But Richmond: there's a cause, if ever there was one. Barring newbies Gold Coast and GWS, every team in the competition has won at least two finals since the Tigers last won even one. Even Melbourne. The last time Richmond won two finals, Mick Malthouse was still playing (yes, Gen Y, he did play once; quite well, actually).

Yearning for some sort of keepsake to take home from September, some sign from heaven, an omen, has become such a recognisable ache in Richmond fans that it amounts to a medical syndrome, like chronic fatigue, or irritable bowel.

Really, they ought to have given up. But look, 70,000-plus members, nipping at the heels of Collingwood and Hawthorn at the top of that table. Highest average crowd in 2015, nearly 48,000, nudging out even the Magpies, who didn't have to play North Melbourne in Hobart. Massive TV ratings. Coffers overflowing, or they should be.

Blessed with those sorts of numbers, any other club might come across as smug, even obnoxious. The Tigers don't. Rather, they're admirable in their blind faith. Gen Y-ers might not credit this, but there was a time when Richmond fans were as reviled as Collingwood's. It will come again. But for now, Tigers folk have become, well, loveable, almost.

Besides, invoking another slogan from history, it's just about time. The decks have been cleared. Port Adelaide, their conqueror last year, are not there. Nor are Carlton, nemesis from the year before. In fact, of Melbourne's traditional big four, only Richmond remain. For a rare moment, the stage is theirs. Hawthorn are there, but Hawthorn are like Port Phillip Bay, a topographical fact.