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Melbourne probably won’t win the premiership this year. Hell, at this stage we’ll be lucky to even make the eight.
I’ll be devastated, no doubt, especially after what happened last year. And the ten years before that. Or the 41 years before that, mind you, although I’ve been fortunate enough to have not lived through them all.
But even with all that pain and heartbreak and frustration in mind, I have come to terms with the fact that this won’t be our year. I’m okay with not being the 2018 premiers. I’m even okay with us missing the finals.
As fans, we invest so much in our team and our desire to claim flags. But with 18 sides competing and only one winner per season, the majority make it through the year without ultimate glory.
Even if everything was fair and balanced in the AFL universe, we’d still only get that joy once every two decades.
Is it fair that we should only truly feel happy for one year and be unsatisfied for 17 others? Is it fair that we should place that burden on our teams, and ultimately ourselves, year after year after year?
Even making the finals isn’t easy. Ask any of my fellow Demons, or a Blue if you’re feeling brave. The current finals system means more teams miss out than those who make it, an externality in the system that may cruel my beloved Demons for the second consecutive season.
But when it really comes down to it, how much does it really matter?
I don’t mean that in an existential ‘does anything really matter?’ kind of way, nor in an ‘it’s just a game’ kind of way.
(Photo by Daniel Pockett/AFL Media/Getty Images)
Football gives so many people great joy, great stress and great anticipation. It tugs at our emotions, shapes our identities, and makes us feel connected to something bigger than ourselves. Of course football matters. Of course it’s more than a game.
What I am asking is whether or not winning the grand final, let alone making the finals, is as important as we fans make it out to be.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see the Demons win a premiership one day. Indeed, I’d love to see us win a few if possible. But in 27 years, I’ve yet to have that experience, nor have those who have followed the club for almost twice as long as me.
If I went my whole life without seeing a Melbourne premiership, would that be a life unfulfilled?
And what if I was privileged enough to witness my team win a flag? What then? I recall a philosophic conversation on a Demons fan forum a year and a half ago, shortly after the Dees defeated the top-placed Crows at Adelaide Oval.
For the first time in over a decade, fans were beginning to believe the impossible could be possible: “Could we actually win the whole thing this year?” fans began to articulate.
Then one post stopped me in my tracks: “What if we won and it wasn’t the best moment of my life?” the poster asked.
Imagine that. What if the thing you’ve been waiting for your whole life didn’t pan out as you imagined it to be? What if your team was victorious yet you still felt hollow or emotionless. If the supposed peak moment of your life didn’t meet your expectations, would it have all been worth the wait?
I recall my under-16 cricket grand final. I was captaining the team, fresh from taking a vital five-wicket haul in the semi.
I placed big expectations on myself to perform again on the big stage. But I didn’t. Instead, I bowled a few expensive overs before a teammate of mine started taking charge and ordering players around without my input.
Not only did I feel disappointed in my own performance, but I felt undermined by my own teammate. The only thing that interrupted those anxieties running through my head was my co-captain, who came up to me with two overs to go and gripped me in a shoulder hug.
“We’re about to win the flag!” he exclaimed with a huge smile on his face. In return, I forced a smile. I wanted to celebrate with him, but I thought winning was supposed to feel better than this.
Surely premierships can’t be the be-all and end-all of football. Otherwise, why do I still love football so much after all these years of cellar dwelling? Why haven’t I changed teams? Why haven’t I switched codes? Why haven’t I found a new hobby?
I think the answer is that there are many joys of following a football team, and Premierships are merely just one of them. Yes, they may be the pinnacle, but we shouldn’t be deceived into thinking this is an all-or-nothing pursuit.
(AAP Image/Tracey Nearmy)
When the only goal in our sights is that one day in September/October, we tend to miss the other magical moments along the way that give just as much joy.
Winning individual games is one obvious landmark and perhaps one that is too underrated by fans. We’re too quick to label a victory as an unconvincing win; “Wasn’t our best game, but I’ll take the four points” is something we’ve all told our peers on a Monday morning.
Close wins, in particular, are rare moments of ecstasy and we shouldn’t be dismissive of their significance.
Will winning a Premiership ever make me as happy as I was when Jeff White kicked the sealer against the Bulldogs in Round 21 of 2005? Or when Christian Salem’s calm set shot gave Paul Roos’ Demons an upset victory over Essendon in Round 13 of 2014? Maybe it will. But maybe it won’t.
Being a Melbourne supporter over the past decade has taught me that the wins during lean years on average feel better than the wins in years when we’re challenging for finals. That’s because making the finals strips meaning from individual victories, reducing them to nothing more than a number on a tally board.
Each win recorded is one we can subtract from 12 or 13, the supposed prerequisites for qualifying for finals.
A win, as such, is not to be celebrated but is a tonic for our stress, something to give us momentary relief until the next opportunity arises.
Expectation isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, the right dose can change the attitude in which we approach upcoming contests.
Simply going to the ground or tuning into the match knowing you’re a chance to win is an enviable feeling and it wasn’t long ago that having such expectations as a Melbourne fan meant I was deluded.
Likewise, external hype can feel euphoric but is something fans can sometimes try to bury instead of embracing.
Some people don’t like the fickle media and the way they hype up a team’s chances only to take them down the following Monday night.
The football media industry is a beast today, where there’s as many minutes in the week as there are football stories with which to fill them.
With this kind of thirst for news and views, from both fans and commentators alike, there’s little room for half-hearted media sentiment: they must either be singing a team’s praises or damning them.
With such a dynamic at play, I’d far prefer the media to back the Demons. And when they do, there’s nothing quite as delightful as drinking your own bathwater.
After all, if you don’t let yourself get carried by the media’s fleeting endorsements, then it’ll be gone before you know it.
This external validation from the media, while worthless on the field, is perhaps just as satisfying as any sensation we might derive from an actual match.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the endorphin rush I get from clicking on articles titled “Dees a genuine chance to win flag” isn’t too dissimilar to that which occurs when I hear the final siren followed by ‘A Grand Old Flag’.
There are so many other beautiful ways in which football gives us pleasure. On game day, an end-to-goal, a snap from the pocket or a mark-of-the-year contender can get our heart rates racing and our vocal chords roaring. The same goes for lead changes, chase-from-behind tackles, perfectly executed hip-and-shoulder bumps or even training drill-esque ruckman to rover connections.
Every fan could compile their own list of things they love about the game, things that give them unbridled joy. So why aren’t they enough?
Making finals and winning premierships are of course great pleasures (or so I’ve heard). But should their absence leave us disheartened when there’s so much else for us to appreciate?
Don’t get me wrong; I can’t wait for the day my beloved Demons finally break through and win a Premiership. In the meantime, I have no choice but to sheepishly ask my Bulldogs and Tigers friends to divulge their celebratory memories.
But I’m also enough of a realist to appreciate that I might never experience that. And you might never experience that either. But we’ve got to be okay with that – because if we’re not, then maybe we’re missing half the fun.
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