So long, Stinktown!

It began like this: I was 24 years old, having just fumbled my way through the first year of a second attempt at an arts degree focusing on professional writing. I came across the defunct Park Life blog, thought I could give blogging a go by taking it over, and ended up creating this site instead. I wanted to practise writing, and I wanted to offer a South fan's perspective on Australian soccer matters that wasn't just foaming at the mouth. Both noble goals, with a self-righteous quality already in place.

When I started South of the Border, blogs as a medium were already on the way out, and Blogger as a platform was looked down upon compared to things like Wordpress. I was slow to adapt to social media, and I wasn't into self-promotion; worse, the content on the blog was lousy, because I had no idea what I was doing. In time, I figured out what I was doing, how to do it well, and this project became worthwhile not only for me, but for other people as well. Eventually this blog and myself with it were set in stone as a niche Australian soccer cultural touchstone by Joe Gorman's Death and Life of Australian Soccer, which I consider an honour.

Sixteen years is a long time to be doing something like this. While running a blog on a once relatively important club often floundering for relevance and survival, I moved house, got a doctorate, lost my dad, survived a pandemic, and hosted over 90 episodes of an Australian soccer history podcast. I guested on other podcasts, wrote sleepy stream of consciousness World Cup match reports, and got to do a couple of stints as a special comments man on NPL live streams. So many opportunities opened up because of this blog to talk about South, and what it was like to be a follower of this club.

I wrote my posts mostly on whatever PC I had access to at uni, and at home on two woefully out of date laptops running various iterations of Linux. I did it for no money, and under no pretence that it would lead to something more lucrative. Materially, the best thing that came out of it was access to a media pass, which I was able to use to make going to soccer matches much more affordable. Occasionally someone would shout me a drink, or lunch, but more often than I assumed that's because they liked me enough in spite of the blog.

Psychologically, spiritually, emotionally, however you want to frame it, the rewards were numerous. I felt like I was doing my bit for the cause, in the only way that I really could. I met a lot of terrific people both at South and outside the club because of the blog; sometimes the reaction from people outside the club was more positive than that from within, which only served to nourish my writerly ego. Right from the start I attached my name to this project; for better or worse, the buck stopped with me. 

I always tried to maintain an arms length relationship to anything official with regards to the club. I had little interest in talking to current or even former players. Only one now former coach and his assistant ever stopped for a semi-regular chat, but I didn't resent any of the others for not talking to me, and I never sought them out. I didn't want to be anybody's mouthpiece, and I tried never to claim that my view was the view of a majority of the remaining South fans; often enough, my point of view was quite clearly a minority one. 

South of the Border has covered two senior men's championships and three grand final losses, a Dockerty Cup win, hundreds of South games, and I have no idea how many other matches not involving South. There were women's matches, and so many appearances at pre-season games, sometimes as far away as  Wodonga and Hobart. There were two formal A-League bids, and several failed takeover attempts of floundering A-League teams. South of the Border outlasted two other South blogs, and lived through two unofficial longstanding South supporter forums. Riots, pitch invasions, court cases, Northcote exile, countless crises we always somehow survived. The whole People's Champ saga. Public transport trips that no sane person would make, two interstate trips, and trips that I wish that I could've gone on. That damn social club clock.

And let's not forget, writing up reports on many AGMs; within some circles, they were the most anticipated posts of the year. Again, the goal there was never notoriety - it was primarily a way of trying to get South supporters to engage with the membership side of the club. We brag that we are not merely customers, and we brag that our club has no owners; rather, we belong to the club. Membership is a devalued term when members don't engage with actually being a member beyond match day attendance. I wanted people to engage more meaningfully with the club. Sometimes that took forms that I didn't agree with or approve of, but that wasn't the point.

I tried to cram in as much variety as I could on here. News, opinions, historical materials, even poetry. The history angle is something I've pottered about with on other sites, as I stretched myself thin; a flailing wiki, a promising library site, a YouTube channel that is always hoping for someone to send me new material to upload, and the many match programs I've been sent to put up online in order to try and keep our history alive.

But I am now 40 years old, with about as steady and normie a job as I'm ever likely to have, and more responsibility on my shoulders than when I was able to gallivant around Melbourne's soccer grounds almost at will, typing up reams of prose in my ample spare time. That's what it was like for me for a long time; a career student who didn't study as much he could or should have, with access to more recreational computer time than was healthy for anyone.

