On Saturday afternoon, despite the disappointment, it was hard for this Swans fan not to crack a smile watching the Brisbane Lions’ Oscar McInerney lose his shit while teammate Darcy Fort collected his premiership medal.
In the Swans’ 2022 grand final loss, Geelong’s Joel Selwood was swarmed by his team with three minutes to go, kicking a glorious goal to end his 355-game career with a fourth flag. In 2016, the stadium wept when the Western Bulldogs’ Bob Murphy found himself on stage with a premiership medal hanging around his neck. In 2014, the Hawks had the last laugh over Bud the Swan in a one-sided romp en route to their historic threepeat.
Groundhog Day for Swans’ supporters. Credit: The Age
Saturday afternoon was Groundhog Day for the Sydney men and Swans’ fans, who are probably wondering whether it’s their lot in life to set the scene for another’s triumph. I definitely am.
Almost. Almost, almost almost.
It’s only a game. True. For the past 20 years, Swans fans haven’t suffered in the soul-sucking way others have. Every year, the folklore of the ’05 and ’12 victories grows stronger: Leo Barry’s mark, Malceski’s sealer, Goodes playing out 2012 with a ruptured PCL.
But every year, these moments slide further behind us, and in the hurt of a fourth consecutive loss in a grand final appearance, the fourth in 11 years, it’s hard not to wonder when or if the ultimate payoff will come again. In the immediate aftermath, we search for some something concrete: it was a good season, we just fell short; Brisbane deserved it and we weren’t good enough on the day; we’ll be back again next year, harder and stronger because of the loss; without the lows you don’t feel the euphoric highs.
Or something harsher: second place counts for nothing and, in the end, the only thing that matters is silverware.
I’m sure plenty of others are searching in the same way. I haven’t ventured onto the club’s Facebook or Instagram comments and probably won’t, knowing I’ll find a cesspit of pissed-off fans crucifying the club for another disappointing grand final, and less pissed-off fans telling those fans to STFU and be grateful of the seventh season in 20 years that ended on the last Saturday of September.
From the moment a prelim is won, fans start the chaos of grand final week. A fever-dream of hope and a scramble for tickets, flights and accommodation: if I’m a priority 3 member, will I have a chance in the ballot? Not anymore. Whose couch can I sleep on? Keep trying. Will it be cheaper if I fly to Melbourne via Canberra? Probably. Via Darwin? Maybe?
With that beautiful chaos over, we are left to grapple with questions that remain unanswered. There’s a nothingness to this for Sydney – club and fans again left in limbo, wondering how to assess another season that burnt out on the MCG.
Compared with losses in ’14, ‘16 and ’22, 2024 feels the most inexplicable, the most difficult to come to terms with. Not only does four seem far too many in such a short period of time – with three of the four brutal drubbings that were all but over at half-time – but the list is strong and healthy, the preparation felt good, and the team belted by Geelong two years prior had shown an enormous amount of growth since that day.
Crucially for any interstate team, there was no question this time over the integrity of a grand final played against a Victorian team on Victorian soil. This was a fair fight from the outset – so what happened?
Yes, we were killed in contested ball. Yes, Brisbane tackled harder. Yes, the game was played entirely on their terms (158 marks). But why? We do not know. Right now, there is little to hold onto, no silver lining, no bright spot on a dark day*. We are left with the same question we had coming in: does this club have the sheer will and guts to win on the biggest stage?
In the heartbreak, I’m sure that keyboard warriors and fair-weather fans will declare the end of their membership. This is fine. The SCG is bursting at the seams and, as we’ve seen on multiple occasions this year, there’s a literal line of people waiting to take their seat.
For most – those who find a way to stomach the loss – we’ll go again. This year has been euphoric and thrilling and a devastating rush. Uncertain though it may be, of course we’ll go again.
* Dane Rampe has delivered two of the best, most gut-wrenching speeches as losing captain. Credit to him, I hope he never has to do that again.
Zoe Wulff is a lifelong Swans fan.
