Our second halves in the back end of that year were withering. No one could go with us. I went to the game thinking "if we're within 3 goals at half time we'll win", so when we were 9 points up I was very confident in the beer line. Two Crows fans behind me were discussing what they needed to do and I had to stop myself from turning around and telling them the game was already over.
(I hadn't had a drink until half time. I wanted to be compos. But I was so full of adrenaline I thought a couple to settle wouldn't hurt. I ordered and paid for two. They had to change the keg. I missed the sprint. But when the bloke turned back from the fresh keg he handed me a tray with four beers and I knew it was our day. The beers didn't see out the third quarter.)
I became more confident as we owned the first 15 minutes of the third quarter. The flash of doubt I had when Tex kicked a goal to bring it back to 20 was extinguished when Jack Graham that is answered almost immediately with his third. When George snapped his I was certain it was all over. From then on I just tried to soak it all up. I looked around the crowd, met as many eyes as I could, fist-pumped and grinned like a madman.
A friend of mine was sitting a few rows in front and was beside herself with anxiety at 3/4 time. "Em! Relax! We've got it! No way they can catch us!" I told her and everyone around. A few Crows fans looked my way but they couldn't even argue.
The last quarter. Ok, my knuckles were still a little white when Jack was lining up, but mostly it was a parade. I rang my brother: "Hey, mate! We're premiers!"
I didn't shed one tear. I partied hard with family, and raised a glass to my mum and aunt, who would have been overjoyed if only they hadn't been taken too early a few years prior. I think that's why I was on an emotional even keel. I told myself it was just a bloody game that I wasn't even involved in. I think I didn't want to get my hopes up and have them crushed.
Just a bloody game. A great bloody game. One of the best days and nights of my life.
(I hadn't had a drink until half time. I wanted to be compos. But I was so full of adrenaline I thought a couple to settle wouldn't hurt. I ordered and paid for two. They had to change the keg. I missed the sprint. But when the bloke turned back from the fresh keg he handed me a tray with four beers and I knew it was our day. The beers didn't see out the third quarter.)
I became more confident as we owned the first 15 minutes of the third quarter. The flash of doubt I had when Tex kicked a goal to bring it back to 20 was extinguished when Jack Graham that is answered almost immediately with his third. When George snapped his I was certain it was all over. From then on I just tried to soak it all up. I looked around the crowd, met as many eyes as I could, fist-pumped and grinned like a madman.
A friend of mine was sitting a few rows in front and was beside herself with anxiety at 3/4 time. "Em! Relax! We've got it! No way they can catch us!" I told her and everyone around. A few Crows fans looked my way but they couldn't even argue.
The last quarter. Ok, my knuckles were still a little white when Jack was lining up, but mostly it was a parade. I rang my brother: "Hey, mate! We're premiers!"
I didn't shed one tear. I partied hard with family, and raised a glass to my mum and aunt, who would have been overjoyed if only they hadn't been taken too early a few years prior. I think that's why I was on an emotional even keel. I told myself it was just a bloody game that I wasn't even involved in. I think I didn't want to get my hopes up and have them crushed.
Just a bloody game. A great bloody game. One of the best days and nights of my life.
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