The mouse has become a mountain lion and she is ready to roar.
Penrith is no longer just a place the hordes pass through to visit that glamourpuss, Miss Blue Mountains and her Three Sisters.
Penrith has, for a long time now, been a destination in her own right.
During the past few decades many young families have turned off the Great Western Highway and set up house along the beautiful Nepean River. They wised up, realising that the great Australian dream was way more affordable out west. They settled down and had kids, and those kids, when they were little boys, played rugby league. Not only for Penrith, but for places such as St Marys, Windsor, Richmond and St Clare.
Now those little kids are the backbone of the mighty Penrith Panthers. They have grown up to become mountain men, and their families and friends who grew up with them, watched them, and nurtured them, are just as much a part of this grand final as the players themselves.
This grand final in particular has been a long time coming. In the 12 years since Greg Alexander led the Panthers to their first premiership, in 1991, Penrith has changed. It has gone from a working-class suburb clinging to the fringes of Sydney to being a vibrant community fuelled by hope, passion and a desperate drive to be respected.
But the success of the Penrith community was not always reflected in its football team. During that time it has not always been easy to be a Panthers fan.
Penrith have been my team since 1982, so it is not often moments like these come along. I chose them as my team as a nine-year-old kid devastated by the demise of the Newtown Jets. I cheered for the Jets because they were captained by my hero, Tommy Raudonikis. I didn't identify with Newtown itself - hell, I didn't even know where it was, but I idolised Raudonikis.
I didn't choose the Penny Panthers for any one particular player. It certainly had nothing to do with their colours - back then they were the chocolate soldiers with stripes in the distinctly unfashionable hues of poo brown and white. It was for me a matter of being proud of where I lived. I was born and raised in Windsor, so it made sense to cheer for a team that trained and played a few minutes' drive from home. Penrith was way closer to Windsor than Newtown, and as a result I spent many a Sunday afternoon at Penrith Park with my dad, cheering on my team.
They very rarely won back then, but I didn't care - I was at an age where a bucket of hot chips was a soothing balm to any hurt caused by a loss. By 1991 I did care, though, and I care again this weekend. While I no longer live in Windsor, my family still does and I still identify with the area. Growing up in the west makes you value the sense of community that comes with the struggle to make ends meet. There are no free rides out there, and anyone who succeeds has earned it.
That's what this football team represents - the struggle to succeed not so much against the odds, but against everything and everyone. A team that was the laughing stock of the league last year has got its act together. Yet despite some brilliant form, and the presence of excellent players, many rugby league experts are still not prepared to back Penrith for tomorrow's grand final.
And that is fantastic. The best way to get someone from the west to succeed at something is to tell them they can't.
Back in '91 after the Panthers' historic grand final win, Royce Simmons pledged to have a beer with everyone in Penrith. I bet Craig Gower would repeat the feat if Penrith win tomorrow.
Somehow, having a beer with everyone in Penrith sounds so much more real than having a latte with everyone in Bondi.