Richmond tragic Al Paton dreams of Grand Final deliverance after three decades of Tiger torment

SUPERFOOTY editor Al Paton started barracking for Richmond in 1983. It’s been a tough 34 years but he wouldn’t change a thing. And now he’s dreaming of Grand Final deliverance.

Richmond fans celebrate their preliminary final win.

I’ve waited my whole life for this. Literally.

The first game I can remember is Kevin Bartlett’s 400th match — in 1983. Talk about timing.

Since then the Tigers have made the finals six times in 34 years, and three of those were humiliating elimination final exits. Melbourne has played in two Grand Finals in that time.

JAMES HIRD: TWO HOURS TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE

1-44: JON RALPH RATES EVERY GRAND FINAL PLAYER

GRAND RIVALRY: WHY TIGERS, CROWS HATE EACH OTHER

It wasn’t meant to be like that. My father is an Essendon supporter and intended his three sons to follow in his Bomber footsteps. Instead he got Collingwood, the Western Bulldogs and Richmond.

I’m not even sure why I chose the Tigers. My mum says it’s because I had a crush on a girl in prep who was a Richmond fan. Sounds extremely dubious if you ask me, but whatever the reason, when I decided to back the Tigers, I was all in.

There are photos of me as a little kid decked out from head to toe in black and yellow — they don’t capture the teasing of the hordes of Essendon and Hawthorn fans I went to school with. One year in primary school I got in trouble for wearing my Tigers tracksuit on school photo day.

The author in his primary school days.

And at home this week. Not much has changed.

I remember sitting in the rain at the MCG watching Richmond play the Brisbane Bears in the last game of 1989 to avoid the wooden spoon (we lost). I witnessed numerous Gary Ablett Sr exhibition games, watched Tony Modra kick 10 against the Tigers at the MCG and Jason Dunstall boot 17 at Waverley.

It wasn’t all bad. I joined the cheer squad and was lucky enough to be on the field holding up the banner when Richmond returned to the finals in 1995. I took a bus to Brisbane for the prelim the next time we made September, in 2001, when part of the convoy got lost on the way north and broke down on the way home, and was in Adelaide in 2014 when Trent Cotchin chose to kick against the wind.

I even filled in as the mascot a couple of times, although it should be said the costume back then wasn’t up to today’s standards and I spent more time trying to see out the eye holes to avoid smacking a kid in the face when giving a high-five than performing any pre-game acrobatics.

So when you think about it, it was mostly bad. At least if you look at the on-field results.

Drawing by a young Al Paton in the early 80s — of Richmond losing.

But if I had a chance to turn back time and choose a different team, there’s not a chance in hell. Barracking for Richmond is a brotherhood — the rare bond of tortured souls enduring a shared fate. As much as I’m sure those Hawthorn-supporting kids at Heathmont East Primary have enjoyed their nine flags since I chose the Tigers, it will be nothing on the collective 37 years of torment unleashed if Richmond is in front when the final siren sounds on Saturday.

This is my first Grand Final, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Should I be terrified of defeat? I’m just stunned to be here. This year has been incredible. This week has been surreal.

Adelaide is a formidable opponent, but this Richmond team is different to all those that tried and failed, often spectacularly, in the past.

Mementos from the Tiger trunk.

We’re led by Cotch with his new-found aggro; Dusty — just Dusty; Rancey; Nank; Jack, who rides the highs and lows like the fans; Dan Rioli, who shares the surname and September DNA of his great uncle, whose number I wore on my Richmond jumper as a kid; and Jacob Townsend, who started his career at the Leeton-Whitten Crows in the Riverina, where I played a season as I started my journalism career in the bush.

I’m rapt Matthew Richardson will present the cup if the Tigers win. He was Richmond for 17 seasons: hope amid mediocrity. Hope a day like this would arrive. Richo represents all the players who bled for the Tigers when they were down: Knighter, Freezer, Newy, Cambo and so many more. And all of us fans who have no memories of the glory days of the 60s and 70s when Richmond was feared, not ridiculed.

The Tiger army and their hero, Dustin Martin.

The last word goes to my Dad, who let his kids make their own decisions and live with the consequences. He drove us to the MCG, Waverley, even some games at Windy Hill and Victoria Park in the early days. We all missed out on the Bombers golden era of the 80s and flags in 1993 and 2000. But he has seen Collingwood break through twice and the Dogs finally last year, making two of his boys happy. There’s just one left.

He struggles a bit with modern technology, but just before the first bounce last Saturday I got a short text message from Dad: Eat em alive. I reckon I’ll get another one on Saturday. And I reckon they just might. Who knows what happens after that, but I can’t wait to find out.

Go Tiges.

Al Paton is the News Corp AFL digital editor. Follow him on Twitter at @al_superfooty