Do you call yourself a real supporter?

There’s been a lot of talk lately about the cost of going to sporting events.

The AFL have copped a hiding from fans for their new variable ticket pricing this season.

To get to Game 1 of State of Origin you had to sell your first born and throw in a carton of full strength, and in Brazil things are looking so bad for anyone who wants to go to the World Cup but doesn’t own a Ferrari.

Even Eric Cantona is getting cranky.

And you don’t want Eric Cantona to get cranky.

I know that with Tony Abbott and Joe Hockey’s budget bringing us about as much good news as the Murdoch press, just the jingle of a bit of shrapnel in your pocket is a soothing sound.

But for all of you out there complaining, I ask this: Do you call yourself a real supporter?

Sure, you might have stuck with your team when they only won three games in a season. You might have been there in the drizzling rain in the middle of winter when they got pumped by 40. You might even have gotten the logo inked into your flesh to celebrate last year’s premiership.

But what does that count for if you’re not prepared to do the hard yards now, when your team needs you the most?

Sure there might be a bit of TV money dribbling in the game, but don’t listen to those experts with their fancy talk of “revenue” and “profits after loss before tax”. The game needs bums on seats and your team needs you through the turnstile.

And so what if it comes at a price? Isn’t everything worth something? Is it a big deal if you have to miss out on a few essentials to be there when your team prevails? Electricity and food is overrated anyway.

Being a real supporter means that you put the team first. No questions asked.

When the time comes and you’re called upon to choose between your team and your family’s ongoing survival, what’s your answer?

If you’re a real supporter there isn’t even a choice to make. If you’re a real supporter you know that your team is your family.

And does little Mikey really need three meals a day when two meals and seeing a wave from his old man at the footy on TV will be more than enough to sustain him, at least emotionally, through winter?

If you make the choice to provide for your so-called “real family” instead, to be a phony fan, then why not put the final nail in the coffin and head to the footy ground down the road on the weekend to see whatever bush league team is running around in the local comp.

Go ahead, pay your $10 entry and a few bucks for a tinnie. Sit wherever you want. Don’t line-up for the troughs. Hear the impact of two blokes, who combined weigh $7000 worth of petrol, barrel into each other. Watch a team of mates play footy together. Then take a look around at all the other people who copped out and chose not to be a real supporter.

It gives me that empty feeling inside just thinking about.

When the full time siren has blown and you’re left there having a kick around on the field with your kids, don’t even think about complaining. You made your choice.

And you call yourself a real supporter?