Oh we're from Tigerland
Stories of being Richmond
Yogi Thurairatnam, 40, Epping
Favourite all-time player:
Matthew Richardson – “It was his hunger for goals, his hunger for marking. He was a very hungry man!”
Favourite current player:
Brett Deledio – “He’s a very genuine player, and he’s nice to talk to. I feel so badly we misspelled his name on the banner once. But he forgave us.”
Watch a replay of last Thursday night’s plucky win over Carlton and soon after the final siren, television cameras cut to Richmond’s cheer squad, the most identifiable fan group. The game had been won, now there was another story: the emotions knotted in the pre-season being untied.
Football’s shared joy: its release, relief, the win carrying us into the starry night and all through Easter, to this midweek juncture when the mind drifts to Collingwood. Let’s compound their misery.
Look among the partisan crowd, in all its glorious yellow and black, and above the full time score graphic a sign is held aloft; taut, proudly. “Many Beliefs, Many Cultures, ONE TIGER ARMY,” it read.
Beneath the banner, clutching its poles, arms out-stretched, is a man called Yogi Thurairatnam. His football story is as remarkable as the game itself. It’s about belonging, and community, and finding a voice in the crowd.
Sign of the times: Yogi with his unifying message at full time at last Thursday's season opener against Carlton.
All of which began in 2001, six seasons after he migrated with his parents from Jaffna, a peninsula on the northern tip of Sri Lanka, a cartographical teardrop, to escape its wars of terror. “I did not know what football is,” he says.
At his first job, working as a bank teller in Heidelberg, one of his first customers was Norma Malloy, now 85, a pensioner who by way of welcoming him offered gifts. A Richmond-branded letter opener, and a badge of Kevin Bartlett.
“I went home and Googled who KB is,” says Yogi. “I found out he was a Tiger, so I became a Tiger.”
And so a man whose family fled bloodshed between Sri Lanka’s Sinhalese majority government and the secessionist Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, found a new home. He’s followed the football now for 15 years, and for the past seven seasons hasn’t missed a single Richmond game.
Regardless of the weather, of the venue, for the 22-weeks of the football season, Yogi can be found by the fence, notable for the fervour of his barracking, and for fluffy tiger hat he bought at Singapore Zoo, nestled on his head.
Tiger stripes: Yogi with his game face before a big match at the G.
Last Wednesday night I caught up with Yogi at banner-making at Punt Road Oval, among familiar faces, in a group where respect is mutual, where friendships are like family. “Football gives me inclusiveness and a social group,” he says, of his nine-year association with the cheer squad, of which he is treasurer.
“Richmond supporters are the most passionate supporters, even though we don’t win as much as other teams, we will always turn-up. No other club has our passion.”
See the crepe paper run-throughs lifted before each game, and the number of banners and floggers behind the goals usually at the Punt Road end of the MCG. No other club has a cheer squad like Richmond’s. It is bigger, and more colourful, and more expressive than any other Australian Rules football fan group. It is something to behold, to be proud of.
Rising sun: last Thursday night's stunning run-through graphic (Photo courtesy Leo Trainer)
And this Friday night it will stand as one in defiance of the Collingwood home crowd, doing all it can to will Richmond to win.
“I can’t stand black and white,” says Yogi, well schooled in the old inner-city working class enmity between the neighbouring suburbs. “At my house I’ve got nothing that’s black and white. It’s all yellow and black. My car is yellow and black, everything in my wardrobe is yellow and black, my socks and underpants are yellow and black.”
He is not the first, and nor will he be the last fan to find superstition in team colours.
By virtue of his ethnicity, a Sri Lankan Tamil in Tiger clothing, Yogi stands out in the crowd. He’s notable also for his contributions as a multicultural ambassador for both his club and the league. “We promote the AFL to non-AFL people, and we take it to the grassroots and do kids’ clinics,” he says. “We basically try and introduce football to people who have never known the game.”
For his services, last year he received an invitation from the Governor of Victoria requesting the pleasure of his company for a morning reception at Government House. A cuppa tea with the Honourable Linda Dessau. The dress code was footy attire. Yogi wore yellow and black.
Yellow and black: behind the goals, in his colours, among his Tiger people.
Three years ago I telephoned Norma Malloy, the pensioner who gifted a badge and affiliation to Yogi, and who’s swayed all 10 of her grandchildren in the ways of Richmond. “My uncle was Jack Dyer’s boot studder,” she said. She’s been a Richmond member now for 66 years, and still rarely misses any of their games in Melbourne.
Two seasons ago I called her again before our must-win last-round game against Sydney, in Sydney, to see how she was faring. “I’m just over the moon,” was her reply. On the Friday before the game she caught the overnight train to Sydney – economy class, in a seat – to see them play.
“There was a man on the wireless who dreamt we won 13 games in a row and Cotch was holding up the premiership cup,” she says. “I pray that they win but if we lose, we still love ’em.”
Last week I called her again, to ask if she could join Yogi at banner-making for a photograph. She wanted to be there, but was committed to looking after one of the grandchildren.
She sent her regards to Yogi. I told him. “She’s my Australian nanna,” he says. “My Aussie nanna.”
She’s part of his family, his Tiger Army.
Go Tigers!
If you would like to nominate a Richmond fan who has a story to tell about their barracking please email Dugald Jellie with details: dugaldjellie@gmail.com
