A blessing and a curse: The pains of being a Port Adelaide supporter

One of the first things Tony Soprano says to his therapist, Dr Melfi, in the pilot episode of The Sopranos is a quote that stays with me.

“It’s good to be in something from the ground floor,” he tells her. “I came too late for that, and I know. But lately, I’m getting the feeling that I came in at the end. The best is over.”

He was talking about the decline of the mafia in the United States, and possibly, more obliquely, the country itself. I think it also works for journalism (I hear some insane stories about expense accounts from my veteran colleagues), living in Sydney (house prices!) and, most of all, for being a Port Adelaide supporter.

And yes, I’m aware we’re in yet another preliminary final, but really, it’s a hard life.

I didn’t have a choice. I was born into it. When my grandparents got off the boat from Italy and settled in Adelaide’s glorious western suburbs, they weren’t to know it was Port Adelaide territory, and what that would mean for us 60 years later.

It has been a blessing and a curse. Nothing brings out the scumbag in me like a Showdown. The Crows are for the top end of town; we are the people’s club, and proud of it. I could spend hours talking about Roger James, or Michael Wilson, or even John Butcher. I’m still furious we let Shaun Burgoyne go.

The late, great Foster Neil Williams, an icon of the Port Adelaide Football Club.Credit: Bryan Charlton

For the many readers who would be totally unaware of our background, I can reveal to you exclusively that we are the most successful club in the history of the game. That is, we have won the SANFL premiership 36 times. No other team dominated their state league to such an extent. Back then, we were known as the Magpies, wore the black and white prison bars, and we were untouchable. We were the big fish in a small pond – so naturally, as the VFL evolved into the AFL, it felt right for us to move into the national competition.

There have been multiple books written about what happened next, but long story short, we eventually entered the AFL in 1997 but had to come up with a new nickname (Power) and a new colour scheme (hello, silver and teal) to appease those in charge, and by those in charge I mean Collingwood.

The difficulty has been adjusting to being a small fish in a big pond. In fact, we haven’t adjusted, and that’s the problem. Culturally, institutionally, we expect more than is possible at this level for a club of our size. Such is the downside of having a culture of unrelenting excellence: failure is a crisis.

Our club’s motto is literally: “We exist to win premierships.” But we have only one in the AFL, our 2004 grand final win over the Brisbane Lions. I was there, and it remains one of the greatest days of my life. But I was also there in 2007 when we lost to Geelong in our last grand final appearance; I will not speak about it.

Port Adelaide coach Ken Hinkley.Credit: Getty Images

For too many years now, we have been close to glory, while also feeling a million miles away from it. Preliminary finals in 2014, 2020, 2021. The extra-time elimination final heartbreak against West Coast in 2017. The unsurprising straight-sets exit last year. I am a generally optimistic person, but this stuff grinds you down.

They didn’t have to deal with this in the ’50s and ‘60s, the heyday of Fos Williams. Or the 1980s and ’90s, when John Cahill and Russell Ebert were coaching, Greg Phillips, Bruce Abernethy, Tim Ginever and Scott Hodges were running around and my dad and uncles were in the stands.

Mark Williams’ most iconic scene as Port Adelaide coach.Credit: Getty Images

The best, as Tony Soprano says, is probably over.

I like current coach Ken Hinkley. I like the way he wears his heart on his sleeve. That’s us. I do think he’s been in the job for longer than his finals record deserves, but I am extremely open and indeed eager to be proved wrong.

I thought Port fans were within their rights to boo him earlier this year when we lost to the Brisbane Lions in a game dedicated to the 20-year anniversary of the 2004 flag. We lose too many important games to be taken seriously, and our semi-final win over Hawthorn the other night doesn’t change anything. Hinkley is, unfortunately, the common denominator.

But we were considered chokers back in the day, too. I was there at Football Park in 2003, the last time we faced the Swans in a final. We finished top for the second year in a row but, as in 2002, we lost our first final at home. Sydney were ruthless. Allan Scott, our major sponsor, said we’d never win anything under Mark Williams. We know how that turned out.

I’ll be up in the media box on Friday night, pushing my emotions aside, looking at things objectively, like I do all the time. My head says we are no chance. My heart agrees. The 8-0 record against the Swans is a fluke. Sydney are the best team in it, and when the SCG crowd comes alive, they are an untameable beast.

But just quietly, I hope Hinkley pins a printout of this article on the walls of the change rooms, like he did last week with Jack Ginnivan’s Instagram comment, and it helps brings about the improbable.

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