AFL: It's a grand old flag

When the world’s oldest professional football club won its most recent premiership way back in 1964, Neil Mitchell was a young Melbourne supporter with a Saturday afternoon paper round delivering The Herald and The Sporting Globe near his Elwood home.

“I couldn’t go to the game, because I had to work. And I said to myself ‘oh, it doesn’t matter, I’ll go next year when you’re in the grand final’,’’ recalls Mitchell, then 12, now 69. “That was their last premiership. They’ve been in the grand final twice and I’ve gone to both of those and we got whipped both times.’’

Ah, yes. Sigh. That would be 1988 (a record 96-point loss to Hawthorn), and 2000 (a 10-goal belting, in every respect, from Essendon). This reporter was also burdened with an underwhelming family inheritance; a football writer privileged to have been a Demons’ Team-of-the-Century selector in 2000 who never imagined that two more decades would pass without success.

No wonder Mitchell, too, is a self-described “fatalist”, as his once-mighty club endures the longest active VFL/AFL premiership drought now that the Swans (72 years) and Bulldogs (62) have raised the Cup since 2005. The next thirstiest in a queue no-one wants to join is St Kilda, whose sole success came by a single Barry Breen point in 1966, with the most heart-wrenching of five subsequent grand final appearances the 2010 draw.

Indeed, there is a kind of unofficial kinship between supporters of habitual losers – with the probable exception of Collingwood, who have won just two flags since 1958, but, are, well, still Collingwood – that adds a layer of both joy and why-couldn’t-it-be-us envy when an wretchedly long dry spell ends.

Merv Hughes knows all about footy pain. The 53-Test cricketer turned media personality/fishing show host grew up in Werribee in Melbourne’s outer west, and still lives near the mighty Maribyrnong. A lifelong Bulldogs fan, he was born two months after Footscray’s previous grand final, and seven years after their only flag, but rode the emotion from an elimination final to that extraordinary triumph in 2016.

“I’ve been around for long enough to know that fairytales very rarely come true,’’ says Hughes, who played so often on the MCG, but admits to being far more nervous watching the Doggies than representing his state or country.

Late in the 2016 season, he hosted an official function wearing an ancient club tracksuit top, rejecting the offer of a newer version in case he was mistaken for that despised breed of fan: the bandwagon-jumper. “I said no, no, just let people know that I’ve supported the Bulldogs for a long time – that I’m a tragic from years gone by’.’’

These things matter, you see. As, for so many – including the vast majority of unaligned supporters –  did the 22-point defeat of the Swans on that unforgettable spring day. For Hughes, the reaction was “probably relief, more than anything. And very happy, obviously. As happy as a supporter of any team could be’’.

Long-suffering Dees such as 3AW Breakfast co-host Russel Howcroft and Nine’s sports presenter Clint Stanaway can only imagine what that kind of joy feels like, and both wonder how they might react if the moment ever comes.

Stanaway always remembers his dad, John, a Melbourne life member and head trainer for the past 24 years, telling him it was “character-building”, and having no choice but to stay the course. He was 14 when the Stanaways, active in the “Demon Alternative” movement desperate to avoid the planned merger with Hawthorn, attended the famous meeting at Dallas Brooks Hall.

“From an early age, (the footy club) just became something extraordinary in our family, as it does in many Victorian families.’’

Even now, Stanaway finds Hawks’ supporters – laughing that many of them are his close mates – the worst type, having won 12 pennants since Melbourne’s 12th and last. “It just irks me seeing them take success for granted. Cos all I want is one. All my Dad wants is one. And many Melbourne supporters probably feel the same.’’

Stanaway is allowing himself “a trickle more confidence to potentially allow ourselves to dream – maybe!’’, now that the Demons are assured of a first final since it all ended so meekly against West Coast in the 2018 preliminary in Perth.

“I’ve gone from being the real pessimist to being… I wouldn’t say an optimist, but just allowing myself to think ‘geez, what would it be like, and for how many days afterwards would I be partying?’.’’

Howcroft is another who was born into a staunch Demon family, and the former board member recalls the loud groans when his opening line at supporter functions was the sad fact he was born in 1965. Oh dear. Still, young Russ fronted up to every Melbourne home game with his grandparents, and older Russ refuses to lose faith.

“My grandmother had a red cushion, my grandfather had a blue cushion, and invariably we would leave half-way through the third quarter, because we were always losing, and they wanted to beat the traffic. Then of course it turned into ‘we’ll leave at three-quarter time’. Oh my God!’’

Yet, despite the scarring, and the fact he is president of a 50-strong self-help group of former officials, players, sponsors and volunteers called the Mental Demons that lunch at least twice a year, united in their “affliction and addiction”, Howcroft remains resolute. “All of my friends know that I think we’re going to win every year,’’ he says. “Sometimes on the radio I get accused of being false positive. Just like the virus.’’

Still, the man who has vowed to get a tattoo – perhaps a red and blue heart above his own – if the ultimate success if achieved, he is also very conscious of the fact he may never see a flag in his lifetime. And, while certain he will be ecstatic for the players who have carried an unfair burden of failure passed on from their forebears, Howcroft suspects it might also feel slightly hollow. “I think a lot of us Melbourne supporters would be saying to ourselves: what are we going to do now? What are we going to look forward to now?’.’’

Mitchell subscribes to the theory it is excessively risky to expect too much, for fear of being disappointed, while acknowledging the enormity of the potential reward. Especially now. A sport that is a grand passion for so many and, in Mitchell’s words,“crucial to your state of mind in Victoria”, has never been more important than during the past two seasons, when Covid lockdowns have been as inevitable as a Magpie crisis or a Dusty Martin master class.

“Even when you’re defeated it brings some joy, because you sort of enjoy the process of hoping you can win. Even as a Melbourne supporter,’’ says Mitchell. “You start with a clean slate. The scores are level when the first ball’s bounced, and that gives you that element of hope, and we need that little bit of optimism more than ever.’’

So is the one-time paperboy daring to dream of front-page premiership news this year? ”Nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh, nuh. I’m a Melbourne supporter, I don’t trust ‘em!’’ Mitchell says. “But I’m loving it, of course, it’s been terrific, and they’ve performed beautifully in a couple of games, and abysmally in others, and every time they have a bad game I think ‘oh that’s it, the bubble’s burst. That’s the end’.

“But I’ve been thinking that since 1965.’’