I was trying to explain to somebody this morning the importance to Melbourne fans of North Melbourne v. Sydney this morning. They didn't really understand, but that's okay - I guess it's to be expected. The crux of it is that it's currently late August, and I genuinely care about the results of other games. I mean, sure, it would be preferable if our finals campaign were solely in our hands, but fuck, *we have a finals campaign*.
Tell that to a Sydney supporter, or a Geelong supporter, or a Hawthorn supporter, and they'd probably laugh at the fact that that means so much. But I was genuinely concerned about losing this club forever just three years ago. Before Paul Roos and Peter Jackson walked in the door, the Melbourne Football Club was on track to oblivion. It's now 2016, and we're still (faintly) in the conversation for a finals berth for the first time in a decade.
Since our last final, we've pushed through five Prime Ministers - one of them twice. We've also had seven coaches, with another in the wings for next year. It's been a long, tumultuous time. Ten years of going to the footy knowing all too well that we were going to lose - probably by a lot. Ten years of being the laughing stock of the competition. Ten years of severe ambivalence in September.
I don't expect to make the finals this year, but the fact that we're so close means a lot. On paper, North Melbourne shouldn't win either of its next two games. On paper, we *should* win one and we're a chance in the other. I go to the footy nervous, these days. And it hurts when we lose.
I'll be disappointed but not distraught if North get up today, or if we lose tomorrow. It's almost September, and I couldn't care less about the draft. The only player I could name off the top of my head is McLuggage. Even then, that's only because I imagine him as some sort of walking suitcase. Footy is footy again.
It would be hard for non-Melbourne supporters to know what it's been like the last decade, and how much it means to have hope. I mean, we're not even in the eight, and I'm practically jumping for joy. So thank you, Paul Roos. Thank you, Peter Jackson. Thank you, Nathan Jones. Thank you, Daisy Pearce. Thank you, Simon Goodwin. Thank you, Brendan McCartney. Thank you, Glen Bartlett.
Thank you, Jim Stynes.
And fuck me, get up, Sydney.
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Topic: General Footy Tipping and Discussion Thread (Read 265718 times)