But then it was gone in an instant.

It's an undeniable reality of modern footy that the caravan moves on quickly, partly by design and partly due to human nature. One minute the preliminary final heroics of Daniel Rioli are on the tips of all lips, the next minute the chatter is all about draft points, the "go home" factor, swapping future draft selections like trading footy cards in the schoolyard and what it means for a departing footballer to take a phone call from Tex Walker.

Yes, it's beyond doubt that decisions on players and picks made at this time of year can go a long way to determining the future direction of clubs. Incoming players can have a significant influence, positive or deleterious, on the whole group. Sliding doors moments are everywhere. But these decisions are also merely pieces in a very large jigsaw puzzle. Sometimes we lose sight too quickly of the very reason footy is played in the first place: winning premierships and, more importantly, savouring those premierships and recounting the journey along the way. Some clear air perhaps after that one day in September?

This year was not the first time I've thought about this phenomenon. And it's not just a reflection after two remarkable - yet quite different - fairytale premierships in consecutive years. Its genesis goes back longer than that and was probably reinforced in the aftermath of the brilliant AFL grand final five years ago. Sydney edged Hawthorn in a captivating season-decider to deliver just their second flag since 1933. It was a match for the ages and ultimately one to savour for months and years to come. Yet the focus turned sharply - basically 24 hours later - as footy fans quickly had to come to terms with this new concept called free agency. Suddenly all the talk was about Brendon Goddard the Bomber and not Nick Malceski's magical moment.

This time of year is about selling hope. In spades. But if the manner in which Richmond delivered the club's first premiership since 1980 is any guide, nothing is ever guaranteed and even the most unforseen circumstances or storylines can play out. Cast your mind back 12 months to when the Tigers secured Dion Prestia and Josh Caddy. Good players, yes, but surely they wouldn't be the panacea to the club's woes. Surely not! Throw in Toby Nankervis - a Swans emergency for last year's grand final against the Bulldogs - and suddenly the Tigers had three important ingredients that helped them jump from 13th to the top of the table and their famous moment in the sun.

It's not just the trade period where the hype gets out of control. In coming weeks you'll hear plenty about this year's crop of prospective draftees; their various strengths and weaknesses, their backgrounds, the likelihood or not of them wanting to return home after a few years at an interstate club. But you'll never get a fail-safe promise about a player, because not even the best and most resourceful recruiters can offer a money-back guarantee. There was a salient reminder just a few weeks ago. On the same September night that Dustin Martin was celebrated by his peers for winning the AFL Players Association MVP award - along with a string of other awards - former Melbourne captain Jack Trengove was delisted by the Demons. Eight years ago Trengove was the No.2 pick overall and snapped up by the Demons along with top pick Tom Scully. Who was next on the list, you ask? None other than Dusty.

I don't barrack for Richmond but I have always been enchanted by their story and their history. When they last featured in grand finals and last won silverware, footy was beginning to have a very profound effect on me. My earliest grand final memory coincides with their previous grand final appearance 35 years ago. Their return to the pointy end of September gave rise to a bit of nostalgia. For years visits to pubs in Richmond have meant looking up at walls and taking in the classic photos of Tigers Of Old and past Richmond glories. It might not be long now before an image of Dusty sits comfortably alongside Captain Blood on those same walls.

Perhaps the concept of hope to footy fans is something that can't be discarded that easily. It's part of the complex relationship between supporters and the game. It was on a European sojourn two years ago that I got a sharp reminder of this strange and complex dynamic. Happy to get a mental break from footy and forget talk about draft picks, hamstrings and even dynamic ticketing policies, I somehow stumbled across perhaps the only fanatical Essendon supporter in France. When he asked me about whether Darcy Parish was the right choice for Essendon with their first draft pick, all I could do was smile.

Hope has a long reach when it comes to footy.