DIVORCE was a common word come derby day.
From birth, the house has been divided; the women in gold on one side, the men in purple on the other.
Despite a fence sitting brother who supported whoever was on top of the ladder this was the rule of our family.
Each derby day the TV screen, and each other, was accosted with calls of “treachery” for abandoning the original West Coast team to form a new one, to “the Dockers have had it harder than any club to find themselves established in the AFL” in retort.
In essence, derby day became a form of groundhog day.
The same taunts. The same party pies. And the same searing disappoint in my father’s eyes came into play as the Dockers were religiously stomped.
Then a few years ago the tide changed.
Joy filled the household, as the Dockers started gaining momentum. Never a trophy, but momentum none the less.
My mother, seeing the Dockers gain strength, made the ‘strategic’ move to don the purple jersey and join Dad in his Docker’s membership guaranteed seats.
Coincidentally, the rise of Nat Fyfe through the football ranks coincided with my mother’s betrayal.
The impact of this decision sent waves through our household.
The more games she attended the more she related to this side.
She now owns an array of purple shirts, all befitting the crowd at a Docker’s home game.
I panicked, thinking I had lost another brave soldier to the Fremantle bandwagon.
Sure, Nat Fyfe is a beautiful specimen, but Mum, please resist.
Then came her first derby day with the Dockers membership under her belt.
I was worried she was lost forever, but she pulled through and emerged from the house in her glorious blue and gold attire.
I asked her why she had locked herself behind enemy lines in such a way, after wearing purple to every Fremantle home game.
She replied it was about supporting WA, not one single team.
At the end of the day, the majority of the players are local boys trying to make their mark on an east- coast-dominated sport.
Also this way, she was guaranteed a ticket to a derby day, due to the life long waiting list for Eagles membership seats.
Well played mother.
So when you’re at the derby, look to the sea of purple and the one gold individual waving her scarf in their section and cheering for WA.
That’ll be my mum, just in case Nat Fyfe wants to pass on his phone number (for her daughter, she’s married, back off mate).
While you’re there, send her my regards while she no doubt suffers the consequences of surrounding herself with the purple haze.
