You only have to look at a copy of the Herald Sun during AFL grand final week to know that some people are crazy footy fans.
This week, it’s NRL fans’ turn to change from normal, professional people with an illogical and undying devotion to a football club, who could end up all smiles and cheers and celebratory beers – or crying over a football team.
Last week, the team that hadn’t won the final for 43 years lost to the team that’d won the cup just two years ago. The next day in the newspapers, a few snaps of devastated Saints supporters made it in amongst the shininess of Gary Ablett’s head and Geelong holding up its Premiership Cup. And, that was it. A few words of “we’ll be back!” from Nick Reiwoldt and supporters are left to their personal heartbreak.
But it’s not over when the media loses interest. So what is it like for fans who get so close then fall so far? Nearly one week on, we thought we’d ask two Saints fans to put their continuing grief into words.
Beth: I was hooked on St Kilda from birth. I was brought home from the hospital wearing little black, white and red booties. I started going to the football in a sling on my fathers chest, just a few months old. It was always Dads rule that if we wanted to barrack for another team thats fine, just find somewhere else to live. Despite years of heartache and pain Dad was hell bent on us having the same experience. I am eternally thankful for this.
St Kilda is our family tradition, our church, our religion.
At the Grand Final my feet were numb, the rain was cold but sprits were high. I never had a second thought that we weren’t going to win.
Then, black. Empty. Pain.
After Dad found me crying outside the MCG he held my hand to the station, on the train. He was strong but I was broken. I lay in bed for hours crying. My head hurt but nothing like the pain in my chest. I took strong pain relief that night for a dreamless sleep.
I felt like we had had a death in the family. As I felt like it was a death then I needed to go to the wake. The St Kilda family day was at the Telstra dome, the scene of many fantastic wins this year, but this time I walked in crying. The crowd was sombre, we all hurt. As the boys walked out we held our scarfs up to show them we still believed and we were still with them. They cried, we cried.
Now almost a week later I still tear up. But the pain has lifted a bit. I look toward to 2010. The thing about St Kilda supporters is despite the many many loses we always believe in the next game, the next year. Our time is coming.
Saints fan Rafiq was in the UK for the game: The Saints have made the Grand Final two times in my life, and they have been the only two years I have spent the whole season out of the country. Blessing or curse? Given we have lost both times, I think it would be worse to be at home, but I still wish I was.
We watched the Grand Final in an Aussie pub in London with a thousand or so other Australians. Two hours sleep didn’t help the stress. I think everyone was having a great time except the Saints and Cats supporters. I hated every moment of it.
I started crying when Chappy kicked that goal, but I stayed until the siren went. I knew we were going to lose, but I wanted to see the Saints players after the game. I knew they would be devastated but I wanted to see it on their faces. Shared grief or something? I couldn’t handle watching the Cats celebrate though, so after a few seconds I went out into the London morning and sat by myself in the gutter for a while. Most of the other Saints supporters at the pub were doing something similar, but unlike during the game none said anything to each other. One guy I knew from back home just walked off and never came back.
I think Saints supporters are kind of used to failure, if anything it is how successful we have been this year that made the loss so hard to handle. I have been joking about how I preferred it when we won all those wooden spoons a few years back because I was less stressed. Its only half a joke. I don’t know how supporters of more successful clubs do it. Collingwood are close all the time and never win, it would be agony. Being so emotionally involved with something you have absolutely zero control of is a hard position to put yourself in. I don’t know why we do it to ourselves.
If I think about the game I reckon I’ll always feel like I’m like sitting in that gutter alone outside the pub in London at 8.30 on Saturday morning.
I’m going to need a strong preseason to prepare myself to go through it all again next year.
Get ready Melbourne Storm and Parramatta Eels fans. While one team is destined for happiness, the other is destined for sobbing uncontrollably in public places.
• Disclosure. I am a Saints supporter. And yes, I cried.
One Comment
Spare a thought for those of us on the first train to Sandringham after the game. I couldn’t watch the presentations either. There were only Saints on board. When we pulled into Balaclava, it was all too much for one bloke in our carriage who took a nasty turn. After some resuscitation he was helped onto the platform where he waited with the driver until the ambos arrived. It seemed to take about 20 minutes but felt like a lifetime. His recovery did not raise our spirits, as we sat silently somewhere between denial and despair.
In 1997 I had waited on Elsternwick station for my sisters who had missed the train from the G. An elderly Collingwood fan appeared from nowhere and proceeded to tell me why we’d lost and what the coach should have done that day against Adelaide. Fortunately for both of us he’d gone by the time the next train came, as he would have been under it.