Having gone to the football all my life, you learn quickly what type of people go and watch their teams play. Some are positive; some are negative; most are certifiable (which is why it can be so much fun). 

So if your team is losing and you can’t take delight in a victory, then feel free to discover the type of supporters around you.

The Know All

This person, having never played the game at a high level, knows everything. He knows how to take a mark from three deep in a pack. He knows how to kick a goal from the wrong side of the ground for a right footer from 75 out (he’d use an inside out check-side torpedo. Duh!). He knows how to easily slice through a zone and he would have swung changes long before the highly paid coaching staff. He wouldn’t have done what just happened. “Did you see that? Why would you do that? That’s stupid. He shouldn’t be in the team. Why is he on our list?”

This person is tolerable until about the two-minute mark of the first quarter.

The Know Nothing

This person claims to barrack for your team, but in name and scarf ownership only. Common things heard from them include: “Who’s that?”, “doesn’t he play for Adelaide?” and “Ha! Mick Malthouse just walked into the Carlton coaches box!” 

I know you mean well, but if you happen to be this person, your best bet is to stay quiet and just cheer when those wearing the same colours as you cheer (be careful if it’s Carton v Geelong or Hawthorn v sewerage plant).

The Radio Listener

I’ve never truly understood this person, as I find having the game being played right in front of you entertaining enough (I bet they’re the ones who recommend director’s commentary on DVDs). 

This person tends to make bold statements, mainly because they’ve just heard a highly-paid ex-footballer say them seconds earlier. We’re on to you; we don’t think those things in your ears are to stop swimmer’s ear.

This person also has tendency to ruin a game by telling you precisely how long is left in the last quarter. Which is fine when you’re about to win, as it allows your heart rate to drop below 400 beats per millisecond, but if we’re going to lose I want to feel despair at the final siren, not 16 seconds earlier.

The Really Young Kid

He just wants some chips. Get him some chips and shut him up, will you?

The Veteran

These people have seen everything (except a premiership if they barrack for Melbourne). They know the good times, the bad times, and the time Kevin Bartlett missed a goal because his hair fell in his eyes. They also have saved several million dollars by bringing food and hot beverages to the game, of which I’m envious every single occasion.

They also keep abusive language down within a fifteen-metre radius, because I feel like I’m letting my grandparents down if I swear in front of them (unless they’re those annoying old fools who go for the opposition and won’t shut the hell up – then they were asking to be told “where to go”).

The Reverse Psychologist

This person deliberately has a negative mindset throughout the game, in the hope that whatever higher being out there that controls outcomes of a contest (not Andrew Demetriou and his compromised draft) will be proven wrong and deliver a goal/victory.

“He won’t kick this. No hope. He can’t kick.” 

*GOAL*

“I knew he’d kick that.”

The Winder Upperer

This person just goes to the footy to taunt opposition supporters. Even if they’re losing, they’ll bring up things that happened over a decade ago in the hope of getting a rise out of an opposition supporter sitting nearby. This person is the worst to go to the football with, which is pretty much why I go to the football alone.

The Heart On The Sleeve

This person runs the gauntlet of emotions every single game. They go in with blind hope, have it torn from them within minutes, then turn on their team, the opposition and in particular the umpires. A trip to the footy is more emotional for them than a Biggest Loser weigh in, and they just don’t know how much more they can take. They will however be back in the same seat next year. 

The Membership Throw Awayer

I’ve never understood the throwing away of a membership. I get the symbolism, but it’s such a pain. Because, if you’re such a die-hard – and they inevitably are – then you’ll front up at the game again the following week, and you have to go through the hassle of getting another one issued. 

And unless you’re front row and your membership card can reach the ground, you could really do some damage to your shoulder. Upside is you may get recognised when you’re splashed all over the back page of the Herald Sun with your mouth wide open and spit flying.

Seriously, it’s much easier to just set up an anonymous twitter account and vent your frustrations that way.