As anticipation builds for the first round of the 2025 AFL finals, former North Melbourne premiership player Anthony Stevens remembers what it is like for players as they face the biggest test of their careers on that one day in September.
There is no feeling in football like September. I can still hear the roar of the MCG crowd, smell the liniment in the rooms, and remember the nerves that made it hard to sleep the night before a final. For every kid who grew up dreaming of playing AFL, that one day in September was the pinnacle – and I was lucky enough to live it, three times in Grand Finals, with two premiership medals to show for it.
The journey to get there was brutal. In the 1990s, there was no pre-finals bye, no pause to catch your breath. You came off 22 weeks of bruising football and rolled straight into the heat of finals. The only chance for a rest was if you earned a spot in the Grand Final and won the right to freshen up with a week off before the biggest game of all. That was the carrot – the ultimate prize, and the dream that drove us through pre-season torture and every punishing session along the way.
Finals brought pressure like no other. Coaches demanded discipline and flawless structures. Teammates looked each other in the eye, knowing any lapse could end the dream. And the supporters – they were everything. Their belief, their passion, and their noise lifted us higher, but it also reminded us of the responsibility we carried every time we pulled on the jumper. Playing finals wasn’t just about us as players. It was about repaying the faith of every North Melbourne person who lived and breathed the club.
Winning was euphoric. Twice I tasted the pure joy of a premiership – the siren, the hugs, the tears, the realisation you’d etched yourself into history. But I also felt the devastation of defeat. That Grand Final loss cut deep, left scars, and fuelled the fire to come back stronger. Finals football is cruel, but that’s what makes it the ultimate test.
Today’s players have more science, psychology, and support, but the emotions haven’t changed. What has changed is the glare. In the ’90s, scrutiny was sharp but manageable. Today, it’s suffocating. Players can’t sneeze without a headline. Social media magnifies every slip-up, making finals even more mentally draining.
Yet through all eras, the essence remains. Finals football strips the game back to its core: belief, resilience, and courage. And whether it’s 1996 or 2025, that one day in September will always be the dream that defines our game.
