Interstate is such a horrible term. It abhors inclusiveness. It denies a sense of belonging. It makes one ask am I one of them? Am I worthy? Do they want me?
For me, and I suggest the majority of people who support Carlton FC, this term "interstater" is how I am categorised. Is my support for this great club the same as the diehard who goes to every training session and every game? Am I as welcome into the Carlton family, or merely an outsider looking in, wanting to be a part of something great. If my memories of repeated Grand Final successes are shared with my mates on a sofa in front of the TV are they as meaningful as those in the front row who all breathed out as one ensuring that ball stayed inside the field of play for Wayne Harmes? As I leapt from the couch and let out a roaring cry of "yes!" when Earl smothered the ball and slotted home another inspirational goal in the 95 GF did it mean as much as the person who did the same in the top of the old Olympic Stand?
Equally, as I held my head in my hands and kept kicking the ground for hours after the nightmare that was our anti-climax to season 2002 did my despair match that of those who were there on that horrible day? If my only connection to "Black Friday" was an internet connection chatting with friends online waiting until the wee hours of the morning to discover something that could not possibly be true, yet it was carved in stone for all to see. Was our connection, disbelief and anger as strong as the those who were at the coalface of a heartless Melbourne public who wanted us to go down regardless of what we deserved or didn"t deserve? Did my outrage at Darren Milburn not reach the same heights as the overtly passionate fans behind the bench just because I was some 700kms away down Sydney Road? Did my bitter frustration at seeing us throw away a finals series against Melbourne in 2000 not match the bitter frustration of the old lady who sat in the same spot every week since time immemorial?
The answer to these questions is; "yes".
Just as football teams require spirit and determination to succeed, so too do their fans. Especially so for those who live their experiences through the written word or the transmitted image. On the rare occasions I am able to get to football's Mecca to see my beloved team in action my presence may not be acknowledged by a familiar wink of the eye as I walk past a player or club official. But I know deep down that I belong. When I get to a training session and stand in awe inside the great old cauldron of Princes Park I remember watching the likes of Doull, McKay and Thornton flying through our defence, just the same the regulars remember it. I marvel at the irony of Kouta baffling a coach who now instructs his every move, moves that on that day against the Kangaroos he was powerless to stop. I get just as much of a thrill out of spotting the young kid working his guts out at training to try and forge his way into our best 22 as the diehards that have been watching him since the TAC Cup do. The chill down my spine as I get a shiver of expectation when Setanta astounds me with his tenacity and desire to succeed is the same as the one experienced by the young fans who have watched his every move since the day he arrived.
I am the same as these people because we all want the same thing. We"ve all been there before and we all want to get back there again. I was born in a premiership year and I thank my club for giving me six flags in my lifetime. But my thanks for these successes does not quench my thirst for the next six flags, or the next six after that. And thankfully neither does it quench the thirst for those running the club.
Denis Pagan is giving my club back to me, back to you, back to all of us. To me, he is already as great as Parkin, Walls, Jesaulenko and all the other outstanding men who have steered us to September glory. For Denis has helped restore the pride in my club. The pride that was lost through the excesses of the days that used to be. The pride that I felt when Kernahan stood proud holding number sixteen triumphantly in the spring air, that pride has returned. Denis is, of course, one essential cog in the machine of success, but a mighty cog he is. Is he more important than the staffer who is responsible for presenting me with a new interstate membership option? Is he more important than the team negotiating deals with new and exciting sponsors? Maybe he is, maybe he isn't, but I'm smart enough to know I can't have one without the other. They all have their role to play. And each role is helping to ensure our zenith is closer than our nadir.
Our recent on field exploits may not be much to be proud of, but by God watching this club being rebuilt is something for the true believers to behold. I wouldn't miss it for quids. I want to enjoy this journey to success no matter where I am, be it Melbourne, be it Adelaide or be it Darwin or anywhere in between. I may be from interstate, but I know I belong, I know this club needs me and I know I won't let it down. Just as the on field acts of desperation that individually may mean little but when combined achieve great things, so too do the seemingly small contributions that you and I can make achieve great things for this club. If I contribute, and you contribute, and the guy in your office contributes, then we interstaters can make a huge difference to helping provide a foundation for future success. I want to be the best again.
I've bought my membership, have you?
Membership is such a wonderful term. It invites inclusiveness. It creates a sense of belonging. It makes me know I am one of them. One of us.
Buy your Carlton membership now!
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