After the Tigers won the 2017 grand final, the euphoria did not subside for several weeks, if not months.
After that win, every colour seemed clearer, and the heat of the sun provided warmth rather than a furnace.
It has been thoroughly documented, but this is a feeling that had not been experienced by Richmond supporters for some time. But while there were obvious feelings of joy, the biggest sensation was that of pure relief.
And the second was inebriation – I (vaguely) remember alcohol being a factor.
We were no longer the team that hadn’t won it in my lifetime (born in 1981, I was about a year too late to know the last one).
My brother was born in 1980, but he cares as much about football as I do about – whatever it is he cares about – Star Trek, maybe?
We were no longer the team that had won less finals in my lifetime than Fitzroy (look it up kids – the Lions haven’t always been in Brisbane).
We were no longer the team that always finished ninth (but try telling that to the trolls).
We were once again a powerhouse of the league. We were called one of the “big-four clubs” without people sniggering.
And in 2018, we kept going. We won game after game, the MCG and Marvel (the-stadium-formerly-known-as Etihad-Telstra Dome-Docklands) became fortresses.
Even our inability to win outside Victoria (save the Suns game in Round 21) wasn’t an issue.
After all, we didn’t need to. We finished the regular season 18-4, two games clear on top of the ladder, and the cup was ours for the taking.
Alas, it was not to be, with the American stealing the show (as they tend to do) in the penultimate game, confining us to another year without the ultimate success.
Then began the long summer. Not only had my team missed out, but I lived in Perth (more on that another time). But still, the sun rose each day, and life returned to normality.
After a few months of cricket (not a memorable summer to be honest), and a Big Bash (#goscorchers) that seemed to go on and on, AFL finally returned, and the Tigers were back.
We had improved our team markedly in the off-season, with the inclusion of Tom Lynch set to make us the greatest team since the Bulls went back to back to back a couple of times. Hope had more than returned, and we were ready to make our return.
Sydney Stack of the Tigers tackles Connor Rozee of Port Adelaide (Photo by Mark Brake/Getty Images)
We started well against Carlton. We were cruising, bullying the navy ones as we should.
And then we lost Al Rance. My heart sank. All my hopes and dreams were seemingly slipping away in that moment.
I had always said Rance was our most valuable and least replaceable player. The season would never be the same.
And then we lost Jack Riewoldt.
And Trent Cotchin.
And more.
Any hope we had for 2019 had quickly evaporated. Our whole leadership team, a norm-Brownlow-MVP-coaches award winner and a few senior players was gone, as though Thanos had snapped them out of existence.
Going to face a Port Adelaide team (who were in pretty good form) was the most daunting match-up we had had for a while (and the fact we were $3.40 was also a strange feeling).
We had Caddy back, and the underrated Shane Edwards as a new captain. But I feared it was only going to get worse.
But then, something exhilarating happened. Tom Lynch kicked six, and our team just clicked.
We won a game we weren’t supposed to, against a team far more suited to winning in such a circumstance. The light of hope had started to flicker again. It was one of the best wins I had ever seen.
In 2019, with a few losses to the powerful teams (Collingwood and GWS), and a surprise in the Western Bulldogs loss, the season is starting to feel like it used to.
When it feels like you might lose, winning feels that much better.
Winning has brought me much more joy in 2019 than it did in 2018.
Now, I’m not saying 2018 was not enjoyable. Quite the contrary. But as win after win came, the joy of triumph was not quite what it used to be.
Still great, but not quite as great. Get me?
With the bye looming, and the rest of the season bringing back some of the key players, we are ready to make an assault on the finals.
Whatever happens, I know the losses will only increase the joy should we win the last day in September.
Bring it on.
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