Is there anything in a football fan's life better than the perfect season? Probably, but Brisbane Roar's 2010/2011 A-League effort offered a pretty good argument as to why there isn't. It was, in a word, special.
After recently completing Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch - which, despite the sometimes uncomfortable retelling of his personal issues ("get back to the football, dammit!"), I would recommend to anyone - I've moved onto My Favourite Year, a collection of football fan's stories compiled by Hornby, which gleefully had me back thinking about Brisbane's incredible season - one worth reminiscing about, if only for my own enjoyment.
Like a couple of downtrodden old geezers who had stood on the terraces for decade after decade without tasting success, my brother and I both agreed at the end of the 2009/2010 season that Brisbane would be doomed to mediocrity - and not even mid-table, finals-earning mediocrity, either - for eternity. We had come to this conclusion after another promising season had ended in disappointment, though this time with more of an implosion than usual. Ridiculous and somewhat selfish, of course, but that's how it felt.
Probably the best example of what an unlikely turnaround in fortunes (on field, that is) the club experienced over the course of the next 12 months would be the two-legged Major Semi-Final against Central Coast. It just so happened that the first-leg was also my first proper away trip as a football supporter (I'd been to Townsville a couple of seasons prior but there's only so much of the away trip experience you can have before turning 18, with a parent in tow).
For once Brisbane Roar had claimed pole position for Grand Final qualification. It was ours for the taking. No need for one of those wretched Preliminary Finals, no heartbreaking, see-sawing struggle in Newcastle or Fabian Barbiero once-in-a-lifetime, couldn't-hit-that-against-anyone-else-if-he-tried wonder strike. No, this was our time to do it the easy way. And we did: Kosta Barbarouses and Matt McKay had the good grace to reward me, my brother and our mate's efforts to support them. The delayed flight, struggle with train timetables, attraction of Newcastle fans ("JETS! JETS! JETS!") with our high-res jerseys, daylight saving time confusion ("what time is our flight? 7:30 or 8:30?"), mystery traveller in the youth hostel bunk-bed above mine (beaten by the laws of shotgun once again); it was all worth it for those two moments of celebration. It wasn't much of a spectacle in comparison to other hallmark fixtures throughout the season; it was just getting the job done for once.
4-0 over Adelaide at home to confirm our title credentials ("We. Are. Top of the league!"), the 'incident' and chaos of the 3-3 draw away to Melbourne Victory ("WE WILL WIN THIS LEAGUE"), the 4-0 thumping of Gold Coast to finally get that monkey off the back (yes, yes, 5-1, blah, blah, blah) and the relief of the 2-2 home Semi-Final leg against the Mariners all have stronger claims to the most sensational match of a sensational run. To pick just one standout would be cruel, which must be why the players involved in the Grand Final decided to serve up a clear winner in the form of the greatest sporting event of all time (though with a little more media coverage who knows how my indoor side's Thursday Open A1 Division title would have been received...).
The match simply had it all. Any emotion or state of mind you could hope to imagine, and probably some that have never been conceived before, was present: excitement, elation, fright and inebriation to name just a few - and that was before kick-off. The fear felt during the second leg of the major-semi final became very real during extra-time and had me cursing the very team which had provided so much joy over the space of the previous 31 weeks. Soon enough, though, I was revelling in a mutual love for those very same players with everyone who had the common sense to remain in the stadium. An emotional rollercoaster indeed.
Later in the evening we stood and watched people entering the private post-match function hoping for one of the youth-teamers to invite us in for a quiet drink. That cunning plan didn't quite work out, but watching the replay was an adequate consolation.
Fast forward to now and my first ever membership has been confirmed (hold your pitchforks - I always attended but never got around to an actual season ticket). If I am to eventually become one of those old geezers it will be with the memory of that dream season all those years ago. Who knows which club's supporters will get to experience their greatest ever season in 2011/2012, because I certainly didn't predict it to be us last term. It could be a Central Coast, an Adelaide or even a Perth (okay, maybe not Perth). So, come kick-off next season, I encourage you to forget FFA, FIFA and Buckley for just a moment and appreciate what a fantastic league we have.
