Thanks for the Memories

Coming to terms with the end of a North Melbourne era

My alarm rung at 5am. I jumped down from the top bunk and shook awake my best friend, who grunted and rolled away from me to show his enthusiasm for the early wake-up call. A symphony of six snoring men filled the dark room.

We left the hostel and flagged a cab — it was a chilly morning in New York and I was still feeling extremely hesitant that the ‘Australian bar’ we had found would actually be showing the game. The streets were completely bare. New York — the ‘city that never sleeps’ — was sleeping. Or, at the very least, snoozing. To my delight, the bar was open when we arrived, and we gravitated towards the back, where we could hear a few TVs and quite a few excited Australian accents. The game was about to start.

Within one hour, my delight had turned to heart-wrenching despair. At half time, Essendon were beating North Melbourne by 27 points, and I was getting horrific flashbacks to our 100-point thrashing by West Coast in 2012. We’d waited two years — two long years — to get back into this position, an elimination final, and I had really thought we might be able to make up for the embarrassment of that day. We’d brought in big-game players, won big games, improved so much. And yet, North were doing a North, and giving it all up so easily.

The Essendon fans, who made up most of the crowd, were justly excited. My friend, neither an Essendon nor a North supporter (according to him he supported ‘good football,’ whatever that means) was quiet in the chair next to me. The second half commenced, and I started to mentally prepare myself for the loss. I didn’t want it to affect my holiday too much — I have a tendency to get too emotionally involved in North Melbourne from time to time. I reminded myself that this was a football team, and the amount I was invested in it was fairly unhealthy. It didn’t help.

All of a sudden, good things started to happen. Sam Wright took a mark in the back half. Ben Brown scored a goal. Firrito won a one-on-one and suddenly we had two goals. And a third. I was out of my seat. And a fourth! Oh my god! Could we do this?

For the rest of the match, my stomach remained in a tightly bound knot. North fought and fought, but the Bombers somehow managed to stay one step ahead. My friend was decidedly awake now, and if I hadn’t been so fixated on the game I would’ve reminded him that shouting ‘Go the Roos’ didn’t make him sound like someone who wasn’t taking sides.

Finally, with four minutes left to play in the last quarter, Petrie gathered the ball at ground level. Time slowed down, the knot in my stomach tightened, and my heart stopped beating. With a quick snap, he made North history.