Almanac Footy: Go Suns – building the (vital) mythology.

 

 

[written in the lead-up to the Wednesday night match]

 

So the Suns win, and they’re in their first ever finals series.

Jesus, I hope they get up.

It still irritates me no end how the ‘AFL states’ quietly disrespect the Suns.

They’re interlopers or pretenders. Or somehow fake.

Those who are too lazy to look fail to notice the tremendous work this still very new club has done.

The game has always been strong in south-east Queensland but it’s absolutely flourishing around here nowadays.

Men’s senior competitions have jumped in quality. Junior club programs are overflowing. The women’s game has grown incredibly quickly.

Most of this can be put down to the arrival of the Suns.

Personally, I owe the Suns a fair bit too.

I worked there for nine months in the year before they started up in the AFL competition.

It was meant to be a three-week freelance writing stint to churn out a few player profiles and some web content, but as the organisation grew, so did their content needs.

I became a kind of media and communications dogsbody.

It was great. I met some terrific people.

They started with next to no infrastructure, the Suns.

Their original offices were a little Lego village. Dongas pushed up against each other in the shadows of some camphor laurels at the damp end of an open training paddock.

The gym was a sweatbox shed.

I have so many vivid memories of those formative moments.

I remember Bluey McKenna, who’d never coached a senior side, doing the best he could to forge a workable method with a bunch of school-leaver players. He somehow managed to smile more than he didn’t.

I remember when G. Ablett arrived – what a player he was – and watching the club try to plonk its sales pitch on the shoulders of a bloke who didn’t really want to be sold.

I recall chaperoning Karmichael Hunt around Townsville on a promotional tour and being awestruck by his capacity to consume enormous quantities of steak.

Ken Hinkley! His extraordinary connection with the athletes; his genuine care for them. Andy Lovell was another caring, thoughtful assistant coach there at the time. Matt Kennedy, too. It’s been terrific reconnecting with the latter two at Bond University where we all now work.

There was that first draft night. Dion Prestia and Tom Lynch were there. They’d later drift back south and win premierships at Richmond.

Dan Gorringe, too. Quiet and shy then. No hint that he’d go on to become a social media star.

We lost Harley Bennell on draft night. As in literally misplaced him. He was all but due on stage when we found him down the street having a chat to a couple of his mates. We didn’t have time to find him a fresh Suns polo so we had to throw him in one that had already been worn. I remember him screwing up his nose at the stink of the nervous perspiration it contained before wandering out to face the cameras.

The Suns chose David Swallow with their top pick that night. I later remember sitting in the donga that doubled as a boardroom and sharing with him some media management basics. He was 17, I think. These days he has a young family.

On young families… Then Football Manager Marcus Ashcroft would often tell us about his young fellas – Will and Levi. They now play for the Lions.

I recall witnessing young, intense, supremely athletic first-year player Joel Wilkinson outrun everybody by miles. He was a lovely bloke. It still saddens me that his career disappeared after a racism saga. I know he had a crack at American Football when his time in the AFL finished. I often wonder where he ended up.

It was a busy, fascinating stretch.

I’m very grateful for it. Not just because of the insights it offered into the sport I loved, but also because of what came afterwards.

My stint working at the Suns more or less landed me a publishing deal with Random House.

I wrote a book about the Suns’ first year as an AFL side.

One publishing deal led to two more. I’m very proud to have authored three in total.

The Suns also had a significant say in my 12-year stretch behind the microphone as a broadcaster.

Not long after I’d started the Suns book, I was on my way down to Currumbin for an early surf when then ABC Gold Coast Breakfast presenter Tim Cox put out a call for talk back.

‘Who was at the Suns first game? Rough night for the new boys. Any thoughts?’

I had a few to share.

Long time listener, first time caller.

My chat with Coxy led to a weekly slot yakking about footy.

And those conversations led to an invitation to fill in as a radio presenter.

Filling in eventually turned into a full-time gig.

And that full-time gig led to match-day boundary-riding at Carrara and the Gabba which later morphed into opportunities to commentate games.

I wasn’t much good at it, truth be told – I struggled with my eye-sight – but I’m still proud of the occasional moments where the words flowed.

So, I’m feeling a bit sentimental as the Suns ready themselves for this shot at finals glory.

A final round win against a young, injury-riddled Essendon side tonight will secure it.

It had to be the Bombers, didn’t it.

My mind goes back to the Suns first game against the red and black – Round 6, 2011.

In the first quarter, a big, strong, star-laden Bombers outfit kicked 15.4 to the Suns’ 0.1. Essendon won by 139 points in the end. Could easily have been more.

It was men playing boys.

I remember Essendon people in that crowd mocking the Suns mercilessly.

One woman in particular screeching over and over: ‘THEY’RE SHIIIT! JUST F*****N’ KILL ‘EM!’

Time to return the favour lads.

St Kilda’s still my tribe, but the Suns are a very close second.

Go well, Sunnies.

You deserve your shot