My grandfather was a stoic man. Settling in the western Victorian town of Ballarat upon arrival as a child from a small town in Ukraine, he took up interest in the nearest VFL club, Geelong. Thus began a lifelong affinity with the Cats he would pass down to his four sons and eight grandchildren.
Battle-hardened by a modest upbringing, the loss of his mother at an early age and the mental scars of his service in Kokoda, football became a comforting escape from everyday life. Too frail to get to games himself, his lounge room and pay TV were always open to watch games, where most weekends, I would join him. Mostly, he sat silently, absorbed in his favourite armchair, oblivious to the world around him – including, much to her annoyance, my grandmother.
But having lived through the entirety of Geelong’s 44-year premiership drought – including five grand final losses – he was somewhat of a harsh critic. At a Shabbat dinner in mid-2007, days after the Cats had piled on 35 goals to demolish Richmond by 157 points, he boldly declared: “They’ll have to play a lot better than that to win this weekend.”
Not only did they win that weekend, Geelong went on to break that premiership drought in emphatic fashion. My grandfather was never really one for big celebrations or overly expressive emotions, more one to sit back with a wry smile. But he got a lot of quiet joy from 2007. It was the first of three flags won in five years.
My grandfather passed away on the eve of the 2009 finals series. He had lived long enough to see the drought-breaker, but also a shock 2008 grand final loss to Hawthorn. Five weeks after his passing, a magical toe-poke from Matthew Scarlett and the deadly boot of Paul Chapman delivered us redemption. I was 14 years old when that era of success began. My grandfather was 86. Later this year, I’ll turn 33. The eldest of my grandfather’s great-grandchildren – named after him – will turn 13 and celebrate his barmitzvah.
So little has remained constant in the past two decades. The AFL has expanded. Teams have risen and fallen. Australia has changed government three times and prime ministers seven. Wars have begun and ended. A pandemic plunged us in and out of lockdowns. But Geelong in the deep end of finals remained a constant through it all. So much of my own life changed too – I graduated from high school and university, changed jobs and careers, moved to Canberra and back, fell in and out of love – but my football team’s success followed me throughout.
This weekend, Geelong enters a 15th preliminary final in 21 years, hoping to make it a seventh grand final and a fifth premiership in that time. Having comfortably dispatched with the reigning premiers two weeks ago, they are now clear flag favourites – though that is never a guarantee of success.
The other clubs in this weekend’s prelims are no strangers to modern success either. Brisbane and Hawthorn match Geelong with four premierships since the turn of the century, while Collingwood have two. But Geelong stands alone in refusing to bottom out at any point in that period. Missing finals just twice since 2007, making the final four in 70% of those seasons – they have made a mockery of the AFL’s equalisation agenda.
It speaks to the bold drive of the Cats’ machine, led by a coach who has made it a mission to rebuild on the run and to compete at the deep end every year. Chris Scott inherited a successful team, winning a flag in his first season, but he quickly set out to build an empire of his own. Still, there was a period where even us Cats fans began to doubt the wisdom of his refusal to bottom out. Surely it was only a matter of time before reality hit. But his second premiership in 2022 put those doubts to bed. It provided conclusive proof that the endeavour was worthwhile. It cemented his legacy and that of his mission. He is now rightly regarded as one of the all-time greats.
To follow Geelong in these times is a privilege. It invites admiration and jealousy from those who can only dream of a fraction of our success. How is it still going, many wonder. We no longer ask questions. The doubt is gone. Our faith in Scott is absolute. Even the losses do not sting like they used to – there is always next week, or next year. If that used to be false hope, it is now well founded belief.
In these uncertain times of global instability, rising extremism, war and violence, sport is as important an escape as ever. For my grandfather, that escape carried more disappointment than fulfilment. For me, it has become the opposite – reliable salvation from the horrors of the world and the pitfalls of everyday life. As we live out this fantastical sporting ride, I wonder what he might have made of the last two decades. I suppose he’d have been steadfast as ever – they’ll need to play better this week to win. To keep striving to be better. Perhaps he saw what was coming in the school of Scott after all.
