It stirs the blood, sets hearts racing, ignites passions and, for a few hours every weekend, turns friends into foes. Football brings followers both pleasure and pain and for some, it’s more than a just a sport. It’s an obsession, as Cameron Tait found out.
IN the past five years, Geelong fans have enjoyed three premierships — more than some supporters will see in a lifetime.
That’s the lot of the footy fan. Like a parent’s love for their children, it’s unconditional. We love the years of pleasure and pain they’ve given us. They’re part of who we are, and we wouldn’t change it for the world.
September 20, 1997 – more than 14 years later, it’s a date that won’t mean much to most people. However, it is etched in the hearts and minds of Western Bulldogs supporters forever.
The Dogs were playing the Adelaide Crows in a preliminary final at the MCG — just one step away from the grand final.
When they were up by 22 points three quarter time the loyal followers dared to dream.
A club with just one premiership to its name, in 1954, was on the brink. Emotions ran high; the promised land was in sight only for the Crows to surge to lead in the dying minutes, scoring a heart-stopping two-point victory.
Some Dogs fans still find it difficult to talk about.
Victoria University lecturer and Bulldogs tragic, Dr Matthew Klugman, who wrote the book Passion Play: Love, Hope and Heartbreak at the Footy (Hunter Publishers, 2009), says the result sparked a tidal wave xxof raw emotion among fans.
‘‘People experienced all the signs of trauma you would after a flood or an earthquake,’’ he says. ‘‘Some people couldn’t talk for hours, others resorted to violence.
‘‘At half-time, supporters were sending family members out of the ground to queue for grand final tickets.
‘‘To have that suddenly ripped away was unbearable and many just couldn’t process what had happened.
Matthew says stories of heartbreak are repeated partly because of the search for redemption — the feeling that there’s got to be something which will make the agony worthwhile.
‘‘After Sydney won the 2005 premiership … one woman who had supported them since their last flag in 1933 she said ‘I can die happy now’.
‘‘Her whole family thought she was going to die. Football had given her the most incredible high and she was willing to go.’’
He says football becomes the centre of people’s lives and losses can be ‘‘like a death in the family’’.
‘‘Bulldogs fans will tell you they don’t want to speak about 1997, but then spend the next half an hour telling you why.
‘‘It’s probably one of the only things men and women both cry about in public.’’
Despite the nationalisation of the AFL, the fierce sense of tribalism around the clubs remains strong.
‘‘Whenever I see Tony Liberatore I feel a deep surge of affection.
‘‘When I drive over the EJ Whitten Bridge, I tell my daughter about him.”
He doesn’t believe in choice when it comes to fandom.
‘‘My wife goes for Collingwood and I read my first daughter a Bulldog magazine as she was doing toilet training and she now barracks for the Dogs.
‘‘While she was in labour with our next child, my wife said ‘Collingwood’ and I quoted a musical luminary by saying ‘I’ll do anything for love, but I won’t do that’.”
Two words say it all about Hilda Strzadala. ‘Always Hawthorn’, emblazoned across a brown and gold scarf sums up her devotion to a club which has been part of her life for nearly 40 years.
Hilda has brown and gold flowing through her veins. But it hasn’t always been that way.
“When I met my husband, I was a Collingwood supporter,’’ she concedes.
There was a time when she feared the club she holds so dear would be lost.
In 1996, a proposal was put for a merger between Melbourne and deeply indebted Hawthorn, which despite a stunning eight grand final appearances in nine years during the 1980s and ’90s. The merger failed at a vote of both clubs’ members. More than 15 years later, Hawthorn is one of the AFL’s powerhouses, though memories of 1996 are still seared into Hilda’s memory.
‘‘We (Hawthorn supporters) got off our backsides and helped the club in it’s time of need,’’ she says.
From selling memberships and working in the club’s gift shop, to cooking a post-training pot of soup for the players, nothing has been too much for this happy Hawk.
With nine flags in 40 years, Hilda knows she’s been more fortunate than most.
Naturally, everything in Hilda’s house is brown and gold.
There’s a mural on the wall, silver back-to-back premiership plates on a cabinet, a Shane Crawford bobblehead, two Hawthorn piggybanks on the coffee table and three teddy bears named Buddy, Cyril and Browny on her bed.
However, her most prized possession is a Hawks scarf adorned with more than 100 player badges.
From Dermott Brereton with a mullet to Jason Dunstall, John Platten and his curls to Chris Langford and Daniel Harford, every badge has a story.
‘‘I’m only five foot (152cm) tall and it’s so heavy my husband can’t believe I can walk with it.’’
Chelsea Heath had no choice. When it came to which team she would support, the Caroline Springs resident was always destined to be a Bulldog through and through.
‘‘My Dad, all but one of my five brothers and all but one of my cousins follow the Dogs, so it’s in my blood,’’ she says.
‘‘At family functions, footy is always the main topic of conversation.
‘‘I can remember going to the Western Oval when I was five or six and standing on a milk crate to see above the crowd.
‘‘I saw Dougie (Doug Hawkins) break Ted Whitten’s games record for the club and EJ’s lap of honour before the State of Origin match at the MCG in 1995 and the Bulldogs winning the NAB Cup a few years ago.’’
A member of the Western Bulldogs cheer squad since she was 16, her dedication was recognised with life membership last month.
‘‘I only joined the cheer squad because Nathan Brown was my favourite player at the time and I wanted to be on the ground to hold up the banner for his 50th game,’’ she says.
‘I’ve met some of my best friends through footy — it means so much to so many people.
‘‘We’re like a family. We cheer together, commiserate together and at times we might argue with one another, but once the final siren sounds, it’s all forgotten.
‘‘I can’t imagine life without footy.’’
David O’Keefe sees the world in black and white. But there was a time when he was a fan of a different set of stripes.
The Melton West resident was a Geelong supporter until he met his wife Jan and became swept up by the Magpie army.
‘‘I shifted to Melbourne for work and met my wife and all her family barracked for Collingwood,’’ he says. ‘‘When I started going to the footy with them I thought I may as well change — that was back in the ’70s.
‘‘Even though they’re one of the AFL’s most hated teams, once you’re Collingwood, you’re Collingwood forever.
On the loungeroom wall, a large panoramic photo the Magpies’ final game at Victoria Park in 1999 shines like a beacon.
Cheer squad members for the past decade, the O’Keefe’s would do anything for their club.
For six years they helped managed Collingwood’s property, including laying out player kits including guernseys, shorts, socks and getting equipment such as footballs, cones and nets to and from the ground.
After night matches, this meant they often wouldn’t arrive home before 2am.
The 2010 premiership remains a standout, with last year’s grand final loss to Geelong, the elephant in the room.
‘‘With Collingwood’s history of losing grand finals, we didn’t know what to expect (in 2010),’’ he says.
‘‘When we were 50 points up in the replay about 15 minutes into the last quarter, I thought ‘surely they (St Kilda) won’t peg us back now’.
‘‘At the final siren, there was elation, but also an overwhelming sense of relief.
‘‘We recorded the match and that summer, we watched it at least once a week.
‘‘We haven’t watched last year’s grand final yet.’’