That era of free time is gone. As I studied and later taught in Victoria University's Working Class Writing class, writing requires leisure time, as well as time to think. It's one of the most undersold things about undertaking a PhD, that while you're expected to research and you're expected to write, you also find yourself with plenty of time to just sit and think. Within a humanities context, there is a monastic quality to the experience of writing a doctoral thesis that you just don't get as an undergraduate. It was a rewarding experience, but it also drained a good deal of my mental reserves, which I haven't been able to replenish in the ensuing five years.

Self-diagnostic digressions aside, there's no point in shying away from the fact that the blog has been on the slide for a long time. Thus, with some regret, I am wrapping up South of the Border as a regular news and opinion source. I will not be deleting the site, and I will perform maintenance on certain pages. I intend to pop up from time to time with commentary and observations if I feel I can add something worthwhile, but as far as regular updates go, I am done. I just don't have much more left to give, and creating content just for the sake of it doesn't appeal to me. Consider it a form of semi-retirement.

There were always things I could've done better (women's soccer, definitely), times where I could've been more tactful, and other moments where I should have been more fearless. My ethics when it came to moderating comments sometimes let not just me down, but the people who were the subject of those comments. Trust and goodwill is hard to develop, and easy to squander.

I am appreciative of those who chipped in with guest articles, whether regularly or otherwise. My proudest moment for this blog was when I had Steve from Broady, Manny, and the Kiss of Death contributing material regularly at the same time. I can point to many articles of my own that I still think are worthwhile, but I was always at my happiest when there were others in the South community that wanted to do something more creative and permanent than prattling away on social media. That was my loftiest goal, and for a short time circa 2013, I had achieved it. The fact that supporters of others teams started a couple of similar blogs I took as a compliment. 

I've thanked a lot of people in my annual thank you posts, and I'm reluctant to single anyone out now in case I leave anyone out. Suffice to say, if you wrote for South of the Border, left a comment, read, shared, or showed any degree of interest, I'm grateful to you. So, that's it for now. I will still be my sardonic self in Row H. Here's to the season ahead, and the ones after that. Thank you for sharing this journey with me on here, and whatever comes next.

Paul

The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.

Another trademark Australian soccer worldwide search which ends up with the hiring of someone's mate or relative; or so some people are implying
And boy, didn't our president have something to say about that. 

Football Victoria responded with its own missive, hinting at possible disciplinary action, and I see their point. Rules is rules, and even if Maikousis' remarks weren't intended to be disseminated beyond the social club gathering, one must always be careful about who's listening. Here's hoping there are no repercussions for the club which, even once its senior men's team leaves for the NSD, will still have women's and junior teams participating in Football Victoria competitions.

It's the funniest thing; I used to get warned by well-meaning people, and have been chewed out by others who were not so well-meaning, not to post things on here that were confidential, or which were negative, or which would make the club look bad. And then someone with much more authority than I blurts out something more than bit inflammatory in front of a few dozen people, including members of the press, at an official club function. And I wasn't even there to witness it first hand!

Also, just because he shouldn't have said, doesn't mean he's wrong.

It's like that bit in Pleasantville where colours start seeping through the monochrome world.
So, after all that, we are on our way, slowly. There were rumours about ten teams, twelve teams, not enough teams; a Monday announcement, an April start, a summer comp; and somewhere in the middle of all this, one particularly belligerent-verging-on-vengeful state federation. 

Wait, didn't we do this a few weeks ago? Perhaps. Well, we were told that the second division is coming in 2025, and now we have been told of eight teams that will be in it, seven of them exceedingly familiar (ourselves, Preston, Marconi, APIA, Sydney United, Sydney Olympic, Wollongong), and also Avondale. 

I mean, why not Avondale? This is a league for aspirational clubs, no? Avondale's inclusion does add a touch of novelty to a list that otherwise doesn't exactly scream broad-based and compelling. While "compelling" is in the eye of the beholder, it's hard not have a massive dose of déjà rêvé; seven ex-NSL teams which have achieved little meaningful demographic renewal over the past 20 years suggests not enough people have been compelled. But they very well could be, and indeed they must be for the National Second Division to work.

This map conveniently covers the ethnic
background of every NSD team. Handy!

As for "broad-based", you can rinse-repeat much of the above, but the geography question also poked its head above water among the hoi polloi. While we await possible news of more teams being added, for the time being we must rationalise the "national" component by acknowledging that it covers the Sydney Nation State, the Democratic People's Republic of Victoria, and Wollongong. Minus Adelaide City, it's a pretty 1987 vibe, and what's wrong with that? Don't answer that.

