Prelim Final: What an amazing day yesterday (Saturday) was. Finding stuff to do until footy time was tricky. I painted my fingernails (purple, red and green, because I am old school and proud of it). I dyed my hair purple. I had coffee with my husband. I re-dyed my hair because it wasn't purple enough. I EVEN DID THE IRONING! I re-did my nails because although I am old school, the green nail polish wasn't green enough so I went all purple on the nails. It was a day of making those sort of tough decisions, you know?

Time travelled slowly, but eventually the time came to strap the Freo flag to the car window and head to the game.

As much as time had dragged during the day, for me the time in between the first siren and the last also went in slow motion. I wasn't concerned about the outcome - destiny had the Dockers in its sights, and nothing could interfere.

The game and the crowd had it all. Freo at their all powerful best (that tackling display in the second quarter will remain tattooed on my brain). The crowd at their loudest (we really need to come to an agreement on how many Freeeeeeooooooo's we do in a sequence - my thought is five is sufficient). There were enough references to "all Australian Michael Johnson" from the crowd to know there were enough Dockerlanders present.  The guy behind me even hinted often enough that he was moved to streak, but only knowledge that they'd keep him away from the GF stopped him. There was even a half-arsed attempt at the wave, but quite frankly we all seemed to be too busy dancing and jumping for that to work effectively.

It's hard to know who to feel happiest for following the game. For Pav, the best captain the footy world has seen but only we've known about? For the Luke's, the Sandi's, the Barra's of the team who have also put in the time? The youngsters, the Lachie Neale mob, who have held us together this year when our superstars (talking to you, Kepler) have been missing? Or for Ross, who I'm happy to acknowledge now is the best thing the Steve's have ever done for this club?

Or for us, the rusted on's, the faithful types who've put up with the denigration and condescension from the other mob for so many years.

Or maybe I will just be happy for me, because I'm going to Melbourne on Thursday!! 

MONDAY. What a rollercoaster of a day.


I have been confident in my ticket purchase – my oldest son’s all-but-in-laws had purchased the grand final option on their membership (an oversight we won’t be making next membership renewal), and unfortunately for them and fortunately for us, they have got visitors from overseas staying with them. I had put their numbers into the Priority One ballot, and was confident that there would be not issues.


Confidence only lasts so long, you understand.


Yesterday – no problem – Ticketek relieved our credit card of money, so I knew we had tickets. The issue, and supreme lack of confidence, came with the issue of picking up the tickets. Would I have to pretend to be my son’s almost-mother-in-law?  Or would they work solely on the Ticketek account information, which was purely me? Would I need their photo ID? Mine? My credit card paid for it, so which one would Ticketek honour?


For a ‘woman of a certain age’, I actually have very good blood pressure. If you had taken my blood pressure on Saturday night at the game, it would have stayed level, although my pulse may have been slightly fast. This afternoon, however, as I was queuing to pick up my Grand Final tickets, I think I may have ruptured the sphygmomanometer.  (Do I get points for spelling without use of a dictionary?)


My faith in human nature was restored when the very nice lady behind the counter handed over my tickets without any drama at all. I didn’t even have to put on a fake accent! (Maybe the fake beard and moustache were a bit over the top, but sometimes you’ve just got to make an effort).


So – tickets are in hand, accommodation confirmed, and flights all sorted.


BUT – I have friends and relatives who missed out on the ballot, and whose devastation I can easily picture being part of my life without the all-but-in-laws. Can I in all good faith leap about, shouting for joy, excitement pouring from every pore??? Or should I be discrete, tucking away the excitement like an unwrapped Christmas present?


Nah, stuff it. They know me well.








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Ways to avoid doing much needed housework: 1) Read War and Peace; or 2) Read the entire (currently) 20 pages of the Dockerland message post entitled "Tickets". It's a dramatic ride. There's triumph. There's a hell of a lot of tragedy. Small amounts of triumph again. Lots of tragedy, though.

If you were one of those who have missed out, I feel for you. Really. Because my imagination can put me in your position very easily, and I suspect I still would be crying. But please know this - the Dockerlanders who will be at the MCG on Saturday take you with them in their purple hearts, in their arm waving, in their raucous support of our boys. We will look after them for you.

(Please think of us as you walk to the fridge for a drink, or nip off to the toilet during the game. It might make you feel better.)


Edit: Ways to avoid housework #2 (I can do this forever)

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