Many of you might have seen me at ENGIE Stadium, others at the Guildford Hotel, but two years ago, if you had asked me what AFL was, I would have been clueless.  

Today, I carry a genuine love for the game, and somewhere along the way, I became a mad GIANTS supporter.  

Hi, I’m Yash. I have always been someone who lives and breathes sport. Coming from India and growing up in a family that revolved around cricket, that was my world. But when I decided to move to Australia in early 2025, I knew that if I wanted to understand the place truly, I had to find a way to connect with it beyond just living here. Sports felt like the most honest way in.  

Then, almost by chance, something shifted. My friend Nikhil, whom I’ve known for years and who lives in Melbourne, introduced me to AFL. He told me about an initiative he was starting, AFL Desi, something that aimed to bring more South Asians into the game. He asked if I wanted to create content around footy. I said yes, because I knew if I wanted to build something beautiful here, I had to step into the culture, not stand outside it.  

So I started from zero. I researched, I googled, I did all kinds of stuff to make sense of it all. I came across the Sydney Swans; their home ground was the SCG. It felt familiar and almost convenient, being a cricket fan. I thought this might be my team. I asked Nikhil if they were good; his answer was immediate, no hesitation, just “NO”.  

I asked him who he supported. “Collingwood”. I said I’d follow them too, trying to keep it simple. Again, he shut it down. Now I understand why some decisions come with consequences you don’t see immediately.  

So I asked again, who, then? 

He said without giving it too much thought, the GIANTS. A fairly new club, still building, fearless in their approach, and a team that was on the rise, according to him.  

I wasn’t convinced. Not yet. I needed to see it for myself.  

Around that time, I was preparing to move my entire life across countries and time zones. There was excitement and uncertainty about everything. I didn’t know what was waiting for me, only that I was stepping into something unfamiliar. But there was hope in that uncertainty.  

Then comes the opening round.  

My First Game. ENGIE Stadium.  

I remember the nerves more than anything. I took a friend along, trying to hold onto something familiar. Nikhil told me not to overthink it, not to worry about content, just to be there and experience it all. And for the first time, I found myself at the heart of it, walking towards the stadium from the headquarters, surrounded by something I didn’t fully understand but could already feel.  

It was a completely different atmosphere. People with beers in hand, banners everywhere, it felt less like a game, more like a celebration. The band was in full flow, the energy building with every passing moment. I picked up my orange guernsey and cap, not really knowing that this was the beginning of something that would stay with me.  

Around me, people were dancing, laughing, singing, just enjoying the moment as we all moved towards ENGIE Stadium together. It felt unfamiliar, but in the best possible way. I had followed sports my entire life; this was something else entirely. I couldn’t quite explain it; I could only feel it. And it was beautiful.  

I spoke to a few GIANTS supporters, and something shifted. There was warmth, an ease, a sense of belonging that I hadn’t expected for the first time since moving. I didn’t feel like I was away from home. It felt like I had found one. I forgot everything else that was on my mind, and this was before the game had even started.  

I knew, even then, that this was something special.  

In the first quarter, Sam Taylor kicked the first goal. The GIANTS took control, they played with a palpable chip on their shoulder, and they went on to beat the Pies. I was hooked.  

To me, the sport felt like everything I had grown up watching combined into one: the physicality of wrestling, the endurance of athletics, the movement of football and handball, all unfolding at a cricket ground. It felt both chaotic and structured, intense yet fluid. I had never seen anything like it.  

I remember telling Nikhil that I would be back to watch the GIANTS again. And I meant it.  

As time passed, I kept coming back. More games, more time at ENGIE Stadium, more moments that slowly built a connection. At first, I didn’t know many players. Then I started recognising names, understanding positions, and noticing patterns in how they played. They stopped being unfamiliar. It became something I understood and followed closely.  

Then came a moment that stayed with me.  

Before the Sydney Derby in July 2025, I attended an open training session and had the chance to interview a few players: Lachie Ash, Darcy Jones, Tom Green, Connor Idun, and Toby Bedford. It wasn’t just about asking questions. It was about seeing who they were beyond the field. The way they carried themselves, the way they spoke, the way they welcomed their fans. That stayed with me. 

There is one moment that stands out. Tom Green handed me my guernsey, and since then, whenever he sees me, he remembers. A simple “Hi, Yash, how are you, mate?”  It feels personal. It feels real.  

Since then, there have been so many interactions, with players, with coaches, with supporters, with people who were once strangers and now feel like something more; some of them whom I can call friends, and the team whom I can call family.  

And it isn’t just one moment that creates that feeling. It’s everything that comes with it. Standing at ENGIE Stadium with everyone around you, that shared anticipation before the bounce, and then the eruption when it all unfolds.  

The roar when Aaron Cadman or Jake Stringer slots a goal, the kind that makes you jump without thinking. The gasp that turns into applause when Toby Greene or Jesse Hogan takes a clean mark in traffic. The noise, the chaos, the moments where you lose yourself completely and react, raw, and be yourself.  

It's in the little things, too. The chants that build, the strangers next to you who feel like friends for those two hours, the way everyone rises and falls together with every play. It's watching, not just with your eyes, but with your whole being. There’s no distance in it, no separation. You are in it.  

And then there’s everything beyond the stadium. Sitting with friends at the Guildford Hotel, with a beer in hand, reliving those moments, carrying that same energy into a different space. Being with the cheer squad, putting in the work for banners, knowing that what you do, even in a small way, becomes part of the experience.  

Whenever I’m asked what makes the GIANTS so special, I find myself without a clear answer, and that in itself says something. Because what they are building here isn’t something you can reduce to a line or slogan. It goes beyond performance or success. It is built on trust and respect that feel real and extend to everyone, from players and staff to supporters and even critics. There is a quiet integrity in it, a sense that every person matters. And because of that, it becomes more than just a team. It becomes something people hold onto, something they take pride in being part of. Being even a small part of that feels truly special. 

All of it builds, moment by moment, until one day you realize something has shifted. The line between you and the game, the crowd, the club, it all disappears. You’re no longer in the stands watching from a distance; you’re in it, moving with every play, every roar, every moment.  

Every cheer feels like it comes from you. Every goal, every mark, every surge of play feels personal. You’re not trying to understand the game anymore; you know it, instinctively, as you’ve belonged there.  

You don’t just feel the game. 

You don’t just live the moments.  

You become part of the club, the crowd, the journey, and most importantly, the sport.  

And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, it becomes a part of who you are.