Raw Toast
29-09-2016, 02:18 PM
So who knew that Grand Final week would be so exhausting?
Of course I should have known this, given that I study the passions of sports fans (among other things), but perhaps some things you have to experience for yourself, plus barrackers who have been there before talked more of the grand final than the week leading up to it.
Nevertheless, I wanted to write about one of the tensions that I've been feeling as a Bulldogs barracker this week - not sure if it is of interest to others or not, but I find writing helpful for at least myself in these instances and thought I'd put it out there anyway.
Like so many others, I've spent much of my time as a barracker craving a premiership - for me it began in 1983, with my first heartbreak in 85 and lots of joy and grief since then. I'll be heartbroken if we lose on Saturday, but while we live for these moments and the chance (and hopefully realisation) of glory, it still feels important for me at least to note that even if we lose, I feel privileged to be a Bulldogs barracker.
I know that others have at times a more embittered relationship to the club, and there are good reasons for that. But I love this club and the absurdly meaningful role that they play in my life.
A friend recently wrote to me that those unfortunate enough to not have a footy team (or other sporting team) have "no collective soul":
There is no collective story happening in front of them and in their lives, no Dionysiac cult which regularly abolishes all meaningful distinctions between individual selves - those moments where every single person is experiencing, essentially the same sensate emotions and conceptual horrors slash exultation. The closest to that which they get is... plays, and movies, and books and the like. All wonderful things, they keep me alive at various junctures in my life, I'm not knocking them, but they are not the same. Partly they are not the same because on some level we know that these stories have already been written, by someone else, and we now experiencing them, well or badly, but experiencing them after the fact. The best of them make us forget this fact while they are happening. But in football... What happens to the souls of non-football supporters after they die? They must perish utterly, poor creatures. Verily they deserve our pity.
And not only that, but my club, *our bloody club*, has fought against the odds at every moment. Nothing been given to the Dogs, we have fought and scrapped through everything, and hopefully we stand at the dawn of a dynasty that makes us hated for our success. I'm not greedy. After we've won 5 flags in a row, I probably won't mind *too* much if we don't win the next one. But even if this dynasty doesn't eventuate, even if the heartbreak continues, I'll love the club and appreciate being part of a collective soul with all our glorious and painful history.
There's much more to be said of course, about the cruel, addictive, intoxicating, glorious uncertainty of this game that draws us to its flame, the way it's not all about the premiership while being all about the premiership, but enough for now...
I want a flag more dearly than so many other things, but the privilege of being able to barrack for the Bulldogs is enough, even if no flag comes. If we wanted to chase flags over everything else we'd have chosen other teams a long time ago. Give me the Bulldogs over that any day - I'll take barracking for us over any other club. They'll never take the euphoria of these last three weeks off me (and what an extraordinary season it has been), and I'll keep woofing, snarling and cheering for the red, white and blue until the end.
Of course I should have known this, given that I study the passions of sports fans (among other things), but perhaps some things you have to experience for yourself, plus barrackers who have been there before talked more of the grand final than the week leading up to it.
Nevertheless, I wanted to write about one of the tensions that I've been feeling as a Bulldogs barracker this week - not sure if it is of interest to others or not, but I find writing helpful for at least myself in these instances and thought I'd put it out there anyway.
Like so many others, I've spent much of my time as a barracker craving a premiership - for me it began in 1983, with my first heartbreak in 85 and lots of joy and grief since then. I'll be heartbroken if we lose on Saturday, but while we live for these moments and the chance (and hopefully realisation) of glory, it still feels important for me at least to note that even if we lose, I feel privileged to be a Bulldogs barracker.
I know that others have at times a more embittered relationship to the club, and there are good reasons for that. But I love this club and the absurdly meaningful role that they play in my life.
A friend recently wrote to me that those unfortunate enough to not have a footy team (or other sporting team) have "no collective soul":
There is no collective story happening in front of them and in their lives, no Dionysiac cult which regularly abolishes all meaningful distinctions between individual selves - those moments where every single person is experiencing, essentially the same sensate emotions and conceptual horrors slash exultation. The closest to that which they get is... plays, and movies, and books and the like. All wonderful things, they keep me alive at various junctures in my life, I'm not knocking them, but they are not the same. Partly they are not the same because on some level we know that these stories have already been written, by someone else, and we now experiencing them, well or badly, but experiencing them after the fact. The best of them make us forget this fact while they are happening. But in football... What happens to the souls of non-football supporters after they die? They must perish utterly, poor creatures. Verily they deserve our pity.
And not only that, but my club, *our bloody club*, has fought against the odds at every moment. Nothing been given to the Dogs, we have fought and scrapped through everything, and hopefully we stand at the dawn of a dynasty that makes us hated for our success. I'm not greedy. After we've won 5 flags in a row, I probably won't mind *too* much if we don't win the next one. But even if this dynasty doesn't eventuate, even if the heartbreak continues, I'll love the club and appreciate being part of a collective soul with all our glorious and painful history.
There's much more to be said of course, about the cruel, addictive, intoxicating, glorious uncertainty of this game that draws us to its flame, the way it's not all about the premiership while being all about the premiership, but enough for now...
I want a flag more dearly than so many other things, but the privilege of being able to barrack for the Bulldogs is enough, even if no flag comes. If we wanted to chase flags over everything else we'd have chosen other teams a long time ago. Give me the Bulldogs over that any day - I'll take barracking for us over any other club. They'll never take the euphoria of these last three weeks off me (and what an extraordinary season it has been), and I'll keep woofing, snarling and cheering for the red, white and blue until the end.