Adrian Barich: Premiership hangover or broken heart, this is why footy is never really just footy

Before I begin, perhaps a small apology to my STM readers.

I realise this magazine tends to deal with matters of considerably greater gravity than whether a football goes through two big sticks rather than two small ones.

For me it seems that STM is a place for people who like to think a little deeper about life, to contemplate its complexities, debate its nuances and occasionally ponder questions considerably more profound than whether the Dockers have finally won a premiership.

So, forgive me for delving quite so heavily into the world of football this week.

But I would argue there is a reason I am doing it. Because in Australia, for many people, sport isn’t simply sport.

It is woven into the fabric of our lives. It gives us friendships, rivalries, memories, arguments, heroes and villains. It gives families something to share across generations.

And, occasionally, it moves us very deeply.

Someone once famously said that for some people, sport is almost everything and the rest is just shadow. I’m not sure I’d go quite that far.

But on AFL grand final weekend, I certainly understand the sentiment.

If you’re reading this now and you’re a Dockers fan, you’re either still on an incredible high or you’re feeling pretty low.

You probably have a hangover in either case. It might be from celebrating.

It might be from commiserating. But you’ll know you’re alive.

Because sport has once again given you a moment that has impacted your life.

It has stirred your passions, got your blood pumping and, for a few hours, made almost everything else seem less important.

If Fremantle lost the grand final, my first message to Dockers fans would be simple: It’s only sport. It’s not life and death. And I know this might be the last thing you want to read this morning but your team is so young and so good … you will almost certainly have another throw at the stumps next year or even in 2028. In that sense the current Freo team reminds me of the Eagles in 1991. Lose a grand final … then win flags in 1992 and 1994. We probably should have won in 1993 too.

So there is a tomorrow. The sun comes up. The wounds eventually heal.

The pain of losing becomes part of your club’s history rather than the entirety of your life.

But if Fremantle have now won their first premiership, then something rather extraordinary has happened — 23 footballers have instantly become immortals. Thousands of supporters have just experienced a moment they have waited 31 years to see. Memories that will last for 100 years.

I know because I was in the West Coast Eagles inner sanctum when we won our first premiership in 1992.

I missed my own place in history as one of the players who actually played in that grand final, but I saw first-hand what it meant to everyone associated with the club.

And it was magical, the tears, the hugs, the relief, the sheer joy.

The premiership wasn’t really about the cup. Though taking it to the airport and flying out of Victoria with the silverware for the first time was very special. The little State of WA (not size-wise of course) had kicked the big State Victoria to the kerb.

The cup was sitting in the cockpit as we landed in Perth and it was payback time for those “Eastern Staters” that had looked down on WA for any reason.

That’s why sport matters. Not because it is life and death.

But because it adds something to life.

It gives us something to care about. And sometimes, something to celebrate together.

The Rugby World Cup won by South Africa in 1995 united a nation.

So, whether you’re a jubilant Dockers supporter reading this with a premiership hangover or a shattered one wondering how you’ll ever get over the loss to Brisbane, take a deep breath. The result matters. It really does. But it isn’t everything.

And perhaps that’s the great paradox of sport. We know, rationally, that it is only a game. Yet when the siren sounds, for a few glorious or devastating moments, it can feel like so much more. And maybe that’s not something we should apologise for.

Maybe that’s one of the things that makes us human.