Sydney Swans No. 1 ticketholder Cynthia Banham has penned this reflection on the final match of the home and away season on Saturday afternoon.

In the end, it was a few spontaneous acts of grace that brought home for me what I love about the Sydney Swans.

It was our CEO, Tom Harley, inviting me and my family to walk up the dozen or so steps of the race to watch the final minutes of the Swans’ last game of the season – and then taking us with him onto the ground after the siren. We stood, disbelieving, on the lush turf of the SCG and watched, along with the club officials, five of the club’s greats – Lance Franklin, Jarrad McVeigh, Kieren Jack, Nick Smith and Heath Grundy – as they were carried off the ground on the shoulders of their mates (among them, Dan Hannebery).

It was the club doctor, Tom Cross, watching me with concerned eyes as I gingerly made my way back down the steps with my walking stick, and asking me, because he wanted to do something, ‘Is there anything you want signed’? Then returning shortly after with a Buddy 300 ball signed ‘To Leo’ for my son.

And it was making my way into the rooms awkwardly in my wheelchair and realising, just as all of the players and their coaches began to file past me after singing the club song, that my prosthetic leg had slipped so that my boot was jammed under the footrest. As I clumsily tried to adjust my leg and chair, I saw the hand of Brett Kirk swoop in and gently lift my black boot back up into place and I was able to quickly regain my composure. I felt like Cinderella must have, as Prince Charming placed her missing slipper onto her foot.

Acts of grace.

It was my last game as number one ticket holder and, as many others before me have noted, aside from there being no finals series for the Swans this year, the club’s final game of the season couldn’t have played out any better.

The atmosphere at the Pride Game was joyous, a true celebration of all that we love about football: the sun was shining, the stars were playing, rainbows were splashed across roads, fences, grass, Sherrins and St Kilda players’ guernseys. Supporters came dressed for a party and the Swans delivered.

At the pre-game lunch hosted by our chairman, Andrew Pridham, I listened to Sharni Williams, co-captain of Australia’s Rugby Sevens Olympic team, talk with much emotion about how much the Pride Game meant to her.

It filled me with enormous pride indeed to barrack for a club that cares so much about making all people, no matter their abilities, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation – even rugby players – feel welcome.

The Swans’ final game of 2019 truly was a celebration of everything the club stands for, of what it means to be a player or a supporter of the Swans. It means belonging, whoever you are.

In the rooms I also saw Andrew Ireland, Harley’s predecessor who gave me the news a year ago that I was to be 2019 number one ticket holder for the Swans. It was an honour that I never felt I deserved. I’ve been a supporter for 16 years – others who have held the title before me have been turning up for Swans games at the SCG since the early 1980s.

But I am grateful that during my 12 months, I have been able to talk about the importance of ensuring people with all levels of ability can attend AFL games and be made to feel welcome when they do. (There is much more to do on this).

Next year I’ll be back down in my usual seats in the wheelchair row of the Brewongle Stand, where you can hear the thud of the ball off players’ boots, and where I’ll be buying my half time food from the kiosk.

The Swans have a meaning for me that I don’t think anybody can ever truly understand, and certainly nobody can ever take away. The club reached out to me at the worst time in my life – in 2007, after a plane crash – and lifted me up. As the players on Saturday carried their mates on their shoulders, so in a way the club did for me. At the time, I didn’t know if I’d ever make it to a football game again. My body, my life, had been so torn apart.

Yet in 2019, I walked out onto the SCG – my sacred place – on game day not once, but twice. I can’t tell you what that means to me; I’m crying now as I type these words.

The spongy grass.

The sight of all that red and white.

The energy, the focus, the toughness, the passion.

Yes, the AFL has its issues.

But ultimately, for me, the footy is about joy. It’s about love.

Like for the Swans players themselves, my year as number one ticket holder had its challenges, but finished on a high note: a celebration of everything that is good about football, everything that is great about the Swans. 

Thank you, Sydney Swans, for all you have given me.

Bring on season 2020.