“What? Why?” These were the perfectly reasonable questions thrown my way when I announced my plan: to gather a group of people to buy the Batmobile. Not just any Batmobile, but the Batmobile. The very same, somewhat ungainly, gigantic blue spectacle that graced the 1991 AFL Grand Final halftime show. This was the car that famously delivered Angry Anderson onto VFL Park, where he belted out his unforgettable anthem “Bound for Glory” to a stadium of bewildered sporting champions. Yes, that Batmobile.
Even as I write this, the sheer absurdity of the endeavor isn’t lost on me. But for those who understand the unique charm of Australian Rules Football fandom, especially those who grew up in Melbourne during a certain era, the explanation is hardly necessary. Footy fandom thrives on passion that often defies logic; rationality rarely enters the equation. This inherent irrationality is part of Melbourne’s charm – you simply get it when it comes to supporting your club, no explanations needed.
My club, the Hawthorn Hawks, is central to this Batmobile story. The 1991 Grand Final, featuring the Batmobile, marked the end of an incredible era for the Hawks. It was their fifth premiership in just nine seasons. I was fortunate enough to witness the tail end of this dynasty. Just seven years old that September, that particular Grand Final became a constant replay in our household. My little brother and I practically memorized every word of the commentary by McAvaney and Cometti, every advertisement, every interview. In the years that followed, as Hawthorn’s September success waned, the memory of that day, especially the outlandish halftime entertainment, became a cherished substitute.
As adolescence transitioned into adulthood, my passion for the Hawks found a perfect outlet: Hawk Headquarters, a website that fostered a strong community of fans. This online forum evolved into a vibrant standing room bay at the MCG, where we’d gather for games, singing our hearts out all afternoon. So, when the Batmobile resurfaced on eBay in 2006, our crew was instantly interested. However, youthful inexperience and perhaps a touch of incompetence led to us missing out on the purchase. In the years that followed, I made a silent vow: if the Batmobile ever became available again, we’d be ready. And then, just last week, it appeared at auction once more.
Life had taken us in different directions, but the bond within our group remained strong. We’d been groomsmen at each other’s weddings, offered shoulders to lean on in tough times. So, for this Batmobile opportunity, we were all in. But the landscape had changed. Instead of the $7,000 it fetched 14 years prior, the asking price this time was already north of $20,000 with a week still to go. We needed reinforcements. They arrived in the form of other dedicated footy enthusiasts (even a few from rival clubs!), people who grasped the cultural and historical significance of this big blue Valiant, along with the networking prowess of Mark “Hawk” Hawthorne. In total, 33 eager individuals stood ready to become equal shareholders if we won the auction.
The auction itself was surprisingly anticlimactic. Our bid of $25,300, placed just 30 minutes before the deadline, proved to be the winning one. At that precise moment, I was perched in the pavilion at Lord’s, commentating on the final of the English domestic cricket season, desperately trying to maintain professional composure while my phone buzzed with updates. But the news was clear and joyous: we had secured the Batmobile.
So, what now? Well, the “easy bit,” as some might say, is actually the most important part. This isn’t going to become a weekend cruiser doing laps of Chapel Street. The objective of the newly formed “Batmobile consortium” – a bit of 90s jargon itself – is preservation. When the AFL borrowed the 7.4-meter car in 2015 for the Grand Final week, coinciding with Hawthorn again facing the West Coast Eagles in the decider (echoing 1991), the queues of fans wanting photos, mimicking Angry Anderson’s pose, stretched long. It’s only right that as many footy fans as possible get that opportunity. Furthermore, we hope to leverage the sheer novelty of the Batmobile to help raise funds for local sports clubs still recovering from the impacts of Covid-19.
But those plans are for the future. For now, a group of diehard footy fans, perhaps longing for a game more akin to the 1991 era, have an incredible story to tell: we co-own the bloody Batmobile. Yes, the whole premise is as wonderfully ridiculous now as it was three decades ago. And yes, it might prove to be more trouble than it’s worth. But when has that ever deterred a true footy fanatic? As far as we’re concerned, we are, quite literally, Bound for Glory, and couldn’t be happier.
