I’m Courtney, I’m 26, and I’m an AFL supporter. Oh, and I was born and bred in NSW. I guess I’ve only just become comfortable with being a supporter of Australian Rules Football in the last five or so years.
Growing up in a coastal, rural town in NSW, I didn’t get a lot of exposure to AFL beyond my Victorian-raised parents watching it, enrolling me into Auskick programs, and taking me to the odd game every so often at either Manuka Oval in Canberra (2.5hrs drive) or the SCG in Sydney (3hrs drive) from the age of about 8. I’ve stood at changeroom doors waiting for autographs, and been in a few kick to kicks in my lifetime.
Nobody at school really played AFL on the playground. Rural NSW is very much NRL territory. We even had the NRL Footy Show (Fatty Vautin, Chief & Sterlo) record a live show from the local footy grounds. There was little space for Aussie Rules, especially not a girl who was into it.
I have been drenched in Essendon since before I was born, I suspect. I remember having a pair of red and black knitted booties on the wall in my childhood bedroom. I had a membership to the Mosquito Fleet when I was old enough. I would only ever play in the black and red teams at Auskick, and would kick up a stink if anyone gave me another guernsey. I would only drink my Milo out of the Bombers mug my Nanna had at her house (she was a very gracious yet dedicated Tigers supporter).
My dad had (and still has) a huge wood-mounted poster of an 80s premiership team under the house, in his workshop/where he keeps his precious things. Don’t ask me what year it’s from.
When I was 11 or 12, my Mum and her partner brought me and my brother up to Sydney to watch Essendon play against the Swans. We lost. (I have never seen the Dons beat Sydney in Sydney, maybe I’m a bad omen). The next day, mosquito fleet members got to have a special training day with some of the squad. I met my idols: Scott Lucas, Jason Johnson, Mark McVeigh, and Matthew Lloyd. These guys were superheroes in my eyes, but I didn’t dare talk about it with my friends at school, lest I get picked on for liking an inferior sport, for actively enjoying ‘Gay-FL’.
(sidenote: all the kids played a big handballing possession game where you had to maintain the upkeep by catching and successfully passing the ball to one another, and if you dropped it you got out. I won. Matthew Lloyd complimented me on my skills, and I nearly died.)
AFL players had an active role in my development of interest in men as well. I had crushes on McVeigh and Lloyd, and a big soft spot for the pocket rocket with a shock of blonde hair, James Hird. I’d never tell friends about this though, because they wouldn’t have understood. They were all obsessed with various NRL players – the Matty and Joey Johns, Freddy Fittler (?), Minichiello, those boys. Admittedly there was a period where I was mildly in love with Ryan Girdler from the Panthers, but who wasn’t.
The point I’m trying to make here is that I essentially suppressed my love for AFL for a very long time. There’s a significant 10-year gap in my membership pins, from where I stopped my EFC kids membership, with its cute memorabilia and birthday cards from the team, and started again when I was about 19 or 20. I didn’t feel comfortable being actively into AFL, despite wanting to play so much as a young girl.
I played Auskick until I was too old for that, and moved into junior AFL. I was the only girl in the reps team and played for a season before it became clear that me being a preteen girl hitting puberty was a bit of an issue. The boys became rougher, training was harder and not as fun, and I ended up having to leave. I wish I didn’t.
Growing up in NSW and loving a very Victorian sport was tricky, but it has its good moments. I remember listening to Tony Lockett’s final game in the car on the way to Bendigo with my dad, ‘There’s Only One Tony Lockett’ is etched in my brain forever. I remember the 2000 grand final, watching it at the local bowling club, Essendon beating the Dees, and my older sister flying red and black streamers out of the car on the way home. I miss players running up each others backs for the most spectacular marks. I miss the ferocity of the sport and how much players could get away with.
(I also miss Buckets being a ladder, I guess he still is though)
I’m grateful that now, as a 26 year old woman, I am immersing myself again into the good sport. Being away from it for so long meant that I forgot a lot of the ins and outs of the game. I couldn’t tell you everyones names and stats. I still struggle with understanding percentages and the finer details. But I love it, and I deeply love the fact that the apparent trendiness of watching, playing, and adoring footy has made it to Sydney.
I’ve played in the media team for Community Cup two years running, I play AFL9s, and I’m looking at joining the local womens team. I’ve got five bottles of Fletch’s 22 Season Cab Sauv under my bed. I’ve been to more games this year alone than I have in the last ten years.
Oh and and my blood will always bleed black and red.
