Almanac Footy: Renewing footy vows

 

 

 

 

Top of the ladder and two home finals. The perfect run to the flag, they said. Rest up and wait for the others to bruise and tire. 

An alternate supporter-centric script is that this route is the antithesis of relaxed and provides too much time for analysis and ‘what ifs?’. Anticipatory grief is one consequence for rusted-on Bloods fans, after too many last Saturday in September failures! 

For me, long gone is the lightness of spirit and joy of Grand Final week 1996 and 2005, when we were unexpectedly elevated to the biggest stage in footy. A conscious, wilful effort is required to embrace the 2024 excitement. “Stay positive, it’s our time”! “The chance to see your team compete for the flag is all too rare”. Daring to hope that with that perfect preparation the pain that we carry from past loss will fade, in favour of those delicious and intoxicating moments that follow the final siren of the season, with our team ahead. 

Footy fandom so often embodies irrational superstition and ritual. When the Bloods are in the Big Dance, I too am compelled to ritual. A ritual without superstition but of the ‘comfortable old shoe’ variant, conceived to elicit mental positivity and a sense that all is right in my footy world. My ‘24 ritual mirrors – as rituals do (!) – my ‘96,’05,’06,’12,’14, ‘16 and ‘22 practice of spending one day of that nervous post-prelim week in the heart of South Melbourne. A few hours of immersion in the sights and sounds that remind me of childhood train trips from the country to watch my Swans go to battle at the Lake Oval. A chance to again see South excitedly resplendent in red and white.

Alas, Clarendon St South Melbourne on the Thursday of G.F. week in the Bloods 150th year is disappointingly devoid of red and white, save for the caps and scarves of some early arrivals from interstate; a welcome, curious exploration of the meaning of the SMFC on the rear of our guernsey. Sadly, this is as it also was in our 148th year, when the Bloods campaign ultimately hiccuped badly at the hands of the Pivotonians. Oh to be like the hometown of the Hoops, where the city is so often painted blue and white in September.

For 108 years, Clarendon St was a red and white artery that channelled the flock to the Saturday embrace of the Lakeside Oval. Gradually, in the 42 years since South went north, the physical and cultural connection has dwindled. Perhaps it’s time to reluctantly accept that recognition of the pre-1982 version of my Swans is now largely confined to emblems on a guernsey, social media posts and historic video. Clarendon St shop-fronts and verandah poles are no longer the canvas for excited local trader or supporter expression. City Hall no longer jumps on board the red and white train.The cultural transition to ‘unaligned’ now seems largely complete, but with a couple of notable exceptions…… 

In footy parlance, if Clarendon St represents the ‘centre corridor’ of a metaphorical South Melbourne oval, the South market in Coventry St sits in the geographic back pocket. This year, a mural was painted in its car park, paying 150 year homage to the SMFC heritage. Incredibly, it remains graffiti-free (watch this space) and a welcome contemporary nod to our past. At the other end of the suburb, in the imaginary forward pocket at the east end of Raglan St, sits the ‘Riser’ – the Rising Sun Hotel, where there still exists a glorious spiritual heartbeat that sparks and bursts into flame in sync with remote red and white victories. 

So with the anticipatory context set, our glorious redemption day arrives. A day in promise to counteract past disappointment and footy injustice, whilst re-energising doubting spirits. 

 

5 pm Saturday 27 September.

It’s done. Over. Worst fears realised. Our ‘two city, one team’ cohort deflated, empty.

Frankly, it was done by 3.30 pm and half-time heads in hands told a sorry tale of disappointment and disbelief. Prophecies of doom that were forcibly swept to the back of minds to allow room for pre-match excitement and hope, have eventuated. Not again!

In 2022 and ‘14 the final siren that ended the shellacking was our family cue to exit stage left and take our misery to a private place. Whilst success-starved Dogs fans wept with joy in 2016, the depth of our anger and frustration was better removed from the view of others. But this year we decided to stay to the bitter end. Maybe it was partly a Fitzroy thing; the parallel stories of interstate relocation building a kinship that subliminally binds our two proud, historic clubs. But it is much deeper than that. An almost primal need to feel the sadness, at the end of an ultimately fruitless but nonetheless memorable 2024 journey. We’ve invested heavily with our emotions, money and time as we’ve followed them by road and rail to Gather Round in the Adelaide hills, watched them lose a close one in Brisbane, and delighted in their deeds from the stands at the SCG. We have planned and re-arranged our schedules to religiously watch them in their Red V in Melbourne. We feel part of the fabric and sharing their anguish rather than turning from it seems proper. To wallow in the shared emotion, rather than creep away to the anonymous sanctuary of home. Self-flagellation never felt so right.

The indignity of public humiliation is coursing through the minds of our boys as they exit the ‘G’  under an unwelcome shower of maroon, blue and gold confetti. Our heartfelt words of consolation float down to them from the top of the players race but just bounce around the  concrete walls of that solemn pathway, failing to register. Their numbness is ours too.

This is the trigger – with our heads still processing an afternoon of broken dreams – for our empathic hearts to turn from the embarrassment of failure and the unwelcome, taunting texts that have started to arrive….. and commit wholeheartedly to be back and proud with our Bloods in Round 1, 2025.  Just as adversity shared can steer a faltering marriage back to health, we were renewing our red and white vows at a time of need. For better, for worse.

In so many ways it would be easier to wave the white flag and say “We’re done. We cant do this anymore”. No judgement towards those from the throng of true believers that have now opted to put their diehard status on permanent pause. We also know that we will endure countless jokes at the expense of our club in days to come and expect to suffer the ‘wisdom’ of those who masquerade as being with us, despite their cyber-allegiance being paper-thin. TV post-mortems will not be our happy place as the AFL – expert frenzy launches with its ‘what’s wrong with the Swans’ tirade. We will need to stare down irritating teasing in our community and workplaces; in part a legacy of us being loud, colourful and proud in the lead-up to the game. We too expect performance accountability and won’t take our focus off the main prize but, as part of the Bloods membership family, we will do so respectfully and constructively as supportive families do, unlike the emotive public rants of others. 

Our Bloods family heritage started in 1966. Our journey goes beyond one ultimately unsuccessful season, or two, or three, or four. We expect as many ‘downs’ as ‘ups’ on this shared adventure, but we will continue to lift that noble banner high, on the ride of our lives.

 

 

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