Another semi-good point that was made somewhere was "where are the non-Anglo/non-efffnik clubs?", to which one can answer, well, South Hobart were classed as not quite good enough, and the Queensland bids have trouble with the Queensland fed, and of course Newcastle is weak, and Blacktown thought they should be in, and... well, all those people who have an A-League team don't really need an NSD team now, do they? Let us not ignore that this is our vain attempt at making ourselves relevant again by raising ourselves just above the rest of the stagnation. 

Meanwhile, closer to home, two clubs (Melbourne Knights and Heidelberg United) made if not quite pointed public statements, then at least self-justifying ones about why they won't be participating in the NSD, at least not immediately. And really, why not self-justify? Ain't nobody else going to do it for you. Each to their own, to look after their own. If they don't feel comfortable charging headlong into a new oblivion, preferring the oblivion they're in now, then they shouldn't be compelled to do so. But oh man, when this thing takes off, they're going to look pretty stupid that they didn't take that chance.

2024 memberships available
Pricey and lacking in tangible extras compared to what's available from some other clubs, but you get 10% off the regular price if you buy before 2024, which is what I did.

2024 NPL fixtures 
Fixtures have been released for the 2024 season. Frank Holohan Soccer Complex returns as an away match venue, and we'll be visiting Petty's Reserve in Templestowe for the first time. Well, by "we", I mean other people; I ain't taking public transport to that public transport desert. The most inexplicable senior men's away fixture goes to Green Gully, which will be on at 1:00pm on a Saturday afternoon, followed by the under 21s at 3:30.

Home match wise, we're mostly Friday nights, with the odd Sunday. Sunday just didn't work in 2023, no matter how much people allegedly preferred it. Once again we've an Orthodox Easter Saturday home match. Our under 21s home venues are almost completely "TBC", except for the final round. There are also three NPLM/NPLW double-headers. Here's to having all our home matches at Lakeside, and here's to people making all sorts of excuses for why they won't go to any of our home matches, no matter what day or time they're played.

Public transport guide

I've updated it. Out goes one inconvenient ground, and one impossible ground, and in come two impossible grounds. Gully and the Bergers moving away from Fridays means two more grounds become more accessible by public transport. Also learned this year that you can get off a stop earlier on the tram than what I was used to for Avondale away - also, there might even be a bus to there from Royal Park.

But where will we watch them?
At the grounds, duh. But what if we're not at the grounds for some reason? Cluch, the company which operated the NPL streams (and streams for many other sports operating at a similar level) has gone into administration. Even funnier, an article in the Courier Mail noted that:

According to a statutory report the administrator lodged with the corporate regulator, Cluch had been trading insolvent since at least November 2021 and incurred debts of $1.9 million after this date. No action has been taken against any individuals involved with the company.

So, we probably shouldn't have even been able to watch NPL streams on Cluch for the past two years! I'm sure someone's working on a backup plan as we speak, otherwise we might have to attend games in person - and who'd want to do that?

Pre-season friendlies
We've knocked up three of them already (Springvale White Eagles, Werribee, Kingston), mostly on short notice and/or in accessible (to me) locations and/or behind closed doors. Wouldn't read much into any of these matches of course. We've also lined up an away friendly in January against Sydney Olympic, the first time we'll have played each other in a similar fixture since 2016.

2024 ins
So many new ins, it's hard to keep track, unless you try. I'm not going to try, because apparently there's even more signings to come. Whether you rationalise it as trying to build a team for 2025, or doing whatever it takes to get Old Mate over the line, we have splashed the cash for 2024. The pendulum constantly swings between cutting costs and blooding youth, and then panicking and spending up and bringing in the name brand players. One thing I will say based on the club's little Christmas video (which I fancy was half-created just to get an Efi Thodi song up on our socials), is that we're going to have a lot more people who can say Feliz Navidad than Καλά Χριστούγεννα; nothing wrong with that of course, but certainly a sign of how times have changed.

Ruthless outs
And the club goes bang! Ben Djiba, Perry Lambropoulos, Josh Wallen, Lirim Elmazi, Patrick Langlois and Alun Webb, all gone. Probably some others, too, that weren't worth a press release. I could say good and bad things about all of them, but I'm not necessarily shocked by most of these, except for Djiba - that's a surprise because of how much game time he got in a position where we had a lot of options. 

Going their own way outs
Ajak Riak has signed with Indonesian side PSS Sleman, avoiding the question of whether we should discard him. Good luck to him.

