John Linton
Firstly let me apologise to Nick Hornby for 'borrowing' and messing around with his protagonist's statement about Arsenal in his very funny and insightful book 'Fever Pitch'. Having watched the film of the book some years ago, my wife finally understands the terrible nature of being interested in a sporting team that never reaches its potential.
Any male who has ever truly been a 'follower' of the fortunes of a sporting team will recognise the meaning of that quote. The bad news is that it will never change even when you are as old, and therefore are meant to be rational and mature, as I am meant to be in my 60s.
How did an immigrant from the UK at the age of just less than 18 (and an avid Arsenal supporter courtesy of a fanatical uncle who took me to Highbury at the age of 7) who spent his first 5 years in Australia in Sydney become so wrapped up in a provincial Victorian club that played a game I had zero knowledge about?
By happenstance as with most strange passions that descend upon immature males - as well as older males who are meant to know much better.
In 1967 I went to Melbourne on a work transfer for what was meant to be 12 months. One of the first things that the kind workmates did for me was to take me to a VFL game - they were all avid St Kilda supporters and St Kilda were at their first (and only?) peak of their powers having won the premiership the year before. It was explained to me that now I was a "Victorian" I'd have to support a VFL team or I would never be able to survive a Melbourne winter. They then, as I quickly learned was the case at every VFL game I ever subsequently attended, joined in with the crowd around them in loudly, ferociously and (it seemed to me at the time before I "learned" better), viciously to barrack for St Kilda's every action and to ridicule the efforts of a grey headed ruckman, a small blonde rover and, for a sporting athlete, a portly full forward all of whom were wearing some unattractive horizontal blue striped jerseys.
St Kilda went on to win the game by ten goals and I learned the names of the objects of my work mates' ridicule were Polly Farmer, Billy Goggin and Doug Wade - I became an avid and long term Geelong follower from about 20 minutes into the first quarter that day and 'old grey haired' Graham Farmer had a freeway in Perth named after him (and was regarded as the best knock ruckman of his generation); the 'portly' full forward Doug Wade has a stand at Kardinia Park with his name on it (yes I know it's had two names since but to me it's always Kardinia) named after him and won the Coleman medal twice more despite competing with Hawthorn's Peter Hudson and some person from Collingwood called Peter McKenna in those years; and I don't remember what happened to Goggin.
Throughout my ten years in Melbourne I made my way for the two hours it then used to take (on a good day) to Kardinia almost every weekend that Geelong played and to those other grounds in Melbourne that used to exist then for the 'away' games. I was at the 1968 grand final loss to Richmond and suffered the drive to and from work from my unit in Hawthorn through the Richmond heart land past Richmond town hall each morning for the following horrible week.
They never did better than that Grand Final loss for the rest of my time in Melbourne.
When I returned to Sydney I made sure I obtained a powerful enough radio that could get 3GL and I listened to most of Geelong's games through the remainder of the 1970's and into the eigties as Geelong continued to lose on a regular basis sometimes after being 40 or 50 points up late in the third quarter. I managed to get to the odd game at Kardinia (mostly at least once a season) including the game that Gary Ablett kicked his 100th goal. I drove to Melbourne with my middle daughter to see the semis and I attended two grand finals that Geelong subsequently lost. I was there for the final against Hawthorn (down by 36 points at quarter time and getting back to 6 points at the end the day Gary kicked 9 goals 1 and won the Norm Smith medal. I left the Grand Final against Carlton at half time and walked back to Tullamarine because I couldn't bear to even talk to a cab driver.
I was so devastated by the Hawthorn loss that I din't attend the next two GF appearances by Geelong against West Coast - I even cruelly gave my tickets to my two older daughters (who had, like their father, become chronic Cats supporters after being dragged to various football grounds in mid winter from the age of 3).
My wife came to terms that it was pointless attempting to talk to me after Geelong had lost a game and my Victorian friends never lost an opportunity of making nasty comments about the latest Geelong failure on the field. My good 'football friend' (and hapless Essendon supporter) would constantly ring me during telecasts of Geelong games enquiring "how're they going mate?' and then laughing uproariously.
I watched, on TV, the demolition of North Melbourne three weeks ago with almost indifference.
I watched, feeling physically ill for over an hour, the game against Collingwood and shared with Mark Thomson his sentiment when asked how he was feeling about the narrow win when he said "I wish I felt happier".
And so....it's a little over three hours to the start of the only game of the year in Australia.
How do I feel - not a lot.
I didn't buy tickets to the game. I can't bring myself to watch it on TV - though I'll tape it and, if they win, I'll watch it some time.
I'm going to go to a movie that starts at 2.30 with my wife.
After 40 years of being intensely interested in Geelong's performances I really wish everything goes well for them and that they win today and treasure the win for the rest of their lives - they really deserve to cap off their great year and the 6 years preparation the majority of them have put in to achieving every player's goal/dream.
Go the Cats - I just can't bring myself to watch.