How we come to support our beloved teams... and...

[Big Phil]

Great read JTC, well done mate...

[Booney]

Many of you would look at my profile and see "Port Adelaide Magpies" and "Port Adelaide Power" and think wharfie...and to be honest it isn't that far from the truth.

Although much of the waterside and docks of the Port are now reserved for the mildy wealthy to now reside both my Grandfathers were seamen who worked for much of their lives on ketch's in the Port. My maternal Grandfather went to Borneo in WWII and while my paternal grandfather was unwell and stayed at home.

My father grew up in the shadows of the Jervois ( or J ) bridge just off Swan Tce in Ethelton while my mother was born and lived much of her life in Seaton.

My childhood memories of the early 80's at Alberton, up the back of the Williams Family Stand watching the likes of Ebert,Bradley,Anderson,Evans and co destroy all comers while nestled in my Dwayne "4" Rusell duffle coat seem like distant memories. The colours at Alberton have changed, the once formidable team on the park has changed and indeed SA football has changed for all time because of my Magpies, but keep in mind, not because of me...

In 1989 a young Boon ( age 14 ) was all cock-a-hoop about the notion my team, my Magpies would be joining the Big League, we would be playing against the teams with all the money, the big guns that poached our players. Carlton with Bradley, Anderson with Essendon it was all happening and I followed my teams push with much pride. I now look back at my school yard brawls I had over the subject with the Glenelg fans who were happy to see us go, the Torrens fans who couldnt wait to get rid of us. We were all 14 or 15 and at the time and had no idea what was unfolding.

Then out of nowhere "Glenelg" were in, Cornes,McDermott,McGuiness was on his way back,WHAT !!!!!

So here come these "Crows"to take my clubs spot? What was I going to do? Would Port Adelaide ever make it to the AFL?

Well, I had more than a passing interest in Hawthorn so that fateful first home game Adelaide played and being a very lonley Hawthorn clad South aussie in that crowd was the moment in time when my dislike of this "Glenelg hybrid" took the place of being my most despised team,Norwood had some competition...

Some years passed, Tim Ginever took the cup from little Max on the dais a few more times then wind came of Fitzroy's plight, one of the Melbourne based suburban clubs was always going to have to give way to the calls from AFL house for a national comp, one that was ( in their eyes ) a truly national competition. There is no doubt I felt for those Fitzroy fans at the time but the world was about to change for Port Adelaide fans.Hawthorn quickly were over taken,my club,my Port Adelaide were in!

Do you go with this "Power"or do you remain loyal to the Black and White or do you make room for both in your life? I made room for both,I also understand how people chose not to but I fail to understand the Magpie faithful who to this day despise the Power. Each to their own and here is not the place to debate that.

In all of this, the Magpies dominance of the SANFL in my life time, the AFL entry, the AFL flag, the Grand Final flogging I have been and always will be Port Adelaide.

My Mum often says "I wonder what Pop would think?", from his days watching KG umpire at Adelaide Oval against those boys from West Adelaide to the modern MCG with Port Adelaide defeating a Brisbane team in Melbourne for the right to claim the title as Australia's best team. How times have changed.

How they have changed...as I said before the SANFL changed at the hands of Bruce Webber and co and a 14 year old Booney had no say in those preceedings.

A 33 year old Booney looks back at that Dwayne Russell duffle coat days and thinks would it be the same now if not for all the actions of those Port board member way back when? It might be, it might not be.Would we enjoy the spoils of the SANFL circa 1988 or would the inevitable have happened and we ( SA ) have joined the AFL anyway

For those that hate Port Adelaide for what we have done to the SANFL, I take that on board and my right to reply is very little. I will defend my club but I cant defend their actions.

For all you Norwood,North,Sturt or whoever you follow fans put your self in my shoes. You are the third generation of your family to be born into this, you are proud to have taken the fourth generation from the bowling club at Alberton to the MCG in 04 and 07 for vastly contrasting experiences.
( The 04 GF with my then 8 year old son is on of my football life highlights, being there with my Mum,my son and good mates to see my team win it, win it in the Big League will forever live in my memory.)

If you were in my shoes, could you have done any different?

How you now view the current plights of the two Port Adelaide's is up to you. Many will say Karma, many will be delighted by it but in all of that what I have experienced as a Port Adelaide fan is unsurpassed by any fan of any other club. Triumph after triumph in the SANFL, a move into the AFL, a Premiership in what seemed like no time at all. The hatred that many SANFL fans feel towards all things
Port Adelaide.

