St Kilda’s plan to instigate kick-to-kick sessions after home games at Etihad Stadium is a great step in trying to redress the sterilisation of AFL footy.

The increasing professionalism and Americanisation of Australian rules football has left supporters alienated.

The Age football writer Rohan Connolly touched on this theme on Thursday when he wrote of “a creeping emotional detachment from the highest levels of our indigenous game, even among the rusted-on”.

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He’s spot on.

Football has lost something special over the past 10-15 years.

Actually, it’s lost plenty. Like personalities, power forwards and suburban grounds.

Too often the AFL has looked to American sports in a bid to enhance our “matchday experience”.

An AFL advertising campaign in 2012 encouraged fans to take ownership of the game.

What we’ve been left with is blaring music before games and at half-time, overtly cheery ground announcers and ridiculous prices for food and drink.

What we really want is a connection – to our team, our players and coaches. We want to feel part of something.

Part of the beauty of going to state and amateur footy is being able to get out on the ground for a kick, being so close you could hear the coaches address the players.

Of course, litigation and occupational health and safety will probably prevent the St Kilda plan from going ahead, but well done for trying.

On Wednesday night I experienced the rush of nostalgia for old-time footy at my weekly AFL 9s match.

Driving to our game, my mate Paul told me he’d roped in a former AFL star – a power forward – into playing for our team.

I’ll believe it when I see it, I thought.

Along the way we talked about footy. About how the game had lost its way.

Paul said the only thing that had reignited his passion was watching his sons play with their local junior side.

He didn’t say so, but I reckon that’s because he feels connected to it in a deeper way than he does his AFL club.

Lo and behold, when we were stretching and chatting before the game, Paul’s mate emerged from the carpark like a Goliath – a man with more than 500 AFL goals to his name.

Grass roots footy is where die-hard fans are created. Photo: AAP

One problem: the opposition were a player short, and we had one too many.

Without thinking it through, I defected, swapped bibs and made eight new friends.

So, rather than enjoying the thrill of playing with a former star, I now had the task of trying to stop him getting a kick.

At one point in the second half, I was running back with the flight trying to take a mark when I heard his footsteps approaching like a bison herd.

This wasn’t how I envisaged spending my Wednesday night.

Even though 9s is non-contact, I got out the way. The big fella plucked it and thumped it through for a goal.

He offered encouragement to players of both sides, had a laugh and a joke, and posed for a photo with a member of the opposite team who declared himself a “big fan”.

It’s the kind of environment where 16-year-old kids stream out of the forward line on leads hollering “Dad, dad!!” and the old man tries to hit them up.

Said 16-year-old is actually the best player on our team. I’m convinced he dips his hands in Clag before a game.

I spent a bit of time playing on him – far too long actually.

He beat me in the air, he beat me on the ground, he beat me all ends up.

Reckon he kicked three in five minutes, and I looked at one of my new teammates and gave him the universal look for ‘I’m done here mate’.

I was getting towelled up by a kid less than half my age, and I was as happy as Larry.

And I’m a lot more excited about next Wednesday night than the start of the ‘real’ footy season in a few weeks time.