By Seven Hours Behind

Another derby is upon us.  Say what the players might about how they treat this game like any other, I (and every other Fremantle supporter) certainly do not.  The buildup might become consumed with the present state of the two teams - and our (hopefully temporary) slide to fifth - but fifteen years since the first and ten years since the most important derby suggest a bit of perspective is in order.  As is often my inclination when penning thoughts, a brief glance into the past always gives the present a different look. 

They say nostalgia makes the older contests more memorable; if this is the case I must have longer to wait to recall the 1995-1999 chapter of Western Derby history with any fondness.  In fact, it's pretty safe to say anyone who mentions this time in WA football nails their colours to the mast pretty quickly.  Should you be faced with such a situation feel free to remind said Eagles supporter they didn't exactly set the world on fire themselves.  In fact one could argue they failed to rebuild a great team, managed poor farewells to a score of club champions and failed dismally in each finals campaign, forever leaving open the argument they were the 'state team' many believed: a golden generation of the late 1980s and early 1990s that had the pick of the litter.  Failing this, simply mention Murray Rance or Peter Sumich's respective misses in their finals exits of 1988 and 1990.  It does (and should) rankle any Eagles supporter old enough to remember.  To leave the exclamation mark on the discussion, offer two words: Ken Judge.  Should they retort with some cheap Gerard Neesham or Damian Drum jibe, offer the following two worded response: Ken Judge. 

All banter aside, the landscape of 1995 feels a long time ago and no one can be sad with this.  Fremantle's membership core of that inaugural season was a resilient group of 15,000 or so pollyanna's (many of whom are still on board to this day).  We were largely people wanting something new and would have equally supported the Merino's, Sharks or any other name on the table.  When they heard the new colour of purple, they would have offered no complaint.  One can debate the approach, rationale and success of the early administration in their bid to 'de-parochialise' the new team and seek to give it an statewide appeal that extended beyond the purview of the 6160 postcode of Fremantle itself but ultimately history is now written.  The inaugural club poster of the first team with the Fremantle sides of the 1880s in the background is a compelling one but that is where the link to history ended in many respects.  External factors went against us in those early days, compounded by some internal decisions that some might have over if they could.  Nevertheless we were what we were: a team with a mixture of good and serviceable players in a debut AFL season for a brand new entity. 

I often wonder whether history would be different had the AFL designated the opening Western Derby fixture a Fremantle home game.  People only recall the scoreboard and the enormity of the psychological blow on the new club.  It is easy to forget we were 3-3, having beaten Geelong and Sydney at the WACA, Fitzroy at the Whitten Oval and suffered close single digit losses to Richmond, Essendon and Footscray. With a 50-50 supporter base in the crowd, the occasion might not have overwhelmed them.  Then again, 82 point losses are hard to argue against.  I have no doubt that first Western Derby loss - against players and (often) good friends they'd known through years in the WAFL together - hit the first playing group hard and made them ask if they were really cut out for the big time. Perhaps the lack of depth in the early Dockers sides would have shone through over time regardless, but one cannot disregard the role of mental strength and the damage of a huge loss from a playing group they would have privately benchmarked themselves against.        

From that moment on, the oft-used 'big vs. small brother' dynamic began to crystallise.  Fremantle players seemed like they never looked forward to derbies, afraid of being a part of a new awful chapter in the record books.  The odd fiery leader might look all the players in the eyes in the rooms before a game and say 'not on my watch', but a handful of resistance cannot withstand unbridled swagger and confidence.  And so the poor results continued, season after season until an unremarkably rainy Sunday in July 1999 when a group of Eagles fans I worked with offered me a derby ticket on a day when not everyone wanted to sit through intermittent showers.  What a glorious shower it turned out to be.  People might say this was the turning point; it wasn't.  Make no mistake it was an important day.  Tony Modra hitting his hands on the turf after the miraculous goal from the pocket and the wild scenes in North Fremantle's 'Left Bank' that Sunday night with the supporters are great and famous memories.  On that day however, a Fremantle team no better than those before it came up against an Eagles team lost and out of sorts (startling given it was Chris Mainwaring's 300th game).

