The neutral supporter. Sometimes awkward, sometimes assertive. At times easily spotted, occasionally unidentifiable. All sports fans have, at some time, found themselves in the role of a neutral.
Be it a Victorian watching the NRL State of Origin, or an AFL fan tagging along to a game in which neither team interests them, sitting on the fence can churn up a whole new set of emotional conundrums.
Such was the experience of this staunch Essendon supporter going undercover in the round nine clash between Carlton and Geelong.
This was not my first neutral supporting experience but it was set to be the most immense, with the match expected to come close to selling out.
On the long trek along the bridge from Southern Cross Station, I became acutely aware of two things. The first: a feeling I was caught in the midst of a blue and white sea. The second, as I was buffeted from side to side by fans intent on reaching the gates of Etihad Stadium: apparently no members of this vast ocean possessed peripheral vision.
Maybe they sensed the Bomber blood in me. I pressed on, eagerly anticipating both the top-four clash and the spectacle to come.
Yet I soon found maintaining neutrality a struggle. Perhaps it was the irrepressible likeability of a Geelong team containing players such as Jimmy Bartel, Joel Selwood and James Podsiadly that did it.
More likely it was my Essendon-inspired innate dislike of anything navy blue, combined with the nearby mob of Carlton supporters’ incredibly loose definition of holding the ball.
The fact I’d tipped Geelong probably wasn’t much help in my quest for neutrality. Either way, by early in the first quarter I had nervously settled into favouring the team from down the highway.
Carlton apparently disagreed with my decision, starting the game with a bang and making the undefeated Cats look like a disoriented straggle of stray kittens. Here my level of neutrality came to the fore – while I held faint hopes of a Geelong comeback, I could appreciate the talent and class on show from both sides.
My vision, typically impaired by supporter bias, was unclouded. More than ever, I could admire the breathtaking ballwinning ability of Chris Judd, the pace of Jeff Garlett and the apparent goalkicking nous of Travis Varcoe.
Being a neutral lets you embrace all facets of a game without an underlying fear of disloyalty. I became ever thankful I held the advantage of a somewhat impartial view of what turned into a ripping game of footy.
But it seems human beings, and in particular, sports fans, naturally desire competition. Neutrality alone cannot satisfy us, we must pick a side in battle and follow them to a victorious or devastating conclusion. As a result, I became ever more emotionally invested in the Geelong cause, unable to help myself from cheering every goal, tackle and one percenter as they hung on for a two-point win.
The reminder of my true neutrality came only with the final siren. As ecstatic Geelong supporters belted out the club song, I left to beat the traffic home.
The siren may have alerted me to the reality of my position of an impartial spectator but in the heat of the action, I was anything but neutral. So it must be asked – can any sports fan ever be completely neutral? Currently, it seems, apparently not. Pesky neutrals.