Like all of Sydney west of Anzac Parade, GGWS is a battleground between the football codes. The AFL has recently discovered it, while the NRL neglects and forgets it until it remembers to remember it.

Phil Gould is, on that point, as right as ever: the Penrith-Parramatta derby should be played twice a year, a bigger showdown than even those legendary Good Friday, Anzac Day and Queen's Birthday traditions that we would cherish so fondly if we could recall who played in them. "How The West Was Won" ought to be league's marquee feature. Unfortunately, one of the reasons the Eels-Panthers match is shunted onto Saturday afternoon is that the Nine Network has turned Friday Night Football into a permanent outreach program for the Broncos.

Here in Broken Hill, the battle of the codes was decided long before a Brisbane rugby league team was a twinkle in Porky Morgan's eye and Rupert Murdoch's chequebook. Like much of GGWS, Broken Hill has been an Aussie rules town since day dot, for its own historical and geographic reasons. Since its earliest mining days it has been considered a northern suburb of Adelaide, and its current favourite son is the Crows' captain Tex Walker, who has inherited the mantle of songbird June Bronhill, painter Pro Hart, crooked magistrate Murray Farquhar, comedian Steve "Sandman" Abbott, zinc, lead and silver as the Hill's greatest export.

Which is not to say that every kiddie is walking around the slag heap in a number 13 Adelaide guernsey, because, typically of GGWS, it is importation that brings allegiance. People from "Away" (anywhere not Broken Hill) bring their teams with them. So you are as likely to see a Richmond, Essendon or St Kilda guernsey as any other, and if it's a leaguie stumbling out of the Palace Hotel, it would be no surprise to see him in a North Sydney Bears get-up. Footie jerseys are completely disconnected from location, I realise on Argent Street when I run into Nick, a Broken Hill local, the only man bold enough to wear a Manly Sea Eagles jersey west of Dee Why.

Why? "I f---en hate Manly," Nick explains. "But I went to a fancy dress party as Fatty Vautin because I look a bit like him, I bought this Manly jersey for the night, and now I have to keep wearing it around because they're too expensive to wear once. But I really hate Manly." Who does Nick support? "Cowboys." Of course. "I used to live in Brisbane. I really hate the Broncos. So I follow the Cowboys."

For all the random reasons (mostly centred around hate) that people follow teams, what you are least likely to see here is a Sydney Swan or a GWS Giant, both of whom are equally loathed in Broken Hill, because if there's one thing that unites the folk of GGWS, it is their shared hatred of the S. And this is the rub with the AFL's crusade to manufacture fandom around certain teams, focused on Saturday night's derby between the Swans and the Giants. Hatred - the most powerful force in football - takes time to brew.

From the eyrie of corporate headquarters, the AFL has done everything right with these two clubs. Rivers of money, salary cap concessions, strong management and on-field success. But what they are still working on is mobilising everyone else's hatred.

It helps that the Swans and Giants are both located in Sydney, but as the Swans' experience shows, hatred is not manufactured overnight. The Swans' large fan base breaks down into distinct geological strata:

Old South Melbourne Fans. Literally rusted on, and out in force whenever the Swans go back "home" to play in Melbourne. Still wear knitted pure-wool South scarves. Favourite player: Bobby Skilton. More hugged than hated.

Edelsten-era Blow-ins. Drawn by the "Sydney glamour" years of the mid-eighties when the Swans could suddenly afford pink helicopters, Gerard Healy and Greg Williams. Favourite player: Warwick Capper. Mocked but not hated.

Early Nineties Masochists. Can remember details of each of the Swans' 26 consecutive losses in 1993 and 1994. Boast that only what doesn't kill you can make you stronger. Favourite player: Troy Luff. Genuinely respected for their chops, not hated at all.

Rocket-Lockett Revivalists. Mounted the bandwagon when, after the AFL realised something serious had to be done, the Swans were reinflated under the coaching of Rodney Eade, the captaincy of Paul Kelly and the goalkicking prowess of Tony Lockett. Nearly won a grand final. Favourite player: Mickey O. Almost hated.

Glory Years. Under Paul Roos and John Longmire, two premierships were won and the Swans finally earned the national hatred they merited by coming from Sydney. Favourite player: Adam Goodes. Now we're cooking.

That's a long history with all the ebbs and flows on which allegiance is built and stories are told, but it's only in the last 10 years that the rest of the country has felt liberated to really hate the Swans. They were pitied, they were derided, but it took three decades in Sydney before they earned that badge of honour.

Against that, the Giants have everything going for them except the textures of time. Already they have built a narrative around their hapless first few seasons from 2012, but really, when there are clubs such as St Kilda (one premiership in 144 years), Richmond (none since Kevin Bartlett was a superstar), the Bulldogs (one since 1955) and Fremantle (none ever), you can't out-Cinderella Cinderella.

Notwithstanding the twin handicaps of a mealy mouthed name and an American mascot, the GWS Giants are proceeding along a well-articulated track towards premiership success. In how they have been put together, they have proven the adage that it is better to build on a greenfields site than to remediate an old one.

The one piece that is missing for the Giants is widespread hatred and its corollary, widespread support. On-field success alone won't build it. Look at the Melbourne Storm: in many ways the perfectly constructed rugby league club, nurtured by strong leadership and a steady stream of success, it still battled to muster an audible quorum at its seventh grand final appearance in 2016, where its most visible supporter was Salim Mehajer.

Passion needs time and space, random stories like Nick's "How I Became A Fan" to percolate through the furthest reaches of Great, Greater, all the way out to Greatest Western Sydney. It never happens overnight, but already, thanks to the resentment of GWS that even Swans fans feel, there will be plenty of loathing at the SCG on Saturday night. That's a very good thing.

If the GWS fans feel outnumbered and despised and ridiculed and beleaguered, then they should embrace that, because hatred is one passion that the AFL cannot deliberately manufacture, and hatred is the first step to someone wearing your colours in the Greater Greater West. Even if he's doing it for fancy dress.