No other club in South Australia invokes such emotion. Whether it is your dislike or my love of of everything Port Adelaide one thing remains a constant for us all. Football in SA changed in 1990 for ever, for good or bad. But there must always be a Port Adelaide Football Club, for me to love and for you to hate.

[redandblack]

Great story, Booney and others. Love reading why you all support your teams.

[Chambo100]

My dad took me to my first footy game when i was about 5.

I think it was a Woodville v West Adelaide game. It was probably the closest game to where we lived.

I don't really remember it, but he reckoned it was blowing a gale and a right royal miserable day, and the teams not much chop (Apologies to all the Eagles and Bloods fans). But I thought it was ok, as I got a bag of chips and a coke.

So he said to me after the game, most kids follow and barrack for one team. Who was I going to support? Making rational decisions at 5 isn't an easy thing, but I had the sense (at the time) to ask, "Well who wins?"
The year was 1970!

The well has been a little drier since then, but I have lived through 3 successful Grand Finals and 3 unsuccessful ones since the decision was made. Even through waivering support as a 13 year old when my mates were all magpie supporters.

........and since then I have managed to sway the old man around to my way of thinking. It has only taken 30 years, but he even owns a Double Blue cap now.

My younger brother came on board shortly after I made my choice, but he was always easy to influence at that age. (Better say that quietly - he subscribes here!).

My oldest lad isn't able to come to the footy much due to his own sport, but has a rather passive following for the Blues. Always query his terminology when he asks how "we" went on a Saturday.

And now my youngest lad is a junior member of the Blues. No prizes for guessing who his favourite player is. With a rambunctious uncle and old man, he is bemused by our antics at games and the "Chambo song".

.......but the biggest pull for him is, as it was for me,.......A bag of chips and a coke!
And the only thing Unley Oval has that no other league football ground in Adelaide has..........a playground!

It is only now as I get older, that I truly appreciate the sanfl competition with all its quirkiness, the history in every suburban ground and the peculiar banter that only occurs at games.

As evey year goes by, I think I enjoy it more than the previous season.

Whether that has anything to do with that fateful decision back in 1970, who knows?

[dedja]

I have posted snippets of my story in many different posts over the last few months, but this ties it all together.

I was born at the Queen Vic in 1965, my parents had lived at Norwood for a few years after they had emigrated from the old country, and had recently moved to Payneham South.
My first awareness of footy was in the very early ‘70s. My brother at 5 years older had already established the Magpies as his team, a decision which took a little time to understand what the ramifications would be for me, but my parents at that stage showed no interest in the game.

My first game was a Glenelg v Central game at the Bay in ’73. My (future) brother in law took me there with a mate of his (don't know why because he followed Torrens!). As a 7 year old, I was overawed by the crowd and the big fellas on the field. I remember being on the boundary in the south-western pocket now known as Snouts Hill, quite ironic considering that is now the home of BannerLady and the Snouts Louts.

That game had sparked my interest. In those days, there was very little TV so you would listen to games on the radio. My Dad had (and still has) one of those big elaborate furniture pieces, with the radio on one side, the record player complete with 33, 45 and 78 on the other, with a pull out bar in the middle.
So I would listen to every Bays game. Back then, you could choose your game because just about all were covered.

My best mate from school was from Melbourne and he came out at the beginning of the year. His family were red hot Richmond supporters. They had the same colours I thought at the time (gold and yellow are the same to a 7 year old), they were both Tigers and the guernseys were the same except the Richmond one had the sash go all the way around.
No-one else I knew followed the Bays. At school, it was either Norwood or Sturt, with a sprinkling of Port. I didn’t mind that as I have always been somewhat of a rebel.

As it turns out, the Bays had a great year and won the flag, and bugger me, so did Richmond. The cast was now set, there could be no other team other than Bays.

Little did I realise at the time that that early success was the start of years of frustration. The Bays made the GF in ’74 but were outdone by a Sturt outfit still savouring the spoils of the late ‘60s.

Then the year that cemented my devotion to the Bays forever. In ’75, the Bays were up against Norwood, the team that most people followed (so I believed at the time). I was the odd one out. The ‘legs hadn’t won a flag for 25 years, incidentally which was against the Bays in ’50. How good was this going to be? The Bays had beaten the ‘legs in the 2nd-semi and we were going to win the flag and I would savour the moment deep inside enemy territory.

