In case you don’t know, my beloved St Kilda Football Club has won one premiership in 151 years.
It’s an unenviable record of under achievement and 2025 doesn’t appear to be anything different based on what we saw on the weekend versus Port Adelaide in the last practice match.
I was only three years old when we won our only flag in 1966 so my journey of terminal disappointment began in 1971 watching the Saints blow a twenty point lead at three quarter time to lose by twelve points to Hawthorn.
The significant moment was when Hawks coach Kennedy moved Bob Keddy who had barely touched the ball, to full forward to replace their concussed champion Peter Hudson.
Keddy kicked four of seven last quarter goals as I fell into a deep despondency for the tri-colours, a despondency that has attached itself to me like a mange for the past fifty four years.
Living in WA as a child, we relied heavily on The Winners on Sunday nights, so seeing Saints games was rare. They were always mine and my younger brother’s team but we seemed to get more footage of North Melbourne because the 70’s were their halcyon days.
It was Malcolm Blight that became our hero and it was he who would come back to haunt me in 1997.
Stan Alves did a terrific job during his time at The Saints and with a bit of help from Ray McClean transformed the culture from mediocre to a high performance environment.
In the 1997 Grand Final he was up against his old North premiership team mate Blight who coached a star studded Adelaide.
Shane Ellen, a former Footscray defender, was placed at full forward where he kicked two goals and incredibly another three from half back after half time.
But the dagger through the chest came from maestro Darren Jarman who kicked five goals straight in the last quarter. Every one of those goals was like an electric shock.
Another unsteady period at the club followed the sacking of Stan including a spasmodic appearance by Malcolm Blight, another kick in the guts for me personally.
The next big opportunity came in 2004. We had a powerhouse team but in the Preliminary Final versus Port Adelaide in Adelaide, the Saints were all over Port early when Fraser Gehrig kicked his 100th goal.
A cavalcade of supporters led by dour defender Stephen Baker’s Dad, charged onto the oval and disrupted the game so ridiculously that ‘The G Train’ had to be escorted off the ground. Momentum lost, game over.
Actually it didn’t affect the game that much given it was so early, but it was just totally unnecessary. By all means if it was a home and away game, but we were two hours away from a Grand Final spot you idiots!
It was a great game and this was the one that would have rewarded some of the club greats with a flag. Port would go on to defeat Brisbane the following week.
The 2009 season under Ross Lyon was arguably the best I have seen as a supporter. Rock hard defence and fast, bold transitions made viewing a delight. The round fourteen game with Geelong is considered by many as the best home and away game ever played and it was inevitable these two sides would meet in the Grand Final.
Scarlett shins the ball to Ablett who kicks to the top of the square, contest, front and square Varco, handball to Chapman, left foot snap, all over. Had Scarlett missed the ball, we were off and standing on the pedestal, but not to be. At the end of the day we didn’t kick straight.
I guess the infamous bounce that avoided Stephen Milne is the nightmare moment of the first 2010 grand final but I really didn’t feel like we were ever going to win the draw. The Heath Shaw smother the following week set the tone for what was a terrible day.
The last fifteen years has seen some woeful recruiting decisions and more coach changes at The Saints.
As a Saints tragic you always feel like you’re on a raft in heavy seas. There never seems to be a definitive level of leadership that can steady things and provide comfort.
It’s interesting to benchmark Ross Lyon versus Chris Scott for instance, someone whose considered the best coach in the AFL. Lyon appears to be the boss, a controlling figure even higher than the CEO and President, making the call on who the club hires and it’s direction.
Scott appears to leave everything other than coaching to his management team. He acknowledges that and seems to have ultimate trust in his backroom. They’re capacity to never drop off is extraordinary and due so much to the mercurial recruiter Stephen Wells.
The Saints have recruited some talented kids now but we now have another few years waiting to see if they come to fruition. What we desperately need is some class through the midfield, like, oh I don’t know…..say Bontempelli or Petracca!!
Until then I will continue to catch the train to Marvel with my fellow diehards from Ballarat, a town that produced so many Saints champions over the decades.
Of all of them, Plugger, Spud et all, my favourite was Geoff (Joffa) Cunningham. He was recruited from Golden Point in the Ballarat Football League. No tougher a footballer, Joffa played in an era of mud and blood at Moorabbin and like Trevor Barker stayed loyal throughout.
The Golden Point Oval is now called White Flat Oval and sits out the front of our house in Ballarat Central.
We have renamed it Flat White Oval in response to the number of Melbournians moving here but it’s a beautiful, pristine old ground and is like a field of dreams for me.
I can walk out the front of our house and imagine Joffa and his brother Daryl taking the ball from Spud, linking up though the midfield and delivering laces out to Plugger landing it right into that cushion of a gut he used to possess.
I don’t hold great expectations for 2025 but as long as the effort is there I can get on the train home with some level of gratitude and hope. Go Saints!
