Mourning Has Broken

Bruce Menzies* reflects

I awake to clouded skies. The streets of South Fremantle are silent. Sunday morning coming down, to transplant the name of Kris Kristofferson’s classic, recorded by one of my old musical favourites, Johnny Cash. Yes, in the aftermath of That Football Match, Kristofferson’s lyrics reflect the prevailing mood:

‘There’s nothing short a’ dying that’s half as lonesome as the sound of the sleeping city sidewalk and Sunday morning coming down.’

Well, maybe that’s stretching it a bit. Only a game of football, some might say. But what a game!

Fremantle fans are suffering. We had it in the bag, didn’t we? Or so it seemed. Four minutes to go. 17 points ahead. Surely enough. Only it wasn’t.

Before the game, the good lady and I walked into Freo. What a crowd. What energy. What hope. We circled back to South Fremantle. Pubs and cafés and restaurants packed as patrons positioned themselves around the big screens. “Can’t remember scenes like this back in 2013,” she said. True. It was wild then but not this wild.

At the Conti, Serge sported a wig and a smile as wide as the Nullarbor. Patrons jammed in. The place booked out days before.

Three hours later. Shock. Disbelief. A WhatsApp from my good mate at the MCG: ‘Fuuuuuuuuucccck, how did we let that slip?”

How indeed. And players and fans left to deal with the tumult of emotions.

I tossed up between a glass of wine and herb tea. Sensibly, the wine waited until the evening. On South Terrace, it seemed nobody knew what to say or how to respond. Stunned and shaken. Perhaps a wishful hint of denial. Play it again, Sam. Surely, we’ve dreamed those last few minutes.

Only we didn’t.

I escaped to the comforts of home. The urge to withdraw. To grieve alone. Replay in my head all the ‘what ifs’.

Nightfall brought that glass of wine and eventually sleep. And when morning broke, an inkling of acceptance. Appreciation for what was a wonderful game. Compassion for the players who gave it their all. Reading the post-mortems, splattered online. Touched by the reflection of Patrick Voss. His note to himself about being a good person and that a premiership would not define him. Beautiful and brilliant. And watching him after the final siren, helping teammates to their feet and hugging them. They are moments that will stay with me, and I suspect with the good folk who follow the boys in purple.

Of course, it does us no good to simply shrug off a period of mourning. It’s integral to the grieving process. But neither need we wallow in it. To paraphrase Coach JL, feelings of devastation can coexist with pride at what his players have achieved over the course of the season. Yes, to be proud, and also humble for what the footy gods throw up. You just never know.

My mate at the MCG is a dreamer and a stoic. Never one to throw in the towel, he’s already floating the mantra of a ‘Dockers’ heaven in 27’.

May the force be with us.

*By Bruce Menzies. Based in Fremantle, most of the time, Bruce Menzies is the author of three novels, a family history, and a recent memoir, as well as be8ng a regular contributor to FSN. Details at ‪BruceJamesMenzies.com If you’d like to read more of Bruce Menzies’ work on Fremantle Shipping News or listen to a fascinating podcast interview with Bruce, look here.

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