Well things didn’t quite go to plan. In a low scoring affair, the Bays champion full forward, Fred Phillis had a shocker and kicks 6 behinds and we went down by 2 goals, 7.10 to 9.10. There were cars beeping horns, red and blue scarfs and flags everywhere. I just wanted to dig a hole and die.

But that was only the start of it. The older ones amongst you will remember the good old pie and pasty nights. Well, the Norwood Football Club, bristling after their first flag for 25 years, went on a pie and pasty blitz. So for the next couple of years whilst I completed primary school, there were pie and pasties to be had everywhere. Now on the face of it that was alright, but as I was to learn very quickly, nothing is free in life.

To receive those free pies and pasties, I had to endure multiple and frequent screenings of that fateful last day in September ’75 … over and over and over again.
My resolve to stick with the Bays through thick and thin had cemented, so had my hate for everything red and blue.

When I thought things couldn’t get worse, I played my first mini league game in ’76 for, you guessed it, Norwood. I can’t remember who we played but I was a huge buzz because back then they televised the reserves live, and at half time, showed a mini-league game from the week before. So the thrill of seeing myself hardly touch the ball on TV was only overshadowed by the fact that I was in that bloody Norwood guernsey.

In ’77, I played mini-league again, this time against my beloved Tigers at the Parade. I remember running out onto the ground and being dismayed that I was wearing the wrong guernsey. After the half-time break, the mini-leaguers were assembled under the western stand to watch the 2nd half of the main game.
I was fairly quiet as the Bays were behind. My school friends were cheering loudly for their ‘legs. Then what I thought at the time was the best moment of my life happened. It was late in the last quarter and the Bays were 3 points down. One Graham Studley Cornes decided to take an absolute screamer standing on ‘legs heads. He then re-enacted the ’73 GF by calmly slotting it through and we got up by 3 points. I was cheering and screaming as loud as I could, tempting fate in that dungeon full of little Redlegs.

That year the Magpies won their first flag for 12 years (an eternity for them) and I learnt very quickly what an absolute prick my brother could be. If only I knew it was just the beginning.
To add to the humiliation, the next year I went to Norwood high School. By this time I was able to go to the footy on my own and regularly go to watch them live. I had to endure more Magpie hardship which culminated in a game against them at the Bay. I was there with my brother and he was being a real Magpie prick(sigh, again), so notwithstanding the 5 year age difference, I gave him a clip. It was then on for young and old. We were on the ground, in headlocks, fists going everywhere. The crowd around us tried to break it up but we both just looked up and said … it's alright, we're brothers! … and kept going.

More heartache followed in the early ‘80s, but we did get one on the Magpies in that infamous ’82 prelim, before losing the GF yet again.

Finally, in ’85 it was our turn, how sweet it was. Then we did it again in ’86. We lost the 2nd-semi to North and I was sh*tting myself. GF day was my 21st, the Bays couldn’t possible stuff it up on my big day! No they didn’t, I went and watched back-to back and then went home for the 21st party to saviour!

I thought we'd finally turned the GF corner, but alas, not to be. We lost 4 of the next 6 GFs and were back to our usual ways. Then the leanest years ever, but the club has managed to arrest that spiral and things are looking bright again.

Then, to complete the irony, I got married in '92 to, you guessed it, a 'legs supporter!

Sorry for the long winded story, but it explains what I love the Glenelg Football Club ... and no, I'm not a recent bandwagoner!

[Dogwatcher]

I was there with my brother and he was being a real Magpie prick(sigh, again), so notwithstanding the 5 year age difference, I gave him a clip. It was then on for young and old. We were on the ground, in headlocks, fists going everywhere. The crowd around us tried to break it up but we both just looked up and said … it's alright, we're brothers! … and kept going.

Don't get involved in a fight between brothers. It's their right to fight! lol

Great yarn.

[FattyLumpkin]

. I also dreamed of the time my Warriors football deeds were respected by footy followers.

FH - thats IT! The trials & tribulations of supporting Woodville beautifully summarised in the 1 simple sentence!

Great thread this - Dedja, know exactly what it's like to have a Port supporting bro & the ensuing violence.

[FlyingHigh]

Great post FlyingHigh !

It's becoming funny to read that quite a few people have embraced a second team over the years. And South Adelaide appears to be everyone's second team.... I think that proves that a little bit of sympathy for the opposition is still out there and also probably proves that the once mighty Panthers, who despite having a bad 'hundred or so years' doesn't really strike any fear into anyone so they are happy to adopt them on knowing the will never be the cause of any heartbreak to their 'main' team.

