Sharing a North win

by ANDREW STARKIE

COLLINGWOOD games are to be endured, not enjoyed. Like that party you know will be feral but you go anyway.

This is one Collingwood game I did enjoy.

I lost my mind in the final quarter.

When playing the Magpies, it's important to have good people around you. Our crew gathered behind the interchange bench, Members' Reserve, MCG: cousins, friends, me.

Cousin Nick was in town with wife Louise and the two boys. Nick's as country as a day at the bush races. Played over 400 games for Glenthompson in western Victoria. Career highlights: a twos flag and footy trip to Echuca.

The first quarter is ordinary - full of errors and static footy. Collingwood are subdued. North are showing more intensity. Harvey and Grant display their skills. We lead three goals to two at quarter-time.

During the second quarter, Collingwood are using the ball more efficiently and beat us at the throw-ins and stoppages. Pendlebury, Didak and Medhurst are playing well. Medhurst kicks two for the term on Lower. North are wasting opportunities. Jones kicks 1.5 for the first half. Collingwood by15 points at half-time.

At the main break, I'm a bit concerned, but quite calm. It's just a game of footy. Enjoying the company of relatives and friends on this beautiful autumn evening.

Midway through the third quarter, Collingwood lead by three goals. Johnson is on top in the centre. Fraser's beating McIntosh. We're being outclassed.

Then something happens.

Suddenly, Firrito and Petrie are running off Rocca and Cloke. We wrest possession through the centre. Four goals to two, including two goals to Grant, and Collingwood are holding on by five points at the last change.

"We're in this," I say to Cousin Nick, "but we've lost every last quarter for the season."

Cousin Elise is rubbing her forehead - never a sign of confidence. My mate Justin is swearing like a trooper.

My excitement is growing. I'm in the contest, but in control.

But sometimes football just grabs me.

I need to justify my behaviour in the last quarter. Mostly, I'm a "good supporter". Love my Roos, but I'm not one-eyed. Law abiding. Hard-working. God fearing. Some call me conservative. Past girlfriends may even say boring.

My memory is a bit hazy - a blur of jumping, screaming, colour, despair and exaltation.

I think we kick the first of the quarter and momentarily lead. Collingwood hit back with four quick ones. Fraser kicks two. Magpies are rejoicing. They think they're home. Halfway through the term and we're 21 points down.

We won't lie down and continue to create opportunities. Our crumbers, soundly beaten all night, are getting the ball, but can't convert. Lindsay Thomas is the worst offender. He misses two sitters, one from the goal square. The crowd is alive and the pressure is building.

The ball follows Thomas. He converts a set shot from the pocket. His fist pump is more relief than joy. He kicks another. Campbell crumbs and goals. Confidence and momentum are everything.

Come on!

A bad centre bounce goes our way and Simpson shovels the ball forward. Lower, badly beaten early, emerges and goals. Come on North!

Grant marks at centre half-forward and is ridden into the ground. Fifty! Remember round one, 2007? I can't watch!

Grant goals and corrects history. Delirium. Teenage Collingwood fans in front look at me as if I'm the village idiot. I've lost the plot.

Lower kicks another and it's five in a row. Eight or nine points up. Collingwood look gone. My voice is gone.

It's not over. Medhurst marks on a flank, Pratt encroaches. Fifty! The Magpie calmly twists through his fifth goal. He's had a great game.

The moment arrives. Didak receives the ball at half-forward and trots into goal. Anticipating the sealer, I put my head in my hands. The Collingwood crowd go berserk, thinking Didak has won the game.

"He's missed! He's missed!" Justin and Elise scream. The executioner left the back door open.

Somehow the ball is up the other end. Campbell. Goal. Over. Seven points.

The siren goes and I hug Elise. This is one of our greatest victories together.

Nick and I pat each other on the back. Starkie men don't hug.

I can't explain what happens next. On the way out of the Members' Reserve, I start screaming. I may have said something about Didak. I definitely sang the club song. I waited 30 years for membership, I hope I haven't blown it.

The text messages begin and my standard response is simple: "Heaven."

On the train home, my throat's sore and I have a ripping headache. I read a Martin Flanagan article in The Age about a Jewish immigrant family with a footy obsession. As the mother explains: "This is what Australian football does to people."

You're telling me.

26 April 2008

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