Last Saturday night I had the auspicious privilege of attending the Chairman’s dinner at the Melbourne Victory (MV) home game at Docklands v WSW.

As a disciple of old soccer (rather than new football) and having attended only a handful of A-League games in 13 seasons, I approached the stadium with a keen sense of anticipation.

The last game I had attended at Docklands was MV v Olympiacos in 2012. On the night, we were reminded of the gulf between A-League soccer and seasoned, in-form overseas competition.

My lasting memory of the game was the vastness of the stadium. Despite the 18,000 in attendance and the enthusiasm bordering delirium of the Olympiacos fans, the desolate nature of the stadium seemed to have an unlimited capacity to sap the energy and atmosphere from the game.

The few A-League games I have attended since, have been at AAMI Park which is a far superior facility to host the “στρογγυλή θεά” – the spherical goddess – as Elias Donoudis keeps reminding us.

AAMI is still not ideal, but is a far cry from the emptiness of the windswept steppe – aka Docklands.

So on Saturday, I was genuinely intrigued to witness the game’s progression during my extended periods of self-imposed absence.

The Chairman’s dinner was a jacket and tie affair. Apart from chauffeurs, who wears ties any more, particularly on a hot 30 degree first day of summer?

The things we do to keep the bogans in check, perhaps.

When in Rome…

The Chairman was hosting a prodigal son of the Club – ex Company Secretary and ex Director of MV and recently minted Chairman of FFA, Chris Nikou.

Chris was very approachable on the night, particularly PC during his questions without notice session but less than inspiring.

He was concerned with timelines and functional outcomes and there were certainly no attempts at Obamaesque oratory.

I suppose that’s his style.

I personally wished him the best of luck and success in his role as Chairman (of the entire soccer fraternity of Australia) and politely suggested that he lap up the ‘warm and fuzzies’ before he starts to actually make inevitable decisions.

After all, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs…

No matter which way the fresh, new board of the FFA tacks, it’s bound to start consuming ‘political capital’ and earning the FFA Board its first enemies.

As the start time approached, the Chairman’s dinner-cum-rolling advertising billboard for club sponsors, went into recess.

Apparently, there was a soccer game about to start.

As in 2012, despite the 20,000 in attendance, the game felt distant, remote and the atmosphere sanitised.

It was immediately evident that MV was by far the more accomplished outfit. To be frank, WSW were dreadful – no fight, no spark and completely out of their depth. Honda, Baena & Co were a class above and at half time it was a resounding 3-0.

Thank goodness for the goals. Pigeonholed in our awkward, less than economy-class style seats, it seemed to bring the moribund spectacle to life.

And that’s what I miss most about old soccer – the intimacy.

Is it just me, has the world moved on and I have stood still (and yes, I do understand that the answer to both these rhetorical questions is in fact, yes), or is it really just an overwhelming privilege to have experienced old soccer in its raw format? In an era when you smelt the ground before getting past the turnstiles. The welcome of the Valkanis’ family ‘psistaries’ wafted across the Middle Park carpark with a warmer embrace than any perfumed blond hostess at any Chairman’s function could even hope to emulate.

You stood on the outer – shared the cold, wind and rain with the players. After all, you were at the soccer. You shouted, screamed, abused without fear of reprisal – as long as you didn’t show yourself to be a soccer ignoramus. Only then would you incur the wrath of the crowd.

Today, it’s the opposite.

You would meet dozens of friends – mates form Greek School, from junior soccer, from the ‘silogo’, relatives but mostly the regular soccer-goers like yourself. It was great.

The recent games that most captured that energy, warmth, welcome and intensity of days gone by were both FFA Cup semi/quarter finals. One was at Olympic village when Heidelberg hosted Melbourne City in 2015 and the other was South v Sydney City at Lakeside last year.

Standing in the outer you shared learned witticisms, insightful observations with the anonymous fan next to you – but they also were hardened, old, soccer nuts.

At Olympic Village, Melbourne City had their fans – 500 ‘teenage hipsters’ – huddled like a security blanket, next to each other at the extreme opposite end of the ground.

I know that (in the end) Mooy destroyed Heidelberg 5-0. That’s missing the point. Heidelberg had a chance, were given hope and on a cold winters night midweek, managed to rouse the interest of 10,000 fans – true, die hard, soccer fans, including thousands of neutrals – to the cause.

It was the same at Lakeside last year. When it was 2-1 and South had a shot from half way that almost went in, the fans felt that primal instinct rise within – David could slay Goliath.

What was it that made each occasion possible? It was none other than the power of hope.

And to be able to hope, you have to first feel welcome and be included. And that has been without question, soccer’s greatest achievement over the past decade, the inclusiveness of the FFA Cup.

As we approach 12 December, when the FFA announces certain outcomes, let’s hope that high up on Chris Nikou’s functional check list for new entrants to the A-League are passion for the sport, a democratised warm embrace for those who have felt ‘new football’s’ disdain and the basic entitlement of every soccer fan in the country – hope.

Australian soccer deserves no less.