I remember the jokes about Woodville and their supporters and I used to be sympathetic until I played mini league at Woodville one day and took the ball from the middle, took 2 bounces and kicked it to centre half forward (it was a big oval...) but realised I kicked it the wrong way !! Coming from the field after the game I remember copping a pasting from the Pecker faithful in the front few rows... They were a different bunch..

Great stories everyone !! Gotta say I'm really enjoying this topic !!

Don't know why South became my second team, because, like every other team, they were certainly a threat to Woodville. And they caused us "heartbreak" in the last round of 86 and cost us a Qualifying berth .

But I know what you mean Choccies, there were many people for whom Woodville were their second team as well, mainly the sympathy vote. You thought that was nice of them, but then wondered why it was so.
And with those sort of skills I'm suprised you weren't signed up there and then given the teams we had.

[FlyingHigh]

More great stories Dedja, Chambo, Booney.
And jtc - what an incredibly unique story. Didn't realise it was your first time back in Australia for 30 years when all the fuss was made about you coming out in 2007, great to hear you are so loyal and enjoy it (I just assumed you were and ex-pat ).

[Ash59]

I've loved reading these stories... great thread. I hope mine can do it justice.

1971 was the year for me, as a 12 year old, life time allegiance was made to Central District and Arsenal - but I'll leave the Gunners for another day.

I grew up in Fullarton. Both my parents were Sturt supporters. My father went to the 1940 grand final as a 12 year old (the only grand final he ever went to), and my mother, as a young woman was a member of the Sturt club in the late forties and fifties.

I was taken to my first game in 1965. I would have been 5. Sturt played Norwood and according to my parents I liked the Norwood colours better than Sturt's. I think they took me home at half time.

Over the next few years I was taken to some great Sturt games, mostly at Unley, although my dad and I went to Alberton in 1966 when Keith Chessell kicked a goal after the siren to give Sturt a two point win, their first at alberton since world war II. But back to Unley and I was there amongst the 22,000 when Sturt beat Port by a point in 1968, was there when the Blues kicked 30 goals against Woodville, was there for a Torrens game when pre-match both sets of supporters gave out a cheer when the scoreboard revealed that Ken Cunningham was umpiring the game...

So, being part of the Sturt glory years, why wasn't I a committed Blues faithful? I don't really know. Maybe success had been too easy and I didn't appreciate it as my mother constantly said she'd had to wait 20 years to see a Sturt flag. Maybe because we didn't go to the grand finals. My parents never went to the finals matches, but like all the neighbours, listened to the games on the radio. Standing in the backyard on those days, you could hear the game in stereo, coming from the neighbourhood houses. And when the game finished, my folks would flick the television on to see the lap of honour live and then congregate out in the street and celebrate with the neighbours.

But there I was in 1971. I'd read the books. I knew the stats. Was it fair that Sturt with its mediocre history should join Port Adelaide in winning six straight. Strangely as a 12 year old, I didn't think it was. So, as I kicked a footy around the backyard on 1st semi final day with one ear on the radio, I was hopefully and secretly barracking that Sturt would lose. And they did...

Two weeks later I convinced my dad to take me to the preliminary final. Port v Centrals. It may have been the first Centrals match I went to. I'm not entirely sure about that. But the atmosphere, the players, Casserley, Haughan, Mulholland, and others. Well, they lost the game but they won a supporter that day. That night I went home and announced "from now on I'm barracking for Centrals..."

[Pottsy]

Great stories, love the thread.

I arrived back in Adelaide in 1982 after being dragged around the world for a few years by my parents.

I went to primary school in grade 4, in Somerton Park – Glenelg heartland. I learnt fairly quickly that you were supposed to have a footy side to barrack for. There were a lot of duffel coats around with the number 4 on them, I remember those wooden toggles well. I decided I needed another team to barrack for, and heard a lot of hate around for a team called the Magpies.

I loved the Magpie bird, its call fascinated me. My stepdad was a Magpie fan. It seemed the right team to go for. It certainly got a lot of “conversations” going at school about the footy! I found out they had won the last couple of years. Being called a front runner seemed strange to me, as the Magpies didn't seem to win many finals, but when it came six years later, it just didn’t stop! Mind you, I was always a distant fan. I never went to Alberton. I hardly ever went to a final. I watched on TV and felt anxious at finals times, but there was always a distance. I suppose I was more of a follower than a supporter. Sometime during the mid 90’s, I drifted away from football being an interest, moved interstate for a while, and generally lost touch. I watched the occasional Power game, and loved the 04 premiership, but that was about it.

