The thing that was so confounding me and consuming me was the prospect of the Dockers playing in the finals for the first time ever, after nine years of trying, after nine years of heartache, after nine years of cross town ridicule in the schoolyard and eventually at the University campus, after nine years of listless Septembers, after nine years of tears, after nine years of invisibility on the Footy Show, after nine years of monotonous calls like "potential", and "maybe next year", "going places", after nine years of what can only be described as nearly endless pain. Every year the Dockers would promise more glorious times, and would demonstrate it with the occasional game of champagne football against the league's top teams, which would have us all declaring, "The Dockers have finally turned the corner. Hoorah!" But the following week the Dockers would always stumble to the bottom team and from there the boys in purple would bottom out and we would be left to despair another season lost. Indeed, the line, "Maybe next year" was beginning to wear thin for a boy who started to support the Dockers before he had hair on his balls and now he was 4 years into a University degree. But this year, finally, was different. In round 19, 2003, the Fremantle Dockers finally had an opportunity to secure a first ever finals appearance. Only the Kangaroos stood in the way.

Enter my almost paralytic anxiety. The Kangaroos stood ominously in the way of what I craved more than oxygen. You see, the Kangaroos have built this admirable culture of resilience, passion, commitment and, ultimately success seemingly beyond their means, year in, year out. Every season the critics would right off the Kangaroos saying, "They haven't got the cattle on the paddock", yet every year you would find yourself stunned as the Kangaroos found themselves battling out yet another finals season while your team sat on the sidelines. This season has been no different. Rookie coach Dean Laidley epitomises everything the Kangaroos stand for. He is perhaps even angrier than his predecessor, Dennis Pagan. His players overall aren't the most talented, but by gee, they are tough, uncompromising and committed. And what is more they declared this game against the Dockers their "Grand Final". The way they play normal games, I was truly terrified at how they would play in what they considered to be a Grand Final.

The game eventually had to be played and my anxiety, one way or another, would be alleviated. The game was as absorbing as I had expected it to be. All alone in Victoria, the Dockers were pressing for victory only to be stifled by a never say die Kangaroos. But the Dockers hung in there. All hope appeared lost when they were down by four goals half way through the third quarter and once again I felt myself thinking this season would end up like the others, in disappointment and strewn with broken dreams and false promises. But luckily the Dockers team didn't need my faith to keep themselves going. They snapped two quick goals before three quarter time. Two goals down, hope began knocking my guts about once again, only minutes after bitterness and disappointment had all but taken over.

The last quarter was enthralling. Matthew Pavlich, the Fremantle Docker's god, resplendid with white boots, decided to play and kept us in the mix despite several goals from the Kangaroos making it a tough ask. My innards were at breaking point, they couldn't take any more. When Troy Longmuir marked from an unlikely position and goaled to draw the game I was on the floor prostrating myself to whatever deity would listen, shouting "Please, let us win, please, please, please!!!!!" This would have been humorous but for the fact that I was serious, deadly serious. I was so genuine in my pitiful pleadings, that whatever supreme being must have answered my squawking pleas if only to shut me up.

But the game wasn't going to stop for anything and I was forced to once again glue my eyes to the screen. For the last few minutes everything was tied up and I was jumping up and down yelling out, "A draw is enough! A draw is enough". Every play, every kick every single biomechanical movement of every player was met with a grunt or a cry or a scream from yours truly. A fearful whimper crept out of my mouth when a minute to go, our courageous captain Peter Bell shunted the ball out of bounds on the full, giving the Kangaroos possession. But thankfully, I am not even sure how or what happened, I was that delirious, we regained control and the ball flew into the desperate arms of Des Headland. Like it made any difference, "I yelled just make the distance, make the distance!!!!" and true to form Dessy did me justice and kicked the most important point he will ever kick. The stakes may have been a little less important than Lockett's famous point to send Sydney into the 1996 Grand Final, less people may have been there to witness (A tragic 18,000 saw the game), and objectively the importance of this point may appear pathetic considering all it did was ensure we would be in the top eight out of sixteen for the first time in nine attempts, but there is no doubt it will remain the most special footballing moment for me for quite some time.

The Kangaroos were left with only seconds to score and when the siren went I jumped so high my head hit the roof, but undeterred I kept jumping and screaming I was filled with so much adrenalin it had to be released in a nova of leaping and uncontrolled flaying of arms. My lung's capacity was put to the test as I yelled out in what can only be described as an ecstatic purging of old pain and insecurity. There was no doubt that this was the finest moment to be Docker ever.

Ever since I feel like I have been reborn. All the anxiety is gone. All the pain is gone. All the broken promises have been made up for. All the promise has finally amounted to something, albeit there is along way to go. I stare down supporters from other clubs with a confidence I have never before possessed. If nothing else, they can no longer say that the Dockers have never made the finals, because finally we have. And it feels fucking good, giddy in fact.