IN WHAT amounts to a pretty sad week for the A-League it may be worth remembering that – for the fans – it’s more than the game that gets us in.
To see Adelaide training...
I've had a pretty interesting week or so myself since snapping my Achilles tendon and going on to hospital to have it reattached, along with all the associated pain, drugs and inconvenience. Strangely enough it's been a time where I've been incredibly busy but also incredibly aware of the many good things that make up my life.
Football is definitely one of those things. I've been scared I may never play again. Or play at the level I was playing at. That's truly scary because I was already pretty bad!
It has reminded me just how much I enjoy being a fan though. And how much I enjoy the whole experience of being at the ground and supporting my team.
I like the drive to Hindmarsh, the mounting anticipation about the game and the regular conversations about what the score will be. Always wrong but irresistible when you're in that pre-match state and it seems credible that your team really will score three or four goals.
"Tell him he's dreaming".
I like flashing my members card and waltzing in with my family or friends. I like the walk to the area we sit in, hoping that the best seats won't be taken - or getting there early to watch the Youth or W-league and knowing that the best seats are mine!
I like the first beer and the sight of the playing surface; the first, yelled piece of useless advice to players or ref; the sun setting over Adelaide and the sight of the stands filling up (yes, Martha, we still have fans who attend).
I like the banter, the families, the old men who have played since they were five and now watch with disdain. I like the obnoxious teenagers who think they're Kaka and their bleached blonde girlfriends/boyfriends who tag along because there's something vicariously exciting about being at the game.
I like the teams trooping out, the kick-off and the gradual awareness of how we might be playing this week - and how crap the ref will be.
I like the ever mounting tension and ever more ridiculous taunts and cheers from the crowd. The way my brother turns from serious academic into flaming-eyed, foul-mouthed, football lunatic - and back. I am, of course, totally calm at all times.
I like the way that, when we score, the place goes off like a thousand firecrackers and no-one's quiet or self-conscious anymore.
It's something to do with being part of a community of people who care about something passionately enough to be there together and will it into being. A seething mass of Red fans who know that it's not all going to end well but just want to be there for the nights when it does.
There are plenty of fans who don't make games for all sorts of reasons. I can't be one of those anymore. I need my Hindmarsh fix. I want to be there when my team plays.
It's more than the game. It's what the game brings into being. That's why being a fan is so bloody good.
See you at the match. I'll be the one on crutches. Mind your step!
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This blog is in no way directed at the GCU situation but I can't help thinking that maybe if Clive Palmer went to the games with some friends, sat in the stands and bought beer from the vendors, he might start to understand that the game isn't a business at all levels. I hope he wakes up and GCU survive to make a whole generation of new fans part of the football experience.
For the moment I'm glad to be a supporter of a team that still draws crowds - even when we're struggling.
Roll on Friday.
To see Adelaide training...
