss. Against Fremantle Port kept repeatedly kicking to opposition players alone and making some really poor decisions with the ball that resulted in turnovers. We keep trying to consistently play that awesome running game we can do so well, but it’s almost like the players don’t know how to get the ball up the ground if it’s not a running handball under pressure. I’d like Port to be a bit calmer and consider their options a little more.

Tonight again highlighted to me that Ryder isn’t the great saviour we probably expected him to be and that we really really really miss Lobbe. If we could have a team full of Robbie Grays and then Boaky as captain, we’d be laughing. Gray is just such a class act and ye olde cliché “silky skills” really applies. Trengove and Carlisle stood up at the back, while Monfries looked dangerous up front. Pittard had a solid game and made up for his ridiculous mistake last week. I thought all round there’s a lot of room for improvement so hopefully the players will take note and start refining.

I don’t want to say much re the Swans except it was satisfying to see Hanneberry get belted and Gary Rohan’s red hair really shits me.

In the end, the only thing that kept me watching was that tiny pilot light of hope that we’d get our act together and start kicking a few goals, enough to pull together a gutsy come-from-behind win. That and the fact the camera kept focusing on a hot and sweaty Travis Boak (that man is my everything). Watching our beloved captain hurl his mouthguard on the ground in disgust after the final siren was a good sign I think and hopefully he can lift us for round three.

Next week is the Kangaroos in Melbourne and I’ll be heading along to Etihad Stadium on Saturday night. I fucking hate North and their “Shinboner Spirit” bullshit with the power of a thousand suns so fingers crossed we can notch up win one. Otherwise the weight of that unlived up to expectation is going to keep crushing me.

Season 2015.

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I just don’t think I can do this again.

When I was younger I was an absolute footy tragic. I would live, breathe and bleed for my team each week without fail. I kept scrapbooks of meticulously cut out newspaper articles and I recorded games on copious amounts of VHS tapes so I could watch them over and over (and over) again.

Then I grew up and calmed down – slightly. I was still as heavily invested in my team but the format changed. I bought club memberships and I travelled around the country watching games. When I resigned from my job at The Canberra Times my colleagues got me a Port Adelaide jumper as a farewell gift. DVDs replaced the tapes.

Between about 2009 and mid 2013 I lost my way. Port Adelaide were generally doing terribly and I’m ashamed to say I barely maintained any interest in their fortunes. I went to a token few rugby union games here in Melbourne. The only rugby league news I ever got was from my brother’s Facebook statuses. I’ve never given a shit about soccer. Instead I just filled up my life with other stuff, only engaging with sport on the rarest of occasions. For someone whose life had been utterly filled by it for so long this was something new.

And now I’m back. Totally, utterly and completely back. To AFL anyway.

It started at the end of 2013 when Port made the finals and I went to see both of them at the MCG. I remember at the start of that season when the Power won a heap of games and were sitting close to first, screenshotting the ladder and circling Port and Hawthorn’s positions then sending it to my Hawks mad mate. “Me. You. Suck it”, I scrawled on there. I could never quite believe it though – it felt surreal to be anything close to successful again. So when those finals rolled around I went and it felt like a novelty in some ways, especially when we won the one against Collingwood. At that point I reckon it was the first Port game I’d been to in nearly four years. The second one I went to with my best friend, a Cats fan, and we nearly did them – our last quarter we ran out of steam and Geelong went into a prelim.

Last year felt good but there was still some distance between me and footy. I was scared that 2013 was going to be a blip, that I’d be lured into false hopes and cruelly let down again. Only it didn’t quite pan out that way and despite my reticence I found myself sitting at the MCG again in September. I hadn’t been to any games through the year but I’d kept a much closer eye on things and I could sense my blood starting to fizz again with the love of football. A friend took me as her plus one to a corporate event and I reckon I drank four nervous glasses of champagne in quick succession when we arrived. As a Bombers fan she had a soft spot for Wanganeen so was prepared to back us in against the Hawks and even wore a Port scarf for me (I repaid the favour by giving her my vintage one from when Gav actually still played).

Three points that day. Three fucking points. That’s what kept us out of a grand final. But I knew, I just knew, that footy and I were back together so the long wait until the 2015 season started began.

It’s a cruel thing to have to wait until the second last game of the first round to see your team play. I’ve monitored the club countdowns on social media and felt the excitement starting to build. Everyone has such high expectations for Port Adelaide this year, it’s almost impossible not to get swept up in the excitement and romance of it all. I am a club member again, something I felt they deserved from me.

All day today I have felt the nerves and excitement starting to build. Because I don’t have Foxtel I went to a local hotel to watch it and as I sat down with my beer and chicken parma, I remembered: “this is what it’s like.” That feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Wanting to vomit. Your heart beating at triple time. Hands shaking when they lift the glass for every sip.

“I just can’t do this again,” I thought.

I’d forgotten what a complete emotional investment football is so much of the time. How you have to learn to live with that churning in your gut for hours on game day. My right hand fingernails digging into my left hand knuckles for two-and-a-half hours every weekend until they are red raw. The exhilaration and the pain and the disappointment and the jubilation and the satisfaction. I’d forgotten all of it until I was actually back there in that moment again.

Fremantle had us by seven points tonight but I maintain it was a game we lost rather than one they won. Our decision making was poor and our kicking was terrible at times, which took the pressure off and let them into the game. (Jasper’s fucking play on bounce. Jesus.) Paddy didn’t look as good as I expected and we missed Lobbe in the ruck I thought. On the plus side, I reckon Polec, Trengove and Gray really stood out and our tackling overall was ferocious. It’s always disappointing to lead at every change and then get done in the end however I know that losing the first game of the season doesn’t mean it’s all over. We have to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and get ready to take on Sydney next week.

Which means it looks like I am doing this again after all. Wish me luck.