That's what I like (and miss) about football.

The view from a Victorian Aussie Rules Supporter in Lockdown.

If you're an Aussie Rules supporter over the age of 30, you'll probably remember the timeless ode to our great game: That's the thing about football. The inimitable and supremely clever Greg Champion really knew how to write a meaningful footy lyric or two. 

And if you're a deeply passionate Aussie Rules supporter like me, you'll be missing the ritual of game day like a Victorian misses breathing without the impediment of a face covering. Unless of course, your boys are playing at Mars Stadium, Ballarat in the middle of Winter. In that case, head-to-toe coverage is mandatory to your survival and sanity.

Like the train or tram that "delivers us to our favourite ground", the game is the vehicle that transports us to a favoured parallel universe. It's a place of hope and aspiration; where dreams can come true if you wait around long enough! It's the conduit for our enduring human connections, the therapy for our work-weary weeks and fodder for office tipping banter. 

You cannot beat the hopeful-yet-angst-fueled-yet-philosophical conversation on the way to the game, followed by four quarters of the greatest game on the planet - followed by pleasure or pain, depending on who you support when the final siren sounds.

But oh, how grateful I am to the Australian Football League for using all the smarts, logistics and resources at their disposal to deliver us a meaningful and almost seamless football season against the backdrop of a once-in-a-century global pandemic.

Their made-for-tv crowd noises have been en pointe and their ability to assemble and re-assemble team hubs on a dime has been enough for us to forgive the new and insanely ambiguous holding the ball rule. Almost. 

It's a world class sport that's been delivered by a world class sporting organisation for decades, but these past few months have catapulted them into the next stratosphere. It really is more than a game. And our governing body has treated it as such since Round 1.

From a commercial perspective, AFL and Club sponsors have been able to sustain some level of brand awareness activity; albeit through a television lens, with limited face-to-face brand activation at venues within the hubs. In fact, the AFL viewing audience for Round 2 reached 5.8M and these figures have largely remained steady since the season re-commenced. Four of the most watched shows on Saturday 15 August (across Free to Air and Pay TV) were AFL matches. Not bad. There's little doubt that the AFL has done a magnificent job of continuing to nurture our passion for the game; a wonderful job of keeping our minds engaged on an almost-daily basis. All of which has been achieved under extenuating circumstances.

But it's the unquantifiable elements of the game that I'm missing deeply in Season 2020. The quintessential nuances of the Aussie Rules experience that speak directly to our hearts and soothe our souls.

It's the connection with other people: family, friends, fellow supporters, fellow opposition supporters and the guy who sells the Record. It's smiling at the lady who scans our membership card and waving to the bloke who toots his truck horn when he sees you wearing the colours of the club he supports. It's the high five with a fellow supporter - a complete stranger, when your team wins. It's also the knowing nod with a fellow supporter - a complete stranger, when your team loses.  It's the collective laughter when a guy sitting behind you yells out "he's been doing it all day" just minutes into the first quarter. And it's the shared experience of multiple generations from one family congregating in one row at the MCG; week in, week out. It's sitting to the left of the man who you blame and thank in equal measure for barracking for the team you now love - almost as much as you love the man sitting to your right. It's the debrief on the way home with everyone and anyone who'll listen. It's proudly popping your scarf out the window of your car when you win and waving to others who do the same. It's spotting a car with your club's membership bumper sticker on the back and enthusiastically letting them in ahead of you while you're waiting in the queue to leave the carpark. It's walking on air back to your car or the tram or the train when your team wins by even more than you'd imagined. And the promise of more where that came from next week; and who knows, maybe even a finals berth?! It's what I miss about football.

We'll never be able to fully measure how much the continuation of the season has helped our mental health this year, but one thing's for certain: the shared experience of attending a footy match cannot be overstated. When we're finally able to attend a game in person and join the guttural roar of the crowd, the tears of joy will inevitably flow. I don't know about you, but I cannot wait.

Until then, I'll count down the days until I can say: "Footy's on, footy's here again. Back to greet me like an old friend....Show me the crowd and I'll take my place." 

I'll see you on the wing soon, friends. I'll be the one standing or sitting to the left of my Dad, who'll also be wearing red, white and blue.

That's what football means to me.