Judging by the most recent story developments, it seems that Leichhardt Oval's time as an NRL venue is coming to an end.
I grew up supporting the Rabbitohs, my grandfather taking me to my first game in 1999 - ironically enough, against Balmain - and that continues to this day. It's the highlight of my week during footy season, and something I always look forward to regardless of the team's form and prospects of victory.
I have plenty of memories of train rides and buses to the old SFS, and then after the stadium switch, driving to Lidcombe to park there and get the sprint train to Olympic Park. I remember plenty of stuff I saw on the field; some good, some bad, but all part of the journey.
But in terms of the match-day experience at specific games? They all kind of blend together, a sea of beige plastic seats and dearth of atmosphere swirling in my brain.
That's not to say I don't treasure the hours spent there, both past and future, but it's the company, rather than thinking about the old SFS and the current Homebush Stadium that brings a smile to my face.
One game I do vividly remember, however, came on the 14th of July in 2002, the Bunnies' reinstatement year.
It was my first trip to Leichhardt Oval. A young sprinter-turned-footy player named Joven Clarke, reported in some outlets to run a sub-10 100m sprint, was making his debut.
It was like stepping into an alternate reality. After sell-out crowds for the Charity Shield and an opening round shellacking at the hands of the Roosters, attendances had steadily dropped off for Souths as the losses piled up, and the novelty of the club being back in the NRL lost its shine.
But this place? There was a buzz in the air even before we went through the turnstiles. The street vendors, the sheer mass of humanity descending upon one unassuming entrance point, and the contrast of orange jerseys with those of red and green.
After eventually finding a spot on the hill, I could truly appreciate just how many people were around me on either side. Not that as a 12-year-old I could see over the top of those around me, but I did my best.
Clarke scored a superb try on debut, I got sunburnt, and the Rabbitohs pulled off a shock win.
Neither team would amount to much that season. If you ignore the Bulldogs being stripped of all their points then the Tigers would have been second last, only in front of the Rabbitohs.
Despite that, 16,266 fans came through the gate that day.
I understand it hasn't always been like that. The fact it was Souths' first being back at the historic venue likely played a factor in the bumper crowd that day, as did the fact it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
But the point is, these are memories that stuck with me in a way that trips to larger, emptier stadiums could never. I can recall key details of every game I've ever been to, not just at Leichhardt, but at Brookvale, or Kogarah, Campbelltown, Shark Park, Belmore and Penrith too.
And if I can speak so fondly of those formative years as an away fan, just think about the fans of the respective clubs who lived a stone's throw from any of these old grounds; the way it was a part of not just their community and their weekend plans, but their soul itself.
Soul is the word I keep coming back to. I understand we need to embrace modernity to an extent, but there are so many quirks to this beautiful, stupid game we know as rugby league that are features, not bugs.
Suburban grounds are one of them. All of Melbourne's AFL teams share two stadiums, and even explaining the idea of a hill to American sports fans may make their brain melt.
But for rugby league fans in Sydney? It's part of the fabric of the sport. Everyone reading this, regardless of their thoughts on the stadium discussion, will have some fond memories at some point in their lives of being at one of these old dumps - a term I use with fondness, not malice.
There was a time when I didn't feel this way at all. As a high-drawing team Souths found themselves at suburban grounds less and less, and during the pandemic when I'd completely forgotten about what going to the football was about, I was as happy as anyone for them to ditch suburbia entirely - and certainly not to splash taxpayer money on big upgrades. Souths being denied the right to modernise Redfern Oval probably amplified my bitterness.
But sometimes when something is out of your life for so long, you lose sight of what made it so special to you to begin with. In the past three years I've been to every home game at Leichhardt, and there is no place like it when the Tigers are winning - as they have on each of the past two occasions.
There is something organic about all of these grounds that you cannot get anywhere else. A sense of community and togetherness that even the exact same mass of people, transported directly into the same spots at Homebush, Moore Park or Parramatta, couldn't replicate.
It provides us with a window to the past, an activity that is something people have done since the NSWRL's inception in 1908 - going to their local ground to watch the footy. And if it's worked for almost 120 years, there's no need to stop now.