Still There

I had not intended to be at the SCG for this game.

My original plan for Sunday was to go to Allianz Stadium for the Roosters’ NRLW match. By Friday that had changed, and I decided instead to watch the Sydney Swans women at the SCG. The ticket covered the double-header, so I also had a seat for the men’s game against North Melbourne afterwards.

The men’s game had not interested me enough to make a separate trip. Sydney had already secured second place and a home qualifying final, and the result against North Melbourne was not going to change that. I had originally decided it was one I could miss.

The events of the previous week changed the context, though. Five players were unavailable after being suspended by the club following an incident in Melbourne the previous weekend. The Swans had spent several days occupying far more of the news than anyone at the club would have wanted, and enough had already been written and said about it.

I had gone to the SCG primarily to support the women’s team, but by the time their game had finished I was also glad to be staying for the men. Whatever disappointment I felt about the actions of a few individuals did not extend to everyone else wearing the jumper. There were still players running out who had done nothing wrong, younger players getting opportunities, and a club I still supported.

When I booked my ticket on Friday, the entire bay appeared almost sold out. There were only three seats showing as available. By the time the men’s game started on Sunday, it looked barely half full.

I have no idea why. Some may have been members who simply did not turn up, others may have changed their plans, and perhaps some stayed away because of what had happened during the week. All I could see was the result: far more empty seats than the booking map had suggested.

The strange part was that the emptiness did not match the sound.

The official crowd was just over 30,000, but it felt considerably bigger. Almost everything Sydney did seemed to draw a little more noise than usual: a mark, a tackle, a goal, a young player doing something well. There was a generosity in the applause that seemed out of proportion to a Sunday evening game carrying almost no consequence for the ladder.

North Melbourne goals produced the opposite response. There was not much booing, mostly just silence, as though acknowledging the other team’s good work was unnecessary. Sydney would do something worthwhile and the sound came straight back.

I was sitting in the front row of section five of the Brewongle Stand, around halfway, in an area I had not tried before. From there I could look almost directly down on the interchange area and found myself watching another part of the game taking place below me.

Players came on and off, signs appeared, drinks were prepared and handed around, and trainers and other staff moved constantly. I did not know exactly what every person was doing, but the sheer number of people required to keep the team functioning was fascinating to watch from above. It was one of those parts of football that becomes much more obvious when it is sitting underneath you for two hours.

I also made a mental note of the section number. The view was good enough that I would happily sit there again.

On the field, Sydney took control fairly quickly. North Melbourne did have a period in the second half when they reduced the margin and made the game more competitive, and on reflection I probably did not give them enough credit for it at the time.

I was not in a particularly neutral mood. There was red everywhere, very little blue, and I was quite content for the evening to be about Sydney.

The Swans eventually won by 53 points. In another week, perhaps that would have been the main thing I remembered. This time the strongest memory came after the siren.

As the players made a lap of the ground, people around me stood, clapped and cheered. The players clapped and waved back, and a few came right along the fence line for high fives, the occasional hug and selfies with supporters.

Back near the team entrance, the support staff had remained on the ground waiting for the players to return. There were handshakes, embraces and more greetings as they came back in.

It felt less like one side thanking the other than an exchange of acknowledgement between the team and the people still there.

I had started the day planning to watch another sport at another stadium. Even after changing plans, this remained the second game of a double-header and one I had originally decided I could miss.

Yet by the end, staying felt like the point.

Sometimes the value of turning up has very little to do with what a result changes.

Sometimes it is enough that the team is there, and you are too.