I have to admit, guys, I'm terrified of the Collingwood game.
I think if we do actually get to the GF we will give an excellent account of ourselves, but I've convinced myself we're doomed to fall again at the final hurdle.
I don't know why, based on our recent form, but I guess I've followed the Cats for long enough to be waiting for the inevitable banana skin to trip us up again.
I'm 32 years old, I bleed blue and white hoops, as does my mum. I cried all night at the age of 13 after 1989, at 17 after 1992, and we got so badly hammered in 94 and 95 that it wasn't worth getting that upset about.
I cried again at the age of 30 when I sat at the SCG and watched the Swans in that final quarter. The boys tried so bloody hard, were decimated by injury, and just didn't deserve to lose like that. I know they gave it everything they had.
I want to believe we're the real deal. I've seen things this year I've never seen before in a Geelong side. If these boys were wearing any other jumper, their club would already have the venue booked for the post-match celebration.
But this is us. Geelong. We've never gone out and deliberately lost finals since 1963, but we've come so close so many times that I start to wonder if it will ever be our turn again. I go through my superstitious rituals all week, convinced if I don't that I'll curse the Cats like I have before. I got a brand new GFC cap for my birthday in August, but it's never touched my head. If I put it on, we'll surely lose.
I should be enjoying the success, and in all honestly a big chunk of me is loving it. But an equally big chunk is telling me not to get excited, because it will only end in the inevitable heartbreak.
I don't think I can spend another night after a final crying my eyes out.