Grand Final night. I've been talking for a while now about how much it bugs me when people ask me about football. I don't mind at all if people say to me something like, "are you going to the football," or, "do you follow footy?" -- I might even tolerate "do you follow a team?". These questions are totally normal conversational material and make no prior presumptions.
But those are never the questions that people ask.
"Who's gonna win tonight?" they ask me, their eyes alight, shining, glazed. "Who are you barracking for?"
"Which team do you go for?" say others. "What sport do you follow" is the best I can hope for sometimes. At least when they say that I know they don't assume everybody loves football, ever.
Or better yet, they start talking about the plays as though I were watching. Because of course I was watching the game, right? Who doesn't? So I smile and nod and wait for them either to go away or let me get a word in edgewise.Which is usually "yeah, okay, but --" and then they carry on as though I agree with them.
Also, Grand Final Night is stay the hell out of public places night. Grand Final Night means bogans driving around screaming "GO THE CATS" and throwing bottles out their windows. It means parades of drunken yobs singing team anthems and dropping the c-bomb twice for every other noun. Even if you manage to avoid that -- it's just an aggressive atmosphere all around. It's in the very air.
1: The dairy delivery came in just before 11. I saw it coming, rushed to the back fridge to make room - Dom spotted me on the way, and said, "make sure there's enough space, okay?" -- "d'uh", I thought. Guided the palette jack in. The driver heads back to the truck, I start making way for the freezer load (it's usually a palette of dairy and a palette of freezer in the one delivery). He brings the palette in while I'm cursing about a palette of two dozen giant pumpkins that I have to move -- and he heads for the fridge again.
"Oh, right." Two palettes of dairy. "Well now we have to get the first one back out so that we can --"
2: Two palettes of dairy. I should have made a complaint.
3: There was a yellow spray on the toilet seat, and no paper. I knew where I wasn't sitting down.
4: I didn't have to wait to hear the news on Twitter or Facebook. The environs themselves told me when the Grand Final was over. It sounded like a riot. Or like in disaster movies, when the first crowd of extras realizes they're about to die.
5: A young couple giggled behind me while I was cleaning shelves. I don't think they were laughing at me, but by the chided looks on their faces I think they thought I thought they were laughing at me.
So... being subjected to the SuperBowl party was probably the highlight of your trip to Michigan, yeah? :-P I hope that wasn't as tortureful.
ReplyDeleteI actually enjoyed watching the Grand Finals with people at Chisholm last year, when it ended up being a tie (shortly after the election for prime minister was also a tie. People's reactions were hilarious). But then again it was all novel for me, and I was pretty sure no one in Tower 5 was going to hit me with a bottle, which is always a plus.
Yeah, it's a little bit different when there's novelty involved. ^_^; And for the Superbowl, observing the culture around it was more interesting to me than the sport itself. That and the amazing ads.
ReplyDeleteI can't really "observe" A.F.L. culture in the same way, seeing as I was raised surrounded by it. My family took no more than a passing interest in it -- a token thing to appease the people around them, maybe, or just trying it on -- and I guess I picked up on that.