I remember how it began. High in the nosebleeds, cold concrete on my back, head in my hands, the players marching off for half-time, the 2020 NRL grand final already over, the dream dead.
You don’t become a fan by celebrating success. Every true fandom is forged in the fire of heartbreak. We had seen our fair share. We had lived through the fallow years. We had come close before. At that moment, it felt as if we were watching the end. Another near miss. The one thing we knew then was that opportunities like these do not come easily. You never know when you will be back here.
Who could have foreseen what would happen next?
A quick recap: we spent the next grand final in 2021 locked down, screaming at our television sets as Critter ran away with the premiership, the joy of the Panthers reaching the mountain top somewhat subdued by our inability to celebrate together. The next year, we were back, more dominant than ever, and I was there when we inflicted the same pain that we had once felt on Parramatta fans, a match over at the half. I can’t say I was devastated about that.
This team was already legendary, and immortality beckoned next. All that stood in our way in 2023 was a talented team from Brisbane. Flashy, fun, they reminded me of us, what we were way back when. Once again, we sat, head in hands, thinking it was all over. I was ready to say goodbye to the dynasty. I was rationalising it. Two premierships in four years, you can’t be sad about that. What an achievement to make it this far. What a thing to witness.
But we all know what follows – the most dominant 20 minutes of rugby league ever played. The greatest sporting moment I will witness in my life. I was there when Nathan Cleary scored under the posts, and the impossible became history. I remember turning to my wife, when the screaming had finally died down, and saying that I had seen enough. I was good for my life. I’d been to nirvana. I didn’t need to see anything else. Little did I know …
This hasn’t been a dream season. We haven’t had a flurry of dominance. At times, it seemed we were hanging by a thread, or even some shoulder tissue. As fans, we had become accustomed to success, greedy, ungracious at times, overly critical at others. We had little care for the length of this campaign, the wear and tear on the bodies, the human beings at the centre of it all. We expected superhuman performance. After all, we’d already seen it.
Yet, here we are again. Any fears I had that it would not feel as special, that I would not stay up all night feeling anxious about a game still days away, that I would forget how rare it is to be here, how special it is to get to feel this anxiety – I can pack those away. I know exactly what we are witnessing. I know how lucky we have been. I am grateful for every stomach-churning moment of it.
Now, it’s the last dance. Whatever happens from here, the team will never be the same. We have lost pieces every step along the way. This is the farewell to the heart. Jarome, Fish, Sunia. They leave with no bitterness, but rather with the love of a grateful fanbase, the sadness of never wanting to say goodbye, the understanding that all things must pass. There is maybe one team in the competition who will understand how this feels, and they just so happen to be our opponents, they just so happen to be the team that started out this whole journey, they just so happen to be the dreaded Melbourne Storm.
One nice thing I can say about the Melbourne Storm, and I will limit it to one nice thing, is that like Penrith, they are also a homegrown team. Their fans will understand what I mean when I talk about watching players grow, exceed your expectations, and make you proud. They are in the next phase of the journey, the rebound after the legends have gone. It is remarkable that they are back here so soon. I can’t claim I am happy to see them but I can accept that it was meant to be this way.
It’s difficult for me to limit my thoughts to this Penrith side as simply a football team with a big game on the weekend. They are the best team to exist in the modern era of football. They are undisputed. When I look at them now, I see the statues that will exist one day. I see the stands named in the new stadium. I hear the stories I will tell to my children about the time when we had it so good.
What do we say, staring down a fourth premiership?
I can’t tell you to reach out and grab immortality, you already have it. I can’t say to do it for the fans. You’ve already given us so much. All I can say is thank you for letting us live the dream of every fanbase. Thank you for the memories that will live with us for a lifetime. To those players departing, I cannot wait to see what happens in your next chapter. Whatever shirt you wear, I will cheer for you.
How do you say goodbye? The only way we know how – with another ring.
James Colley is the head writer of Gruen and Question Everything as well as the author of The Next Big Thing published by Pantera Press
