The Afternoon I Recalled Why We Fell in Love with Footy

How a day at Unley Oval reminded me what makes SANFL football so special.

When I was invited to watch Sturt take on North Adelaide from the heritage McKay Stand at Unley Oval, I saw it as more than just a day at the footy.

It was a chance to reconnect with the game I grew up with. As a kid, I proudly wore my woollen Sturt jumper with number 24 on the back because Rick Davies was my football hero. I also played a primary school match at Unley Oval and, like plenty of youngsters, thought the place was enormous.

It didn't take long to realise why people still love SANFL football.

It isn't a smaller version of the AFL.

It's a completely different experience.

Walking into Unley Oval, the first thing I noticed were the sounds.

The umpire's whistle. The thud of a leather Sherrin being kicked. They're little things you hardly notice at AFL games, but they took me straight back.

Another tradition had survived too. After the curtain-raiser match, the players from both Reserves teams lined the race, shaking hands with each League player as they ran onto the oval. It was a simple gesture that said everything about local football.

Then, at half-time, the oval belonged to everyone. Kids, parents and grandparents spilled onto the ground for a kick-to-kick, with plenty having a few dobs on goal. It reminded me that football here isn't something you simply watch.

You're part of it.

The Match

The first half tested the patience of the Sturt faithful. The Double Blues wasted opportunities, fumbled at crucial moments and seemed second to the ball too often.

By three-quarter time Sturt still trailed, but the mood had changed. You sensed they wanted the contest more.

The intensity lifted and five final-quarter goals turned the game on its head.

Then came the moment that brought everyone to their feet.

Sturt forward Sam Waltham soared over a pack to take a spectacular mark.

"Mark of the year!" someone yelled behind me.

The final siren brought a roar from the home crowd that was every bit as memorable as the result itself.

What Stayed with Me

But as satisfying as the comeback was, it wasn't what made the afternoon special.

It was everything happening around the game.

As supporters wandered off for a pie, a bucket of hot chips or a beer , a couple of older ladies in fluorescent vests and rubber gloves quietly worked their way around the grassed banks, tongs in hand. They stopped beside the deck chairs, reaching underneath to collect half-eaten sausages in bread, sauce-stained serviettes and stray cups left behind by the crowd.

There was no fanfare. No recognition. Just two volunteers taking pride in their football club and quietly getting on with it.

It was one of those moments most people would walk straight past, but to me it summed up everything that's good about grassroots football.

It doesn't get much more Australian than that.

Behind the Goals

There's an interesting contrast at Unley Oval. Sturt has long carried a reputation as the club of Adelaide's eastern suburbs, but behind the goals none of that seemed to matter.

The cheer squad brought a raw, noisy energy all of its own. They were everyday people, united by the same unconditional love for the Double Blues. They rode every contest, every tackle and every goal as if they were out there themselves.

The flags lay draped across the grass, waiting for the next Sturt goal. One member explained they would never raise them before the ball had actually gone through the big sticks. Tempting fate simply wasn't an option. In fact, I overheard one cheer squad member giving another a serve for touching a flag while a Sturt player was lining up for goal. He didn't want to "put the mockers" on him. Fair enough too.

What I loved most, though, was that their passion never got in the way of their honesty. If a Sturt player made a poor decision, pulled out of a contest or took the easy option, they were into him immediately. There was no sugar-coating it. They demanded courage, effort and commitment every bit as much as they expected goals.

This was football the way I remembered it.

Passionate, tribal, imperfect...and absolutely brilliant.

My Favourite Moment

Then came my favourite moment of the afternoon.

As the players made their way towards the huddle, supporters followed. Children squeezed to the front. Adults gathered behind them. Before long, around fifty Sturt supporters had formed a semi-circle around the players, listening intently as the coach delivered his three-quarter-time address.

Standing beside me was Sturt CEO Sue Dewing, quietly watching it all unfold. There were no VIP areas or barriers. Administrators, volunteers, members and supporters all stood shoulder to shoulder, all hoping the Double Blues could produce one more big quarter.

What impressed me wasn't how close we were to the huddle.

It was the respect.

Nobody stepped over the white line. Nobody needed to be told where to stand.

Standing only metres away, I didn't feel shut out.

I felt like I belonged.

One of the unexpected highlights of the afternoon was bumping into Sturt legend Michael "Flash" Graham.

A champion of both Sturt and South Australia, and one of the great Indigenous footballers of his era, Flash was one of the players who helped make following the Double Blues such a joy. But what struck me most wasn't his football record.

It was how approachable and genuine he was.

I wandered over and introduced myself.

"G'day Michael. I'm Brett. I spent a lot of my childhood enjoying your efforts on the footy field."

He smiled, shook my hand and what I thought might be a quick hello turned into a twenty-minute conversation.

We reminisced about the great Sturt teams, the legendary coach Jack Oatey and stories that have become part of club folklore. Flash laughed as he recalled that Jack wouldn't tolerate players kicking a 'screwie'. If they did, they'd be sent straight off the ground.

Different era. Different game.

Before we parted, I asked if we could grab a photo together.

"No worries," he said, immediately throwing his arm around my shoulder.

That summed up everything I love about SANFL football.

Where else can you wander up to one of your childhood heroes, chat about footy history and walk away feeling like you've just caught up with an old mate?

Maybe that's one of the SANFL's greatest strengths. Its champions never seem too far away. They're still around, still happy to stop for a chat, share a laugh and relive the stories that make clubs like Sturt so special. They haven't disappeared behind security guards or corporate boxes.

They're still part of the club.

The Real Score

What stayed with me wasn't one particular moment.

It was the way the whole afternoon came together.

The people.

The traditions.

The history.

Walking back out through the main gates, I rediscovered something I'd almost forgotten.

Some football is watched.

SANFL football is felt.

SANFL