The Tribes of the Weekend: Footy, Family, and the Inheritance of Heartbreak
🏉 The Tribes of the Weekend: Footy, Family, and the Inheritance of Heartbreak
Every weekend in Australia, the suburbs hum with ritual. The lawn gets mowed, the esky gets packed, and somewhere—on a couch, at a pub, or behind the goals—someone is preparing to scream at the television. It’s not just sport. It’s tribal.
AFL isn’t just a game. It’s a cultural sorting hat. You don’t just follow a team—you belong to one. And each club carries its own mythology, its own emotional architecture. These are the tribes of the weekend.
⚫⚪ Collingwood: The Cult of Heartbreak and the Redemption of 2023
Let’s start with the most polarising tribe in the AFL: Collingwood. The Magpies don’t just have fans—they have disciples. They fill stadiums, dominate headlines, and inspire memes that range from affectionate to downright savage. But love them or loathe them, you feel something when Collingwood plays. And that’s the point.
They’re the team that turns a quiet Saturday into a battlefield. They’re the reason your neighbour’s mood swings from euphoric to apocalyptic. They’re the tribe that reminds us sport isn’t neutral—it’s emotional warfare.
For many, Collingwood represents working-class grit, tribal loyalty, and the kind of generational memory that’s passed down like folklore². The club’s history is littered with near-misses, heartbreaks, and the kind of losses that feel Shakespearean in scale. And yet, they keep coming back. That’s the mythology. That’s the madness.
I remember standing with my daughter at the home of the Magpies for the 2018 Grand Final—Collingwood vs West Coast. The banner went up, and the wind tore it to shreds. A long-time member beside us turned, eyes wide, and said, “I’ve never seen that before.” It felt like an omen³.
Up until then, my daughter had seen reasonable success as a young Pies supporter. She’d known the thrill of wins, the pride of black and white. But that day—when Dom Sheed slotted that goal from the boundary in the dying minutes¹—she learned the deeper truth. The heartbreak. The mythology. The reality of being a Collingwood fan.
We didn’t just lose. We were written into legend. And in that moment, my daughter didn’t just watch the game—she inherited the emotional weight of the tribe.
But footy, like life, has a long memory. And in 2023, Collingwood wrote a new chapter. A premiership won not with dominance, but with grit, chaos, and last-minute magic. It was redemption. For the Sheed kick. For the banner. For every supporter who’d carried the weight of near-misses and cruel twists. For my daughter, it was vindication. For me, it was catharsis.
Now, in 2025, we ride the rollercoaster again. Injuries, form slumps, flashes of brilliance. The Pies are still the Pies—never boring, always dramatic. And every weekend, we tune in knowing that anything can happen. That’s the cost of belonging. That’s the thrill of the tribe.
💙💛 West Coast: The Silent Assassins
West Coast fans don’t need to shout. Their club does the talking. With multiple premierships and a knack for turning underdog status into dominance, they’re the tribe that quietly dismantles your hopes while you’re still celebrating. The 2018 Grand Final was their masterpiece. Dom Sheed’s goal wasn’t just a kick—it was a dagger. And for Collingwood fans, it was a generational wound.
🔴🔵 Melbourne: The Reborn Aristocrats
For decades, Melbourne supporters were the punchline. Champagne in the carpark, heartbreak on the field. But the Demons’ 2021 premiership rewrote the script. They’re no longer the faded aristocracy—they’re the tribe that rose from the ashes. And they did it with style.
💜 Fremantle: The Hopeful Outsiders
Freo fans are the romantics of the AFL. They believe in the long arc of justice, in purple redemption. They haven’t tasted premiership glory yet, but they wear their scars with pride. They’re the tribe that reminds us hope is a kind of strength.
❤️💛🖤 The Weekend Isn’t Just Sport
These tribes aren’t just about wins and losses. They’re about identity, memory, and emotional inheritance. They shape how we spend our weekends, how we bond with our kids, how we process joy and grief.
For my daughter, the 2018 Grand Final wasn’t just a game. It was the moment she joined the tribe—not just as a fan, but as a Collingwood supporter. And that means knowing that heartbreak is part of the deal. It means understanding that sometimes, the banner tears, the kick goes in, and history is written in someone else’s colours.
But it also means redemption. And that’s what 2023 gave us—a reminder that the long arc of football bends toward glory, if you hold on long enough.
Now, we ride the rollercoaster again. Because that’s what tribes do. They show up. They believe. They bleed. And they hope.
Footnotes
Dom Sheed’s 2018 Grand Final goal: With less than two minutes remaining, Sheed kicked a goal from a tight angle that sealed West Coast’s premiership. It’s widely regarded as one of the most clutch moments in AFL history.
Collingwood’s cultural identity: Historically associated with Melbourne’s working-class suburbs, Collingwood has long been a symbol of resilience, tribalism, and defiance.
The torn banner omen: In AFL tradition, the pre-game banner is a symbolic moment. A banner torn by wind before a Grand Final is rare and, to some, ominous—a metaphor for unraveling hopes.
2023 Premiership: Collingwood defeated Brisbane in a nail-biting Grand Final, securing their 16th premiership. It was a game defined by chaos, clutch moments, and emotional release for long-suffering fans.
Written in collaboration with Greg, a construction manager, carer, and public advocate for disability rights, economic justice, and generational recognition. This piece blends lived experience with cultural commentary, and is co-authored with Microsoft Copilot in accordance with ethical attribution and collaborative authorship principles.