In 2006, my boy asked if we could go to the footy. I dislike AAMI stadium, so wouldn’t go there. Alberton was too far away for a lazy beggar like me. I’d been down the Bay once a year to watch the Magpies for the last few years and catch up with a mate that supported the Bays, so I took him to a Bays game. He got a hot dog with sauce. He got a Killer Python. He got to wrestle and muck around with other boys. We got to kick the footy on the ground at every break, and after the game. He loved it. I loved it! So we went back the next time. And the next time. We’re still going now.

Through this time, I’ve become a Bays supporter, making the switch in my mid 30’s. I fought it to begin with – I called it my “man dilemma”. It just didn’t seem right. I felt like a traitor. Especially with the Bays, out of nowhere, starting to win, very soon after we started turning up. It made it even harder to think that I may be looked at as a “bandwagon jumper”. But I know why I started turning up there, so I’m OK with it. It’s enhanced my lifestyle. I get good times with my son, catch up with some top fellas on the hill and watch some good footy without having to cram myself in a bucket seat. Plus, for good or bad, there’s real emotional involvement with the footy now. I feel being a Bay supporter like I never felt it with the Magpies. The recent finals series have been genuinely hard to take. Given our history, I feel like I better get used to it!

The most annoying thing about it has to be my old step-uncle (brother of my ex step-dad). He’s always been a Glenelg fan. Maybe THE Glenelg fan. He always used to say “You’ll come over to the Bays one day Kane, you wait”. I’d laugh at him. Not a chance! He’s still down the Bay – he’s involved with the club – I saw him out on the ground on finals days. When he first saw me in my Bay cap, after not seeing me for many years, he didn’t bat an eyelid. Just quietly said, with his gentle smile, “I told you Kane, I told you”.

[rogernumber10]

My grandparents came over from Ireland in the 30s and ended up living in Queen St, about 150m from the Parade.
Dad, who was born here, went to the local school and had no idea about the strange local game until he went to school, as neither of his parents had the vaguest clue about the game, and both mostly spoke Gaelic at home.
Schoolfriends played the game and got dad interested, and they took him to a game at the Parade around 7-8 years old, from what he says, around the late 1940s period when we won flags under Oatey senior. First day at a live game he was hooked. The people playing seemed enormous to a 7 year old as they were kicking balls, running into each other, crowd yelling etc etc. Said it was the most exciting moment of his life to that point to go to his first game. As such, he was a Norwood supporter from the get-go as they were the home team, his friends all barracked for them and he lived right in the heart of the suburb.
Cue forward 25 odd-years to 1975, and he has a seven-year-old son, which is me.
I can only remember a few things from my earliest years and they are as follows:
A big turtle that lived down the back of our yard in the time we lived in Darwin when I was around 4
My first day of school having moved back down to Adelaide and it absolutely smashed down with rain and I got to wear a new bright yellow raincoat (I was just five)
Playing cricket with my uncle and accidentally letting go of the bat when I swung at a shot and it hit him in the head and knocked him out (I was six)
the first game I went to at the Parade when I was seven.

It was 1975 and Dad had been going to the footy regularly as Norwood was on fire that year. We had lived in Darwin in 71-72 and Dad had got back into the footy from the start of 74. I had apparently asked once or twice to go, and he decided to take me to Norwood's next home game, which was around July.
We got there early for the reserves, sat at the front, and apparently I didn't move for five hours, other than to pick up cans near me at the breaks. For the whole time, I was transfixed by watching the players and just how big they seemed, and how loud the cheering was when the play came near us.
Funnily enough, was THE most exciting moment of my life to that point, and a long time before it was surpassed. (1978 Grand Final and the 1984 Grand Final were the only two other events pre-18 that surpassed it, before life actually started in earnest).
Dad was a Woodcock fan, and I adopted him straight off, along with Mike Poulter. Mike was always easy to spot with his hair.
75-86 regularly going to all venues was just a golden period until I had to leave the state for work.

This year, I finally went back to the Parade for a live game for the first time since early 91, knowing not a single player apart from the obvious guys coming down from the AFL teams, and it's now a determined goal that I need to get back at least once every two years, and preferably once each season.

[Booney]

Great stories, love the thread.

I arrived back in Adelaide in 1982 after being dragged around the world for a few years by my parents.

