IN 2008, Sydney will play finals for the sixth time under Paul Roos, while Carlton will sit out September for the seventh consecutive season. The Swans have never been so successful, the Blues never so unsuccessful.

But on the hope index, the Blues are soaring; Juddy is the man, Pratt money hasn't dried up, and there are some exceptional kids — those spoons were golden after all. The fog of failure is lifting.

Sydney fans have much to be grateful for, but precious little to look forward to at this moment. While their club has been magnificently resilient and well-coached, the run is over. Their era is as finished as Carlton's misery. No need to repeat the grim demographics of the Swans' best 22. The problem with Sydney isn't so much that it's too old — most good teams eventually turn from ripe to rotting — but that there isn't much quality in the department of youth. Success does not beget good kids. From the chairman to the cheer squad, the Swans have maintained that they can't afford to "bottom out" in the manner of the sober West Coast and sink down the ladder to the land of early draft picks. The argument is that the fickle Sydney market won't tolerate a few seasons of lower-ladder rebuilding.

It's true that, barring the commendable 20,000 rusted-ons who attend SCG games, Sydney fans won't be as patient as the Geelong supporters were earlier this decade. Or as Fremantle fans have been since that club's inception. But this Sydney market theory — which has not been truly tested since 1996 — should be counterbalanced by another emerging football fact: that, if you cannot compete for the premiership, it's better to be young and exciting than middle-aged and dowdy.

Elite young talent would be a preferable tonic for many followers of the Swans than another seasoned import — who, almost by definition, must either have personal baggage or an excessive contract.

The next Buddy Franklin would create far greater interest, even in impatient Sydney, than the current Jonathan Brown.

Patrick Vespremi's every touch elicits more traffic on the fan websites than anything Ted Richards does.

Increasingly, an influx of vibrant young talent also represents a marketing strategy, and there's no reason why the Swans can't sell a fresher, more youthful team to a supporter base that has seen plenty of finals, but not much in the way of audacious kids.

Dermott Brereton once observed that unless you're "a freak like Gary Ablett (senior)", the most spectacular marks and thrilling, athletic pieces of play were usually carried out by players earlier in their career. Dale Thomas, for instance, might be more consistent and productive at 27, but less apt to take hangers and attempt the goal-of-the-year.

If I was a Sydney fan, I'd rather watch a team that finished 12th, with some exciting young players in tow, than one struggling to eighth with a coalition of declining veterans and journeymen.

Fear of bottoming out is understandable, given what transpired in the early '90s. With that history in mind, the Swans have talked about requesting that the AFL provide some financial underwriting as compensation for the entry of a second Sydney team.

Financial help is already provided to the poorer Victorian clubs to allow them to survive.

Financial help would allow Sydney to rebuild properly, to replenish its list with top shelf youngsters who can play for 10 years and give the fans home-grown heroes rather than mid-career implants.

It is better than the alternative, which is handing Sydney some recruiting advantage to keep it thereabouts.

I doubt that a football team run by Paul Roos and Andrew Ireland would be down for long. Ireland and Roos had the foresight to synthesise a defensive game plan with a risk-averse recruiting philosophy.

That moment has gone. The time has come for a bolder union of marketing and recruiting strategies, based on young talent. For some of us, the alternative simply isn't worth watching.