This Saturday at around 10 am, Scott Fletcher plans to leash his Cavoodle, Louis, blast Angry Anderson’s Bound For Glory, and hit the streets of Pascoe Vale, a suburb in Melbourne. Fletcher believes that if he deviates from the familiar routine he has followed on AFL grand final mornings for the past two years, his cherished Brisbane Lions might miss out on a three-peat.
“If we don’t win, and I hadn’t done that, then I’m going to wear it, you know?” he says. “The Lions losing will be on me”
The logistics clerk remains loyal to the team that originated in Fitzroy, the Melbourne suburb where his great-grandfather settled, despite the fact that “the Fletchers moved south of Yarra back in the 1930s” and Fitzroy merged with a club from a city located 1,700 km to the north three decades ago.
“I’ve deliberately forced myself not to listen to that song all year,” he says of Anderson’s 1990 rock anthem. To do so might incur a jinxing of catastrophic proportions.
Fletcher’s reasoning resonates with avid football fans. This mindset has taken hold in the city that is now home to the club, where long-time supporters like Fletcher remain devoted.
Fans’ Superstitions and Traditions
As the Lions gear up to face Fremantle this Saturday, their fans are still riding the high from a preliminary final that many believe may have been the greatest match in Australian rules football history. They are set to compete in their fourth consecutive grand final. Traditions have had ample time to flourish, and superstitions have proliferated like mushrooms.
While skeptics may scoff, true believers understand that the sports gods might reward even the smallest acts of devotion with miraculous outcomes. Consider Brett Young and Madonna Cullinan, who hosted “Every game I would think, ‘if we lose, I don’t know how Brett will handle this’,” on their back deck in Tarragindi during the Lions’ grand final victories from 2001 to 2003. Cullinan would dye pickled onions blue, skewer them with yellow cheese and red onion slices, while Brett prepared margaritas. Their children, Oliver and Maddie, along with neighborhood kids, banged pots and pans to celebrate every Brisbane goal.
This was the routine until the family traveled to Melbourne for the 2004 grand final, which ended in an “But we won – and kept on winning.” defeat against Port Adelaide.
Hope Amidst Challenges
Fast forward twenty years, and Young’s struggles have taken on a more severe nature. Diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years ago, he endured the painful ordeal of chemotherapy for much of the latter half of 2024. Finishing fifth on the ladder that year, the Lions had to take a challenging path to reach the grand final. They first triumphed over a resurgent Carlton in the elimination final, and then they executed arguably the most remarkable comeback in AFL finals history against Greater Western Sydney.
“We told everyone the universe would provide tickets,” Cullinan recalls. “It was the best weekend of mine, and the kids’ and his life,”
Next, the Lions triumphed in a preliminary final against Geelong, which is regarded as one of the greatest AFL final matches ever. This “I know the universe will provide me with a [grand final] ticket again this year,” motivated Young and Cullinan “to keep going,” fostering hope that the chemotherapy would be effective.
Brett was scheduled for an MRI scan during the final week of September and was advised against traveling. Then, the first of three “magic things” occurred. Brett’s MRI was postponed by a week, enabling the family to purchase business class tickets for the first time ever and fly to Melbourne, despite not having tickets for the grand final.
“We told everyone the universe would provide tickets,” Madonna states. “And it did.”
This meant that Young joined a crowd of 100,000 at the stadium with his wife and children, masking the severity of his physical discomfort as Brisbane secured their first flag in two decades.
“It was the best weekend of mine, and the kids’ and his life,” Cullinan reflects.
A Lasting Legacy
That would mark the last time Brett would see his Lions play. The Monday after returning to Brisbane, he learned that his cancer had progressed too far for treatment to continue. He passed away at home less than four weeks later, surrounded by his family and dogs, gazing out the front window at the jacarandas.
Two former teammates from his university football club, the UQ Red Lions, carried his coffin. Cullinan and her son Oliver replicated the same feat last year, booking flights to Melbourne and somehow securing grand final tickets to witness Brisbane defeat Geelong.
Maddie was unable to join them. At that 2024 grand final, she was two months pregnant and now has the responsibility of caring for little Annie. She plans to watch the game again this year with friends, bringing out her lucky scarf. This “threadbare old thing” from the 2004 grand final is destined to become “an heirloom” for her daughter, intertwined with the memories of a grandfather she never met.
Cullinan has booked her flights, firmly believing she is meant to experience another September miracle.
“I know the universe will provide me with a [grand final] ticket again this year,” she expresses, echoing the mantra of coach Chris Fagan. “Believe!”