All Good Things Must End outs
After 300 odd games, captain Brad Norton gets to go out on his own terms, instead of being pushed out. Would we have wanted a happier ending? Sure, but back-to-back grand final disasters aside, we had some good times. And it was time. Brad's joined Essendon Royals, recent layover for several South players as they wind down their playing careers. I wish him all the best, and expect to see him around the traps at Lakeside from time to time. For whatever reason, there doesn't seem to be a testimonial event on he horizon.

Meanwhile after 180 games or so, vice-captain Marcus Schroen doesn't quite get to go out on his own terms. Would we have wanted a happier ending? Sure, but we had some good times. No one can take his double in the 2016 grand final away from him. But it was time. Maybe Marcus didn't think so, and that's fair, but few are those who get to choose the time of their departure; we once got rid of the Socceroo captain, don't forget. Marcus has linked up with Preston for 2024, which... look, they wouldn't be my first choice for anything, but it's not completely without antecedent for a former South player to end up there.

He Won't Be Missed (Because He Was Never Really Here) outs
Nathaniel Hancock has signed at Port. 

But the man remains
Confirmation that Old Mate will still be senior men's head coach for another season. Former South coach Johnny Anastasiadis had been rumoured to have been under some sort of consideration for the job, a fact which emerged from Johnny A's own mouth in a Neos Kosmos article; an article which doesn't exactly articulate why he chose (his word) the Bergers over South. It's a curious detail to omit. 

Vale McKendry, Xanthopoulos, Nestoridis
Speaking of people who have coached both South and the Bergers, Len McKendty, the coach of our first NSL championship winning side, passed away recently. He gave Ange his first start, which is what seems to have caught the most attention in the posthumous social media angles, but he was a formidable coach in his own right, at least from a Victorian perspective. I'm not necessarily going to say he was a players' coach, but he certainly wasn't a spectator's coach - check out Paul Wade's book for insights into McKendry's attitude to winning and who he was beholden to.

Early 1960s player Takis Xanthopoulos also passed away recently; apparently he was still at least a semi-regular attendee at Lakeside. And Con Nestoridis, the legend of AEK and Greek football who spent two seasons with us in the twilight of his career in 1966 and 1967, also passed away. Which brings to mind this question: where are football's folk heroes today? Where are the players that would inspire a crowd to such a feeling of tears and emotion, that they would be chaired off a ground? (and I wonder if anyone wrote any poems for Nestoridis in Melbourne's Greek papers?) Back then, so much of what people would have known about any given footballer not within their immediate locale would have been second or third hand knowledge. Footage was rare; glory had to be transmitted via print or word of mouth.

So many Greek migrants to Melbourne, even those who knew football, likely would have never seen Nestoridis play in Greece. But they would have known a name, a story, a legend. And all of a sudden, here he was, well past his peak, but nevertheless all of a sudden in the flesh and tangible; and what's more, not just competent, but clearly superior to so much of what was around him. How blessed was the local game, and our club specifically, to have someone like that? The old timers tell the story of him scoring two corners in a row, the first of which was disallowed. But speaking with former players of his era, they remember not just the skill, but also a gentleman off the field, who could stay up late playing cards, and still run rings around younger opponents.

2023 South of the Border awards

Player of the year: Javier Diaz Lopez. Probably should have given it to him last year.

Under 21 player of the year: The Cliff Hussey Memorial Trophy has been retired. Token appearances by youth team players doesn't do it for me anymore.

Goal of the year: Jake Marshall turn and volley away against Bentleigh. Shame I wasn't there to see it in person.

Best performance: The 3-0 against Avondale at home. The 5-2 against Port was more viscerally thrilling, but the Avondale game was a more complete performance.

Best away game: Altona Magic away. Missed a few of these this year, but it was a very weak field overall. 

Call of the year: It was the Port home game I think, and I don't know what he was saying to me, but the stuff some random old man was yelling while pointing at me from the concourse at Lakeside must've sounded good to him at least. 

Chant of the year: Probably that stupid chant I started about how we're "going to the NSD, the league for you and me".

Best pre-match/after match dinner location: Pondok Nasi Bakar on Clarendon St, while the grand prix was on, and before I watched the Oakleigh away game on Gains' TV. Again, not much 

Friends we lost along the way: Another umbrella.

Barely related to anything stupidity highlight of the year: Copping the snub/silent treatment throughout the year from old mate. Bloke doesn't realise I've had a past president do this to me repeatedly. I'm too jaded to consider it a badge of honour, but not mature enough not to laugh at how preposterous it is.