THE LIFE of a football fan is a series of highs and lows that take no account of what’s going on in the rest of your life.

Sure, there are the years of mid-table mediocrity when your team isn’t really going anywhere but, even then, there are the heart in mouth moments each game when what might have been just fails to be.

For those of us bitten with the bug of football fanaticism, it’s just not possible to explain the gamut of emotion we experience – especially to anyone who just doesn’t get the football thing. “It’s just a game”, they say. Yeah, like breathing is just sucking in and blowing out air – but if you don’t do it you die.

So this last couple of weeks in Adelaide was a rollercoaster for so many of us who love the Reds. The absolute euphoria of qualifying for the ACL final - and then, for so many, the heartbreak of realising that we just weren’t going to get tickets to see our beloved team play in it.

It got me thinking about those moments that are forever seared into the brain and heart of any fan who really cares. I think they fall into three categories.

1. Heartbreak. For those old enough to remember it well, November 29, 1997 was a night of hope an horror. At the Melbourne Cricket Ground, in front of a crowd of over 88,000 – and with millions watching on TV – Australia played Iran for a place in the World Cup Finals. We were up 2-0 and I was ecstatic. The country was embracing the game and we were going to the ‘big stage’. Then Iran scored. Then they scored again. Then the whistle blew and we were out. Gone. Finished. I can still remember the pain I felt that night. The pain that refused to go away for days afterwards. The complete disbelief that somehow we’d managed to lose the dream and all we had left was this sick, hollow feeling that just kept gnawing away.

2. Pride. The FA Cup 2006. West Ham (the team I have been cursed and blessed to support for 35 years) up against Liverpool. One of the greatest FA Cup Finals ever. West Ham weren’t supposed to be there but the Cup had thrown up another surprise and there we were. In the other corner, Liverpool, blessed with riches and players West Ham could only dream about. Then the unbelievable happens. The Hammers are up 1-0, then 2-0. Liverpool come back, 2-1 then 2-2. West Ham go up again! It’s a miracle. A minute to go and we’re Cup winners again. Then that brilliant mongrel, Gerrard, slams home a wonder goal and we’re into penalties. And of course the Hammers lose. But that night it hurt but didn’t scar. That night every Hammers fan walked taller because our team stood up and took it to Liverpool. No disgrace. Honour – even in defeat.

3. Unbridled Joy. Step forward to October 8, 2008. We’re at Hindmarsh for the semi-final of the ACL. The stadium is full of nervous, proud, expectant Reds fans. We’re up against a team coached by Zico and boasting the aging, but still potent, talents of Rivaldo. They have money to burn. We have burning ambition. And everything goes right for us. First Diego, then Barbiero, then Christiano scores. The place goes nuts. We’re screaming and jumping and fists are pumping the air. Every person in red is smiling, the team has come of age and we’re in a place we never dreamed we’d be. There were a lot of cars left around Hindmarsh that night. Who needs to drive home when you can fly.

And all for a game that involves kicking a round ball up and down a field of grass. Bizarre, isn’t it? But if you’re a fan you’ll understand. And if you’re an Adelaide fan you might know what it felt like on Tuesday morning last week when you realised you wouldn’t be there for the Final.

I’m a family man with kids in a one-income house. We can’t manage memberships so there was no chance of priority booking for us. So come Tuesday I sat refreshing two computers screens every 30 seconds hoping for tickets online.

I called the ticket agency every minute for over an hour until I finally heard on the radio that every ticket was gone. Then I told my son we weren’t going. Some days life sucks. So, heartbreak – but we’re in the final and we’ll watch it on a big screen somewhere. We’re proud to be fans of United. And come November 12 , I hope we’ll be jumping and screaming again with unbridled joy as the Reds lift the ACL Cup.

I’d be interested to hear some of your moments of Heartbreak, Pride and Joy.

Slater Grates
Is anyone else sick to death of listening to Robbie Slater call the games? I mean, the man’s got a track record as a player but who decided to give him this gig? He’s like a tape loop with two sentences. On Friday night it was, “Adelaide look tired” and “Melbourne are by far the better team”. Fair cop, Melbourne caught us when we were exhausted and were just good enough to scrape a win, but seriously, is that all Robbie can manage over 90 minutes? The least he could do is be quiet and let Simon Hill talk. At least he can get beyond the obvious. Lift your game, Robbie!

Viddie’s a Homeboy
Nice to see Viddie read my last blog and has chosen to stay on! I am happy to claim credit for this in the same way fans often feel they can influence games on TV holding their breath, closing their eyes, not looking away or putting off going to the toilet. In other words – not at all. All the same, it’s great to hear that the man who has led us to the ACL Final knows where he belongs.