YOU won't believe this. I've come to Adelaide to sneak a look at Port Adelaide's last training session at their famous home ground, Alberton Oval, and I'm actually sitting in a meeting room — called the "William's (sic) Room" — in Port Headquarters. There's a whiteboard. And a heading that says GRAND FINAL 2007. But I'm sorry to have to report to all Geelong fans, there's nothing written underneath it yet.

Outside, about 5500 Port fans are watching their boys train in the afternoon sunshine. And if I had to describe the mood, I'd say it is friendly, welcoming and homely. People are chatty. Happy to tell you their stories, even though someone blew my cover rather loudly in front of the quaint old Fos Williams Family Stand.

"You're that bloke from Offsiders," said a bloke just beyond retiring age. "You barrack for Geelong." I could do little but laugh, and shake his hand. He was Russell Schumacher, who has barracked for Port all his life. His mother went to school with Magpies champion Lou Roberts in the 1930s. His wife Beth is just as keen. "My husband's to blame," she said. But her love of Port was obvious. "This is a great club," she assured me. "And we know our football and we know our team. It's a friendly club. We can mingle with the boys."

I got into Adelaide early in the afternoon and hired a reconnaissance vehicle. I drove up Port Road and into Semaphore and Port Adelaide. It's still a port and it still has a maritime feel about it. Shipping containers rattle on urgent trucks. A crane rises above the corrugated iron roofs of old warehouses. And the water in the distance.

Workers' cottages with their bull-nosed verandas sport Port flags and streamers. This is a place proud of its footy club. The Alberton Hotel is black and white with a bit of teal trim. Around the corner people parked their cars. Kids in full Port kits with afternoon-off dads hurried towards the ground. I hurried with them.

I stood waiting for the players to come out onto the field. There was a real family atmosphere. The first bloke I talked to was Len Daues, a 55-year-old boilermaker. "I was born and bred here," he told me. "It says Alberton on me birth certificate." He came to Alberton Oval as a kid and has been a mad Port man all his life. "My dad brought me as a kid," he said. "He was a master mariner, the skipper of one of the pilot boats. I've told his stories, and my stories, to my boys, and my two grandkids." He couldn't support the Crows before Port joined the AFL. "There's only two kinds of supporters," he reckons. "Port supporters and those who wish they were Port supporters." He had a tattoo of an anchor on the back of his hand.

I didn't have to look too far to find more of the local character. Jan Macdonald is 55. Her grandfather was involved in a shipping company and her father was a wharfie. "I've been a Port supporter all my life," she said proudly. "Port supporters are really misunderstood. This is just an honest, caring, down-to-earth footy club."

I was being persuaded. These people were rather likeable. A bloke with a Dalmatian walked past. He'd painted a few teal spots on the dog's back. Then a red-headed kid called Brodie who'd come down on his push-bike. Another bloke introduced himself: Tony Jakobovic. He had something to say. He grew up "around the corner". He will be driving to Melbourne for the grand final. "My grandfather was a textile worker," he told me. "He was a Port supporter. That's where we come from. We're not the chardonnay set. We just come from honest, hard-working beginnings. In fact we work hard all through our lives."

It seemed so many had family connections to the club. There were mums and dads with prams. Heaps and heaps of kids. Blokes in suits. Old ladies in tracky-dacks. Blokes with big beards. Blokes in bushies' hats. There were even a few of those wild-looking blokes who look like they've just finished a stint inside — but only a couple.

The mood was overwhelmingly local. I was picking up the sense that Port Adelaide remains a community club.

"You writing a story mate?" one bloke said to me. "I'll tell you all you need to know. Passion. Tradition. Pride. Real pride, mate. I'm proud to be part of it, tell you the truth." And he wandered off. The players ran out to warm applause, but nothing over the top. A section of the crowd broke into the song, but were drowned out when the song came on the scratchy PA. The players warmed up at the far end. Then they turned and ran to the end where most of the people stood.

They were very quiet. In fact, the whole session was strangely quiet. The Cornes brothers trained side by side. Brendon Lade was laughing at something. I thought the intensity would lift. They ran in a few goals, but the whole session was laid back. There was more activity from the many media people: KG and Cornesy, every TV station, the ABC.

I was waiting for the session to pick up pace; I was waiting to hear the voices. But it just continued casually. The fans didn't seem to mind. Maybe this is how they always train. Eventually they were cheered off. So now I'm in the William's Room wondering what to do. I just heard Chad Cornes in the corridor outside, chatting to a young kid. "See you down the beach over the summer," he said.

There is a row of cupboards along one wall. They're a bit small. Maybe I could climb inside one.

John Harms writes The Fan column for Age Sport.