I went to primary school in grade 4, in Somerton Park – Glenelg heartland. I learnt fairly quickly that you were supposed to have a footy side to barrack for. There were a lot of duffel coats around with the number 4 on them, I remember those wooden toggles well. I decided I needed another team to barrack for, and heard a lot of hate around for a team called the Magpies.

I loved the Magpie bird, its call fascinated me. My stepdad was a Magpie fan. It seemed the right team to go for. It certainly got a lot of “conversations” going at school about the footy! I found out they had won the last couple of years. Being called a front runner seemed strange to me, as the Magpies didn't seem to win many finals, but when it came six years later, it just didn’t stop! Mind you, I was always a distant fan. I never went to Alberton. I hardly ever went to a final. I watched on TV and felt anxious at finals times, but there was always a distance. I suppose I was more of a follower than a supporter. Sometime during the mid 90’s, I drifted away from football being an interest, moved interstate for a while, and generally lost touch. I watched the occasional Power game, and loved the 04 premiership, but that was about it.

In 2006, my boy asked if we could go to the footy. I dislike AAMI stadium, so wouldn’t go there. Alberton was too far away for a lazy beggar like me. I’d been down the Bay once a year to watch the Magpies for the last few years and catch up with a mate that supported the Bays, so I took him to a Bays game. He got a hot dog with sauce. He got a Killer Python. He got to wrestle and muck around with other boys. We got to kick the footy on the ground at every break, and after the game. He loved it. I loved it! So we went back the next time. And the next time. We’re still going now.

Through this time, I’ve become a Bays supporter, making the switch in my mid 30’s. I fought it to begin with – I called it my “man dilemma”. It just didn’t seem right. I felt like a traitor. Especially with the Bays, out of nowhere, starting to win, very soon after we started turning up. It made it even harder to think that I may be looked at as a “bandwagon jumper”. But I know why I started turning up there, so I’m OK with it. It’s enhanced my lifestyle. I get good times with my son, catch up with some top fellas on the hill and watch some good footy without having to cram myself in a bucket seat. Plus, for good or bad, there’s real emotional involvement with the footy now. I feel being a Bay supporter like I never felt it with the Magpies. The recent finals series have been genuinely hard to take. Given our history, I feel like I better get used to it!

The most annoying thing about it has to be my old step-uncle (brother of my ex step-dad). He’s always been a Glenelg fan. Maybe THE Glenelg fan. He always used to say “You’ll come over to the Bays one day Kane, you wait”. I’d laugh at him. Not a chance! He’s still down the Bay – he’s involved with the club – I saw him out on the ground on finals days. When he first saw me in my Bay cap, after not seeing me for many years, he didn’t bat an eyelid. Just quietly said, with his gentle smile, “I told you Kane, I told you”.

I cant bear it, I truly cant. I appreciate your new found enjoyment of the game and the atmosphere at SANFL games, but I cant,I just cant bear it.

[CK]

Football was right through my family from an early age. My grandfather was born at Thebarton, and straight into a West Torrens family. Living not far from the oval, he went along with his father a few times but decided that Torrens wasn't for him, and decided to support the team they were playing one day - Norwood. From them on, he was one of the most devout Norwood men around. Either taking the EJ Holden to games, or occasionally catching the bus, he would take my mum along religiously each game. Mum's two brothers weren't interested in football at all, so Mum was the one who would carry the tradition for Granddad to share the frustrations, triumphs, heartaches and rollercoaster of emotions for so many years to come.

When Mum was old enough to go on her own, she joined the Cheer Squad - which, as most here would know, were very organised and big deals in those days. She was appointed as the Leader for two years, although the dark days of 1968 still ring hard in her ears. Late nights constructing huge banners, then having to find an understanding bus driver to let them take on either banners or floggers, to go to grounds like Alberton or Glenelg, with the squad, to get behind the team. Granddad would often be there also, but they used to watch separately; he wasn't the Cheer Squad sort, but they would always swap the stories of the day over tea than night.

