I’d been lucky enough to secure tickets to the last day in September through the Swans’ membership ballot, which I would guess, was a privilege shared by about 10,000 other Sydney members.
A 6:30 wake-up (which would’ve been more suited to a Rooster than a Swan) was required as the ordinary train system provided by the Victorian government meant that my trip would begin at 7:35am. This was nothing compared to some of the MCC members who I learned had been waiting since 2:30 this morning! My train (which began in Albury, NSW) was jam-packed with fellow AFL supporters who had some way or another snaffled a ticket and a piece in history. As I predicted would be the theme of the day, the Hawks outnumbered the Swans.
Nevertheless, Sydney relishes the underdog status, and has become renowned for a never-say-die attitude. As I made my way from Spencer Street to the ‘G, Melbourne did its thing; clear skies, followed by dark skies, followed by droplets of rain, followed by strong gales, followed by clear skies, and so on. And this was all in half an hour.
The MCG was buzzing, as everyone anticipated something spectacular. My seat location was just behind the City End’s goals, and I was happily nestled like a baby cygnet amongst hundreds of other Swans fanatics. Even as the ACDC 50-second countdown began, I wouldn’t have imagined that the crowd would be this this big: the 99,683 who turned up became the largest ever Grand Final crowd to feature a non-Victorian team.
Hawthorn started well with four goals to one kicking towards the City – my end – which seemed like it might be a ‘scoring-end’ of some degree. Buddy Franklin missed a couple of simple chances in the first, and I happily marked the behinds into my $15 Record like I’d seen the more senior fans do, before the time of electronic scoreboards and complicated statistics like pressure acts, hit-outs to advantage and centre clearances. Hawthorn had the better start but only led by three goals, as Sydney soaked up the pressure and didn’t buckle at the knees (I’m looking at you Ted Richards).
I managed to hear a bit of the Temper Trap’s live half-time performance from the line to the men’s toilets, which was at a World Record length. By the time I had my turn, the ‘Premiership Quarter’ was underway and the Canadian Mike Pyke clunked a few grabs like a natural. Funnily enough, the Irish flags which were present in the Swans’ cheer-squad from the days of Tadgh Kennelly had been replaced with the Canadian maple leaf.
The match turned once again though, as Hawthorn piled on five consecutive goals to unthinkably regain the lead. Unsurprisingly, those five straight were at my end, and ground officials began to examine the pitch for an unfair slope which might provide some answers. For once, Jarrad McVeigh was grateful that he is vertically challenged, as Sam Mitchell’s return throw lobbed over his head, and the resulting fifty metre penalty resulted in a goal, which gave Sydney the lead back.
Moments later, and a pack formed in the forward fifty. The injured Adam Goodes (unbeknownst to me at this time) stayed out of the pack and crumbed the leftovers, dribbling through a high-pressure tumblr tumbler. Could Sydney hold onto this seven-point lead? Three Hawthorn behinds in a row (including two by Brad Sewell) kept the pressure well and truly on, but the scrappy and determined Swans managed to lock it inside forward fifty with roughly thirty seconds on the clock. As I scrambled through my bag and fumbled with my phone’s radio to hear Jim Brayshaw’s screams that less than a minute remained, Nick Malceski received at the back of the pack and, Paul Chapman-esque, kicked a loopy snap almost as high as he could. The ball hammered into the signage behind the goals and goal umpire Luke ‘Sky’ Walker signalled a goal – at the magical City End once again! The ball dropped right beneath me and Malceski went for a premature lap of honour. But the job had been done. We wouldn’t give up a two goal lead in thirty seconds, as we weren’t Richmond against the Gold Coast.
Such was the roar around the stadium I couldn’t even hear the siren – but that didn’t stop the embracing and handshakes all around me – I’ve never high-fived so many strangers in such a short time, but it was worth it.
Sure, the wait hadn’t been as gruelling as the previous 72 year drought, but the jubilation of a premiership can never be understated.
I hurried down from my level to the bottom tier to watch the medal presentation. On my way down, I bumped into Ben Reid and Heath Shaw, obviously both supporting their brothers. “Sammy played pretty well didn’t he?” I asked Ben.
“He sure did.” He replied, or something to that effect. I honestly can’t remember the exact wording. I didn’t want to talk to Collingwood premiership players; I wanted to congratulate the Swans on their new success.
A generous military worker gave me his pass to enter the arena and watch The Temper Trap from close-up for the post-game entertainment, and for his generosity I will be forever grateful. I danced a little, pocketed some of the ‘hallowed turf’ and headed back to Spencer Street station after an awesome rendition of ‘Fader’, joining in many choruses of ‘Cheer, cheer the red and the white’ with other Sydney supporters along the way.
It just goes to show that finals footy is only about the footy played on the day. Sydney defied a poor stadium record (at AAMI and the MCG), poor form (winning only one of their last four home and away matches) and a poor opposition record (against Adelaide and Collingwood) to lift the trophy in 2012. Don’t get sucked into stupid statistics come finals time. Just back the team that wants it most.
29/09/2012