They’re crazily fervent, mostly loyal, always hardy and forever passionate and that’s just them as people. As fans, they’re unique.

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They’re brash with their thoughts and boast when they win, and when they lose they could whinge for Australia.

Every week of every season, going all the way back to 1980, the club’s most recent premiership, they turned up to games with hope and cheer and jeer.

And, boy, oh boy, they could eat their own.

They’d abuse their players and want coaches sacked and, by the next weekend, try to make a case for winning that year’s premiership.

They’re delightful optimists and fiercely pessimistic and the heightened levels of both mindsets are exactly why they are Richmond fans.

It is all part of the journey.

They will wake up on Saturday morning and had a sick, foreign, wrenching feeling in their stomachs.

It will be a crazy mix of nerves, excitement and disbelief.

It won’t be as heart-aching as the day of last week’s preliminary final, though.

The fear of failure, of having a Grand Final spot ripped away at the death, was unique.

That’s why the MCG last Saturday will be remembered forever.

The noise. No one who was there will ever forget the noise.

That’s what the Tigers fans are — they’re strong and they’re bold, and bloody loud.

Grand Final day is about celebration.

It’s about loving and living every moment. It’s about having a good breakfast because you don’t know when you’re going to eat next. It’s about reading the paper and reliving the parade and seeing if you know anyone in the photographs.

It’s about talking to mates who have been constants in the good and the bad times. It’s about when to have your first beer and about when to catch the train to the MCG, if you’re lucky enough to have a ticket.

It’s about believing and supporting and being confident in the team’s game plan and substance, borne of a coach and captain who bravely admitted fault and failings at the start of this campaign.

Damien Hardwick and Trent Cotchin laid the foundations for what this team stood for and what this team is about.

The Tigers are not perfect, but they are genuine. They are blue collar with plenty of ticker. They went 15-7 in the home-and-away season and won their two finals by eight goals and five goals. They built a forward line around Jack Riewoldt and loaded him with a bunch of kids who love to tackle and, of course, it flourished behind the epic season put together by Dustin Martin.

Lance Franklin included, there is no more a fascinating and inspiring footballer than Dusty.

If he wins the Norm Smith Medal, it perhaps will cap the best season ever played, as Leigh Matthews argued recently.

If Adelaide wins, it will be epic for different reasons.

The Crows are a powerhouse club and have proven themselves powerfully resilient.

Imagine having the coach murdered and having to pick up the broken-hearted. That’s what Don Pyke did. He had help, of course, but he’s a special. Within two years he has his team in the Grand Final.

Phil Walsh will be there in spirit for some of these players, but this is Pykey’s team.

It is a frighteningly talented team, too. Eddie Betts, Rory Sloane, Taylor Walker, Jake Lever, Sam Jacobs, Tom Lynch, Brad and Matt Crouch ... every line has champs and speed and excitement.

As the day dawns, hope springs everywhere for Richmond and Adelaide fans.

They have travelled from the around the state, around the country and around the world to be at the MCG.

We may have not seen a build-up like it.

That’s what the Tigers bring to football.

Win or lose, they have won back respect from the football world. But that won’t fill the void of 37 years of failure. Nowhere near it.

A premierships beckons, but it won’t be easily won.

The contest has been labelled pressure v ball movement. It will be more than that. It will be tough and furious and there will be mistakes and inspiration.

That’s what we like about Grand Finals.

Good luck and have fun, everyone.