When Tana addressed the crowd after a game in the Cake Tin and acknowledged they were a difficult team to support we appreciated the sentiment but needed answers.
When the fog rolled in for three hours for the 2006 final and left after the post-match presentation we knew that not even Mother Nature was on our side, which is odd given our name.
When Mark Hammett went about clearing out the franchise of perceived dissenters we were either scratching our heads or looking at the jet streams and muttering like Truthers that it was a Canterbury crusade to undermine a talent-laden team.
We've been through it all. We've endured most things. We're expecting this title tomorrow night. We need this title tomorrow night.
The biggest hurdle will be leaving the emotional baggage at the bag search on the concourse, walking through the gates and down the aisle to our seat and sitting there, on the edge, for around two hours of a rollercoaster of a final and then, hopefully, celebration.
It couldn't be more apt that these players will run out against a team who are just as dangerous but who are doing almost more with less. They say the eye of a storm is the calmest point.
Westpac Stadium will be a swirling collection of flags, scarves and noise, a cacophony of support, chants and pleas. And out in the middle it will be just a game of rugby.
Not peaceful and certainly not calm but when Jaco Peyper blows his whistle at the beginning there's no place the Hurricanes would rather be.
It's a chance to rectify 20 seasons of near misses, total capitulations and head-scratching performances. A chance to put right what the franchise's fans have been hoping for a long time to happen; go all the way.
Hopefully there won't be a need for a Hurricanes Club next week but if there is, and I really hope there isn't, come along but remember; no shirt, no shoes and have plenty of answers for our questions.
We'll provide the soap.