One of Granddad's proudest moments was 1975, when the drought was finally broken. This was also the first grand final I was taken to, although I have no memory of it, being only two years old. 1978, however, I remember very well , wondering about all the noise and the roar of the crowd and the absolute jubilation as Norwood snatched the one point win. All of us headed back to Norwood Oval that night and it was such a party atmosphere that I will never forget.
When Neil Balme was appointed coach, Granddad, like many of the Norwood establishment, was hesitant, but eventually turned around to his (for the time) new age philosophies and ideas. He rated the 1982 very highly and was very confident we had the team to take the flag that year, and was looking forward to a grand final appearance. In August that year, he had a fatal heart attack, at only 58. We all went to the game and watched them “Embalme” (Advertiser headline) the Tigers with a slightly heavy heart, but knew that he would have been watching proudly.
By this time, I was a voracious SANFL follower. Buying Football Times every week, keeping the Budget carefully and memorising all the names of all the players of all teams, watching KG’s Football Show after getting home from the game and then watching The Big Replay on Seven to see one of the games we hadn’t been at. Devouring anything SANFL I possibly could, and especially of Norwood. 1984 was a year I will never forget for obvious reasons...wondering when the run would end, and each week, getting over the line again. Going out to the last training session and walking the ground with my idols, collecting autographs. The roar during the National Anthem of that grand final still rings loud in my ears, watching as Tim Evans and Craig Balme exchanged pleasantries; Michael Aish’s bouncing run down the outer wing, Keith Thomas’s mark; thinking that Glen Vardenaga could have been a worthy Jack Oatey winner, and then the night back at the club, with grown men crying and getting patted on the head by people I’d never seen before and never did again.

By this time, I was old enough to go to games on my own, and living in Port heartland, in a street with Port and Woodville supporters meant seeing some of these games for geographical reasons – a BMX bike would only take you so far. Going to Woodville Oval to watch Malcolm Blight play in his last years was special. Granddad had always told me about how special he was, and even at 33-35, it was still obvious, and very special. Cycling to Football Park when they held double headers there, and the day I didn’t know that fans couldn’t rush onto the ground and get autographs of their idols like other grounds, so jumping the fence and rushing out to Craig Balme, I wondered why a man in a red coat was dashing so fast after me, and thinking how lucky I was to be the only one out there. Balme just looked at the redcoat and said “Look, leave him alone will ya, he just wants a scribble”, and getting a grin from the big man.

Dad was never a big footy fan, but always came along in the finals. Never forget the day that this normally mild mannered, quiet man decided that he wanted to sit next to the Port cheersquad in 1997 at the GF and after hearing a few too many taunts about our red and blue colours, started barracking in a way I had never heard in my life from him. Swapping banter with the Port fans, and at one point, leaping onto his chair and screaming to them to “Look at the scoreboard you ****”. Kept us all laughing for days, that one.

So many stories and so little time...but that’s what keeps me coming back each week to SANFL and Norwood. Grandad and Mum are to blame.

[Big Phil]

Great read CK, well done mate...

[Dogwatcher]

Swapping banter with the Port fans, and at one point, leaping onto his chair and screaming to them to “Look at the scoreboard you ****”. Kept us all laughing for days, that one.

Love it!

[JK]

IMHO this thread (in fact this entire Forum for that matter) has provided the best reading on the site.

My story isn't too dissimilar to many on here I guess, and apologies for repeating anything I've already posted anywhere else.

My first memories of football hark back to around 1978, when as a 6 year old I'd often kick a balloon around the house dropping the names I'd commonly hear from dad, generally including Wynne, Taylor, Gallagher, Woodcock and Dillon (It was quite amazing how many times in my imaginary role play that Taylor would kick it to Taylor when he was having a day out) ... Suffice to say Kingo Taylor became my first football idol.

My old man was born and bred in the Norwood zone, as a little tacker would walk to the Robin Hood as a nightly ritual to tell his old man that dinner was ready, went to Norwood High and played colts and reserves football for Norwood.

He would regularly tell me stories about the greats like Doug Olds, Ron Kneebone and of course his two favourite players, Jon Marriott and Big Bill Wedding (who I had the pleasure of meeting not long before his passing and will never forget).

My Grandfather had also played for Norwood (and Norwood-North) and would tell me plenty of stories, although they generally came from a slightly different slant to Dads - Pop had a hard childhood, was separated from his 4 sisters when less than 8 years old, and was raised by his Grandparents after his father had deserted him (mother deceased). He started work at the tender age of around 14 during the Depression, doing whatever work it took (above board or otherwise) to get by and that summed my Pop up perfectly, he was a man's man who took whatever means required to survive through any adverse situation.

Nicknamed "Nigger" due to the colour of his hair, his stories would generally revolve around his own playing experiences, whether that be for Norwood, Norwood Union or Payenham (where he won the Hone medal) and usually always included who he belted, who belted him, and who he had a beer with afterward.

