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This is a confession many hard-bitten Eagles supporters may be reluctant to make publicly, but I’m going to be barracking for the Dockers in the grand final.
I know it sounds laughably hypocritical, given I have spent most of 20 years in print and online ruthlessly mocking Fremantle. Still, in my defence, it’s been easy to deride the Dockers at times.
Much like the Ancient Greeks, Fremantle have perfected the art of tragic, comic drama for most of their time in the AFL.
For a West Coast Eagles tragic who has passionately followed the club since its inception, showing even a hint of affection for Freo can feel almost unnatural.
However, I genuinely hope the club win their maiden flag against the Lions this Saturday, because the Dockers have played this season with a daring bravado that’s been captivating and illuminating to watch.
Over the past two weeks I’ve found myself experiencing deeply confusing emotions for Freo. An unexpected feeling of admiration and respect has enveloped me as the Dockers have shown grit, spirit, and resilience rarely seen in the club’s 32-year history.
I unashamedly and unapologetically started whooping and hollering for Fremantle while watching their stunning comeback against the Swans.
My partner and son gingerly tiptoed out of the loungeroom during the dying stages of the game, fearing that I was going to burst out Freo’s theme song because I’d been subjected to some form of footballing conversion therapy.
The Dockers’ victory against Sydney was the gutsiest win I’ve ever witnessed in a final and widely regarded as the greatest ever by Freo.
But that hasn’t always been the case. My uncompromising, illogical disdain for the Dockers isn’t partly my fault; it’s entrenched in our DNA.
Shortly after our ancestors took that evolutionary jump from the trees and started kicking around a giant fig, the humanoid spectators watching on exhibited the first form of tribalism.
So, when the Dockers first unveiled the club’s purple, white, and green jumper, with the white anchor awkwardly plonked in the middle, on that wintry Perth day in July 1994, a “hate circuit” rooted in the primitive part of my brain was instantly triggered.
I’m convinced it has nothing to do with an irrational fear of the colour purple, although I have felt the unhealthy urge to hurl the TV onto the verge when my kids used to watch Barney the Dinosaur.
For sports agnostics or fans who are far more noble and rational, harbouring a seething dislike for another team might seem a tad dumb, illogical and plain imbecilic.
However, the unwritten laws of sports fandom dictate that, as a supporter of one club, I’m expected to hate at least one other.
That team happens to be Fremantle.
But that’s the joyous, strange psychological phenomenon of a sporting rivalry. While I abhor any form of violence, hostility or racism shown by supporters, there have been no serious, negative moral consequences for me giggling at the Dockers’ misfortunes over the past three decades.
During the Dockers’ darker days, it was harder to chuckle at their failings than to watch an episode of How I Met Your Mother.
The psychology behind sports rivalries and why we deliberately choose to loathe another club is usually born from a mix of historical, geographical, and cultural factors.
As for the Dockers, while no political, sectarian or societal conflicts exist between the two teams, I despise them because they’re the other WA club.
And I can say with a high degree of confidence, Dockers devotees have taken immense pleasure in watching West Coast wallow at the bottom of the ladder for the past six seasons.
A malevolent, misanthropic dislike for a footy club in your own state isn’t a personality flaw, because sports rivalries are a cornerstone of athletic culture.
However, some Sandgropers adopt the charming assumption that because the Dockers are from out west, all Perthites have a bit of “purple” running through their veins. Unfortunately, those same folk believe that Benjamin Franklin invented daylight saving.
While I have no plans to enlist in the purple army just yet, I will be cheering for Freo on grand final day.
Unlike when the Dockers last made the grand final in 2013 under Ross Lyon’s defensive coaching style, current coach Justin Longmuir has transformed Fremantle into an entertaining, offensive powerhouse.
Thanks to the club’s elite recruiting under list manager David Walls and recruiting boss David McMullin, Fremantle has all the swagger and weaponry to win a flag.
Freo must first get over a Brisbane side playing in their fourth-straight decider.
If the Dockers do win, even the most diehard Eagles fan can make room for a little purple.
Brendan Foster is a Fremantle local, former Fairfax journalist and communication professional, with work published in Guardian Australia, The New York Daily, The New York Times, Crikey, WAtoday, News.com.au, The Irish Times and The Sunday Times.From our partners
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