We Did It

“We did it.”

Those three words I wouldn’t have even considered being muttered by a Richmond Football Club coach; and especially not after the debacle when the Tigers went down to Sydney by 113 points to close out the 2016 season.

Such was my frustration with the team I had been a member of for over 20 years, I booked a round-the-world trip a week later that would see me miss all but the first two games of the 2017 home and away season. I had enough. Anyone who knows me can vouch for how emotionally invested I am in this team. I don’t miss games; I travel interstate to watch them at least twice a year. But I was at a tipping point, so I decided to take a break.

This trip was something I had wanted to do for a very long time. I’m not ashamed to admit that a major reason I had held off on this opportunity was how I’d feel if one day my Tigers turned it around and I wouldn’t be there to witness it. This time around I didn’t have that internal guilt. Does that sound fair-weather? Maybe, but only fellow Tigers fans can truly relate with how much we invest in this club emotionally and financially. I felt like I had earned it.

I can’t pinpoint where my frustration was lying at the conclusion of the season. I felt we were wasting some once-in-a-generation type talent at the club. I was angry with the coach, yet felt he was not solely to blame. I was confused just as much as anyone.

The summer of 2016 was different for me. I rarely logged on to the club website and I didn’t even watch the National Draft; an event I thoroughly enjoyed and studied so in depth since I can remember. I was checked out. Yet no matter how down I was about next season’s prospects, no matter how little I enjoyed watching the team play in recent times, even though I would’ve only been in town for two games, I still had to invest with a membership at the very minimum.

By the time the JLT Series rolled around, I got a slight taste for it again. I was becoming slightly more optimistic. I secluded myself from the pre-season noise, so I came in blind with our first game against Adelaide. I only needed a glimpse – something had changed. We looked exciting, care-free, rejuvenated, and child-like in a way. It was the birth of the now famous ‘mosquito fleet’ as we know it. I got the pre-season butterflies again.

The two home and away games I got to witness were both wins. Carlton and Collingwood, you can’t get much better than that. I left the country buzzing with excitement, yet I had a feeling I’d be potentially missing a special season. It’s amazing how much things can change so quickly.

Along my travels I didn’t miss a single minute of Richmond’s season. No matter what was happening around me, the time zone differences, limited internet access – where there was a will there was a way, all through the screen of an iPad.

From Daniel Rioli’s goal of the year effort against West Coast in Memphis, to the Anzac Day Eve comeback against Melbourne in New Orleans, the heartbreaking month of last-minute losses driving along the coast of California, Dreamtime at the ‘G in Toronto, the Port Adelaide win in enemy territory watching from Stockholm, the St Kilda win to propel us into the top four in Dublin and of course the qualifying final against Geelong from my hotel room in Lisbon – there I was, soaking in every minute of it. We were addictive to watch, no matter how far away I was.

I am lucky in a way. Every moment of the season I can attribute back to where I was and what I was doing with consummate ease. I got to celebrate Dusty re-signing by throwing tomatoes at strangers at La Tomatina, I remember the AFL appealing Bachar Houli’s suspension while I was at a karaoke bar in Helsinki. I won’t forget any of those moments.

The reality of it all sunk in when Geelong beat GWS in round 23. I had been doing the calculations and ladder predictions for about a fortnight prior during my spare time on the long bus trips and flights. The final part of the equation was to beat St Kilda in the second-last match of the season and we would have ourselves a date with Geelong at the MCG in a qualifying final. The word gets thrown around a lot, wrongly or rightly, but it would’ve been very ‘Richmondy’ to drop that last game and therefore tumble outside of the top four.

Not this year. Nope. 

This team had fight. It had a system that would make beating them a mental grind more than anything skilful or tactical.

The seas had parted. From the time the final siren went in round 23 I felt it was our premiership to lose. I booked my flight home earlier than anticipated. I was due to land in Melbourne four days before a potential preliminary final. I was confident, oh so confident. I didn’t tell many people, if any, which is easy to say now, but take my word for it.

The day before the qualifying final, I checked into my hostel in Lisbon. A private room of course, there was business to be done. I had one issue – the Wi-Fi was rubbish. Luckily I had planned for this and forked out some Euro’s for a 30GB Portuguese data SIM. That was more than enough for pre-game radio, the match and a replay later if I was in the mood to watch it again.

I planned a large day in the searing heat – enough so I could get home and pass out and wake up for game time. The match was due to start at 11:50am, but as expected no matter how many kilometres I walked exploring the city of Lisbon, there was no sleep to be had that evening.

Nervous as hell, mainly because I was so confident we’d trounce Geelong, I spent my morning ‘begrudgingly’ at Starbucks. Four coffees later I was back in the room and ready to go. This was it. I’m one win away from seeing my team play in a preliminary final for the first time since I was ten years old.

