There are no words and too many all at once

Anyone expecting a glorious long post covering the affair will be disappointed. There were two weeks in the lead up to the game where I spoke many words before the event: on Victory fans' podcast For Vuck's Sake, on youth news outlet 6 News, on Channel 10, and on Football 360. Words of hope, of anticipation, and trepidation. Some of those words made it to air, some didn't. They were words spoken out of a sense of duty - to the club, to people trying to make their way in journalism, and to my own ego, always aware of my designation as the "thinking man's bitter". After the game, I was a crying, babbling mess, 20 years of all this flowing out in the southern end of the stadium, like everyone else who had lived through it. And then I was invited down onto the arena, to talk to some Football Australia media, and it got even worse. Words poured out, words that had been held in reserve for a day like this, a day I don't think most of us ever thought would actually come. What does the win mean? I don't know. Something. Everything. Being praised for whatever it is that I did to contribute over the past twenty years, while I tried to let people know that what I did always had a hobbyist's slant, and that there were others who did so much more impactful work. "Talk to this person!" I said when I had the opportunity, trying to make sure that the people who did the hard yards at the worst times got the credit they deserved. I am supposed to be the word man, but there are no words, or too many words all at once. What does it mean? It's just a game, obviously, and it's just a club. But it is also more than a game, and South Melbourne Hellas is more than a club.