In my humble opinion, one hundred regular season derbies might come and go and none will be as important as Round 21, 2000.  It was a warm day, with the build-up a little different and both team's supporters seemingly clustered together a little more than usual.  In Eagle home matches, all Dockers support was confined to the eastern lower tier, but with Fremantle home derbies there was still was no critical mass of members and scores of Eagles supporters secured seats throughout the ground.  The tension in the stands was palpable.  The atmosphere had not been seen before or since at a modern football match in WA: by the final siren, countless scuffles had broken out and 42 people had been ejected from the whole of Subiaco Oval.  It was dramatic from start to finish, but this was nothing compared to the infamous fights on the ground: Michael Gardiner and a young Matthew Pavlich going toe to toe in the Subiaco end goal square; a long drawn out melee in front of our pocket on the southern side of the ground with a dozen players; and of course, Dale Kickett and Phil Read's epic and bloody standoff.  While you wouldn't hope to see these scenes (and the suspensions) every week, it was gripping stuff that made you leap from the seat and exactly what we as a supporter base needed to see.  

Had it been all show, then perhaps things might have stayed the same.  But the 'biff' was backed up with an epic one point win in the tensest of derby finishes.  The roar at the siren was immense.  Five years of water-cooler banter and playground teases laid to rest.  Sure the first win might have come the year prior in 1999, but that was a windy miserable day with only a few thousand Dockers supporters even in the ground to see it.  The next day, there was a resignation from Eagles supporters like 'that first win had to come sooner or later'.  This was different, like there was now finally a clean slate and we needed (and wanted) to prove ourselves all over again.  The first win in front of Fremantle members - those same pollyanna's who've never stopped believing - and the first time we walked away from a truly tough game the victors.  Having the fortune of being at both derbies, I know which one I would re-live in an instant.  I remember sitting on the grass in the middle after the game (when fans could still do such things at Subiaco) staring up at the momentous scoreboard: Fremantle 15.11 (101) beat West Coast 15.10 (100).   Even the nature of the score itself seemed to have meaning; that we were 'one one-hundredths' better than them and there was nothing to say we couldn't be ever again. Call it sentimental, but  I have walked taller as a supporter from that game onwards.  Perhaps only a premiership will offer a better feeling, whenever that day comes.  

Thank goodness big and little brother contests are over and we start every derby now as equals.  Some say Fremantle players get 'up' for this game too much; that they take it too seriously instead of seeing it as just another 'four points'. My response to that is so we should: the Eagles have more premierships, more finals appearances, more Brownlow medallists, more members and more turnover.  The facts don't lie and we are the last club (in the current competition structure at least) to have not contested a grand final or won a premiership.  I would like to think our day in the sun will come (particularly on the most important measurement) but a win in each derby until that chance arrives is the best way to get closer to it.  We do not have to measure ourselves against their success but can seek to emulate it (and all others) at the same time: these two ideas are far from mutually exclusive.  Winning big games requires handling pressure and not being afraid of failure.  Derbies are big games, pure and simple.  Paul Haselby is a great kick for goal, but winning a derby with a set shot from 50 metres and 45 seconds remaining confirms to himself he can do it again when it really counts.  Matthew Pavlich or Michael Barlow might believe deep down they are game-breakers, but winning a Ross Glendinning Medal and being viewed as the best on ground from 36 quality candidates in the state's biggest game proves just that. 

This is just a small reason why derbies matter and why we shouldn't be encouraged to treat them as just another match in a 22 round season.  Some argue that Melbourne sides stand a better chance of success because they have a series of high pressure fixtures against old rivals which prepares a player better for performing in finals than derbies or showdowns.  My view - having spent some time in Perth and Melbourne - is if Perth and Adelaide are fishbowls then Melbourne is merely an aquarium.  Our fishbowl makes up the players we produce and the manner we consume the game.  It might be intense, sometimes reactionary and lack the perspective that Melbourne clubs enjoy in a more cosmopolitan town.  But the derby has grown up a lot and is worthy of our undivided attention when it comes around.  It makes local heroes out of WA kids who've always dreamt of playing in it and transforms Victorian and South Australian draftees into adopted legends of a developing tradition.  And that's what Fremantle and West Coast are: developing institutions (fifteen and twenty-three years old respectively) with the power to make great drama for a fixated football state.  Its best days are certainly ahead.  This rivalry is not what it used to be in its infancy, and it's unquestionably the richer for it.