I'm about to head out into a beautiful Perth autumn morning and take in the morning coffee ritual somewhere deep in the heart of Freo. Birds are singing and the gentle russets of the leaves add a glow to the morning sunlight.

I've always found this time of year to be my favourite here... the absolute heat of summer is gone but the days still get warm and the air is clear, the mornings pleasantly fresh and, in the right company, conversation sparkles with wit and humour.

Yes, I'm planning on inflicting myself on a few West Coast fans...(some of them are also East Freo supporters...) and the steam rising from the crema at times like these is intoxicating. You can almost feel your pulse accelerate in anticipation. Life is good and my largesse shall be expansive as I discuss the finer points of playing your entire defense as a forward line with Ryan Murphy thrown in as a decoy to completely flummox the opposition.

It's an awesome feeling to get to a "first" game. Being at the first win after a losing streak is party central with our mob... we go off like a frog in a sock sometimes. I've been lucky enough to get to a few "firsts"... I was at the first derby win on a day when the misty drizzle combined with the sunlight to add an unearthly, almost angelic, glow to Subiaco  while Jim Clement threw Peter Matera to the ground about 5 times in a row by the throat before the umpire finally had to pay a free out of a sense of compassion. This serves to illustrate that, on a day of firsts the innate goodness in people often shines through, by the way.

I was at our first final too, along with about 43 500 close friends when we all spontaneously combusted in unison after the final siren and discovered how you can make a stadium levitate briefly when you get that Frrrreeeeeoooooo chant just right. I was at that game when Peter Carey took the first mark by an umpire, a beautiful little chest mark it was too... and 20 odd thousand people rose as one to point and guffaw as if we'd rehearsed the move.

It's bloody good to get a hoodoo of your back. The relief is more than palpable, it swaggers around and kicks as much arse as it feels like kicking and why not...? We, as a club and supporter group cop a savaging at the grubby hands of the small on a regular basis... when we get a chance to celebrate we should grab that chance by the scruff of the neck and squeeze every last drop out of it. If I could bottle it, I'd be selling it at the gates of the AFL but they've already got a con man selling snake oil down there and Richmond managed a win yesterday too, so we're all stuck with Wallace for a bit longer yet.

Anyway, however it goes for you, enjoy it. Play the music loud and enjoy the peace and quiet at work come Tuesday morning, or whenever you rock up and clock in.

Me? I've come over all superstitious...

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xX-GJ46kiCo]