When I moved to Melbourne at the beginning of 2020, the one element of the city’s culture I was most looking forward to subjecting myself to was the stranglehold AFL has on every Melburnian’s social life. Little did I know that I had arrived just in time to miss two years of live football.
Having grown up in Sydney’s inner-south and regional NSW, rugby league and the South Sydney Rabbitohs were my first sporting loves (and I remain a die-hard Bunnies tragic), but in 2012, like every stereotypical Swans fan, I jumped on board the footy bandwagon when we took out the grand final. Over the next decade, my appreciation for the Bloods was nurtured by two close friends, Gareth and Dave, who had similarly grown up in rugby league territory – western Sydney. They became my mentors for everything Swans and AFL, gently passing on the statistics, stories, and generational rivalries that are compulsory for fans of any sport.
I jumped on board the Swans bandwagon when we took out the 2012 premiership.Credit:Pat Scala
The first few years after the premiership were grim, but ended up bonding me to the club for life. Not because we struggled to play good football – we consistently made the finals, and had another two grand final appearances and a couple of minor premierships – but because of the deep injustice dealt to Adam Goodes. The inability of the AFL, most in the media, and the wider community to acknowledge the racism and harm being perpetrated against a legend of the game, and a legend of Sydney, was hard to weigh up against my growing love of the sport.
For relatively new fans of the code, it was an era full of contradictions. How was it possible to deeply immerse yourself in an institution and a culture that was making it clear it had little regard for Indigenous players? On the other hand, wasn’t being a proudly staunch Swans, and Goodes, supporter the best way to strike back against those who insisted “it’s not about race”?
Ultimately, Goodes walked away from the game – one of its greatest tragedies – but for the 2012 generation, it was a galvanising period. We joined at a joyous moment, and we raged together during a bleak one. There was no turning back.
Being a Swans fan, even in Sydney, can be an isolating experience. Not only were you dismissed by those in the Melbourne-dominated league, within your own city you belong to a tribe that has historically little support outside a few wealthy inner-city pockets. Trying to get friends together to go the pub to watch a game was always an endeavour., both because not that many people cared about AFL and because Sydney’s pubs largely remain staunchly loyal to rugby league (shout out to the Warren View for always making Swans fans feel at home).
Adam Goodes walking away from the games after ongoing racial abuse was one of the game’s greatest tragedies.Credit:Sebastian Costanzo
At times, it was hard to avoid being jealous of friends in Melbourne, who packed out venues across the city, pubs full to the brim of fans in scarves and guernseys, chanting their team songs and celebrating the city’s famous love of footy. So, when it came time to make the move to Melbourne, I couldn’t wait to experience it for myself.
Of course, I didn’t expect the same level of community spirit as Richmond fans who meet up on Swan Street (great name, by the way) and then march down to the MCG together. But being in a city that cared about footy, even if they didn’t share my love for the Swans, was enough.
Alas, it wasn’t to be. I managed to arrive in Melbourne just in time for a pandemic to shunt footy out of the city for near two years, robbing us of local games, shared experiences and two grand finals. The stress and trauma of the past two years, however, made those moments when we were allowed to gather to watch – in homes or at stadiums – all the sweeter. Seeing my first Swans game at the MCG was a day I’d been waiting a decade for, and the fact we beat the Tigers made it a day I’ll never forget. Thanks to my friend and fellow Melbourne-based Swans diehard Scott, I’ve got to know the Rising Sun – a South Melbourne pub that has loyally remained behind the Swans, even as the team crossed interstate.
I can admit that there’s nothing particularly romantic about the Swans’ narrative. The team has barely been in Sydney for a generation, meaning most supporters are code converts, or entirely new to the sport. Our supporter base is mocked for being well-heeled and gentrified, which is likely the result of our nucleus being eastern suburbs and north shore-based SCG members looking to make the most of their membership during the winter cricket off-season.
But as the team’s base has grown, it’s become undeniable that the Swans have become part of the fabric of the city. Seeing thousands pour onto the SCG when Lance Franklin kicked his 1000th goal was one of the greatest moments in Australian sporting history.
A premiership win this weekend isn’t a reprieve from a particularly long drought, or a victory for the true-believers, or some kind of underdog, come-from-behind moment. We’re a great team with a great coach, a great culture, and a great future. But for someone who fell in love with the Swans 10 years ago, watching us cap off an extraordinary season and extraordinary decade, alongside 100,000 cheering fans at the MCG, will be one of the happiest moments of my life.
