I FEEL sorry for my wife.
She's missing out on excitement and passion on a weekly basis.
She's adamant her life is fine without it, I tell her she should try it sometime.
I can't get enough of it. As much as I share the experience with my friends, I still can't talk her around.
As usual it's an argument I can't win.
The bottom line is I can't imagine life without... footy.
AFL grand final day is my favourite sporting day of the year.
I guess, I really didn't have much choice.
Growing up, grand final day was always a big thing.
My first grand final memory is the famous brawl in the 1985 VFL grand final between Hawthorn and Essendon.
Four years later I was lucky enough to be seated behind the goals at the Punt Rd end of the MCG to witness first-hand the Gary Ablett Show.
As a 12-year-old at the time I probably didn't realise just how special Ablett's performance was at the time.
My other memory of that day was my Mum telling me off for reading the Footy Record rather than watching the half-time entertainment.
Kids dancing and waving flags on the G just wasn't my thing. Mind you they probably had Meat Loaf covered for entertainment value.
October 6, 1990 is a day I will never forget. It was the day the mighty Magpies broke their 32-year premiership drought.
The emotion surrounding that win was amazing.
My late Dad was a Collingwood fanatic.
Dad was born in 1953, so he was too young to take in the Pies' 1958 premiership.
However, he had vivid memories of the 1964, 66, 70, 77, 79, 80 and 81 grand final losses.
At three quarter-time of the 1990 grand final the Pies looked home.
There was no settling Dad's nerves. The agony of past defeats got the better of him.
He was that nervous he couldn't watch the TV. He walked laps of the block.
It wasn't until big Damian Monkhorst kicked the final goal of the game to put the Pies eight goals up that Dad allowed himself to rejoin us in the lounge room to take in the final few minutes.
The pure joy splashed across his face as the Pies celebrated is something I'll always cherish.
That was the only Collingwood premiership Dad witnessed. He passed away three weeks before the 2010 grand final.
No doubt that grand final day he was walking laps with the man up stairs well into the final quarter.
This Saturday the tradition continues, but these days I'm sitting down with my kids to take in the big day.
Despite my numerous attempts to brainwash him, my eldest son barracks for Hawthorn.
We'll be riding every bump, hoping the Hawks get home.
Who knows I might even be able to talk the better half into having some quality time with her husband - watching the footy.
He was that nervous he couldn't watch the TV.