Cast your mind back a few short years to when we were in the doldrums. Onfield, off-field, the works. Shitshow writ large.



While we'd all agree the crux of the problems that led to our eventual nadir of 2011-2 were obvious - club cleft in two, AAMI Stadium, dud timeslots and a lack of national exposure eroding our sponsorship value leading to the financial implosion that saw us slash'n'burn our football-related spend - there were deeper gremlins afoot.



There was a populist opinion outside Alberton that it was simply on the nose. That it was too Port Adelaide. It was arrogant. It was insular. It was no longer coming to heel. Its very identity - the 126 years of SANFL dominance that saw it promoted to the AFL in the first place - was a millstone around its neck. You'll never attract the new supporters you need to be a viable concern going forward! The OneClub merger is a mistake! Referencing Fos Williams' famous Creed is counterproductive! How dare you get the Victorians involved in our Fruchoctopian carry-on! Pull your heads in, jettison the references to your past, turn that scowl into a smile and you'll be so much more likeable.



Former State Treasurer Kevin Foley's tilt at the Presidency was to be built around this doctrine. Power FC would be the manifesto, in much the same way former CEO John James told Ashley Porter that "Port Adelaide" was "geographically constricting" while likening our future branding direction to GE and KFC. And all this off the back of the disastrous reign of coach Matthew Primus - eager to distance himself from the real or imagined hubris associated with the likes of Choco, Chad Cornes and Warren Tredrea - making 'humble' his chief buzzword, while CEO Mark Haysman was sacrificed at the altar of his own recalcitrance to be replaced by former SANFL man, Keith Thomas.



It was a real sliding doors moment for the very raison d'être of the club.



And in stepped David Koch.



Even your most hopeful Port fan had their doubts about the combination of a FIFO President from Sydney TV and high finance, let alone the 1984 Jack Oatey Medallist whose appointment as CEO had John Olsen and Leigh Whicker grinning from ear to ear. But those fears were soon allayed as KT and Kochie doubled-down on affirming our identity with the slick 'We Are Port Adelaide' campaign as the boardroom warfare over stadium deals, AFL licences and reserves teams continued in earnest.



Away from the suit and tie a formidable football department was assembled as Ken Hinkley, Alan Richardson (then Phil Walsh) and Darren Burgess arrived at Alan Scott HQ to implement the seismic shift supporters had been crying out for for years. Bigger bodies. Harder bodies. An honest gameplan. We will never ever give up. An upset Elimination Final win against Collingwood at the MCG in the first year. A demolition of Richmond at the new Adelaide Oval the next. A stunning win over Freo in Perth and then an ace away from a fairytale Grand Final appearance not 26 months since the infamous loss to GWS.



But somewhere amongst this seemingly inevitable march towards the ultimate success something changed.



The night we beat Hawthorn at the Oval a woman - non-member - threw her drink on an opposition player. The men from Glenferrie were also booed off, perhaps by those with long memories of the 'unsociable Hawks' years of dominance over us by fair means and foul. Bizarrely, Keith Thomas chose to respond to the isolated act of a lone moron and wider crowd behaviour that is a staple of football culture by lecturing his members on how to behave at the ground.



Kochie was suddenly everywhere, taking maximum plaudits for the revival while becoming a permanent fixture on our screens after seemingly every September goal. This spilled into 2015 with his ill-advised swagger immediately prior to the first bounce of our opening home fixture with the Swans, marching onto the Oval with the bewildered Fariss brothers and telling supporters to raise their scarves for NTUA before being told to jog on by a flustered goal umpire who had three middle-aged spivs cluttering up his workplace.



More isolated incidents at the Oval followed. Clarko accosted by a random chodeboat outside his hotel. A Western Bulldogs supporter claiming her autistic son was abused/bullied/fleeced in a game of high-stakes baccarat depending on which social media app she was using at the time. And how did Thomas and Koch respond to these unfortunate but isolated incidents? By playing a video on the big screens lecturing members on good behaviour. Again.



And now we have word filtering through from those who attended the Presidents Luncheon that Koch boasted he barracks for the Crows when they're not playing Port. That he hopes for a friendlier rivalry. Hackneyed appeals to the vague concept of South Australian unity. Off the back of his hopes for Port to be everyone's second team. Such platitudes even spread to the players, with Travis Boak's party line of putting the Showdown rivalry on hold culminating in yesterday's predictably soft and underwhelming team performance in contrast to the Crows fierceness from the off.



What. The. F**k.



What happened to We Are Port Adelaide?



At the beginning of the Koch reign he had the air of a prodigal son with something to prove. He'd not only resuscitate the ailing club of his childhood, but show his critics he could run a football club with just as much acumen as his other endeavours.



Now?



He seems every bit the liniment-sniffer drunk on his own bathwater that his doubters feared he would be, having converted us from the rehabilitated, feared and ruthless Port Adelaide that exists to win premierships to the worst version of Crows-Lite existing to be inoffensive, endlessly apologetic and liked.



David Koch has delivered a club whose success is now measured in crowd numbers, receipts and outsiders' smiles. The very club we feared John James and Kevin Foley would railroad us into.



100% vanilla. 0% ticker. Port Adelaide in name only.