His favourite story was of a game he was playing umpired by his relative Ken Aplin, where his opponent had continually niggled him and after a quarter of this Pop had had enough ... When the opportunity arose, he took it with both hands and knocked this poor bloke cold! As the umpire looked at both of them the conversation apparently went like this -Aplin: "Get him did you Nigger?" Pops reply: "Yeah I got him" ... And that was it, the play continued as though nothing had happened!

Apologies for the political incorrectness of the above, but that's how it happened in those days.

So back to 1978, and Grand Final day ... As a 6 year old I couldn't wait to get outside and play with the other kids in the street, but I stopped and asked my old man what he was doing as he was camped in front of the box "Watching the Grand Final mate, Norwood are playing but I don't think there's much chance we'll win", so I carried on playing oblivious to what was going on inside or at West Lakes that fateful afternoon.

Later in the day I returned indoors and noticed Dad had several empty cans in front of him and look of resigned hoplessness of his face, it was clear he was extracting no joy from his football team this day.

Again I cleared out until sometime later I heard an almighty yell from inside ... Immediately I raced inside and to this day I don't think I've ever seen dad more elated (although he tells me 1975 runs close).

Due to Dad's employment he was oversea's far more than he was home, so it wouldn't be for another 3 years until I regularly attended games, but once we started Saturday's couldn't come around fast enough to spend the day at the footy with dad (and my grandparents for home games), possibly the happiest years of my life ... The 1984 Grand Final obviously holding the most special of places.

As I approached the later years of high school, it would be with my mates that I would head off to the footy with ... I would be the only Norwood supporter, and they would support the all-conquering Magpies and boy wouldn't they let me know it - As if it wasn't bad enough to be jealous of their success but to not have any ammunition to return serve with was a humbling experience (at first, then it became a downright pain in the ass lol).

Throughout the 90's I missed the vast majority of SANFL footy due to my own playing committments, but always found time for Night, Sunday or public holiday matches and privately would still count down the days until I could watch the Red and Blue in action.

By the way my mother comes from a long history of Port Adelaide supporters and I would often wonder how differently things might have turned out if she'd gotten to me before dad did, but eventually it dawned on me, I didn't choose the Norwood Football Club, it chose me!

[Lazarus]

Bracegirdle (or Goosenoodles) was a PE teacher at my school. He now owns the chocolate shop at Glenelg and his kid plays for Pembroke OS.

[dedja]

Bracegirdle (or Goosenoodles) was a PE teacher at my school. He now owns the chocolate shop at Glenelg and his kid plays for Pembroke OS.

That school would be Norwood High then?

[Gingernuts]

Some of these stories are great, I wish mine was as interesting…...

My interest in footy only started when I was about 10 yrs old. My parents weren't followers of any particular team and I don’t recall them even watching it on tv, so it was only when my younger brothers started to play the sport that I was hooked. I spent many, many Saturdays sitting on the sidelines at primary school ovals in the cold, wet Adelaide Hills watching the under 10 scrum move from end to end. You're probably wondering why I wasn't out there with them. Well, unfortunately I was born with dodgy hips, they don't impair my general movement but if I run I risk severe arthritis in later life, and so 'doctors orders' to the sidelines. It still hurts like hell not to be out there, but anyways. Thankfully my I'm sh1te at the game anyway, so that makes it a bit better!

This spark in my interest for the game coincided exactly with the year the Crows were formed, and in the Crows early years if you were a kid in SA who didn't know much about footy, then the Crows were IT, there was no other choice. My earliest memories of watching a Crows game would probably be the final 2 games of the 1993 finals series. The clearest moment I can recall is watching in torture as big Madden loaped 2 thirds of the ground with only Rehn in chase to slot through THAT goal.

As far as SANFL allegiances, it's a pretty simple story. I started out Sturt but basically just because I lived in their zone and my middle brother trained with their juniors for a while, I really had no emotional attachment to them. Then both my brothers changed local clubs into the South zone, and my middle brother was approached by South Adelaide to have another crack at junior SANFL footy after a year with Langhorne Creek. He stuck with the Panthers for about 5 years, and ended up playing a handfull of league games, but unfortunately every time he was on the cusp of cementing a spot in the league team his body would let him down with some sort of weird and wonderful injury. Anyway, his time at the club was enough to give me that emotional attachment to an SANFL team and now it's South Adelaide for me. I don't post much on the SANFL boards here because, to be brutally honest, the Panthers don't give me much to post about.