To bastardise F. Scott Fitzgerald, the sentimental person thinks things will last, the Carlton supporter has a desperate confidence that they won’t. Since coughing up a loss to Adelaide at the end of July, Carlton’s season has had the anxious inertia of a house succumbing to a landslide.
To be among the Carlton faithful last Saturday night was to see grown men cry – first tears of joy, before squirting a few out with genuine sadness. It was to remember that in Melbourne, football remains a vital part of life, albeit one where grief is often softened by the saying “there’s always next week”.