Eight minutes into the final quarter, Kane Lambert snapped a goal to put us 28 points up. My best mate and travel buddy, a die-hard Port Adelaide supporter who experienced despair only a day later, got up and walked out of the room not before muttering the words “well done mate.” Being a life-long Richmond supporter, we all know the lead was not a comfortable one by any stretch of the imagination. Less than 20 minutes later he wanders back into the room to see me sobbing uncontrollably. “You guys haven’t choked have ya?” What seemed like torture on the outside was pure delight from within. “No, we’re 51 points up,” I mumbled before choking up again. It was Cotchin’s final quarter goal that broke me. What a game he played. My dreams were now a reality; the next time Richmond play, I’ll be there. The phone calls started streaming in, the Facebook posts suggesting I should stay where I am, the congratulatory tweets, it was utter jubilation.  I didn’t know which app to check, my hands were shaking, this is just football for God’s sake! Pull yourself together Kristian.

The last ten days of my trip I struggled to enjoy. All I could think about was how Townsend was going to negate Haynes, would GWS look more dangerous with their now smaller line up; but mostly I was trying to figure out how GWS could beat us. I couldn’t.

There had to be a slice of drama, of course. This was never going to go smoothly – I should’ve known this. Four days before I was due to fly back home, I was robbed in Paris. Two passports, wallet; everything. My flight home was from Munich – we were spending our last weekend of the trip at Oktoberfest, what a way to go out! I was due to catch a bus from Paris to Munich a day after I was robbed. I NEEDED to get on that bus! All these thoughts were running through my head, I was an emotional wreck for a day. Without a passport I wasn’t coming home any time soon. Luckily I was granted an emergency passport by the Australian Embassy (which I am thankful for every day) and I got on that bus, just.

Oktoberfest was a blast, but my mind was elsewhere. Knowing what I was coming home to, seeing my family for the first time in six months, I couldn’t contain myself. Never did a 30 hour transit feel so good.

The Preliminary Final was a day I’ll never forget. I was too calm for this. I was the calmest out of everyone I attended the game with. It was pure excitement for me; the crowd, the buzz – the stars probably won’t align like that again. The first two minutes of that game were unforgettable. I just remember everyone looking at each other after Caddy snapped the second goal. No one said anything, but if you could make a face that exclaimed “HOLY SHIT”, everyone was sporting it.

We made it.  Bloody hell, we made it.

Being new territory for me, I wasn’t going to miss a thing. Training sessions, Swan St beers, Grand Final Footy Show, parade – I was there.

The most stressful aspect of the week was getting my hands on two tickets. I wasn’t going without my dad. We’ve hardly missed a game together for the past 20 years - we weren’t going to see this one apart. We got lucky, and I still feel sick to the stomach for those that weren’t as fortunate as we were.

Was I confident going into the game? Yes. I felt it was our game to lose. All the match ups I spent all week pondering eventuated.

I always had this vision that if I ever got to witness a Richmond Grand Final that I wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed and make it to the game. I always thought I just wouldn’t be able to watch it. Thankfully I was wrong. I enjoyed every minute of the pre-game. I honestly don’t know what came over me this year but I was as cool as a cucumber.

The only moment of angst I experienced during the day was when Eddie Betts walked into an open goal in the first quarter. We were sitting in a majority Adelaide crowd, and I tried to remain calm but inside I was thinking ‘oh here we go’. A few minutes later I nudged dad and said ‘we’ve settled here’. He had his head resting in one hand, he could barely watch. Houli’s running snap goal to put us in front got him up and about finally though.

At half-time I snuck out to get some fresh air. I was shaking. I was trying to check the stats to back up what I was seeing but I could barely punch in my PIN code on my iPhone. I needed to tell someone what I was seeing. I couldn’t tell dad, he was too nervous. I called my mum. She was sitting at home watching the game. I was bordering on tears. “Hey mum *pause*, we’re going to win the Grand Final. We’re not going to lose this, we’ve broken them.” We were only nine bloody points up, but Adelaide was a shadow of what they had been all season. I had a good look at them walking off the ground at half-time and they were arguing with each other, they looked rattled.

It took until Dan Butler’s goal with six minutes to go for dad to get his head out of his hands and give me a bear hug. By that stage I was already ten minutes into the waterworks. That was a moment I’ll never forget. A whole timeline of events came to me suddenly. From my very first football game when  we sat in the freezing cold as we got pumped by the Saints at Waverley, to not wanting to go to school on Mondays because I’d get teased about barracking for Richmond.

It was the best day of my life. I have 22 blokes who I don’t even know to thank for it. That’s how good sport is.

My first Richmond premiership was nowhere near how I had imagined it panning out, but I wouldn’t change a thing. The journey getting there was the special part for me. Spending it with the people who have been along that journey the whole way was the icing on the cake. It was unconventional, but it was awesome.

#gotiges